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victoriaholmeswriting · 3 years

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Camping Trip

Danny Tanner x Reader One-Shot

Read it on AO3!

Rating: E

Words: 1891

Summary: Danny Tanner and his girlfriend go on a camping trip to enjoy finally have some time alone.

A/N: I've noticed a serious lack of Danny Tanner citric acid and needed to fix that because that man fucks and no one can change my mind!

“How did I let you talk me into this?” Danny questioned, scrutinizing everything around him. “There’s dirt everywhere!”

Bunching up kindling for the firepit, (y/n) rolled her eyes at her neat-freak boyfriend. “It’s called nature, my dear. Dirt is a major portion of the package deal.”

He groaned, but didn’t argue as he pulled a small hand-broom and dust pan from his duffle bag and began sweeping trace amounts of debris from inside the tent they’d just set up. Well, to be fair, she did most of the work because he was too busy trying not to get mud on his jeans -- that he had ironed...for some reason.

She paused, sticks in one hand and lighter in the other, staring at him in utter disbelief. Obviously, she knew this weekend camping trip would be difficult for him. But this was getting ridiculous.

“Tanner, what the hell are you doing?” she demanded, watching him empty the dustpan behind a tree at the edge of the campsite.

He shrugged. “Just cleaning up,” he said like he was merely clearing the table after dinner.

Chuckling to herself, she finished building up the sticks in the pit before lighting the fire with enchanting ease.

Danny watched the flames dance and grow in her eyes as she expertly built up the fire. When she sat back on her heels to examine her work, he immediately noticed the dirt on her hands and knees. He didn’t know what he was more shocked by: the fact that she didn’t seem concerned that those jeans were almost certainly ruined...or that he was kind of turned on.

Was it really surprising, though? The whole point of coming out here was so that they could finally get some time alone. His house was always so busy and her roommate worked from home and always had friends over, making it impossible to find any sort of privacy. Hell, the only times they even got to make out without the threat of being barged in on or prying eyes was in their cars after dates. And even then, they were both too tall for anything more. Not that either of them wanted their first time having sex together to be in a car anyways. They wanted it to be far more special. (Quickies and throwing out roommates could come later.)

After more than eight months, the lack of intimacy was starting to take a toll on their relationship. It was clear that they needed a weekend away, just the two of them. Though, he still had absolutely no idea how he’d let her talk him into camping instead of the nice beach getaway he had all planned out.

As he pondered over this, she looked up, catching his eye and giving him that smile that’d first caught his attention at the Smash Club. His heart jumped -- and so did his cock. He shifted himself subtly, hoping she wouldn’t notice.

(Y/N) frowned at the discomfort on his face. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he said too quickly. His gaze moved to the rock next to his shoe.

He truly was a terrible liar.

“This was a bad idea,” she sighed, deflated. “We should have just gone to the beach.”

His eyes returned to hers.

“No, no!” he reassured her. The last thing he ever wanted to do was hurt her feelings. “No, I’m just adjusting to the scenery. That’s all! I’m sorry for being a bit of a downer.”

She smiled at him again. “You are not a downer, Danny Tanner.”

He smiled back as she stood up, dusted her hands off on her pants, and walked over to him.

The feeling of her arms slowly draping around his neck sent shockwaves through his body. His hands instinctively found her waist as she pulled him into a passionate kiss. He moaned as her fingers tangled in his hair and her tongue pushed its way into his mouth. He couldn’t help it -- he loved it when she took control of him like this.

A grin dominated her features when she pulled back after several moments, panting. She took in his flushed complexion, the sound of his lungs catching up, and the lust in his eyes.

He was right where she wanted him.

She pulled him in for a more demanding, passionate kiss.

Their tongues exploring each other once again, his hands moved to her ass. He gripped it tightly, reveling in the feel of it and the quiet groan he elicited from her. Their bodies melted together like they never had been able to before. They fit together so perfectly. And both of them knew it.

(Y/N) couldn’t control the returning grin when she felt his hard cock pressed against her. She bit her lip as he trailed wet kisses down her neck.

“Danny,” she said between stifled moans, “maybe we should move this to the tent?”

He didn’t say a word, opting instead to grab her hand and lead her to the tent she’d practically stuffed with blankets and pillows. Perfectly planned out to make sure they were as comfortable as possible all night long -- no matter what activity or position they found themselves in.

Plus, let’s be honest, Danny Tanner wasn’t exactly the “‘roughin’-it” type anyways. She had to promise to make it as comfortable as possible to get him to come out here in the first place. And, boy, did she use that to her advantage.

The layers of comfort cushioned their knees as they knelt down in the tent, facing each other.

Danny captured her lips for a brief moment before leaning over to zip up the tent behind them. Or, he tried to at least.

The tall, lanky man struggled to keep his balance as he fumbled with the zipper. He yanked at it repeatedly to no avail. Frustrated, he growled, “Dammit!”

Shaking her head and laughing, she nudged his hands out of the way.

“Stop before you break my tent,” she said. She pulled the zipper up a few inches, held the flaps tightly together at the bottom, and zipped it closed in one smooth motion. Smirking, she turned back to him, one eyebrow raised.

“Yeah, I was going to try that next,” he bluffed, earning another big laugh from her.

“Sure you were,” she retorted, a massive grin adorning her gorgeous face.

God, he loved that smile! It was positively intoxicating to every single one of his senses. He had to taste it.

Tentatively, he brushed her hair behind her ear and leaned back in to kiss her, feeling her body press against his again. She melted in his embrace, kissing him back with a fiery passion. Their tongues tangled together as (y/n) once again started to take control.

Danny reveled in her dominance, his cock hard and making its presence well known between them. Taking hold of the hem of his shirt, she removed it -- slowly -- trailing her pinky fingers up his sides, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

Pulling off her own shirt, she moved his hands to her breasts. A deep blush spread across his whole torso as he squeezed them. How did he not notice she wasn’t wearing a bra before? Had he really been so preoccupied with the state of nature around their campsite? So pointless. All those months they’d been unable to properly enjoy each other and show each other affection -- and he’d wasted the first hour of their getaway fussing over dirt and leaves.

Well, he’d just have to make up for it.

His soft thumbs playing with her nipples, Danny slowly made his way across her cheek and down her neck to her right breast. He took it in his mouth, moving his tongue in narrowing circles, culminating on her nipple. The hummed moans he garnered spurred him on -- which, of course, he repeated with the left one.

(Y/N)’s underwear became uncomfortably wet. She couldn’t stand it any longer.

She seized his face by the jaw, bringing it back to hers and thrusting her tongue into his mouth just before they connected. Her hands quickly worked open his jeans and slid them down his thighs. A shiver ran down his spine as his cock met the chilling dusk air.

Danny carefully laid her down, lips never separating. Wasting no time, he removed his pants completely and hovered his hand over the waistband of her pants, waiting for permission. She nodded and soon felt his warm skin on her inner thighs.

(Y/N) ran her hand over his chest as they took each other in.

Her heart skipped a beat as she realized the one thing she’d forgotten to pack.

“Shit,” she swore, dropping her head back on the pillows in frustration.

“What?” he asked, concerned. “What’s wrong?”

She growled. “I forgot to pack condoms.”

“Oh,” he chucked, “I’ve got it covered.” He reached into the front pocket of the backpack that was in the corner behind her head.

She watched in astonishment as he pulled out three boxes of condoms.

“Fuck, Danny!” (y/n) exclaimed. “We’re going to be out here for two nights. How many of those do you expect to use?!”

The lust in his eyes blazed. “It’s been eight months, (y/n). I plan to run out.”

She laughed as he dipped back down to her neck, handing her one of the boxes, dropping the others beside them. Her hands pulled open the box and wrapper.

(Y/N) grasped the back of his head with one hand, fingers carding his hair and locking him to her lips before moving both hands down to expertly roll it over his cock and began stroking him -- slowly.

Gasps and moans vibrated against her throat for a few moments before he couldn’t take it anymore. He pulled her hand away, lacing their fingers together by her head.

Making his way back to her lips, he dipped his long fingers between her folds, assessing how prepared she was. She was positively dripping.

Those soft fingers gently pushed into her, instantly finding that perfect spot. Nails dug into his skin in response, pairing perfectly with unrestrained moans that made his cock weep with precum.

She dragged her nails down his back to his ass, grasping it tightly and pulling him closer so his groin met hers.

“Tanner,” (y/n) gasped. “I need more! Fuck. Me. NOW!”

A deep sound she’d never heard from him before emanated from somewhere deep in his chest at the command. Before she could blink, he was fully inside her, giving her a couple seconds to adjust. When he was sure she was ready, he started thrusting. Slow at first, but picking up pace with each one. His moans were almost as loud as hers. Her nails clawed at his back, losing herself in every ounce of the ecstasy he was drilling into her. She couldn’t hold on for much longer….

Their names mingled together in harmony until his thrusts lost their rhythm and spasm ran from her core out through her limbs.

When they came down from their highs, Danny laid beside her and pulled her to nuzzle into his chest.

“You know,” (y/n) said, still catching her breath, “I don’t think you brought enough.”

Danny chuckled, kissing the top of her head. “I’ll keep that in mind for the next trip.”

~~~

Tag list: @lilythemadqueen @josiecarioca @klinenovakwinchester @once-again-i-am-dead

Let me know if you would like to be added! <3

#danny tanner #full house #danny tanner x reader #danny tanner fanfic #fanfiction #full house fanfic #citric acid #victoriaholmeswriting

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zukka-dyke · 3 years

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a concept:

when zuko goes back to the fire nation, after ba sing se and before the day of the black sun, mai sneaks into his room every night and they sleep together. not in a sexual way, they’ve both come to the conclusion that neither of them are at all into the opposite gender, but the idea of being together, just the two of them, for the rest of their lives, well that seems better than being in a loveless mariage with someone that they don’t even know.

that’s the thing, about mai and zuko. they love each other, they really do. just not in the way that people want them to love each other.

because of this, this love, this solidarity, mai sneaks into zuko’s room in the palace every night, and she lays with him until they both fall asleep, and she comforts him when the nightmares come.

the nightmares still come, of course they do. mai thinks it’s something about being back in the palace, being in the room that he was in when his life changed forever, every single day. she was there, on the day of the agni kai, she saw what happened, she can understand why zuko still dreams about it.

she dreams about it too.

so they both still have nightmares, zuko almost ever night and mai maybe once or twice a week. it’s still too much; no kid their age should have as much trauma as they do.

but they have their trauma, and they can’t get rid of it, so when zuko wakes from his nightmares, mai wakes too, and they brew a pot of tea and sit together on the balcony, soaking in the night time breeze and refilling their cups until there’s no tea left. then, they’ll go back to bed, and mai will lay with zuko until he falls asleep, and then she’ll go back to her own room, right next to ty lee’s, and they’ll keep up the charade for another day after that.

the night before the day of the black sun, zuko is more restless than usual. mai can tell; he’s usually still in sleep, but that night he tosses and turns until mai herself gets fed up with his constant motion and pulls his restless limbs towards her body, purposefully cuddling someone of her own acord for what may be the first time in her sixteen years of life.

she doesn’t see zuko at all, the day of the eclipse, and when she sneaks into his room that night, all that’s left for her is a letter, no prince in sight.

and mai- mai is mad. she’s mad because zuko didn’t tell her, and they promised each other that they wouldn’t keep secrets, and if he’d just told her, then she would’ve gone with him, and then they could still be together.

not be together be together. mai might not have loved zuko like that, but he was her best friend, and she did love him, and her heart aches with the idea of him being gone.

people think that ty lee is her best friend, mai herself tells them that ty lee is her best friend, and she tells them that zuko is her boyfriend because that’s what’s expected of her.

but that’s not who she is, not really.

so she reads zuko’s letter, and then she reads it again, and then she runs down the hallways with it grasped tightly in her hands, and she fligs open the door to ty lee’s room and she sees her friend there, drinking a cup of some herbal tea, and she holds her cup just like zuko does, with her pinky fingers balenced on the bottom, and mai sees her and she breaks. she manages to fling the door shut behind herself, and gives ty lee enough time to shoot her a concerned look before she collapses to the floor and sobs, actually, really sobs.

she hasn’t sobbed like this since zuko was banished.

ty lee is concerned, of course she is, and she’s on the floor with mai in a second, prying the letter out of her trembling hands. she reads it, and then she’s crying too, albeit softer and quieter than mai.

with shaking hands, ty lee pries mai up off the ground and onto her bed, and they sit there together, crying, for who knows how long.

mai gets over it, she thinks. she’s pretty sure that the avatar will win the war, when it comes time, not that she’d ever say that, so she thinks that zuko will survive, even if she won’t. she hates the idea of her living while he dies, and really, living without zuko isn’t really living anyways.

but she makes due. without zuko to share a bed with now, she shares with ty lee, the two of them staying up late with their pot of sweet, herbal tea, and their pinkies resting on the bottoms of their cups.

mai is the little spoon.

(they don’t talk about it)

then she gets the letter from her uncle. the hawk arrives at the window of ty lee’s room, early in the morning, and together they run until they find azula, mediatiting alone in one of the pavilions. when they get to the boiling rock, mai tells the other two to stay on the airship, and she goes into the prison and she finds her uncle, who takes her to zuko.

mai tries to fight. she tries to play the part of the girl that she’s supposed to be, hreatbroken by the betrayal of her love. but really, the only tears that she’s crying are that of relief, because zuko is alive, he’s alive, and that’s enough for mai. to know that he’s doing what he set out to do, that’s enough for her.

and later that day, when she sees him fighting with the water tribe boy up on the gondola, sees that sparkle in his eyes, that all too familiar look, she knows that he made the right choice.

now she has to make the right choice too.

so she stops the guards. she knows that azula will try to kill her, but she means it when she says “I love him more than I fear you,” and that’s enough for her. she’s willing to die if zuko gets to live.

but then ty lee saves her. and they both go to prison, but it doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter, because they’re together, and zuko is safe, and mai can finally rest easy knowing that zuko is safe, and so is ty lee, and everything will be okay.

they break out of prison within the week.

mai doesn’t really know where they should go from there. she’s been around the world, but she really doesn’t know where she and ty lee, the daughter of a fire nation noble and an ex circus performer, will be welcome. after a week of camping around the fire nation, they reach the earth kingdom boarder, and mai can see the coastline, maybe a day’s walk from where they are. they still have some money, just enough for two ferry tickets to kyoshi island.

the girls don’t welcome them at first. they take one look at them, their pale skin, their fire nation eyes, and they arrange themselves into fighting stances, but mai bows so low that her nose brushes the ground and ty lee does the same beside her and for the first time in years she takes the knives out from under her sleeves and lays them on the ground in front of her.

she’s unarmed, unprotected, and honestly afraid for her life, but ty lee’s there next to her, and there’s a little voice inher ear that sounds suspiciously like zuko saying “breathe mai, just breathe” and so she does.

the warriors take them in, promise them a meal in exchange for their story. after that, they’ll decide if they get to stay longer.

and for a minute, mai is tempted to lie, to say that they’re just travelers, just refugees hiding from a war that they don’t want any part in.

but zuko always told her to be honest.

so she is.

she tells the warriors everything, from meeting azula and ty lee at school to being gay. one of the girls asks her if she and ty lee are a couple, and they both go red in the face but mai finds that she really isn’t against that idea. she tells them about ba sing se, and how sorry they are for stealing the uniforms, and she talks about zuko coming home, and the nightmares, and then him leaving all over again.

she tells them about the letter.

she tells them about boiling rock, and saving zuko, and ty lee saving her, and then she talks about prison, and camping, and the smallest, dimmest hope that they’d be welcome here.

and they are.

after hearing her story, and giving them dinner, the warriors welcome her and ty lee with open arms and warm hearts, and mai has the most amazing month of her life training with the warriors and spending her every waking moment with ty lee, and time passes so quickly that before she knows it it’s the night before the comet and she’s taking ty lee on a walk along the beach, and then they’re kissing under the stars.

the comet is horrifying, and the sky is red, and mai hates herself for not being with zuko, but she and ty lee are safe on kyoshi island, and they stand with the rest of the warriors on the beach and watch silently as the comet comes and goes, and mai and ty lee are alowed to have the war paint and armour on, for real, for the first time.

word reaches the island the next day that ozai has fallen, that zuko and azula went up against each other in an agni kai, that zuko is set to be the next firelord, and mai knows that they have to go back to caldera.

some of the warriors come with them, and mai’s hands shake for the entirety of the ferry ride, but then she’s there, and she sees the same water tribe boy from the prison, and a girl who looks just like him, and another girl in green, and a kyoshi warrior who the girls tell her is named suki, and a bald kid who can only be the avatar, but she doesn’t pay attention to any of them, just follows the water tibe girl’s directions and grasps ty lee’s hand tight in her’s as they fly down the hall, towards the infirmery.

towards zuko.

they get there, and zuko is standing on shaky legs, trying to get his arm through the sleeve of his robe without pulling too much as the skin around his injury, and ty lee stands in the doorway, a respectable distance away, while mai crosses the room and says, just a hint of her usual snark in her voice,

“need any help there?”

and zuko turns, and he smiles, a real, full smile, a grin even, and it’s something that mai hasn’t seen on his face since they were children, since before his mother died, and mai can’t help but let a smile sneak onto her face as well. she guides his arms through the sleeves, and notices that he smells like ink and the sea.

“so the water tribe boy then,” she murmurs, and zuko goes red as a tomato but doesn’t deny it.

“so ty lee then,” he counters, and ty lee goes red where she’s still standing in the doorway, and so does mai, but neither of them deny it either.

it’s over, mai thinks to herself that night, laying in an unfamiliar palace guest room with ty lee curved around her. it’s all over.

zuko will be firelord, and ozai will be in prison, and azula will finally get the help that she needs. mai and ty lee will go back to kyoshi island, and they’ll train with the girls, and open a flower shop, and they’ll come back to visit zuko sometimes, in the palace, with his friends.

mai will learn that the earth kingdom girl’s name is toph, and the boy from the prison, the one that zuko smells like, with the boomerang, his name is sokka, and his sister is katara, and the avatar is aang.

she’ll become especially close with suki and sokka, suki because ty lee will become a warrior, and even though mai is just an honerary member she still holds the girls near and dear to her heart. sokka because he’s one of the only other people in the world who knows what it’s like to love zuko the way that mai does, and mai will never, ever take that forgranted.

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weirdlittlecorner · 3 years

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Lin Kuei Hospitality: Cyrax

Notes: nsfw, 18+, comfort

Plot: A little slower, a little more sensual. Because Cyrax is a great character and deserves more attention and love

h/t = hair texture

Tags: @lilliannmac @onesillybeach @icy-spicy

—

The five men stood patiently as they awaited your decision. There was no doubt that any of them would show you a good time, which only made it harder to choose. You pursed your lips as you considered your options. Eventually, your attention shifted to the man in yellow. His dark skin and beautiful hair made him stand out as the most handsome of the men. But funnily enough, it wasn’t just his looks that drew your eyes to him. His demeanor was much different than the others. While he was standing at attention, as disciplined as the rest, there was a small crack in his stone exterior. As if he were in pain, though there was obviously nothing hurting him. That you could see, anyway.

It was almost as if he couldn’t stand being in the others’ vicinity. You wondered what could have happened to warrant such a reaction. This was the first time that you had ever seen any of the warriors up close, so you had nothing to go off of. It was most likely just some petty drama that was common amongst roommates- if they could even be considered as such. It would make the most sense. You, too, had your friends that you loved dearly, but you couldn’t imagine actually living with them every day. Either way, it wasn’t your place to pry.

The Grandmaster cleared his throat impatiently, motioning toward the line of men once more. Clearly wanting you to hasten and pick one so the rest could return to their business. Offering the dark-skinned man a warm smile, you nodded, “Come on, let’s get out of here,”

—

“Thank you for my new buzzsaw. I was able to try it out today; your work is very impressive,” The man, Cyrax, whispered as the two of you made your way through the long corridor to get back to your room. You smiled at the compliment, though that nagging confusion didn’t allow you to fully enjoy his words. His new buzzsaw. The one that had been amongst the new additions to the Grandmaster’s standard request.

What exactly did a clan like the Lin Kuei need all this new technology for? Again, it really wasn’t your business what your clients did with your products. But you couldn’t help but wonder... Whatever was going on, you just hoped that it was at least somewhat ethical.

The impending ‘improvements’ were a sensitive subject amongst the warriors. Cyrax had taken the most offense to the idea, as any normal person would, yet his fellow assassins thought that he was the crazy one. No, what was crazy was forcing one to give up their free will in exchange for the efficiency of automation. But he didn’t dare challenge the Grandmaster. Doing so would result in the most severe punishment; as if becoming a fusion of flesh and metal wasn’t already punishment enough.

“Hey, I noticed that you kind of… seem at odds with the others. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but I just thought I’d ask if you wanted to talk about it,” You broke the silence, sinking down onto the bed and patting the space next to you. He claimed the empty space, sitting close enough so that your knees touched.

By the way his brows knitted together, you half-expected him to tell you. But he merely shook his head after a moment, “I am not at liberty to speak on the matter. But thank you for your concern,” His voice was even and had that same cold quality that was the standard, but you could tell that there was great sadness behind his words.

Instinctively, you opened your arms out to him, willing him to position himself in between them. You weren’t really sure what you had expected to happen, but soon enough, Cyrax was locked in your warm embrace. You gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. The two of you stayed like that for a few moments, basking in the silent comfort of each other’s embrace. But soon you felt his shoulders stiffen, along with a kiss being pressed to the base of your neck.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” While you had been excited for tonight’s proposed activities, now was obviously not a great time. You wouldn’t ask him to perform for you just because it was what the Grandmaster had ordered. He needed, deserved, a break. And while you would certainly enjoy the contact, you refused to degrade the man. But he clearly didn’t think the same way. Not when his face was still buried in the crook of your neck.

“I understand that. This is something I want to do,” His words made you shiver as renewed excitement tore through your abdomen. Well, in that case…

A rough hand quickly found its way into your h/t, h/c locks, effectively undoing the delicate hairstyle. A pleasured shiver wracked your body as he used your hair to bring you closer to him as you two shared your first kiss of the night. You hummed as the tip of your tongue darted out to drag itself across his bottom lip, granting you an elicit moan in return.

Without breaking the intense oral lock, Cyrax’ hands freed themselves from the mess of hair in favor of untying the knots in your overshirt. You moved your dominant hand to assist him in the process while your other hand remained cupping his face. Shrugging to remove the fabric from your shoulders, you reluctantly pulled away to unclasp your bra. Seeing that you had things under control, Cyrax removed himself to focus on shedding his own clothing. But not before giving a hard, playful tug on the hems of your pants, effectively pooling them around your ankles.

A giggle slipped past your parted lips as you bent down, yanking your pants, along with your panties, off the rest of the way and kicking off your boots. You repositioned yourself so that your knees pressed against the soft sheets as you returned the favor to your partner. Eager fingertips clawed at the form-fitting armor, as if that would make it disappear faster. Cyrax hummed in amusement at your eagerness before unbuttoning the clasps and untying the knots for you. Impatience turned into wonder as your hands brushed over his chest. His abs. His shoulders. All of which were hard bands of muscle, but also soft in a way. Even his body reflected the gentle demeanor that had separated him from the others. The two of you were content to sit just like this, fingers exploring each other’s bodies.

You embraced each other, much like how you had done previously. Though this time, the intention was very different. The warmth radiating off of the two of you was almost unbearable, but you ignored it as you took to kissing each one of his prominent muscles. He sighed softly, enjoying your impromptu muscle worship. This continued until the pooling heat in your respective pelvises won out and you just had to go further. Cyrax shifted so that his legs boxed in your hips. Pressing himself against you once more, he brought his lips down to your manubrium to plant soft kisses in the crevice of your breasts. Meanwhile, his right hand was making quick work of his pants and boxers, his hard length pressing against your inner thigh. Which, if you might add, was already slick with your dripping arousal.

There was obviously no need to pregame, as you were both more than ready. You didn’t think that you could tolerate more teasing, anyway. Impatient once again, you wrapped your hand around the head of his penis to guide him in. The man groaned as your walls began compressing his cock immediately. With a few more pushes, he was completely in, reveling in the feeling of being consumed by your flesh.

Sighing, your arms found their way around his broad shoulders as he began thrusting into your tight core. The sounds of your mutual pleasure were only slightly louder than the creaking sounds the bedposts made as they scratched the wall behind them. Your e/c eyes closed in bliss as you enjoyed the rocking sensation of intercourse. His lips found yours once more as his speed increased and his hands made their way to your s/c legs. In a fluid motion, your ankles were craned toward the headboard as he pushed himself deeper. The sensation of your cervix being stroked caused you to scream, and you were glad that no one could hear you. You hoped not, anyway. What were once your gentle fingertips rubbing your lover’s back turned into talons that began clawing at the tingling flesh.

If it had hurt, he didn’t complain. But despite your muddled concerns, the feeling of you scratching his back only enhanced the warrior’s experience. He grunted each time your hips met, feeling his climax approaching. And you were right there with him, your smaller body trembling as the familiar knot twisted in your stomach. It kept building, and building until the knot finally uncoiled itself with a burst of wet heat. It felt as if the sun had just imploded inside of you and that you should be a pile of ash. But you were whole, despite the thick dick that was still stretching your pussy relentlessly.

Your screaming had grown impossibly louder as the warrior continued to batter your walls in anticipation of his own orgasm. What seemed like endless abuse to your cervix abruptly ended when you felt a spray of liquid spattering against the muscle. Your lover grunted, his brown eyes screwed shut and his bottom lip bleeding from his teeth cutting through the skin, as he hosed your insides with his warm semen.

Despite having finished, Cyrax made no move to pull out. Rather, he chose to rest over top of you, his cock warm inside your trembling hole. You allowed it.

There were no words. Maybe when you could think clearly again, you would be able to find your voice. It might be a little hoarse, to accompany the ache that would surely be present when you tried to walk in the morning, but that sounded like just that: a morning problem.

#cyrax #mk cyrax #mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat #cyrax x reader #lin kuei

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queenlists · 4 years

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Twisted Halloween

A Dandy mott x reader where the reader is Dandy's friend and gets kidnapped by twisty on halloween and Dandy is angry but doesn't reveal his identity to the reader only gives them special treatment! (Sorry if that doesn't make sense!) ~signed just a simple Dandy loving anon~ (Request)

Word Count: 3104

A/N: Thank you to the Dandy loving anon that sent me this request! I hope that this is similar to what you wanted. We are at 168. Thank you all for the support! I really do appreciate you all. If you want to find my masterlist, please click here! I hope you enjoy this ✌

Post Date: 05/14/2020

“We can just come pick you up. You’re cutting into our Halloween party time,” Dandy whined into the phone. “I’m almost done! Don’t worry about picking me up, I will take my bike,” I stared at my costume, wondering what it was missing. “I’m sure you want your own mode of transportation after everything. I understand,” I bit the inside of my cheek as I slowly worked on my costume, not sure how to respond. “It’s okay. Really it is...is this tomato on my sandwich? I specifically asked for no tomato! Where’s your manager?” I sighed, listening to Dandy tear into an unfortunate caterer. Stepping back, I admired my work “Alright, I’m on my way!” I chirped into the phone before ending the call.

It’s Halloween. Every Halloween, Dandy and I have a small party. Just for the two of us. We haven’t missed a single Halloween since we met and despite the heated fight we had, we couldn’t miss this one..

“You can’t do this to him. You can’t do this to me. Please, Y/n, one more Halloween. Just one more!”

What a mistake

My eyes fluttered open as the sunlight danced on my face, waking me of my involuntary deep slumber. My head pulsated with pain as my dirt covered body shivered. As I lifted my arm to rest my hand on my aching head, I could hear the chains scrape across the floor. Where am I? My eyes scanned the dusty room. A cage. I was in a cage. In a cage on a bus. My eyes continued to scan the room as they fell upon old toys that must have been older than I am. Dirty dolls in worn, ragged dresses. Some missing one eye, one arm, one leg, or even their head. Wheeless toy trucks. Squeaky toys that probably spat dust out when squeezed. I heard a small cough nearby. I slowly turned my head, wincing. My neck felt so stiff. My eyes connected with another's. A girl around my age and a little boy. I immediately identified them as the missing siblings from just a few weeks ago. No one knew just how long they were gone. Their parents were on a vacation at the time of their disappearance. Their faces were plastered on flyers, newspapers, milk cartons, the news channels, etc. They looked different now compared to the clean, polite, bright eyed children the pictures portrayed. They were covered in dirt, dirtier than I was. Their hair matted. Their clothing torn and riddled with holes. Their eyes sunken. They must’ve been here for awhile now.

"D-do you know who did this?" I stammered, licking at my cracked lips. I tasted blood and my lip was swollen. I continued to run my tongue over my enlarged bottom lip as the girl began to sigh "The clown. Twisty the clown,"

Twisty. Dandy, my best friend, had talked about Twisty over a million times before. Dandy became obsessed with clowns and even had his mother buy him a clown costume. A few of them actually. I had always assumed the disappearances were blamed on an urban legend as they were so mysterious and unheard of in this part of town. Nothing happened like this in Jupiter. The streets were innocent. They were so innocent that the cops were so bored from the lack of action in town that they’d drive on down to the freak show to stir up some trouble themselves. As corrupt as that was, no one really complained because without it there would be nothing for the bored to gossip about. There would be nothing to gasp and read about in the daily newspapers. Nothing to wake up tired eyes. Nothing to shake and stir the town. Kids were free to roam around until nightfall and even then as long as they stayed in or around their yards, they continued to play with little to no adult supervision. No harm done. Every child accounted for by supper. The only odd and sometimes looked down on thing in town was the freak show and even that wasn’t bad. Jupiter was safe..up until now anyway.

“Twisty? Isn’t Twisty just a name they plastered onto the missing case?” I looked between the girl and the boys. “Twisty is real. He’ll come back sometime today to give us supper..maybe,” the little boy looked down, poking at a stale piece of moldy bread. “How long have you been here?” I chewed on my lip, producing more blood. “It’s hard to remember,” both the boy and girl whimpered, their eyes lowered as they stared blankly at the floor. I choked down a sob as I shook my head in disbelief. Why me? Why them? Why is this happening?

There were crunching footsteps coming from the distance. My ears perked up as I scrambled to my knees. “It’s him,” the little boy whimpered as the girl pulled him towards her, rocking him back and forth as she hummed to him. As the footsteps got closer, I could hear the tingle of little bells. Goosebumps perked up on my skin as the bells and footsteps got closer and closer. Louder and louder. After a minute or two I could hear maniacal giggling. Shuddering, I closed my eyes as shivers shot down my spine. I squeezed my eyes shut as I heard the bus door peel open. I could hear the tingle of bells paired with heavy breathing. I felt myself slip into an abyss of panic, so I went to my happy place:

The warmth of the sun kissed my skin as I frolicked in the flowered garden with him. My cheeks burned from the stretch of my smile and my stomach clenched with my heavy laughter. His blue eyes hid behind wrinkled eyelids, his sparkling white teeth shone in the sunlight through his smile. I ran my thumb over his hand as he led me towards the big mansion that he lived in. The inside of the mansion smelled of sweet baked goods as a hint of cinnamon lingered in the air. Fresh bread. Fresh pie. Fresh cookies. You name it, it was there. Flowers. Big bouquets of flowers placed here and there, adding a pop of color to the big mansion. A sweet treat for the eyes.

You could hear the faint tune of Dora’s hum from the kitchen as well as you could hear the gentle, light clicks of Gloria’s heels coming towards us. “You look absolutely wonderful today, Y/n. You look handsome as ever, Dandy!” Gloria pressed her lipsticked lips together in a pleasant smile as she stood in front of Dandy and I. “Mother, have Dora bring us up a platter of desserts as well as finger sandwiches and some iced tea!” Dandy ordered. “Please,” I added with a smile. Gloria’s eyes were glued to our interlocked fingers. “Mother!” Dandy shouted, tightening his grip on my hand. “Yes, dear! I heard you clearly. I will send her right up when it’s all prepared,” Gloria’s eyes slowly travelled up to my eyes. We held eye contact for some time before she nodded, walking away towards the kitchen.

“Let’s go!” Dandy grinned, leading me upstairs. I looked through the design on the staircase railing at Gloria who stood in her place, looking back at me. Her eyes were quiet and gentle, but at the same time telling. Almost warning. My footsteps quickly matched Dandy’s as he began to drag me up the stairs and through the house to his playroom.

We laughed and joked around from sun up until sun down. His laugh, contagious. His smile, breathtaking. Time flew by with him. There was so much to do in so little time. “Together we can do anything, Y/n! We’re the bestest of friends that ever existed. We can be rulers, we SHOULD be rulers! We could rule the universe and take over galaxies. We’re unstoppable. We’re immortal and invincible!” Dandy preached, flailing his arms around with a big smile. Pointing everywhere as he stomped around with his head held high. His confidence beamed and poured right out of him as he spewed “Y/n, we could move mountains and drain oceans. Shall we take over?” Dandy’s smirk slithered across his face as he leaned in closer to me. “We shall,” I grinned at Dandy.

Pleased, Dandy flopped onto the big couch that I perched up on, laying his head on my lap “I got this for you,” Dandy handed me a piece of my favorite candy as well as a flower that he had picked from their garden “To an amazing friendship,” “To an amazing friendship,” I smiled back at Dandy, smelling the flower.

I could feel the warm bursts of heat coming from the other side of the cage as Twisty breathy panted by my face. The smell of mint drowned my senses. I heard the wired cage dangle and shake as Twisty grumbled. I couldn’t bring myself to open my eyes as I heard the locked cage door screech open. I could hear the bells jingle as metal clanked and spun on the floor. “Mr. Clown, can we leave after supper?” I heard the boy squeak before the girl shushed him. Twisty didn’t respond. There was a continued shuffle then a brief pause. I knew that Twisty or whoever this clown is was staring right at me. I refused to open my eyes even after I felt something drop at my feet. I kept my eyes shut when the cage screeched to a close and keys jangled as the door locked.

I finally opened my eyes when I could hear the shuffling start to fade away. I could see the back of the clown walking away before prying the bus doors open then closed again. I looked at the girl and the boy who were shoveling what looked like plain oatmeal into their mouths from metal plates before looking down at my feet. My favorite candy and a familiar flower along with my favorite meal that looked eerily similar to Dora’s style of cooking. I scrambled to my feet to try to get a glimpse of the clown, but by the time I made it to an open window the clown was gone. I could only hear the faint jingles of the costume.

My stomach grumbled as I fell to my knees, unwrapping the candy and shoving it into my mouth with a satisfied sigh. “He never gives us candy,” I heard the little boy whimper. “Or anything other than oatmeal,” the girl added. I slid the container with my favorite food in it to the siblings “It’s yours,” I watched as their faces lit up, small smiles as a thank you. As they began to eat, I sighed and twirled the flower in between my fingers awaiting Dandy.

“Oh my gosh, Dandy! You can’t just say that,” I giggled, covering my mouth as Dandy stood in front of one of his many mirrors. “But the beauty of it all is that, I can!” Dandy grinned, staring at himself in the mirror. “Do you know what you want to be for Halloween?” Dandy nodded before turning towards me “Have you heard of Twisty the clown?” his eyebrows wiggled as his eyes stared into my soul. “Oh yeah, Jupiter’s killer clown! Instead of pinning the cases on a legend, the police need to be searching and catching leads” I rolled my eyes. “No Y/n it’s not a legend. He’s real!” Dandy stamped his foot before sighing “Twisty is real,” I watched as Dandy pulled out a clown costume, dangling it in front of himself as he posed in the mirror. “You’ve been into clowns a lot lately,” I watched as Dandy began to admire himself in the mirror, his eyes dressing himself up in the costume. “I met Twisty. We are partners,” Dandy ran his fingers up and down the costume.

I mildly laughed, shaking my head at Dandy’s ridiculousness. Dandy was known to come up with fantasies in his head and get wrapped up in them. It was best to not argue with him. “Why are you laughing?” Dandy snapped, his eyes burning holes into my head. “Calm down!” I defended, shocked by his tone. I was used to him speaking harshly, but to everyone else and never me. “I will not calm down. You are disrespecting me,” Dandy began to slowly creep over to me, his tone getting louder and louder. His tone of voice sending unpleasant chills up and down my spine over and over again “You’re supposed to be my best friend and you don’t believe me?””

I quietly stood up, backing away from Dandy “I just didn’t think he was real. I believe you Dandy. I do,” I backed myself up into the wall as Dandy got closer and closer until his body pressed against mine. His sharp eyes searched mine before a smile ripped across his face “Okay! Let’s play a game, huh?”

My thoughts were cut short as I heard the bus doors pry open. I snapped my head towards the clown, gasping. I felt a thousand bullets tear into my body as I looked Twisty up and down with watered eyes. “Dandy,” I whispered, covering my mouth. Dandy grunted through the dirty mask, walking towards the cage. Dandy stood in front of me, staring at me with those eyes. I stuck the flower through the case, staring Dandy in his eyes “Why are you doing this Dandy?” Dandy’s eyes were glued to the flower. “You’re better than this,” I whimpered, looking at the boy and girl behind me “Let them go. Let me go! We can talk about this,” I snapped my head back towards Dandy with pleading eyes “Please,”

Dandy wasn’t hiding behind that mask. It only covered his mouth, leaving his slick back hair and bright eyes open to see. Dandy grunted into the mask, his eyebrows squeezing together as he jumped up and down, rattling the cage. I heard shuffling as the girl held onto the whimpering boy. I didn’t move as I stared at Dandy who continued to rattle and shake the cage in an attempt to scare me. “You don’t scare me. I know you!”

Dandy ripped the flower through the cage, tearing it up into pieces and throwing the tiny brightly colored pieces towards the boy and girl. “Leave them alone!” I demanded “You are a monster!” Dandy began to heavy breath as he threw the bag of stuff at the cage before stomping away and out of the bus. I crouched down as I reached for the bag. Pulling on the string, the bag fell over and some of the contents spilled out: my favorite snacks, my favorite bottled sodas, a greasy brown bag of food from the small diner that Dandy and I frequented, a container of sloppy oatmeal, wet wipes, a brush, a crumpled up ball of paper, and one pair of clothes.

My clothes. The clothes that I had left the night I ran out on Dandy.

I tried to stay away from Dandy as much as I could without him taking much notice. He started to become increasingly angry. More physical. More uncontrollable. More spontaneous. We were enjoying a late night snack with Gloria. We were dressed up in these new, silky pajamas that Gloria had spotted on one of her out of town outings. I had agreed to a sleepover after Gloria showed up to my house, proposing the idea that I come spend time with Dandy sick or not due to his lonely behavior. “He misses you dearly and so do I” she pleaded. The woman goes through hell with that boy, so it was hard for me to not agree.

“Let’s shoot the freaks!” Dandy laughed, waving a gun around. “Let’s not,” I bit my lip as I glanced at Gloria who sipped at her cup of tea. “Stop being a buzzkill!” Dandy shouted at me. “You’re being so unreasonable! You’ve been acting so different, Dandy. This is why I’ve been avoiding you!” I screamed back. I covered my mouth as I shook my head. I didn’t mean to say those words. It was supposed to be subtle. Leaving his house an hour early. Two hours earlier. Three hours earlier. Staying home “sick” for a day. Then two days. Then a week. Progressively detaching him from me was the plan and now it’s out in the open with no way of backtracking.

Dandy stumbled back “You weren’t sick last week?” I pressed my lips together as I looked down. “You are such a liar! No wonder why you refused our doctor to visit. You are nothing, Y/n!” Dandy screamed “You are..nothing,” “Dandy, no!” Gloria screamed.

It all happened so slow. I heard Gloria scream. I heard the tea cup shatter. I felt little drops of the hot tea splash at my legs. I felt Gloria’s hands as she pushed me down and out of the way onto the floor. I heard the loud bang of the gun. I could smell the smoke and gunpowder. I could hear the bullet crack through layers upon layers of the living room wall. Gloria kept shouting, but I couldn’t make out what was being said. The only thing I could really hear was the ringing in my ears. I laid on the ground for a moment not wanting to believe that my best friend would have shot me dead.

I would have been dead had I been alone with Dandy.

It took a minute for that to seep in, but once it did..

“You’re crazy! You’re a monster!” I screamed, scrambling to my feet and running out of the door. I could hear Dandy shouting followed by more gunshot noises. I could feel the heat from the bullets as they chased and missed me. My feet had never ran faster.

“I hate you! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!” Dandy screamed with every bang of the gun.

I opened up and smoothed out the piece of paper and sat down on the floor to read it:

“I’m kind of sorry” was sprawled out in beautiful red writing. Not Dandy’s handwriting but it was Gloria’s.

I shook my head in disbelief as I passed the boy and girl the greasy bag of food and snacks. I watched as they tore open into the bags, hungry for something other than cold oatmeal.

I could hear erratic jingling of bells outside along with the famous words of Dandy “I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!”

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thoughtfullyyoungduck · 4 years

Text

I know him

A/N: this was requested by anon, I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!

summary: could you do a reddie x daughter where she sees apparitions of penny wise but keeps it to herself. but one day when she’s w all the losers they mention pennywise in a short joke and she says she knows who that is n they all freak out wondering how she knows and ask her questions to confirm and somehow she knows everything that happened

warnings: fear of being stuck in an elevator so I guess small spaces, pennywise, a brief mention of vomiting and curse words

The old elevator scared her for as long as she could remember, it’s old doors creaking and closing leisurely, and the inside of it coated in a filthy substance that your dad avoided at all costs and urged you to do the same. Many horror story that roamed the building hallways originated from said moving lift, endless cases of people getting stuck in there and injuring themselves, some minor wounds, some majors.

In one particular case, a man from apartment block B4 broke his hand while trying to escape the grimy space, reaching for help outside of the lift only to have the doors ruthlessly crushing his bones, inducing agony so severely that he had to have his hand amputated.

Or another one during which a woman found herself trapped in it’s confinements while a thunderstorm was happening, and ended up electrocuting and dying before morning dawn.

It’s possible that Richie made those story’s up however, and Emma is the first one to admit that her pops does have a track record of pulling pranks on her, but there is a sliver of truth behind the stories.

Several people reported the elevator for malfunctioning, and the tenant always promised to fix the issue, but he never did, and so the thing continued to be a problem. Emma rarely used it, and if she happened to make use of it’s services, she made she was always accompanied by someone who could help in case of an emergency.

June twentieth though, she returned home from school, secretly excited about the prospect of being on her own for the evening, as Richie and Eddie were going out on a date to celebrate their anniversary, and she already imagined all the junk food she bought and would eat throughout the night, when she stumbled upon a problem.

The apartment Richie, Eddie and her lived on was located at the top floor, the furthest away from the prying eyes of the public, in lieu of their future home being renovated, which meant that taking the stairs was a painstaking chore that left her drained of all energy by the time she made it up.

Normally, she occupied the escalator anyway, but she slipped and twisted her ankle at school that morning, and despite it not hurting too bad, Emma figured that using the elevator was still the better call, so her ankle had time to rest.

She hesitated only briefly, before confidently walking in the lift, and pressing the bottom for the eight-floor. Emma tried to make light off the situation, using humor the way Richie had thought her, telling herself that she better take a large gulp of air, just in case the door refused to open again once they slid shut.

‘I got this I got this I got this’, she murmured to herself, psyching herself up before panic overtook her. Using the elevator was an irrational fear she had, and no amount of times riding helped any good in overcoming it. Realistically, the worst thing that could happen was that she locked in, waiting until a neighbor also needed to use the elevator and noticed that someone was in there, then effectively helping her out, but the thought of spending even five minutes with no way out gave her chills, so she suppressed that thought and waited patiently until the lift moved up.

Only it didn’t. The doors latched shut, but no movements upwards preceded. Clearing her throat, Emma hit the floor number again, rationalizing that she pressed the number too soft to be registered, but the eight lit up and yet again no movement took place.

Emma laughed antsy, breathing in and out deeply, still convincing herself that everything was fine, and a firmer hand was needed to get the lift moving, but when nothing happened, she hurriedly thumbed the open button.

With a screeching sound, the doors began to open, wide enough that tears welt up in Emma’s eyes from relief, but then the doors unfolded just enough to see through them into the open hall, not big enough for Emma’s form to fit through, and then shut again.

Terror infiltrated every pore of her being, rendering her a anxiety riddled mess, her breathing shaking too much to properly inhale. Black spots danced on the edge of her vision, becoming faint enough that Emma stumbled backwards and had to grip the railing bar tight in order not to fall.

The temperature read 35° degrees Celsius, the room hot enough that sweat drops formed on Emma’s forehead, and she lost her cool, her mind conjuring up the worst case scenarios.

She repeatedly pushed the open button, wheezing fresh air in the nik of time, while begging to whoever was listening to save her from this mess. Changing tactics, Emma attacked the alarm bell, but then over-analyzed that too. She had no clue whether or not she was supposed to hold it for a longer period of time, or release it and attempt multiple times.

A phone that connected to the main office was also present, and when Emma perceived that, she lunged for it and held it to her ear as close as possible.

‘Hello, please help me’, her voice cracked, ’I’m stuck.’ Nothing but static greeted her, no person on the other line to help her or comfort her, no help on the way.

The tears began bolstering down her cheeks then, a single one leading the way for many others once the dam was finally broken. In spite of not receiving an answer, Emma repeated the same word over and over again anyway, unable to think of any other way out.

She feared that if she kept opening the door, that that too would stop working, and then the heat building would suffocate her. Or the elevator may crash down, killing her instantly, or starvation and dehydration would take her out before anyone finds her and saves her. The fears may sound un-rational, but to Emma they were very real, and she worked herself up into a near panic attack.

‘Please, please, please, I want my parents’, she continues to sob, hoping against all hope that someone apprehends her message.

Her prayers seemed to have been answered when a white glove creeps through the elevator slot, the fingers wiggling back and forth.

‘Take my hand Emma, I’ll help you out.’

Inhibitions aside, Emma allowed said hand to wrap around her wrist, and urged her closer to the edge of the lift, another gloved hand pushing the lift apart and jerking her through. Ignoring the way the stranger somehow knew her name and the way she was lucky she wasn’t crushed by the doors, Emma heaves down on the ground, her painful ankle all forgotten.

The jitters in her body making her stand on shaky legs until she dropped down on her knees. Lunch had already processed most likely, as she couldn’t hurl up anything solid, but a bad taste lingered in her mouth lingers in her mouth regardless

When the last flow leaves her, Emma sits back, still on the ground, her hands buried in her hair to ground herself.

‘You’re out, you’re okay, you’re fine,’ she reassures herself, refraining from rocking back and forth.

For the first time, Emma glanced upwards to look at the person who saved her. The man, if she could call it that, wore a clown suit, completed with a face caked full of make-up. She inched away from him when their eyes connected, certain that the eyes that stared back were yellow, but upon second glance, she notices they were blue, just like her pops.

‘hmm, are you alright there? You look a bit shaken up’, the man grinned with his teeth visible, yellow and sharp on top while his tongue licked over them like he was hungry. He creeped Emma out, but he did rescue her, so Emma felt obligated to give him the benefit of the doubt.

‘Thank you’, she breathed out, the tears in her eyes running dry. He extended a hand out to her, and she took it, pulling herself upright and shaking the nerves off of her.

‘Who are you?’

‘My names Pennywise the dancing clown,’ he giggled in a weird, unsettling tone, ‘you really should refrain from using that lift, I heard it’s,’ he paused and winked at her, ‘scare inducing.’

‘Right,’ Emma trailed off, the polite smile on her face never fading away. ‘Oh wait, you’re a circus performer right? I heard about it coming to town from one of the posters outside.’

At pennywise nod, Emma relaxed. Sure, he came across as frightening, but maybe that was just her imagination after the scare she had experienced, and it would provide a reason why he was dressed like that.

‘Yes yes’, he explained, ‘do you like the circus? Because I love it’, he twisted his body in a way that made bells go off, the smile on his face unusually large for his face. Speaking of which, his forehead was also massive.

‘Your fathers used to love the circus too.’ The admission sparked new interested within Emma, who perked up and listened to him with all her attention.

‘You knew my fathers?’ she asked, shaking off the worry that loomed in the back of her mind.

‘Why yes of course I do, we were all best friends, and we did so much fun things together. If you want, I’ll tell you all about it.’

Emma hesitated, she had never met this man, and he seemed to be sketchy, but at the same time her interests had been piqued, and she figured that the man wouldn’t have come to her aid if he had something malicious planned.

‘They lived in Derry, Eddie and Richie, and they have always been best friends. But the summer of 1989 was one they’ll never forget.’

Emma frowned, neither her dad nor her pops had ever mentioned the summer of 1989, nor had they ever discussed any other people outside of the losers club, but if he knew their names were Eddie and Richie, there’s no way he hadn’t met them.

‘Ow yes, the summer their nightmares came to live right before their very eyes,’ his voice lilts up in a sing song sound, almost a mocking tone, and he belly laughs, as if the prospect of facing your fears was that funny to imagine.

Emma’s heart began to pound faster when the memories of the lift resurfaced, and she couldn’t phantom anyone laughing at that.

‘It all began with uncle Bills little brother….’

When Emma awoke, she was laying down on the sofa, her legs stretched over side so her feet were dangling. She lifted her head and scanned the room in confusion, blinking away the sleep from her eyes.

She would’ve swore that she had a conversation with a guy, but maybe that was a nightmare that she experienced a little too vividly. The talk was strange to begin with, anecdotes including murder, brutal attacks and near death experiences presented as something that really took place, something her family endured.

A quick search on the internet let Emma to believe that she saw a hallucination induced by her distress, and so she never mentioned anything to her fathers when they returned home from their date.

Perhaps the man had offered help to Emma, and he was uncanny enough that Emma dreamed about him after he left, but the conversation was all in her head and never had never come to pass.

The elevator was at full service again the next day, so she never informed Richie and Eddie of that either, feeling no need to rehash how irrational she behaved.

She adamantly fought tooth and nail to never step near the lift at any time, and since her parents were good at parenting, they accepted that with no questions asked, although Richie would huff and puff walking up and down the stairs, his old man bones creaking in protest changelessly.

-----

‘Chug chug chug’, Bill chants, his hands balled in fist chomping down on the table as he viewed Richie gulping down his glass in one smooth sling.

‘I hate it here’, Stan rolls his eyes, downplaying the nearly there smile that graced his face upon hearing roared laughter.

Losers club meetings always brought a never seen amount of chaos and noise, causing them to be chucked out of restaurants more than once, but they’re never deterred.

Stan advocated on multiple occasion to host the parties in one of their houses, but upon the suggestion of organizing one at his house, he backed down and dejectedly proposed a new restaurant they’re welcome at, for now.

This time, the choice alternated between a new Thai restaurant or a steak house that Richie tipped very generously for last time they visited, the new Thai place being a tad more inviting.

Emma loved losers meetings, because she always got to reconnect with her aunts and uncles, and also because the food was more than delicious.

She adored all the losers dearly, but the one she formed a special bond with was Mike, the history buff who knows more than Emma’s actual history teacher, and the one who somehow knows all the right words she must hear if she asks for advice.

The spot next to him is without fail the one chair that remains empty until she arrives, hanging off the tip of his tongue to hear about all the adventures he undergoes on his far off trips.

Today is no exception, Mike sitting on Emma’s left as she bolsters equally as loud as her uncles and aunts as liquid spills from the side of her pops’s face, staining the new shirt her dad recently bought and now belongs in the trash.

Eddie’s face is set in a scowl, as he thrusts out for a napkin and hands it over to Richie, who takes it with a smack kiss on the cheek as a romantic gesture Eddie repulses away from.

‘Dude, keep your disgusting bear filled lips the fuck away from me’, his face lighting up with a blush he tried but fails to suppress. His repulsion of germs decreases every day, but it’s not gone completely, the avoidance of touching the table with any skin proof.

‘Oh come on Eddie, it can’t possibly bother you that much, you married the guy’, Stan remarks, chuckling when Patty softy taps him on the arm.

A waiter pops his out from behind a wall, his face betraying nothing, but the murderous look in his eyes more than telling enough that this will be the last time they pop in this eatery. He refrains from saying anything though, walking away with a rigid back to no doubt complain to his coworkers about annoying table number five.

Thank god, they’ve only arrived an hour ago, and are still waiting on their food to come, and Emma is excited to try it.

‘Ben and I saw the circus in town two weeks ago,’ Bev steers the conversation in a different direction, bored with the current lack of anything but laughter.

The mention of the circus reminds Emma of the strange encounter that happened, the incubus she can recall in perfect detail. The duality of reality and fiction confusion her to this day. She’s pretty sure she dreamed the whole thing besides her being stuck, but then did Pennywise exists for real? And if not, then who helped her out?

The table turns abnormally quiet, so much so that it shocks Emma out of her thoughts. Stan’s face in particular drains of all color and he taps his fingers on the table to remain calm and collected, Patty scrutinizes his every move, but she is lost for how to react as well.

Ben sips his drink awkwardly, clearing his throat after and lacing his hand with Bev with a warning squeeze. Emma is a second away from asking what in the world is going on, but Richie’s got it covered.

‘Yeah, you saw any one familiar? Like a type of clown hoping we die gruesomely? It’s been a while huh I wonder how he’s doing these days.’

‘Richie’, Eddie hisses exasperated, motioning his head in Emma’s direction to remind Richie their daughter was still in the room with them.

Emma chortles at his joke, covering her mouth with her hand so that no piece of the chip she’s nibbling on accidentally lands on the table, the others following her lead easily. They remain at the edge of their seat, not yet settled, but Richie’s humor calmed them down enough that the tense atmosphere around the room fizzles out.

Emma, unthinkingly and mindlessly adds; ‘That someone happened to be named Pennywise?’

She continues to chuckle at her addition, right up to the point that a glass crack to her left, Ben’s glass splintered in tiny pieces on the floor as his big, shock filled eyes gawking at Emma as if she announced she’s pregnant.

The sound of glass relinquishing disturbs Emma’s laugh, the blast spooking her out of nowhere.

‘What? Her dad asks her pressed, and if she thought the losers looked keyed up before, the consternation they now display is in a whole different ballpark.

Trying to rail the topic back on track, Emma continues to jest the situation, reminiscing on the fictional things in her dream.

‘Yeah, you know Pennywise. The clown that transformed into your worst fears. Stan’s painting, pop’s clowns, dad’s gazebo’s, oh and of course we can’t forgot about breaking dad’s arm right.’

No one else laughs, all of them staring shell shocked ahead, unbeknownst to Emma thrusted back to the summer of hell.

‘Emma,’ Richie address her, his palm rubbing across his chest on the left side, his heart burning with urgency to protect his daughter and his family without a second of hesitation.

Richie rarely uses her name in place of a nickname, so she drops the act and tunes out every other person and sound for the sake of paying attention to her pops.

‘Where did you hear all of that?’

A cold gust of winds breezes around the room, resulting in shivers that shake Emma’s whole body. All members of the losers club focus on her, awaiting her response to the question. Eddie and Richie in particular are most keen on finding out how their daughter somehow, without any of them telling, savvy traumatizing events of their youth.

‘I don’t know, a nightmare. Why is it so important?’ Emma inquires, enclosing her body with her arms in an effort to comfort herself.

‘A nightmare?’ Eddie clarifies, the intention behind his inquire not flying over her head.

‘Emma’, Mike interrupts to stop the impending flood of dread about to unleash over her before it even begins.

‘I know you know so much more than you’re letting on. I understands why this is scary, but it’s of the upmost important that you come clean now.’

Mike can read her better than a book, and that’s saying something for a librarian, so Emma gives in, overwhelming tears sticking to her eyelashes, the attention proving to be too much, begging anyone in the room to explain to her what’s going on.

‘The elevator got stuck in our apartment building, and this guy, Pennywise helped me out.’

‘Oh applejack,’ Richie exclaims, understanding now why she’s so resilient on trudging the escalator. Eddie scrambles up from his chair across from Emma’s seat, and tucking her away safely in his arms, her head underneath his chin.

‘it’s okay Ems, you’re safe, you’re fine.’ He soothes her, suppressing his own sobs at the knowledge that Pennywise had been this close to attacking his daughter, the light of his and Richie’s life. Richie joins him a moment later, pressing both Eddie and Emma close to him in spite of the difficult position they’re in.

‘Yeah, no fucking clown is coming near you again, well except for uncle Stan then of course. He gets a pass.’

Uncle Stan dishes out no jab, inevitably inciting more terror in Emma, who whimpers and hides behind the shield her dads form around her.

The night ends with a sleepover all the losers join in on, each and every one committed to creating a safe space for Emma, and if that means killing Pennywise again, then so be it.

#reddie #reddie x daughter #My writing #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrack #Richie x Eddie #richie tozier imagine #eddie kaspbrak imagine #the loser club imagines #it chapter two imagine #mike hanlon imagine #ben hanscom #beverly march imagine #bill denbrough imagines #stanley uris #richie as a parent #richie as a dad #eddie as a parent #Eddie as a dad

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fasa-umich · 3 years

Text

Kris Mallabo, FASA 2020-21 Co-Performance Chair

To cut the origin story short, I joined FASA and subsequently FASA E-Board because engaging in my Filipino culture has always been second nature to me, and I did not want my college experience to estrange me from my roots dwelling on the other side of the world. So, at the beginning of my term as performance co-chair, I had many plans and expectations ready to go. I had an anticipated timeline for performance events, inspirations for dances I wanted to conduct, and a solid vision of my sophomore year of college, month by month, lined up ahead of me.

Enter COVID-19, destroyer of plans, devil of expectations, and crusher of hopes and dreams. Prediction became the enemy, as did precedent. The lethargy of quarantine only amplified the helplessness and loss that plagued me as I watched all the opportunities and events I had eagerly awaited disintegrate in front of me, like a meticulously built sandcastle swallowed by the sea and leaving only wet lumps behind.

Alright, I digress. I’m exaggerating. Let an English major be a little dramatic: I don’t always get it out of my system when I’m writing fanfiction, you know.

First FASA performance! Something is awakened...

In all seriousness, the troubles of being a performance chair in the middle of a panna cotta made themselves clear very early on. Kalayaan was cancelled, and to fill the gap of summer performances, we had to quickly figure out a way to get virtual performances to work. We eventually succeeded, to both our relief and excitement. The satisfaction of a single success more than made up for all previously missed opportunities.

I feel like much of my term as performance chair worked out like this. To be transparent, frustration was a defining word of my time on board. Events were constantly cancelled due to COVID, and many of the cool ideas we had at the beginning of the year fell through. Because of this, however, the other defining word of my term was flexibility. I learned to quickly adapt to the constant barrage of cancellations and date moves, and we had to rely on our back-up plans more often than our actual plans -- bend, don’t break. As such, every time something worked out in our favor, it was a victory that negated every loss that came before it. There was no disappointment so great that a single accomplishment could not justify. The bottom line here can be summarized by the poignant lyrics of Chumbawumba’s sweeping 1997 ballad: “I get knocked down, but I get up again/You’re never gonna keep me down.”

I was very much wearing my shirt backward the entire day

If I am mentioning getting up again, however, I cannot do so without acknowledging what it was like being on board as a whole. ‘Teamwork makes the dream work’ is no exaggeration. Although there were rough patches, board members were there to support us through it all. In turn, I learned that support goes both ways and that it’s just as fulfilling to help out a teammate when in need. It seems as though you could always find help from someone, whether it be as a board member or as a friend. The line of professionalism did tend to get a little blurry from how close we were, but it certainly added to the fun I had while on board. The sheer amount of things this year’s board managed to pull off, despite it all, has never failed to impress me, and I am humbled to be a part of a team that contains such talented and driven people.

The talented and driven people in question

One last little divergence before I move on to my little awards ceremony speech segment. I would like to emphasize how proud/happy/excited I am about PCN this year and Performance’s role in it. In its unexpected finality, working through PCN to accomplish something so visible and concrete after everything we’ve been through feels like a sweet yet massive cherry on top. I am writing this after just finishing our last PCN practice of the year. It does not feel real. Almost nothing has, since that fateful March day a year ago, but oddly enough this does not feel like the end to me. I am so grateful that we had this one last opportunity to dance through Filipino culture with FASA, and I can’t wait to see the finished product. I get back up again, indeed.

Performance in the wild

Okay. Without further ado, the awards speech. Thank you, Bea, for being a performance chair inspiration. Thank you, Jason and Jolene, for roping me in your wacky hijinks (JJK supremacy). Thank you, Kate and Estelle, for being an amazing cultural team that pulled off PCN in a year where everything was uncertain. Thank you, all of 2020-2021 E-Board, for good times, for pulling me through bad times, for teaching me new things. Thank you, most of all, to Josh, my lovely partner in crime. Not only would I not have been able to do this job without him, but I would also not have been able to enjoy myself while doing it. With his charm and seemingly endless supply of energy, I truly do not think being a performance chair would have been half as fun without it. We balanced in a way where I could see how my weaknesses aligned with his strengths and vice versa, but we did not settle into a dynamic where he always covered my flaws. Instead, I think he inspired me to strengthen my own personal weaknesses, to find my own voice, and be more assured of myself. I will treasure the memories of the late-night bonding conversations and schemes that took place before elections and continued throughout quarantine until I idly rock back and forth in my chair at the old folks' home. In so many words: hey Josh, you're a fantastic friend and a freaking awesome co-chair. Thank you so, so much for being by my side for this rollercoaster of a school year.

Giggling fit in 3...2...1...

And finally, thank you FASA, thank you for letting me serve you as a performance chair in this ~unprecedented~ time. If someone had told me a year ago exactly what I was getting into, challenges and all, I still would have run for board because even a panettone could not pry me away from my love of FASA and FASA performance. I mean, talk about a found family trope. To me, Filipino culture has always meant the feeling of a warm, ensconcing hug, and I found exactly what I was looking for when I sought out UMich’s Filipino org on the very first day of freshman Festifall. I’ve grown to love this community like a second home, and in turn, this allowed me to grow into a better version of myself (fun fact: I never went by Kris before joining FASA, but somehow that’s just what I ended up being called here. I love it). With FASA, I’ve felt love and friendship and teamwork and all those other shounen anime themes, and I feel like I belong. It’s been fun, it’s been (mostly) safe, it’s been aw yeah FASA yeah. To any future FASA member out there: hold tightly to the open arms FASA welcomes you with. It’s going to be one hell of a ride.

*Friends theme song plays*

Cheers,

Kris Mallabo

#FASAPerformance #2020.21

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snarkwrites · 4 years

Text

sprung spring | perfect | tim speedle {m}

PROMPTS USED:

Roommates + massage + shy + first kiss / first time together + heavy eye contact + “You have no idea what you do to me.” + thigh riding + on a couch

NOTES:

First of all, yes. yes, I did steal this from an Ed Sheeran song title. We’ve discussed just how bad I am at naming things, so you are all aware of this yes? Secondly... This one ends kind of... abruptly. But.. I felt like it was too good and perfect to keep pushing through and taint the feel I was going for, you feel me? Third.. If anyone wants me too -and bothers me enough, I miiiight be tempted to make this into a fic somehow. Because I have ideas, I just dunno if people wanna see those ideas.

Special thank you of the huge variety to my bb @micolegg for looking this over as far as the ending was concerned. I love you for doing it.

WARNINGS:

Uhh... sex on a couch; unprotected, biting... An overwhelming amount of the fluffy shit here. Oops rip.

PAIRING:

Tim Speedle x OFC, Viv

TAGGING:

@chasingeverybreakingwave because they’re the only one who listed themselves as wanting to be on said list for CSI. If you want to be tagged in any of my multifandom fanfics, please go [here] and add yourself, otherwise, I won’t tag you.

The files spread beside Tim on the couch and piled on the table close by had Viv shaking her head as she stepped into the door of their apartment, dropping her keys on the end table next to the door. She cleared her throat and leaned against the door, nodding to the files and folders.

“I thought you were going to ease back into work. That doesn’t look like easing, Speed.” Viv slunk over, sprawling dramatically on the couch. Tim chuckled quietly, closing the file he’d been looking at, taking the legal pad he’d had sitting on his lap and stacking it neatly on top. Despite his best efforts, brown eyes traveled slowly over long legs and then back up, grateful that for the time being, she wasn’t looking at him to catch him.

If she had one tenth of a clue what she did to him… the thought died away and Tim took a deep breath, clearing his throat as he prepared to address her dramatic entrance. “Hard day?”

“If one more kid hits on me, I swear to God… I’m their teacher, what the hell… that’s gross!” Viv rose to sit, turning to face Tim, licking her lips as she caught herself getting lost in his eyes. It happened a lot, she always hoped to God he never caught on to just how much she did it and why.

So far, her luck had been holding since the summer of their eleventh grade year, when her parents hired him to teach her Algebra II when she flunked it and wound up repeating the course. So far, Tim Speedle was utterly clueless just how deep in love with him she was.

He thought they were just best friends, so he didn’t even bat an eye when she uprooted herself from their old hometown and moved to Miami after he recovered from life threatening injury. He didn’t even bat a lash when she was in one of her wilder moods and dared to flirt with him, teasing a little bit, either.

And lately, it was getting harder and harder not to do that. She found herself on the verge of almost blurting everything out almost daily now that they lived together. She wanted more. She wanted him to be her man.

Tim clearing his throat had her putting a halt to the train of thought and quickly trying to do her best to seem as if everything was perfectly fine. She nodded to the files and notepad on the table in front of them. “So.. What happened to easing back into work, exactly?” she moved to sit behind him as she asked the question because she’d seen the tension in his shoulders and she knew that as per usual, Tim Speedle was letting the job get to him. Diving in over his head when his doctors all said that he still needed to take it easy.

Tim’s mouth fell open and his head fell to the side slightly as he felt Viv’s legs wrap around his waist from behind and her hands began to move slowly and carefully across his shoulders, kneading in circular motions, the tension seeming to begin melting away almost in an instant.

Just the feel of her body pressing against his had him struggling for any shred of self control. Lately, where she was concerned, it seemed harder to do. He had to really fight to keep himself together around her and he secretly dreaded the fact that eventually, she’d start dating some guy.

… you could open your mouth; make a move…

The thought was only briefly entertained before Tim buried it, letting it fall by the wayside in favor of the massage Viv was giving him.

The groan slipped out before he could stop it and she gave a soft laugh, leaning in with her mouth next to his ear, the warmth of her breath tickling it as she asked in amusement, “Feel good, Timmy?”

“Mhm.”

“You were entirely too tense.” Viv mumbled. She found herself unable to resist the urge to press against his back again and when she did, she gasped because she got carried away and caught up in how good it felt to do so and he jumped a little in surprise because he hadn’t been expecting it.

“Yeah, well.. Apparently someone decided now was an awesome time to be a serial killer in Miami.” Tim retorted, turning his head slightly to gaze at Viv. She was still pressed against him and it felt good.

Too good, really.

“I’m not the only one who looks tense, Viv. Come on around here, darlin.” Tim patted his lap. Viv slipped out from behind him and got off the couch, sinking down into his lap, her back to him. As soon as those rough hands started to clumsily rub at her neck and shoulders, she had to bite down on her lower lip just to keep from making any number of unholy noises threatening to leave her mouth currently. She rocked around in his lap a little, trying to get settled and comfortable and Tim’s hands moved lower, down to below her shoulders.

Tim tensed slightly, trying to shift himself so that she didn’t accidentally rub right against the way he was straining at baggy blue jeans and find out for herself. As his hands moved up and down her back and across her shoulders, he couldn’t help but hear the quiet little sounds she’d make or the way her breathing hitched now and then. He leaned in and muttered lazily against her ear, “Everything okay, Viv?”

“Oh yeah… yeah.” her eyes fluttered open and closed as his hands began to move in circles over her shoulders again and she couldn’t help but wiggle in his lap again because the massage in combination with the way his hands felt on her body was almost like sensory overload. It felt too good. She had to do something to cope. Tim grunted quietly and almost as soon as she happened to rock herself against the way he strained at his jeans, her eyes popped open wide.

Tim wanted to disappear into the couch. He cleared his throat abruptly, but rather than drop her gaze, he continued to stare directly at her with his mouth opening and closing as he tried to think of something to say, anything to take out what he thought was awkwardness lingering heavy in the air between them.

Viv’s last bit of restraint snapped completely. One of them had to do something. The tension was so thick between them you could cut it with a knife. And given that she knew exactly how Tim Speedle operated, she took a calculated risk.

Scooting up into his lap more, she put a hand on either side of his face, pulling his mouth up against hers. Her tongue trailed lazily over the outline of his lips before prying them apart and slipping between them, dragging over his teeth slowly. His mouth opened more to give her better access and with a quiet whimper, Viv’s tongue slipped between his teeth, trailing lazily over his tongue, taking dominance of the kiss she’d just started.

Tim’s hands drifted down, away from her shoulders and down to her ass, squeezing, causing her to rock against the hefty bulge strained at his jeans. As the kiss broke and they pulled their mouths away from one another, he took a deep breath. Again, all he could do was stare at her in awe. He couldn’t get his mouth to work, couldn’t form words.

Tends to happen when everything you’ve ever really wanted just kind of presents itself to you out of the blue. Things were starting to click to place for him slowly, but he didn’t dare ask her if any of his suspicions were right.

She pressed against him more, baring down against the way the hefty bulge strained against his jeans. His fingers dug into her ass even more, rocking her back and forth over it and he leaned in, muttered against the shell of her ear, “That kiss… Were you trying to tell me something, darlin?”

Viv paused, going still in his lap, eyes fixed on his lips again hungrily. She managed to stop staring at his lips to meet his gaze as she took his face in her hands and leaned in, just barely brushing her lips against his mouth as she answered, “You have no idea what you do to me.”

The hunger in her voice caught him totally off guard. Almost enough that when her mouth finally crashed against his, carefully and almost clumsily at first, with her pulling away slightly because it took a second or two for him to catch onto what was happening.

He caught her face in his hands, pulling her mouth against his own all over again. A hand left her cheek, slipping down her side, gripping her hip, fingertips digging in as the soft smack of their mouths meeting and the quiet mumbling and groaning filled the heavy silence between them. He could see her blushing and it had him chuckling quietly as he caressed her cheek just before deepening the kiss. “You blushin right now, darlin? Cute. Ya know,” he leaned in closer, catching her bottom lip between both of his, “you could always show me what I do to you. Because I think you know what you do to me.” guiding her core over the bulge strained almost painfully against his jeans.

Her breath caught in her throat and his tongue slipped between her lips, dragging slowly over the outline of her teeth before slipping into her mouth, massaging her tongue lazily. Her hands caught in his hair, tugging at the back of his head, pulling his mouth in deeper as she continued to rock herself slowly over his lap. Hazel eyes fluttered open and shut as his hands dug into her hips and ass, squeezing, rocking her faster, pressing her against the hefty bulge until she was whimpering and her cunt was throbbing, her panties soaked and the insides of her thighs totally flooded. Her lips caught on his lower lip, tugging as he breathed out against her mouth, “If you wanna stop…”

“No. God no.” Viv panted as her mouth roamed down the side of his neck, latching onto skin, leaving behind marks. Tim bucked himself up into her, his hands kneading her ass as he took it all in. This was really happening.

Viv rocked herself against his thigh harder, baring down, getting wetter each and every single time she rubbed herself over it. Her cunt was throbbing, if she didn’t do something soon, she was going to lose her mind. She needed more friction. She wanted to rip his clothes off and sink down on his cock until he was buried completely inside her. Tim’s hands moved up her body, catching either side of her face in his hands, pulling her mouth against his all over again, greedily. A hand left her face, lowering between them, slipping up the insides of her thigh as he deepened the kiss to a point where they were breathing for and with each other. His teeth caught on her lip and he muttered shakily, “Me either… so we’re doing this…” as he gazed at her intently, waiting, holding his breath until he felt her press against him, her body molded to his and breathing into the heated kiss, “Oh, we’re definitely doing this.”

His hand moved higher up the inside of her thighs, cupping her cunt, rubbing the heel of his hand against it until she was squirming and shaky in his lap. His mouth broke from her mouth to move slowly down the side of her neck and he muttered into her skin quietly, “You know once we do this…” trailing off. Was he putting too much expectation on tonight? Her mumbled whisper against his mouth when she reached up and tilted his chin to make him meet her gaze had him reassured. “Everything changes. Finally.”

He blinked, a little shocked because not once in the entirety of their friendship had he once considered that maybe, she wanted him as much as he wanted her. The shock started to wear off, a devilish smirk tugging the corners of his mouth upward as he gently pushed her back flat against the couch, pressing himself down into her, his hips pinning her flat against the overstuffed cushions, the faint squeak of spring and leather joining the sound of the soft smack of their mouths meeting over and over again. He rose up, she sat up partially, gripping either side of the front of his shirt and pulling, sending a spray of flimsy sewn buttons scattering the room. Tugging the shirt off his arms, she tossed it over the back of the couch. Tim got her flat against the couch again, his hands going up the bottom of the pencil skirt she was wearing, slipping beneath the flimsy band of her underwear and tugging until they snapped in two quietly. He pulled them free from her body and tossed them onto the hardwood floor, turning his attention to the skirt still very much in his way. He pulled it down and she shook her feet to let it settle on the floor, gazing up at him hungrily. Her hand went to his jeans, unbuttoning the button and slowly pulling down the zipper.

Tim stood, letting his jeans and underwear hit the floor, kicking them free at the ankles, sinking back down onto the couch, positioning himself over her, pressing her into the cushions all over again, his mouth crashing against her mouth hungrily as he gripped both sides of her button up shirt and pulled it open, letting her raise up so he could take it off. Her bra was torn away next and during this, he didn’t break the kiss a single time, until there was nothing between the two of them left and it was skin against skin.

"You're so fucking beautiful, princess." Tim muttered against her throat as his mouth strayed from hers. "Gonna make you feel so good, you know that right?"

"Mhm." Viv muttered as her eyes fluttered open and shut, the warmth of his tongue and the way his lips felt against her skin making her gasp, sending another wave of warm wetness to pool between her thighs. “You always do, Tim.” she panted as his mouth worked lower, trailing across the swell of her breasts, his hands all over her, gripping and squeezing and rubbing her against him. Each time she rubbed against him, she felt her cunt starting to throb harder with need. He was teasing her now and she realized this. It had her pouting up at him, too.

Tim's hand moved up the inside of her thighs and he growled quietly when his fingertips came away coated with her juices. Leaning down and pressing himself into her he muttered in a hushed tone, "Fuck, you're so wet for me already,princess." making her blush all over again under his lust filled gaze as he slipped his fingers between his lips, a lewd groan coming as the taste of her filled his mouth.

“Tim, you’re teasing me.” Viv pouted up at him. Tim shook his head, leaning in, pressing himself against her and pinning her hips flat against the couch as he pinned her hands to either side of her head with his own and his mouth latched onto hers all over again. “I’m not.”

“You are.” Viv gasped, rocking herself against him. Tim’s teeth latched on her lower lip when he felt his cock slide between dripping folds, just to keep himself from growling out loud. “I told you, darlin. Not teasing you.” he groaned against her mouth as he started to bury his cock in her, slowly, inch for inch. He wanted her to feel every little bit of this. His grip on her body and the back of the couch tightened and he started to pound away, hard and slow, deep and steady thrusts that had the couch creaking quietly, the leather squealing quietly with every move they made on it. “You feel so good. Taking me so well.” Tim gasped against her neck as he started to fuck into her a little faster; not too fast though because he wanted this to last. He wanted to take his time and savor the moment.

“C’mon, baby, faster. Harder. I’m not gonna break, Tim.” Viv nipped at his lips and neck hungrily, her mouth latching onto his, tugging at it, her tongue slipping past his lips as she continued to meet each deep and long and almost painfully slow drive into her aching cunt with her own thrusts upward, their hips smacking louder and louder. The closer she got to an orgasm, the more he slowed down until she was on the verge of tears, begging for it.

“Oh no, nope. We’re not in a hurry, doll.” Tim drawled lazily against her skin as he continued to drive into her deep, his cock brushing right against her G spot three or four times in a row, making the ache settled in her cunt triple. Viv was nearly seeing stars by now, and every other word that left her mouth was begging. More, harder, faster.

But deep down, she did appreciate the fact that he wasn’t just pounding away at her like she wanted. This was the man she’d fallen in love with as a teenager and that feeling had only grown so much stronger the more she got to know of him. She was so in love with him now that she knew she’d never find her way back. He liked to take his time. He liked making her feel good, whether it be right now, as a lover, or back then, as a best friend, when she’d have a shitty day and he’d come by her parents house with burgers from his dad’s restaurant and a stack of movies that he wasn’t crazy about but he knew she liked.

It was the little things with him.

She wound her fingers through his, eyes locked on his, almost blown away by the mixture of love and lust in his gaze. He chuckled quietly and slowed to an almost stop, pressing down into her more as he went totally still, giving her a deep and gentle kiss, his tongue trailing over earlier bruises left behind because of the intensity of their first kisses and he muttered after a second or two, “Everything alright, darlin?”

“Everything is perfect, Tim.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Tim mumbled against her mouth as he started to fuck into her all over again, so much slower that it was almost torture….

#tim speedle fanfiction #tim speedle imagine #tim speedle fanfic #tim speedle fic #tim speedle imagines #//fourseasonsofsm*tselfchallenge #// tw: s*xual content #// tw: unprotected s*x #// tw: a cliffhanger ending hehe

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lifeinahole27 · 5 years

Text

CS ff: “Love So Sweetly” (Part 2 of 2) (au)

Summary: If you ask either of them, they’ll both claim it isn’t their fault. It starts with feuding musicians, a pair of handcuffs, and the evolution a relationship can go through over the course of 24 hours.

Rating: M

Warnings: handcuffs?

A/N: My goodness. It’s finally finished. AND I had to bump the rating back DOWN for once. WTF is that?! Lol. Sorry all. This is a first in my book, too. Much love to all the usual players for their help, especially @phiralovesloki and @captainstudmuffin for their phenomenal beta and proofreading duties. And to the Discord ladies for putting up with the fact that I only pop in ever three days to randomly yell something and promptly fall asleep. Special side dedication goes to @let-it-raines for the most recent time I ran in and screamed something in there. LOL. All right - without further ado... I hope you all enjoy this!

Find it on Ao3 or FFN!

-x-

Trying to sprint after a hint of Granny was maybe not his brightest idea. Now he’s even more exhausted than he was before, and he can feel Emma dragging along beside him as they turn another corner to find it barren of all humanity.

It’s only then that he becomes aware of how quiet it’s gotten. This late at night, all of the stages are shut down and even the dance parties that sometimes happen after hours seem to be missing tonight, probably due to the lurking clouds in the distance. They’re deep in the campgrounds, and he can hear music drifting from some of the different tents and yurts, various styles and levels of skill, but gentle music surrounds them.

“Killian, we have to stop. I’m too tired. We’ll find her in the morning. Let’s just… head out.”

“Aye, love. Sorry we lost her again,” he grumbles, wanting nothing more than to sleep for days after the evening they’ve had.

“God, and all I have to look forward to after all of this is to figure out how we’ll both fit on my stupid bunk!” Emma grouses as they slowly wander through the campgrounds.

He blames the fact that the tent they’re passing has some spirited amorous activities going on it in for why it takes him so long to connect what she’s just said with their current predicament.

“You only have a bunk?” he asks with the rise of an eyebrow. He’d just assumed she was up in the swankier trailers on the top of the hill – it’s where all the other headliners seem to have congregated for the duration of the festival.

“Yeah,” she says distractedly, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. Her eyes shift over to the tent he’s been trying to avoid and her eyebrows go clear up to her hairline when she looks back at him. There’s a hint of a smile hiding in the corners of her mouth but she says nothing.

“On a bus?” he asks, trying to distract them both from a fireworks-worthy ending as they pass the lovers.

“Yeah,” she repeats a little harsher this time, and Killian suppresses the chuckle that comes unbidden. Her tone speaks of something more than frustration at the conversation, and while there’s a temptation to prod and see what responses he could elicit, he chooses the higher road. Well, sort of.

“Oh, love, for once I finally get the upper hand with you. Turn to your left up here. We’ll go find my humble abode.”

“Killian, I’m not sleeping on a pile of rocks in some flimsy tent.”

“Where on earth would you get the notion I was sleeping in a tent? Those things are bloody miserable. Unless you’re those people, of course.” He hitches his thumb at the tent that’s now almost out of view and he smiles.

“I just – “

“Assumed that’s where I would be staying with my much smaller named band?” He cuts in, more amused than offended, and takes charge in leading them away from the truly muddy path to the less-trodden grass around them. With a few searches for landmarks and a couple more turns, he gestures in front of them to the small yurt he’s rented out. “Behold! My pirate’s lair!”

“You take this pirate crap way too seriously, for one. Also, it’s not the exterior that counts, Jones. You said it yourself. I want to see the inside of this before I pass judgement.”

With a smug grin and a lift of his eyebrows, Killian unlocks the door and pushes it open, finding the switch for the lamp next to the door to bathe the area in a soft glow. Emma whimpers at the sight, clearly seeing their sleeping arrangements for the evening as acceptable.

“Bed,” she whispers, following automatically as Killian pulls her in the rest of the way and shuts the doors behind them. From outside, the soft sounds of rain begin, and Killian is thankful they didn’t have to do another soggy dash to safety this time.

He secures the latch from the inside and goes to move towards the bed, only to realize they’re still fully clothed. With one tap of his boot to hers, Emma snaps out of it and struggles to unstick the zippers from the mud that’s begun to cake them. Killian kicks off his own before holding her steady as she balances to pry each one of hers off in turn.

Funny, when he had originally decided to full-on rent a yurt, it was for the idea of bringing back a lady friend for a night or two. He had no idea this was going to be the end result.

There’s a hidden intimacy in the delicate dance they do in the doorway, trying to ready themselves for sleep when they are both so far outside their comfort zones. He imagines, suddenly, the context being different as she brushes an errant strand of hair off her face and waits for him to grab the lamp from its hook and lead her over.

He looks disparagingly down at the both of them, but reasons with himself that the bedding is all old stuff specifically brought along in case it gets dirty, so it doesn’t exactly matter. What matters is that there’s an inexpensive mattress and pillows and they’re finally about to relax for the first time since either of them woke up yesterday morning.

“Phone,” he says, holding out his free hand to her. When she doesn’t automatically do anything, Killian smiles patiently. “I have a power pack that’s fully charged. And I have any type of cord you need. Surely after a day of running around, you’ll need a charge, yeah?”

She grumbles out some response, digging her phone out of a pocket on the side of her leggings and handing it over. They both shift to the side for a moment so he can plug in their phones and set down the lantern on the side he reasons he’ll be sleeping on.

They do another shuffle to get to where they’ll need to be in order to get into the bed before they both collapse onto the foot of the bed, pushing up and maneuvering until they’re under the covers. Side by side, they both exhale in relief as their heads hit the pillows. Emma, in a fit of wanting to be comfortable, insists on removing her leggings, and Killian endures the five-minute process of having his shoulder jolted until she’s happy.

The leggings get tossed off the side of the bed, and then he makes her go through the same thing as he pulls off his jeans. He could’ve withstood wearing them, but if she’s going to make herself at home, he’s going to do the same.

“Thanks,” Emma says quietly, after they’re both settled. “And I mean, for everything. Not just the bed. This could’ve been a disaster, but it hasn’t been the worst day I’ve ever had.”

“Same to you, love.” He pauses, taking the opportunity to roll on his side the best he can to look over at her. When she shifts as well, they both bring their hands up to tuck under their pillows. It leaves them practically nose to nose with the length of the chain.

“Your first festival, huh?

“Aye, and it was luck we got into this spot.”

“How long had you been trying?”

“This was the third attempt. The only reason we got the invite is because another band double booked for the weekend and since they’d participated a few times in the past at this one, they decided to give up their invitation.”

“It took us four tries before we made it in, and that first year, Regina was here to see another band. Once she saw us, she signed us almost immediately and the band took off. I still can’t believe it sometimes.”

“You’re a hero, Swan. I’ve seen your fans. They adore you.”

“Yeah, well, so are you. I got to see that firsthand today.”

He has no response to that, other than a flustered shrug. It’s a risk to reveal too much – he knows this, and yet, he can’t stop himself from telling her more. “You know, I rather fancy you when you’re not yelling at me.”

“Yeah?”

He hums out affirmation, letting his eyes roam over her facial features and take in all the details he’s seen in pictures. There’s different flecks of colors in her eyes that the photos just can’t capture, and he watches the faint light dance there. Her laugh lines are peeking out with the way she’s barely smiling. Barely, but still…

“Good,” she says after a moment. It’s like permission and acceptance all at once. He watches her eyes start to flutter, her body finally succumbing to the length of their day. “Goodnight, Killian.” Her quiet sentiments drift through the space between them, and he’s overtaken again by the urge to kiss her. It would be so easy, but it would mean so much more than just one night at this point.

“Sweet dreams, Swan.”

With no further preamble, he finds the switch for the lantern and flips it. It doesn’t take her long to fall asleep, and Emma is a turbulent sleeper as he soon finds out. She ends up wrapped around him shortly after her breathing evens out. Her head rests near his shoulder, and he’s thankful for the still darkness surrounding them. Unable to sleep, the best he can do is hold his breath every time she shifts and twitches next to him.

As the night chills further, he’s thankful for Emma’s improvised pullover. Or step-into. It was quite the ridiculous process but she never seemed cold from that point forward, so he’s pretty sure it was a total success. Now, that same item is keeping him warm as the summer temperatures fluctuate to their low.

Finally, after what seems like hours, Killian’s body fully relaxes and he slips into sleep, unintentionally pulling Emma closer as they both flutter through their dreams. He’s surprised then, to be awoken shortly after that, after he’d already entered a dream where they held hands without being locked together.

It’s way too early when Emma shakes him awake, and the space around them is still dark in pre-dawn bliss.

“I’m sorry,” she says when he finally wrenches open his eyes. “I have to use the bathroom.”

She’s so close, her breath fanning across his neck when she speaks, and he feels the sleepy surge of want roll through him. Instead, he clears his throat and rubs at his eyes, trying to push away the image in his head of kissing her until they both forget about the calls of their bodies.

With a yawn, Killian waves away her apology and motions her to follow him out of the bed so he can grab a pair of track shorts to slip into. He’s shoving his feet into a pair of sneakers when he turns and sees Emma, one sock lost to the covers and her legs bare. The sweatshirt from the day prior falls just to her thighs, and he swallows hard as his eyes trail back up the length of her body to meet her eyes.

“Would you like, um, for the walk?” He holds up a pair of clean boxers from his stock, trying hard to stop from transfixing on her legs some more.

She shakes her head, seemingly unaware or totally uncaring of her half-dressed state as she rips the second sock from her right foot and slips back into her boots. It’s an utterly ridiculous outfit – boots up to her knees and sweater only, from appearances, but suddenly Killian has to go through chords in his mind as he wills his body to stay neutral to the woman beside him.

“Let’s go,” she says, waiting just long enough for him to secure the lock on the outside before they wander off in search of a better bathroom than the portaloo experiences they had yesterday. All of the trips were necessary but always very uncomfortable.

After a few turns, they can see the VIP section at the top of a hill, and Killian sighs in relief. This will have stalls, where they can both stand inside, even if that’s slightly more awkward. At least they’ll be clean, with running sinks. They start the trek upward, but it doesn’t take long before Killian’s shoe loses grip on the incline.

“Oh, son of a –“

“Hey, whoa!”

The moment his footing is gone, so is Emma’s, and the both of them slide back down on their hands and knees. They stay there for a moment, the shock and the exhaustion just weighing on them for a moment.

“Fuck,” Emma exhales.

It takes three more attempts for them to get up the hill, and it’s with no lack of attitude that Emma fishes her badge out from beneath the hoodie and swipes them into one of the trailers reserved for those with the clearance for them.

First comes rinsing off their hands to avoid getting mud in places they really wouldn’t want it, and then business, of course. He hums a medley of Beatles tunes to keep them both distracted from the situation. They switch spots when she’s done, and they hum together through the last of his turn. It’s as they’re washing all their collective hands when Emma realizes there’s a shower stall where he initially thought there was another accessible toilet. She nudges him, directing his gaze with a nod in that direction.

They hadn’t come up with a plan, not really, but this might be able to get them minimally less muddy before they get back to his accommodations. There’s also some splattered along the braid that Ruby twisted her hair into sometime after their set.

“You can go first, if you’d like,” he tells her, motioning toward the potential of being clean.

She’s slowly picking at the safety pins holding the jumper on her shoulder, but something is holding her back. For once, their hands swing un-joined between them, but as she considers something, her pinkie finger reaches out and brushes against his.

“I mean,” she starts, her eyes focusing on anything but him. “It would be easier if we were in there together.” For a moment, he thinks that yeah, it would be easier if they got in there together. And her fingers slowly slide against his, her thumb brushing along his as she shifts a little closer.

When the words and their meaning finally sink through his sleep-addled brain, Killian snorts. “Why, Emma Swan, did you just proposition me to shower with you?” He tugs at their joined hands to bring her attention back to him, and there he finds several emotions flickering through her expression.

She wants; that much is plain to see just by looking. She’s uncertain, and he doesn’t blame her. It’s a bit of a risk to sleep with someone you’re undeniably stuck with, and sometimes a risk to sleep with someone you can immediately walk away from. What strikes him most is that her eyes reflect a level of passion he was not expecting. When she looked at him at the end of their set, she set his blood pumping harder than it had been from performing. Now to see it reflected back is quite the unexpected turn.

“If you don’t think you can handle it…”

“I’m pretty sure you’re the one that couldn’t handle it,” Killian counters, his eyebrow flicking up in challenge. This is it. This will be the moment that decides their course of action. Much like the anticipation during their disagreement, he waits for her next move.

And wait he does; Emma stands there immobile for what feels like hours before she yanks him down by the collar of his shirt and kisses him. She crowds him into the outer chamber of the shower, shoving the door shut behind them as she angles her head for a kiss deeper and stronger than the last.

He has kissed all sorts of women in his lifetime, but one thing is startlingly clear very quickly: Killian Jones has never kissed a woman like Emma Swan, and he could spend the rest of his life trying to recapture the way she feels and never again find it.

There’s heat and desire in the way she moves against him, and Killian will blame it on the sleep deprivation that he doesn’t consider the thousands of outcomes this moment might have. Instead, he’s intent on pulling the band from the end of Emma’s braid and slowly unwinding the thick plait with his free hand. Their joined arms are caught between their bodies, hands clasped tightly as they dive deeper into the kiss.

Removing clothing is quite the obstacle. They work together to unpin the sweater from her shoulder, leaving it hanging from one of the hooks in the small dressing space outside of the actual shower.. The stall itself is pristine, likely unused by any of the festival participants if the walls are still this sparkling white, so neither of them take much issue with kicking off their shoes and stepping into the vinyl area after removing as much as they can. His shirt, for instance, ends up balled up along the chain, along with the top she’s wearing. His now-muddy shorts end up with their shoes, water be damned.

It’s not everything – it could be but there’s some unspoken agreement between them that it’s just not feasible right now. They’re down to just underwear, but it doesn’t leave anything to the imagination as they both find each other under the steady-but-unimpressive spray of water falling down on them. He wants to look, but he’s more interested in the way Emma’s mouth fits against his, and the way the slick skin of her back feels beneath his palm.

Their shower is stilted, interrupted by intimate touches and wandering hands, as well as figuring out the logistics of how to hold their joined arms so the clothing they can’t get rid of doesn’t weigh them down. They do the best they can, though, and struggle to dry off with the towels provided. They wring out their shirts from where they still got wet, and Killian balls up his shorts with her sweatshirt to take back to the yurt. It’ll be cold outside but if they hustle, they’ll be warm again soon enough. With as much as necessary back in place, they push out into the predawn light hand in hand.

They carefully pick their way across the campgrounds to stay as close to clean as they can. As they walk, Emma hums a familiar tune, and Killian does his best to find the harmony as she continues. It speaks volumes more than anything they could say; he resists the urge to sing the lyrics as they fit the circumstances just a little too well.

My honey I know with the dawn that you will be gone. But tonight, you belong to me...

The sun is just barely cresting over the horizon, but that doesn’t dissuade them from shutting the door to the rented space, locking themselves away from the outside world for just a few hours more.

They may currently be chained together, but Killian genuinely has no idea where the next day will take them. This far in, this far deep, he knows he may walk away with a heartache if it all fell apart in the light of day.

-x-

While everything had remained dormant on their trip back to the yurt, Emma is pleased when Killian is already meeting her halfway when she turns to him inside the door. With impatient movements, they leave their shoes by the door, and she urges him to drop the clothes he’s still holding. They make their way back to the bed, and Emma crawls into his lap and presses their linked hands into the mattress by Killian’s head as her mouth turns greedy.

She wants him bare, she wants all of him, dammit, and he growls into the kiss as if he knows this as she fists her free hand in his hair to hold him steady against her, their lips devouring. She wants, wants, wants, but Killian pulls back for a moment, halting her in her tracks.

“Emma, before this goes any further, I have to know that you’re sure about this.”

The fact that he asks makes Killian one of the most considerate men she’s ever gone to bed with. Here she is, in his lap, half-naked, chained to him, and he’s still willing to give it all up if she just says the word.

There’s some part of her that almost takes the out: this could get weird. They’re likely going to be spending the rest of this festival together if they can’t get ahold of Granny tomorrow. Not that there’s much more festival to contend with. After their set in the afternoon, her obligations are completed. She could always get him back to Storybrooke and get Billy to cut off the cuffs if she has to.

And in the meantime, she thinks, here Killian is beneath her, the hard length of his cock pressed almost exactly where she wants it to be. She doesn’t have to sleep with him, she knows this, but they can certainly have some fun. Any guy willing to track down the best onion rings at the festival for her is worthy of that, in her opinion.

Something suddenly clicks in her mind, something about the food from yesterday. “Killian,” she says, her eyes trained on his. “How did you know about the onion rings? How did you know to offer me that specific food?”

It’s equal parts totally endearing and hilarious to watch Killian’s face turn red. Right to the tips of his ears and down his neck are all a tomato red she never anticipated and he blinks several times in surprise.

“Lucky guess,” he says, but it’s a lie. She can tell just by the intonation, by the way his eyes flutter so he’s not fully meeting her gaze.

“Try again.”

He sighs, shifting his focus away from her and looking somewhere at the top of the yurt. When he does speak, it’s muttered, and she has the distinct feeling that he’s hoping she can’t hear him in the quiet stillness of the solitary space. But oh, she hears him loud and clear. “Everyone knows that Emma Swan’s favorites are grilled cheese and onion rings, and hot chocolate depending on the weather. With cinnamon,” he adds at the very end, finally chancing a look at her again.

This is the first time he’s openly admitted that he’s one of her fans – in fact, when they started arguing yesterday about whatever it was that started the argument, she was sure he was totally oblivious to who she was.

“You follow me on Instagram?”

His face morphs into something distinctly mortified, but she doesn’t wait for him to answer. Instead, she bites her lip to stop the laugh that wants to escape and leans down to kiss him again. She pushes all thoughts of his previous knowledge of her to the back of her mind, instead focusing on the way his tongue is tracing along her top row of teeth before he suddenly sits up. His free arm wraps around her waist to hold her steady as he pulls her down hard against him and she gasps at the sensation.

There’s a startling thought in her mind that she could get used to this - the push and pull of who has control. They shift the dominance often enough that her stomach swoops every time he gains it back, knowing he’ll turn to putty in her arms again in a matter of moments. There’s no chance they’ll be able to be naked for this experience, so they come to a mutual understanding that they’ll take what they can get. This can be good enough, because it has to be for now.

The real question is whether or not the “for now” part will turn into “to be continued” for them. Where the thought even comes from is beyond her, but just as suddenly, their future possibilities flee her mind because Killian lines up perfectly, his erection pressing through their underwear to slide just right against her clit and her breath hitches as she buries her head against his neck, letting her teeth graze along his skin to taste and tease.

With the blood rushing in her ears, it takes her a while to grasp that Killian is repeating her name like a mantra, perfectly timed with his thrusts, and she can feel how close the both of them are by the tension in his shoulders and the way she’s clutching tightly to any part of him she can. And then she’s there, climax quick but powerful, her thighs shaking as she sits astride his lap, and she cries out softly against him as she holds on tight. It doesn’t take more than a few more thrusts until he’s following behind her, his body going rigid for a few seconds before he coaxes her head back to kiss her again.

“You’re a bloody marvel, Swan.”

His voice, his smile, the sincere look in his eyes – it’s all too much and not enough all at once and Emma closes her eyes to kiss him again, suddenly terrified of what this all means. She hasn’t felt like this in so long, and not just the boneless pleasure of a good orgasm. Killian is the first person who hasn’t dangled her fame in her face or used that as the badge to get into bed with her. It strikes her again that it took nearly the length of a whole day for him to even admit he was a fan prior to their meeting.

All of a sudden, she’s exhausted, dealing with both the physical toll their last day has had on her and the emotional toll that she just did that with him, and so she lets Killian shift her to stand and shuffle them around until he can reach his stash of clothes. This time, she accepts the boxers he hands her in favor of swapping out her underwear. They stand side-by-side, changing in tandem, and they both seem to respect the unsaid rule of no peeking.

She doesn’t have a chance to overanalyze after that; Killian leads her back to the bed, going so far as to maneuver in a way that he’s pressed against her back, their clasped hands nestled against her chest. She’s asleep in no time again, lulled by the sound of whatever Killian is humming and the gentle pressure of his lips against her shoulder.

She wakes to the sound of their phones both ringing. She’s so tired, though, that she reaches out with her right hand and stops short when she realizes it’s still attached to Killian’s left. She grunts, then, switching hands as Killian stirs, murmuring something about shutting off their alarms as he burrows into her hair.

Without looking, she silences the ringtone and lets her arm fall back to the bed. Of course, the ringing starts right back up and Emma finally wrenches open one eye enough to look at the caller ID on her screen. She flicks at the screen, accepting the call and shoving the phone against her ear.

“What?”

“Emma, ping your damn location right now so Granny can get those cuffs off. We play in two hours. Do you hear me? Two hours.”

It takes a couple minutes for Ruby’s rushed words to connect in her brain, and then Emma’s gasping, sitting up in a tangle of arms and not even paying attention as Ruby rants on while still connected.

“I’ll ping it,” she blurts out, hurrying to end the call so she can share her location with her friend in order for her to locate the yurt in the camp. “Killian, get up,” Emma urges. She shakes him the best she can, turning in their pretzel to face him and leaning down to press her lips against his frantically. “Hey, wake up!”

He seems much happier to rejoin the land of the living when she’s kissing him, but it can’t last. She has to hurry. Besides, the intimacy of that move after such a short period of time has her rattled more than she expected it would. There’s a part of her that wants to just keep kissing him, wants to stay in this bed in this little cocoon they’ve created for themselves. And while she knows she could have that, theoretically...

“We’re about to have company,” she tells him, finally breaking through his sleep haze.

“Somebody to join for a threesome, then?”

She smacks his shoulder for that, biting her lip against the chuckle that wants to break out. “No, unless you want me to step outside while you and Granny have a good time,” she says. His eyes pop open at that.

“Oh, then we’re getting out of jail?” He lifts the chain for emphasis before he struggles to sit up. They scramble off the bed like that, and Killian unlatches the door just in time for a golf cart with Granny and Ruby to pull up right outside.

“Finally! Have a good night, lovebirds?” Ruby’s already dressed, her make-up and hair impeccable, and her smile is wide and bright. “Here,” she says, leaning off the cart to hand them the key and handing it back to Granny when they’ve each unlatched the offending metal.

Emma and Killian both take a moment to rub at their wrists before Ruby interrupts to remind Emma they’re on a deadline.

“Sure, of course, gimme just a minute, okay?”

The way Ruby’s eyebrow raises up is all Emma needs and she gives her friend a pointed look while slipping back just inside the door to find her leggings and boots. She wraps her sadly dirty hoodie around her waist before she looks at Killian.

“Well, I guess this eliminates the need to find another song to duet today,” she remarks, trying to put some humor into the moment. He does chuckle, but it’s dry and solemn.

“Aye, but that’s okay. You’ll enjoy your show more when you’re able to move around without me holding you back.”

There’s something in the way he says it that punches at her heart despite the way he smiles when he says it. So it’s only natural that she’d soothe that statement with a kiss. This one is a tinge desperate and apologetic because she’s about to dash away for her own performance and they’ve just left everything a giant question mark.

“I’ll see you around,” she breathes out, a smile tilting up her lips as she runs her fingers along the back of his ear, her thumb playing with his earring for just a second. Without further ado, she plants one last kiss directly on his lips and darts out the door. She does her best to not look back and instead focuses on the day ahead of them.

Ruby’s words are ringing through her brain as they speed back to the bus where Emma can shower and change. She flashes through the water as fast as she can, only cleaning her body and leaving her hair naturally wavy as it dried last night.

“Is Killian coming to watch?” Mary Margaret asks from her left as Emma painstakingly applies her makeup. Her hands are shaking, just the tiniest bit. It’s probably the lack of sleep, and so she pauses from applying her eyeshadow to take another deep gulp of the coffee that they had waiting for her.

“I don’t know,” she answers, trying for a dismissive tone. She doesn’t have the mental capacity to deal with anything surrounding that topic right now so she hopes that Mary Margaret drops it. Her hand shakes a little more and she takes a steadying breath before swiping on her eyeliner as carefully as she can. With practiced speed, she coats her lashes in mascara and stands, giving herself one last look.

If there’s a word to describe how she feels she looks right now, it’s “softer.” It’s more than just the hair and the lack of false eyelashes. The outfit she’s wearing is the same as she would always go on stage with. The jeans are practically painted on, her backup boots are up to her calves, and the tank top she’s wearing flows freely around her torso to give her room to breathe. So she guesses it must be something about her expression, about the small smile that won’t go away no matter how stern she tries to look as she makes one last fix to her lipstick.

“Let’s get this show on the road,” Emma says, giving Mary Margaret the broadest smile she can manage as she picks up her leather jacket from the back of her chair. She doesn’t need it, not really, but it’s like armor to her. Her friend looks at her carefully, tilting her head to the side for a moment and raising her eyebrow like she’s also trying to puzzle out the difference in Emma’s demeanor. But she just smiles, holding out her hand to take Emma’s as they leave the bus and join Ruby and Mulan outside.

It’s an easy trip to the main stage, with security leading the way and Mulan assisting. It helps that they’re not making a mad dash to the other side of the festival, and that she’s not being yanked in a thousand directions. Twice now, she’s caught herself reaching for a hand that isn’t there, though.

She is surprised to find a bit of a crowd in their backstage section. There’s David with his charming smiles and supportive words, extending beyond the woman he is so clearly enamored with. And Robin and Regina are actually standing less than five inches apart which is closer than she’s ever seen her manager standing to anyone else. There’s a suspicious lack of their third, however, and Emma stifles her disappointment best she can. She wants to ask, even opens her mouth to question David, but they’re being ushered on to the stage and he gives her a shrug and a final call of encouragement.

It’s all come down to this, Emma thinks - the lights are blaring even though it’s a bright and sunny day. She’s glad she left her leather jacket back stage because she’d already be roasting if she had it on. With that in mind, she pulls deeply from the water bottle she brought with her and turns to her bandmates for the start of their show. More than once, she can hear a yell from a fan about the lack of Killian on stage, and she tries to laugh it off.

“Sorry, folks. This is a solo-Emma adventure,” she says, forcing a smile on her face when a sudden wave of loneliness comes over her.

It goes so quickly from that point forward. She takes up her guitar when it’s called for, sits down at the keyboard for one or two songs, and grabs the ukulele she uses for just two of their songs right before they make it to the halfway mark of their set.

They finish the first of those songs to wild applause and cheers, and Emma smiles as she takes the microphone off the stand. It isn’t until she brings it back up to her mouth that she realizes it’s her left hand, her right arm still dangling at her side despite her natural inclinations. She even put back on the stupid wristband that he bought them to stop the cuffs from chafing their skin. She huffs out a chuckle, closing her eyes and smiling while Ruby and Mary Margaret wait for her cue to start the next song.

She looks back to them, seeing Ruby tilt her head to call her over. Emma clips her mic back on the stand and wanders over, away from the amplifying devices. “Mulan told me that a bunch of the fans have been asking about Killian. They’d heard about some kind of publicity thing with handcuffs and were excited to see it in person.”

“Should I --?”

“Yes,” Ruby says, and Mary Margaret echoes from five feet away where she can tell what’s being said. Emma groans with nerves, bouncing on the balls of her feet for a second before going back to her place.

“I seem to have exorcised my demon too soon,” Emma says thickly into her microphone. “Turns out he may have grown on me a little. So Killian, this next song is for you.”

This wasn’t the next song on their set - not one she’s ever played in public. They mostly stick to their own original works, but sometimes she finds the best way to express herself is using someone else’s music and lyrics instead. The chords and words of “Tonight You Belong to Me” are ones she knows by heart, and it echoes their early morning trip back from the bathrooms where he hummed along right with her. Ruby and Mary Margaret both hang back, instead letting her solo with the ukulele.

When the final note rings out, the crowd cheers, the frenzied yells making her freely laugh. She glances to the side of the stage and sees both David and Robin frantically trying to text. Mulan is recording the whole thing, as she’s sure a lot of the audience members are. It’s not every day fairytales come true, apparently. Now to just hope it works.

It all gives her courage to chant the syllables of his name so they’ll all catch on. If his band members can’t get a hold of him, maybe the entire main stage can. Mary Margaret and Ruby follow suit, wide smiles on their faces as their voices join in over the sound system. She has no idea if he’s even going to hear her, hear them, but she has to try. For once in her life, she wants things to work out.

It’s astonishing to hear all these people chanting his name, and Emma can’t fight the smile that’s breaking out as she keeps it up. Not knowing if he can hear her, or if he’s on his way, or what his progress is if he is on his way, she takes a bit of a chance.

“Killian, if you can hear us, I want that second duet, after all.”

It’s like a tidal wave when it happens: the cheers start in the back - the very, very back - and she watches as the wide crowd parts little by little and the cheers get louder and closer. If she tries, she can see the figure that’s moving them, his hand shooting up once when he’s halfway back to show the matching wrist band. She watches with ever-growing fascination as he moves through the audience. As the ripples of awareness travel upwards, they move easier and suddenly he’s sprinting towards them, a look of pure determination on his face.

It takes some help from the security at the front, but then he’s there in front of her, breathless but smiling, his left hand reaching for her right to link their fingers together.

“So you missed me then, love?”

“Shut up and sing with me,” she says, smiling as he inches a little closer.

“May I kiss you hello first?”

To this, she doesn’t respond. She reaches for his t-shirt and pulls him closer, leaning up on her toes to kiss him and then laughing through it when the whole crowd goes wild behind him. “Now can we sing?” she asks.

“Aye, love. What’s your choice?”

“You know ‘Always By Your Side’?”

He flushes in clear answer to her question, and Emma smiles. It’s the first single that made it onto the radio, and even more fitting now given where they began the day.

“Good. Also? You wouldn’t have held me back, just so you know,” she says away from the microphone. There’s more to be said - this isn’t where their conversation is even close to ending - but he ducks his head in a surprisingly bashful nod. They’ll have time to discuss it all later when they’re not ticking down their stage time.

The videos of their duet on the main stage end up going viral. There are pictures everywhere of them singing, eyes locked together, matching smiles on their faces. He posts a shot of their joined hands on Instagram later that he simply captions “Best festival ever” underneath, with an emoji of chains afterwards.

The next year, when they’re both invited back, they’re booked back to back on the mainstage with one act melding into the other as they sing together to close out one set and open the next. The year after that, he posts the same picture of their hands linked together, but Emma’s left hand is clasped over top of their joined ones, the ring just catching the sparkle of the dim light of their festival lodgings. His caption this time reads “Amendment: THIS was the best festival ever.”

And really? She can’t disagree with him on that one bit.

#cs ff #cs ff au #captain swan ff #sarah writes ff #holy fuck it's done #after almost three fucking years

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selinaneveahcrystal · 5 years

Text

Drowning

This is my first Credence x Nagini fic, because those two deserve better and are so adorable and sweet in the movies, even despite their own brokenness. Their connection is something so pure and so unbelievable, I found myself falling in love with this ship more and more. And of course, Claudia and Ezra’s close friendship and absolute dorkiness didn’t help xD.

#SadsadsadBoy #CredencesOnlyFriend

It's for the umpteenth time in her worthless, pathetic life that Nagini doesn’t know what to do.

What is she doing here, gathered around with wizards and witches that she doesn’t truly know, with no Credence surrounding her like a blanket of sheltering darkness to help ease the crippling anxiety she feels?

In all their brokenness, he anchors her.

Roots her to the cruel reality that she doesn’t want to live in, but has to, and yet still manages to give her hope and light when all other things were dim and empty.

Funny, how broken things could only be pieced together by other broken objects, and never by a wholesome one.

She flounders, drowning silently in her anxiousness and sorrow, arms locked around her sides like a wooden doll as tears prickle her eyes, her back plastered against the wall as though it served as some sort of protection. Credence is her lifebuoy, her source of constancy in this strange world that they stepped into--only that now, he’s gone. And she’s left all alone, gasping, drowning in everything that she has no idea how to deal with.

The wall is smoldering and black, burnt from the blue fires of the demon Grindelwald had summoned. But somehow, it reminds her of him in his obscurial form--and her heart clenches in her chest in the strangest of ways.

The strange environment and people are new waters, and it frees her just as it suffocates her, each of the new experiences, senses knitting her together wholly and at the same time, tearing her apart.

An involuntary hiss escapes from between her lips as a sob catches in her throat, the thought of Credence too fresh a wound to not let her lose her precise control over her own emotions.

The snake coiling and waiting to emerge beneath her flesh isn’t happy at the display of weakness that she’s showing.

They were supposed to be fierce. Violent.

Killers. It hisses, almost viciously at the back of her mind. Never weak.

Take him, Make him regret leaving, and kill him.

That’s what we should do.

The displeasure of the snake that is her curse burns her, even right down to her core, its dark, dangerous and violent thoughts, bestial and instinctual, slithering into the deepest part of her mind. Nagini’s breath catches in her throat, a strangled mewl bubbling from her throat as she forced the thoughts down alongside the bile rising in her throat.

Her eyes squeeze shut, sweat beading the lines of her forehead, seeping into the crevices of her eyes.

I’m not an animal.

Not an animal.

Not.

An animal.

It's a fervent chant that she murmurs to herself as she rocks on her feet, arms curling to hug around her body, her nose buried in the muddied folds of her now dirtied dress.

Yes. The smug thoughts of her other half sent her head snapping back in a moment of shock. But you’re still all alone. With none but I desiring you.

The striking reply of the being slithering beneath her skin and bones is the exact thing she needed for her to lose and slip her grasp on her own emotional control, her fear, once well held under control, slipping through its gates to wash over her like a raging wave.

A garbled scream, caught between a cry for help wrenches itself from her lips as her bones crack and reform, crunching into themselves to form a lengthened vertebrae of a slithering form of a snake, her flesh tearing apart and fusing together from where her feet begin.

Maledictus transformations were always incredibly painful. Not that anyone knew. After all, her bones needed to shift, crack and reform into something entirely new. But Nagini’s long gotten used to knowing how to stay silent in these transformations, both for the performance and her own benefit. People tended to find more pleasure seeing her in pain as she transformed--and that was something she had control in not giving them satisfaction over.

She’s always prided herself in knowing how to control her pain in her transformations--but somehow, this time, it's different. The searing pain races through her body, ripping and tearing, devouring and slicing her apart as her mouth opens in a shrill, broken scream, her back folding in on itself as it arches, her body the first to break apart and change, twisting together viciously in a horrifying image of a depraved artpiece--and the last thing she sees is that group of people that she knows not of, all concerned eyes and horrified looks, caring hands, and tender words, descending upon her like a band of swooping angels.

...

They’re in the middle of a conversation when a shrill, pain filled cry pierces the air, followed by a sickening crack of a bone. It sends the hairs on Newt’s arms standing on end as they round the corner to where they had left the girl that had been with Credence, but nothing quite prepares them for a sight of the beautiful girl, twisting around in agony, as her bones cracked and reformed in repetitive succession, her flesh and bones twisting as they tore apart and stitched together to form another body.

He hears the horrified gasp of Tina behind him, and the sound of Jacob emptying his stomach onto the ground.

“Jesus.” The other man that had followed them had pity mixed into his voice, half coated with some form of disgust just as Tina descended next to him, gathering Nagini into her arms. “What’s happening to her?”

The girl gasps in response to his question, her facial muscles contorting as though to speak before a low coy hiss bubbled from between her lips.

“She’s a...Maledictus.” Newt had seen the posters left behind by the circus, and his head bowed slightly, his body pressing lightly towards one side as he rocked and shifted uncomfortably. “I’ve read about them, but I’ve never seen one, so I’m not familiar with their transformations.” His voice was low but soothing, with just a tinge of panic and concern as he reached over like a kindred friend to pry her writhing bottom half from Tina’s legs, his back hunched over as though feeling her agony as his own.

“It’s okay.” Her body shudders as his fingers trail down her arm, his fingers snapping back instinctively as she visibly flinched. “It’s fine.” What’s left of her morphing hands clings to his own extended ones, and for the first time since the end of the battle, Newt is struck right in the gut by the terror that is bubbling in this fragile woman’s eyes, and suddenly, he loses all his sense of comforting words. How did one comfort and assure someone who truly lived in fear of themselves?

“There’s no need to be scared.” Tina’s always there to supplement him when his words fail to make an appearance, his own hands shaking as they tightly grasp the girl’s own, his soul twisting in agony at her fear and visible pain as she struggles--no, refuses to give into the final part of the transformation.

It's hurting her. He sees it, and so does everyone else around them.

“Please.” Tina’s usually calm voice cracks just a little at the other woman’s pain. She’s always been the more connected one out of the two of them, more attuned to human emotions than he ever was. “Just give in. You’ll be alright.”

Newt barely deciphers the imperceptible shake of Nagini’s head, her lips opening and closing in gasps that sound garbled and incongruent spilling from her lips.

Her beautiful brown eyes dart around harshly, almost pleadingly as she clings to his flesh, searching--for someone that they both knew was no longer there.

“He’s gone.” Newt hates the fact that he has to be brutally honest with her. Its always been his best quality, and yet also his worst.“Credence isn’t here. He left.” A taste of bitterness and failure spread across his tongue.

Tears, hot, fast and gleaming in the dim light sparkled as they fell like beaded jewels from the corners of her eyes.

“You loved him.” The emotion of heartbreak in her eyes is something all too familiar with him, and he shifts, rocking back slightly on his feet as Tina freezes beside him. “I know.” His hands smooth over hers soothingly. He’s had his own fair share of crushes and heartbreaks to understand just a fraction of what she’s currently going through. She relaxes, just for a fraction of a tender second.

“We’ll get him back. I promise.” Maybe it’s the resolution in his eyes, or the brittle firmness in his voice that reassures her, because she lets a sigh leave her lips, her body sinking like malleable putty to the floor, the last of her transformation convulsions leaving her body as it seeped over her, changing her skin and bones, leaving a huge snake, visibly tired and drained, coiled around his and Tina’s body and arms.

Her forked tongue flickers and she raises her head to butt his own for a moment. Newt bumps his head back understandingly, a soft smile gracing his face.

~~~~

I’m thinking if I should make these one-shots or continue it as a storyline.

I actually wrote a little of Credence’s part already, but I think I’ll leave it as a second part to another shot, since this one is clearly, long enough xD

Please let me know what ya’ll think! Its my first time writing for Nadence :p

Credence and Nagini deserve so much better and would have been so much better together.

If I continue I’d probably have Credence, Queenie and Grindelwald making an appearance.

Tagging People that I know so far loves Nadence as I do: @english-coffee

#fantastic beasts #Crimes of grindelwald #nadence #credence and nagini #credence x nagini #unbeta'd #my writing #my fic #angst #newtina #newt scamander #credence barebone #nagini #tina goldstein #jacob kowalski #that guy that's leta's brother #i can't remember his name.

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wildfaeworld · 6 years

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Bad Things Happen Bingo: Unwilling Suspension

Word Count: 3k

Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender

Characters: Lance, Hunk, Ezor

Full prompt under the cut, or on AO3.

This jumps off from season 7 episode 3, where I snatched up that interrogation premise and ran cackling stage left.

“Hunk, buddy, please.”

Lance is upset. Why? …oh, maybe because Hunk’s head feels like a watermelon with too many rubber bands around it. Had they been daring each other to raid Coran’s nunvil stash again? He thought they swore never again last time, but hey. You never know what Lance might get bored enough to try. Again.

“Hunk,” Lance’s voice cracks, fear leaking through. Hm, maybe not nunvil then. What had they been doing?

The avalanche of memory crashes over him, and Hunk jerks, flailing desperately to the rushing flood of get away get away and fight flee run fly and oh, god, Lance-

“Hunk, buddy, please.”

“Hunk,” Lance’s voice cracks, fear leaking through. Hm, maybe not nunvil then. What had they been doing?

The avalanche of memory crashes over him, and Hunk jerks, flailing desperately to the rushing flood of get away get away and fight flee run fly and oh, god, Lance-

“Hunk- Hun- ng-stop – asere, calm dow-nng – you gotta hold – haaa – still, buddy, basta, por favor, just -mmng-”

He’s not sure how, but he wrestles his adrenaline under control, breathe in-hold-breathe out and stills his body. His mind may still be whirring in circles like Rover after Pidge fed him some whacked-out code, but Lance stops making those awful, awful gagging noises.

Okay, take inventory.

First off, he can’t see. There’s something tight and sticky stretched across his eyes. The galran equivalent of duct-tape, maybe?

Second: he can’t move much; probably some sort of restraints, given the fragmented violence of his last waking moments. His arms are hoisted up above his head, not so much that he’s hanging by them, but definitely held up against some sort of pole. He’s standing, his back pressed to the same pole and secured by a band across his chest, and his earlier flailing established that his feet are locked down by some sort of fetters around his ankles, most likely attached to the pole also.

Third: he hurts. Mostly in his head, which is reasonable. The galra guard who knocked him out after he and Lance jumped to Pidge’s defense was way too enthusiastic.

Fourth: Lance is here – oh god, Lance. Okay, time to get to the bottom of their situation right-freaking-now, because he doesn’t want to hear Lance make those noises ever again, and he has a sneaking, horrible suspicion that if he moves he will cause exactly that.

“You with me, asere?” Lance asks softly, a gentle rasp to his voice that has Hunk’s chest twisting guilt and fear up into his throat.

He wrestles it down. “I’m with you, man. What’s going on? Are you okay? Where are we?”

“We’re still on Zethrid and Ezor’s battlecruiser,” Lance says. “En una - in a different cell. They’ve- we’re kind of… atado? Um. Tied up.”

Hunk listens to the way Lance can’t quite keep his voice steady, hears the stress in the way his English is slipping.

“Okay, okay, we’re okay,” Hunk nods a little to himself. “We are okay, right Lance? Are you hurt?” He didn’t miss the way Lance avoided the question the first time he asked.

“All good over here, buddy,” Lance says tightly. “Just hanging out in a galra cell, no biggie.”

“Lance.” But Hunk doesn’t get the chance to pry further because the door bangs open and both he and Lance yelp a little into the cacophony of metal and booted footsteps entering their cell.

“Hi, paladins!” says someone much too pleased with themselves. “I’m so glad you both finally woke up! How do you like your new cell?”

“Oh, it’s peachy, Ezor,” Lance snarks. “But I’m disappointed with the level of service; I mean, who doesn’t leave a mint on the torture device? I give it two stars, max.”

They need to get out of here, like, yesterday. He wiggles a little bit, confirming that yes, their armor has been removed and he’s just in the undersuit. So much for accessing his bayard. But Coran’s still out there somewhere (hopefully). He’ll get the others free, and then they can all come charging to the rescue. He and Lance just have to hold out until then. Right? Right. Oh, god.

“Let’s play a game,” Ezor chirps, oblivious to Hunk’s inner monologue. “I’ll ask you questions, and if you answer nicely, I’ll loosen your restraints. If you don’t answer, or if you’re rude, I’ll tighten them. Ready?”

Hunk can’t see if Lance answers without words, but his best friend has gone suspiciously silent. Unsure if this is a cue to pick up the slack but figuring it’s probably best to have Lance’s back by following along, he holds his tongue too.

Fortunately, Ezor doesn’t seem to take their silence as breaking the rules of the game yet, because Hunk doesn’t feel any movement from his restraints, and Lance’s breathing hasn’t changed pitch or pace.

“Alright,” Ezor says after a moment. “Question one for you, Red Paladin. Where is Lotor?”

Usually this would be where Lance snarks something at their captor, but he has been suspiciously silent since Ezor explained the rules of whatever twisted game this is, and he continues to keep silent now, ratcheting Hunk’s anxiety up another notch or two. What does he see, that is succeeding in keeping his usual bravado at bay?

After a long moment, Ezor sighs. “I thought you were the annoying one,” she says disappointedly. “I was looking forward to some proper banter for once. Your concern for your friend is so boring, and so useless.”

Something clanks, then clanks again, and Lance grunts softly. Is Hunk imagining it, or is his breathing a little strained? He holds very still, feeling fear crawl sick and clinging up his spine.

“Your turn, Yellow Paladin!” Ezor announces right next to his ear, and Hunk jumps a little, flinching away from the too-bright voice. Ezor snickers.

“How did you get out of the quintessence field, hm?”

Hunk shakes his head mutely, following Lance’s lead for now.

“Aww,” Ezor pouts. “No fun either.”

Another, slightly different clank, and the floor drops about an inch or so under Hunk’s feet. He lurches down the pole, which yanks his arms a little higher over his head.

Lance gags, and Hunk knows.

“You bitch,” Hunk hisses, turning his head blindly towards the last place he heard Ezor. “You psychopath, cut him down!”

“Ooh, he’s clever!” Ezor squeals. “Just for that, I’ll give you a reward.”

The sticky strip is ripped abruptly off of his face, taking with it several eyelashes and a good portion of one eyebrow. Hunk squints past the reflexive tears, desperate to see, confirm that it’s not as bad as he thinks-

It is. It’s worse.

Just like he thought, his wrists are tethered to a rope that reaches up, through some tackle, and down again to the other side of the cell, ending around Lance’s neck. Every time the floor under Hunk’s feet drops, or Hunk pulls his arms down, Lance will be pulled a little higher by the noose around his neck. He’s already on his tiptoes.

But Lance – Hunk can’t hold back the groan of distress. His best friend has his back to a pole, just like Hunk, but his arms are spread to either side of him, attached at the wrists and elbows to slim boards rigged up to yet more tackle so that they can tilt down if Lance lowers his arms. From the end of the boards dangle two lead weights. The boards keep Lance’s arms straight, but he’s holding them up, and it takes Hunk a minute of following complicated ropes and weights and counterweights to figure it out, but when he does the sick churning in his gut intensifies even further. They are so screwed. Lance’s arms are connected to a frankly huge spear, and if he lowers them, it’ll stab Hunk right through the ribs.

“What do you think?” Ezor coos, rocking back and forth from her tiptoes to the backs of her heels. “Zethrid set this up just for you two! She’s so smart, isn’t she?”

Hunk runs his gaze across the setup one more time, and can’t help nodding miserably. “Yep. Yep, pretty smart,” he agrees morosely. This setup would have taken some seriously advanced spatial reasoning to even envision, and then engineering chops to rival his own to execute properly. If they weren’t, you know, evil and bent on torturing and killing all of them, he’d be tempted to ask Lotor’s former generals to join their team.

Ezor cackles. “You’re cute! Too bad we’re going to break you in itty bitty pieces.” She abruptly prances across the room to flit around behind Lance. “So, Red Paladin, ready to tell me how your team got out of the quintessence field? Or where Lotor is? I bet your arms are getting tired.”

“Nope, I could do this all day,” Lance shoots back immediately, despite the way his breath rasps against the noose around his neck. His gaze doesn’t leave the spear, even as Ezor dances in and out of his peripherals. If she keeps going with this, and Hunk ends up skewered, he can tell Lance will never forgive himself, even if blaming him would never, never cross Hunk’s mind.

Ezor giggles, leaning over on one foot to reach another pair of weights. “Me too, honey. Me too.” She slips the weights onto the ropes around Lance’s arms. The clank as they drop to the bottom of the setup mirrors the lead settling in Hunk’s gut. Lance sucks in a labored breath, his eyes finding Hunk’s in terrified, silent apology. Hunk can see his arms shaking from across the room.

“It’s okay, Lance,” he manages, and it’s taking everything he has not to look at the spear, to keep his focus on Lance, but he does it for his friend. His brother. “We’re gonna be okay, man. I promise.”

“You two are so sweet,” Ezor interrupts. She leans on the lever, sending Hunk ratcheting down another notch. “It makes me wanna barf. Where is Lotor?”

Hunk’s starting to feel the stretch in his shoulders, now. He’s up on tiptoes, almost dangling, and he’s watching Lance choke and struggle not to drop the weights on his arms, and Hunk is starting to get angry.

“We told you already!” he snarls at Ezor. “We don’t know how we got out! Lotor is stuck in the quintessence field. He’s probably dead! That’s all, that’s it, now cut him down!”

“That’s not good enough!” Ezor screeches, darting forward to grab him by the throat. Up close, Hunk can see the fear lurking in her eyes. She’s terrified, he realizes. Terrified that if they got out, Lotor will too. That he’ll come for her and Zethrid. “You have to know! Is there a hole? A portal? A door? How did you get out?”

Behind her, there’s a new clank, followed by a broken sound from Lance. Ezor whirls around. The spear lurches closer as Lance tries to yank his arms back up, but the setup is rigged so that once he lets his arms drop even a little, he can’t bring them back up again. Lance’s sob, dry and choked, and the clank of machinery are the only sounds in the cell for an interminable span of ticks until the spear slowly, finally, halts its forward journey. The tip brushes up against Hunk’s chest; he takes an experimental breath and feels cold metal poke through the fabric of his shirt.

“Ezor,” Lance whispers. “Ezor, we don’t know how we got out, please, let Hunk go,”

“You know! You do! You got out somehow, tell me how!” Ezor interrupts. Her cheerful, cutesy facade has crumbled, leaving something desperate and feral in its aftermath. She slams the lever by Hunk, and the floor drops out from under him. He plummets to the end of his restraints, snapping taut with a jerk that yanks his shoulder out of its socket. It hurts, and he screams, throwing his head back against the pole, but against the pain, against the fire in his ligaments and tendons, he wrenches his eyes open, needing to see, to know-

Lance dangles, suspended by the cruel noose digging into his neck. His feet twitch spasmodically, in terrible, disjointed counterpoint to his desperate, ineffective wheezing for air which will not come. The spear inches closer as his arms, starved of the oxygen necessary for their operation, drag downwards. Its trajectory is unchanged despite Hunk’s new position, and instead of his heart the tip digs into the space where his shoulder is dislocated, slow and cold but then hot, too hot. Hunk’s nerves scream - no, that’s his voice, he’s screaming again - and Lance is watching it all, helpless, unable to keep his arms aloft anymore even as he hangs. Somewhere, Ezor is yelling, still trying to wring information from them. Hunk wishes he could reassure his friend, tell Lance that none of this is his fault, but the pain and the screaming - oh, that’s why his throat is rough, he’s still screaming - kind of make speaking an impossibility.

There’s a sudden lurch, and the tip of the spear pierces the other side of his shoulder to lodge in the wood behind his back. He can feel the wide edges grating against the bone of his shoulder socket and the ball of the joint, sending screeling tines of fire up his arm and into his neck and down his spine. He blinks the tears away, looking for Lance - he’s gone still, dangling passively by his neck, a limp and boneless ornament upon Zethrid’s macabre device.

Stillness and quiet have never become Lance.

Beyond the torture, beyond the pain, it’s this, somehow, that drives Hunk over the edge. He grabs the pole behind his wrists, taking the pressure off the ropes binding him, and tears the thick strands apart. He yanks the spear out of his shoulder with his good arm as he drops to the floor, zeroing in on Ezor. She stumbles back, her jaw dropping even as she reaches for the daggers in her boots. Hunk doesn’t give her a chance to find her footing. He charges, bellowing wordlessly in rage and in pain, and bats aside her first attack. She flips around, dodging and ducking, but Hunk is relentless and fueled by an anger which is all the more potent for how rarely it takes him over. The heavy haft of the spear cracks across her forearm, numbing the limb and sending one of her daggers skating across the floor. Ezor kicks out at him, driving him back a step and gaining the space to run up the wall and flip over his head to land behind him. Hunk is already whirled around to face him by the time she lands, waiting with the spear braced firmly. Ezor twists midair and manages a graceless landing, clutching the deep gash in her side that almost disemboweled her. Hunk growls, readjusting his grip on the spear. So close. He’s never been taken over by anger, by bloodlust, like this, but it’s empowering. He could do anything, he thinks. Anything that he wants is within his grasp, and all he wants is Ezor’s death.

Ezor sees it. Without another word she flees, trailing blood and fear. The door slams behind her, just in time to block the spear Hunk hurls after her. It clatters to the floor, leaving silence in its wake.

Hunk shudders as he stumbles, caught in the receding tide of adrenaline. He follows it, uses it to get across the room to Lance. With half the device no longer functional, it’s the work of moments to get Lance down, but that’s just the beginning. The noose has dug into his neck, still strangling him even after the pressure of Lance’s weight is removed. Hunk grabs Ezor’s abandoned dagger and cuts it loose, wincing in sympathy as he peels the coarse fibers out of the bleeding grooves they’ve cut into Lance’s flesh.

“Lance,” he croaks. “Lance, my man, wake up. C’mon, open your eyes for me.” He leans over Lance’s head in his lap, listening for any hint of breathing. For a long moment, stretched thin by despair and hope in equal measure, Lance is utterly unmoving.

“Lance,” Hunk’s voice cracks. “Lance, please, man, you gotta wake up!”

He rubs Lance’s sternum vigorously with the knuckles of his good hand, wishing he could manage CPR. But his shoulder is still out of its socket, hanging limp and leaking blood sluggishly from the hole the spear left in him, and he has never felt more useless.

Lance breathes.

And chokes, coughing and gagging against his damaged throat. Hunk sobs and eases him onto his side, shifting to rub Lance’s back.

“Oh, man, Lance,” he cries. “Oh, man, you had me really scared there for a minute. Never do that again, okay? No more dying on me!”

Lance shudders. “Hnnk…” His hand creeps upward, fingers scrabbling toward Hunk’s shoulder. “Yr… rrm…”

“I’m okay,” Hunk says. He’s really not, but that’s not what Lance needs to hear. “We’ve got the pod in Black. We’re both gonna be okay, man.”

“’m srry,” Lance whispers.

“Stop it,” Hunk squashes that right away. “Stop it, Lance, it wasn’t your fault. It was Ezor and Zethrid.” He tangles Lance’s seeking hand in his own, bringing them down to rest on Lance’s chest. “Just breathe, man. We’re gonna be fine.”

“Kay,” Lance rasps.

After a few minutes, he shifts, gathering his legs under him, and Hunk eases him up. Lance squinches his eyes shut against what’s probably a fierce headache, but stands up, leaning on the wall. Hunk pushes himself to his feet and cracks a smile for Lance.

“Ready to get out of here?” he asks.

Lance nods, then winces.

There’s a clatter in the corridor, and the rest of the paladins spill into the room in a rush of sound and frenzy. The rest of their escape is a blur, but Hunk remembers the bright, soundless flares of the explosions across Zethrid and Ezor’s ship as they flee, and he remembers the hot satisfaction that comes with the sight. It warms him through his cold stint in the cryopod, and through the wait as Lance takes his turn. And later, when he sleeps and the dreams come to torment him with what if, it's enough to bolster his waking, until he can open a channel to Lance's lion and drive out the memories and the dreams with the steady, even rhythm of Lance, alive.

#bad things happen bingo #prompt: unwilling suspension #hunk #lance #voltron #cuivienenwrites

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shitkpopmemes-blog · 6 years

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S U R R E N D E R

A/N: I'm back bitches. Enjoy.

Yoongi jumped slightly as strong hands planted themselves on the wall either side of his face. “Tae-”, “Hmm? What’s wrong baby? Not so confident now, are we.” Taehyung said, softly grabbing his chin so he is forced to look into his eyes. Yoongi felt a shiver run down his spine as he saw Tae’s eyes filled with lust and his voice dropping even lower than normal. He couldn’t even do anything but shake his head, the elder felt completely helpless in the youngers grip as the hand that wasn’t holding his chin was running laps around his body, his fingers hooking onto any piece of fabric they could find. “You were so confident earlier when you were all over Jimin. You knew what you were doing. You wanted this didn’t you?” Taehyung whispered causing Yoongi to shake his head, “No I- um.” He cursed himself in his head for stuttering and for being so flustered around the younger. “No use acting innocent now my little kitten.” If Yoongi wasn’t blushing before he was certain now that his face was completely red from the nickname, gasping as Tae’s lips came into contact with the sweaty skin of his neck, sucking on it gently. Desperate for some friction on his hardening dick, Yoongi pushed against the hand which had fallen from his chin to rest dangerously close to where he wanted- no needed to be touched. Tae only tutted at this, slapping Yoongi’s inner thigh, “Consider that your first warning kitten.” He growled before going back to sucking the dark purple and blue marks along his hyung’s neck, it was his favourite site seeing Yoongi all whiny and marked up, begging for him. All Yoongi could do was stand there as Tae took his pleasure in making the elder a drooling mess from just his hands. “T-tae, S-stop.” Yoongi tried to sound harsh, convincing even but his voice just came out high pitched and breathy. “Hmm…” Tae began in a low growl, sending heat straight to his lower abdomen, “Is that really what you want? Okay.” Yoongi let out a high pitched whine as Tae’s touch completely left his body. He really just stopped, and he laughed.

Taehyung was tempted to leave, he got his baby all riled up just to leave him desperate. “What’s wrong? You asked me to stop, or has my kitten changed his mind?” He teased and Yoongi sucked in a harsh breath through gritted teeth, “I-i change my mind. P-please Tae just, fuck, j-just touch me.” Yoongi whined, he was so shamefully hard, his dick starting to hurt from the tight confines of his jeans. “Where, Kitten?” Tae was loving this, teasing Yoongi until he would stop being a brat, “M-my ass, my dick, God anywhere. I just need you to touch me.” a smirk graced his tanned skin, Yoongi couldn’t sound more needy if he tried, always so whiny, easy to wreck. “How about this.” He said before grabbing the olders hair harshly, pulling so his neck was fully exposed so Tae could continue his masterpiece, he would choose his kittens soft neck over a canvas anyday even if it was painted by Van Gogh himself. “Shit.” Yoongi gasped out, overwhelmed by the feeling of Tae’s sinful tongue tracing his collarbones and Jaw but the younger didn’t appreciate how much the elder was cursing, never did, claiming he was too pretty to be spewing such disgusting words. He once again slapped Yoongi’s inner thigh, “Consider that your second warning. One more and you’ll get a spanking, and I won’t go easy considering how much you’ve pushed your luck today.” Yoongi whimpered as Taehyung’s hot breath hit the shell of his ear as he whispered to him. Finally Tae brought his hand to Yoongi’s crotch, rubbing his agonisingly slowly through his jeans, giving just enough friction to feel pleasure, but not enough.

Yoongi was grabbing a hold of Taehyung’s shoulders in an attempt to keep himself balanced, feeling his knees go weak. He turned his head, not able to look Tae in the eyes as he fell apart under his touch, but he was quick to grab the elders face between his large hands, rubbing his thumbs across his blushing cheeks. “Look at me. I want to see your face.” Tae’s face was so close to his own that he couldn’t help but lean in to press his lips against the youngers. It was slow but rough, Yoongi’s hands were threaded in Taehyung’s hair in a desperate attempt to pull him closer to his body, his whole body heating up at the contact. Tae’s hands wrapped around to squeeze Yoongi’s ass causing him to gasp so that his tongue could explore the elder’s mouth. His thigh was between Yoongi’s legs as he pathetically grinded his hips for more friction, just feeling the outline of Taehyung’s hard on through his sweatpants.

“Gosh, seeing you, practically throwing yourself over Jimin today.” Tae began, his grip harsh on Yoongi’s hips, guiding them to meet his own as he spoke, “I could have punished you right then and there. Could have had you bent over my knee in front of everyone, show them what a little slut you really are.” Yoongi could feel the vibrations of Taehyung’s deep voice in his own chest with how close they were to each other, he could feel his whole body heat up at the thought of it, the thought of all of his friends watching as he was humiliated in front of them, become a drooling mess by the hands of his dongsaeng. “Pathetic. Does that idea turn you on?” Taehyung asked, his voice so condescending, but so arousing all at once. Yoongi opened his mouth but nothing more than a whine escaped his parted lips, choosing to just nod instead. He could feel his heart pounding against his chest with every breath and he was certain that the younger could feel it too, a smirk playing onto his face making Yoongi nervous. “Let's put your filthy mouth to good use, shall we?” He questioned, his large hands prying themselves from the tender skin of his hips to press down on his shoulder light to bring him to his knees. It was remarkable how perfectly Tae's fingers ran softly through his hair, contrasting how rough he was with his tone. Now level with his crotch, Yoongi could finally see that he wasn't the only one affected in this situation, Tae's erection was painfully obvious through the thin fabric of his sweats leaving nothing to the imagination.

Yoongi wanted nothing more than to reach up and rip open the fabric, his mouth drooling in anticipation, but he knew he had to obey to get what he wanted. Taehyung began to lower them, his slow movements only further frustrating Yoongi but Tae knew that he had the elder right where he wanted him. His fingers ghosted over his chin, barely even lifting it to look into his baby’s eyes as he stared up at him, Tae was completely in control. “Such a pretty baby boy.” He licked his lips as watery eyes met strong ones. As soon as his dick was free from restraints, Yoongi was finding it hard to stay still, just watching as the younger sat down, his legs spread so that he could fit perfectly in between like puzzle pieces. When Tae finally gave him the go ahead, he was quick to bring his mouth to the head, basking in the taste of Tae’s precome as if it was his last meal and he hadn’t eaten in weeks. Tae’s watched on with hooded eyes as his head fell back in pleasure when Yoongi’s tongue dipped into his slit, trying to remember that this was meant to be a punishment as a low moan was building deep in his throat. It didn’t take long for his hand to find Yoongi’s hair, giving it a harsh pull so that he could take all of his length. The action caused the elder to whimper, half in surprise, half in pleasure, the vibrations leaving Tae with his mouth gaping and growls spilling out freely. Yoongi could feel tears forming in his eyes as Tae hit the back of his throat, gagging slightly but the grip in his hair was keeping him from pulling away. Without warning Tae began to thrust shallowly into Yoongi’s open mouth, loving the feeling of his warm cavern encasing his sensitive length, not able to control himself as his thrust grew faster.

Yoongi just let his jaw hang open so that Tae could use him for his own pleasure, but even that thought alone aroused Yoongi even more, he was painfully hard in his own jeans, helpless rocking his hips as Tae fucked his mouth in the hopes of getting some friction without getting noticed but the youngers eyes caught all of it. Instead of stopping, Tae just sped up, grabbing the back of Yoongi’s head so that he was constantly taking his entire member down his throat. Just when he thought he might pass out from the lack of oxygen, Tae pulled his head back, thick saliva still connecting from his mouth to Tae’s dick, heavy breaths pushing past his swollen lips. “Fuck. So messy, kitten.” he whispered while running his thumb over the bottom one, the mixture of spit and precome smearing across with it. “So messy, just for me.” This time Yoongi couldn’t hold back his whines, his whole body shivered as pleasure spiked up and down his spine at his words. He sat almost perfectly still as Tae stood up to walk across the room, “Since you were being so loud earlier, let’s see if you can be even louder now.” Yoongi couldn’t see, not once daring to move from his spot, trying his hardest to be good, but he could hear Taehyung’s light steps before the sounds of a draw opening and closing echoed through the room. It felt so silent, spare a few steps and Yoongi’s panting breath, the tension and anticipation was thick enough to suffocate. “Now, since this is a punishment, Daddy is going to take away something you love.” Tae spoke, his words becoming closer to a whisper as he walked towards Yoongi’s back, love falling harsh against his ears but Tae’s warm breath was comforting.

Yoongi bit his lip to hide his gasp as he felt the cool fabric brush against the back of his neck. He knew exactly what it was, a blindfold. One thing Yoongi loved more than anything was to see Taehyung’s face, even out of sex, he would find himself staring at the younger like it was his job. And of course, Tae is smart. Sure he could punish with hours of edging, or maybe even spankings but he knew that at the end of it all, Yoongi still enjoyed it. He knew that to punish Yoongi, to truly punish him, he would have to take himself away from him. He shivered as Tae brought the silk up to his eyes, carefully tying it around the back of his head and everything went dark. As soon as he could no longer feel Tae's hands against his skin it was as if his whole body went into hypersensitivity, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end and he just listened to the sound of his own breaths mixing with Taehyung's, he felt vulnerable. He could feel the warmth of the younger body move away followed by the soft sounds of footprints disappearing behind where he was knelt on the floor. Suddenly he was being picked up and placed on what he assumed was the bed on his back, Tae's hands making quick work of his clothes but from what Yoongi could get his hands on, the former was still fully clothed. “God you're so beautiful. All for me hyung.” Tae whispered into his ear, the sensation feeling ten times better but equally worse when he couldn't see him. He imagined how Tae looked, his hair messy as he towered over his naked body looking at him like he held the whole universe in his covered eyes.

“Can you roll over for me baby?” Tae asked, his voice soft and slightly distant. Yoongi could sense his footsteps near the dresser, muscle memory telling him that he was grabbing lube. Carefully he rolled onto his hands and knees on the bed, feeling the mattress dip as Tae's weight returned to it. Without even being told he was in the position, head to the pillow, ass up and Tae couldn't hold back his moan at the sight. Quickly the youngers hand harshly gripped the elders cheek, the slap echoing around the quiet room followed by a muffled whimper as Yoongi's head was pressed further into the pillow with the force. “Such a good boy. Colour?” Yoongi's response was once again muffled by the pillows prompting Taehyung to pull his body up by his hair “What was that princess?”, “G-green.” He cursed himself for stuttering but at this point Yoongi had just accepted that he was going to have to submit to the younger boy. Tae just looked him in the eyes in that authoritative manner, he knew what he wanted but Yoongi was still trying to hold on to the tiny bit of dignity and hold he had on his pride by not saying it. “Just green?” Tae seethed in his ear and Yoongi had never felt so small as he whispered out the words, “...s-sir.” And Taehyung smirked in triumph, “Now was that so hard? Or are you stubborn?” The mixture of Tae's soft touches and praises together with his harsh demeanor and degradation was just making Yoongi's head swim, slowly falling into that headspace.

After what felt like forever, finally Tae's hands were on his body. Warm, like fire against his skin sending arousal around his whole body making his back arch into the touch. He could feel his hot breath against his entrance, just barely there but enough to make him squirm trying so hard to push back onto him. “Patience baby boy. You'll get what you want.” Tae continued to tease, ghosting kisses along the backs of his thighs up to the curve of his ass and Yoongi felt like crying. It was so much to his sensitive skin yet all at once not enough. “Please. S-sir just-.” Yoongi mumbled out but was broken into a moan as Tae finally put his mouth to work. Immediately his elbows buckled at the feeling of Taehyung’s warm tongue working around his rim, every now and again poking in the tip, pleased when Yoongi just let out a needy, high pitched whine as his body melted into the touch. Yoongi was falling apart with every second that Tae spent teasing his entrance, he was just wordless begging for more as he wreathed in his hold until Tae couldn’t hold himself back anymore. He was never good with patience, quickly diving in like a last meal on death row, devouring Yoongi’s body, soaking in his moans. “F-fuck.” Yoongi moaned, not even attempting to hide it this time, as Tae switched out his tongue for his fingers, slowly entering in one long digit, making sure to take his time opening up his baby. One finger after another, Yoongi grows more needy, helplessly pushing back on to Tae’s fingers earning a light spank in return, “Stop being such a greedy slut.”

Eventually Tae pulled his fingers away and Yoongi let out a hiss at the emptiness, but that was soon replaced as Tae put some lube on his entrance and his own member. Yoongi was panting in anticipation, “Colour baby?” Tae asked once again, never wanted to hurt his baby. “Green, sir. Please, I’m so ready.” He cried, arching his back further to present himself to Tae, his blindfolded face pressing further into the bed, shifting the fabric slightly so that he could just make out the shadows as Tae brought his tip to his entrance but slowly pushing in causing them both to let out a moan in unison. Yoongi could only imagine how lewd he looked, fully bent over, crying to be fucked by the younger but Tae was getting the full show. No matter how many times they had sex, Yoongi was always overwhelmed by the stretch, it hurt so good. Tae waited a moment, waiting for Yoongi to give him the go ahead before moving.

As soon as he was going there was nothing stopping him, setting a harsh unforgiving pace, the sound of their skin meeting was loud enough to drown out Yoongi's moans but Tae wasn't having that. “Now. Tell me kitten. Do you really think Jimin could make you feel as good as I do?” He spat, exaggerating each few words with another hard thrust. “No sir.” Yoongi panted out. His whole body was racking with how hard Tae was pounding into him but he loved every second of it. “How do you think Jimin would react to see you acting like such a needy whore?” Yoongi could feel his whole body heat up and Taehyung's question causing him to whine, only further confirming what the younger called him. Tae could feel Yoongi clench around him forcing a moan out of him as well, “kitten likes that? How about we call him.” He suggested. If Yoongi wasn't already falling apart he would have full opposed to the idea, but while Tae was filling him so good, touching him so soft he couldn't bring himself to say anything let alone reject.

Before he could even register what was going on the phone was already ringing. Tae pulled harshly at his hair so he could whisper into the elders ear, “Don't hold back Kitten. Let minnie know how good I make you feel.” He didn't even slow his thrusts as the ringing stopped, Jimin had answered. Yoongi was too aroused to be embarrassed, he wonder what Jimin would think. Would he hang up, or would he listen in? Would he be disgusted? Or would the image of how they were, Tae bent over Yoongi's sweaty body making him feel so good he could scream turn him on? He couldn't hear the other end of the phone, not over the lewd wet sounds of Tae pulling out and pushing in, not over the whines and cries he let escape his open lips. “Tell him how you feel!” Tae shouted. “Good! So good. Feels…” he cut off into more moans. It was so good, too good as Tae's big hand wrapped around his waist to play with his aching cock as it dripped precome onto the bed sheets.

The blindfold was forgotten around his neck where it fell as Tae's growls grew louder, he was close. “Are you close baby?” Yoongi could only nod through his babbles, a mixture of moans and Tae's name he couldn't even form a sentence. Everything was too much, being fucked, being touched, and the cherry on top, Tae leaned in to muffle his moans with a kiss sending Yoongi over the edge. He could see the stars he held, his vision blurred as his release painted his stomach and the sheets white quickly being thrown into overstimulation. He was certain the phone had fallen off the bed from the strength of Tae’s thrusts as he came to his own release, becoming shallow as he rode out his high before collapsing next to his hyung. Yoongi hissed as the younger pulled out, both of their heavy breaths filling the room as they just laid together in a tangle of limbs.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.” Tae whispered, his voice so much softer than it had been before. Slowly he picked Yoongi’s limp body from the bed and brought him to the bathroom. He sat him on the sink as he let the bath fill with soapy water, making sure to change the sheets as well before climbing in and helping Yoongi in as well. The elder sighed as the warmth incased his skin, soothing him as Tae’s hands rang softly along his sides, “You did so well baby. I’m sorry I get a bit possessive.” He whispered as he placed kisses to Yoongi’s hair. “I wouldn’t want to hurt you.” Once they were both clean, Yoongi practically falling asleep in the tub as Tae drew patterns on his hips, he picked him up once again, this time bringing him to bed. Just as Tae was going to close the window Yoongi pulled him down onto the bed, quick to wrap himself in the youngers warmth, “I know you would never hurt me.” He whispered, the voice barely audible from where his face was hidden in Tae’s chest, quickly falling into the clutches of sleep.

Only once his breath had evened out and soft snores filled the dark room did Taehyung dare utter the words he had been meaning to say…

“I love you.”

I suck at writing endings and aftercare forgive me.

#bts imagines #bts reactions #bts scenarios #bts #bts namjoon #bts hoseok #bts jimin #bts yoongi #bts jungkook #bts taehyung #bts fanfic #bts fluff #bts jin #bts smut #bts x reader #bts angst #taegi #taegi fic

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programaticallydelicious · 7 years

Text

Negotiations

I walked into the room, avoiding direct eye contact with the alien waiting for me. Its huge eyes just looked like a jet black sclera set in a sack of vaguely damp, wrinkled gray leather. If eyes are a window into the soul, this creepy little guy would give satan a run for his money. They just put me on edge, somehow. I’d have to make eye contact anyway, but it could wait.

I strode up to the meeting table, pulled out the chair, and sat down. I shuffled around in my bag for a moment before pulling out a small piece of tech, which I set on the table in front of me.

“Before we begin, I want to be sure of a few things. This device you’ve provided us with, it is 100% effective at understanding and translating languages, correct?”

The alien across from me nodded. It’s a nice little allowance they’ve made for comfort, learning our body language, but its bulbous head threw the whole gesture off. It made me think of one of those old inflatable toys with a weight on the bottom, that would lean too far to the side before bouncing straight back up. Woobles or something. It didn’t really matter.

“Nearly. We occasionally find a race with one or two concepts that it has trouble with, but that’s easily smoothed over.”

I took a deep breath, and waited a moment to compose myself. This whole thing was going to be more trying than not interrupting old man Higgins up the street while he went on about whatever racist sentiment was in his head at the moment.

“One or two…okay. That’s odd.”

The alien blinked. Eyelids came in from not just the top and bottom, but also the sides. That’s just plain creepy. Reminds me of one of those really old movies they threw on the media blacklist pretty much as soon as first contact started. Something in black. Whatever it was, I remember seeing it as a kid, and that guy at the beginning had nothing on this alien’s eyes.

“Have you already found something it can’t translate?”

I nodded, then pulled out my communicator and scrolled through a few documents. I really needed to clean this thing out. Can’t believe I didn’t get around to it before coming to such an important meeting. Imagine the debacle that would result if I opened exactly the wrong thing. Never can know what that might be, honestly.

“Of a sort, yes. Mind humoring me for a few minutes?”

The alien steepled its hands together, and leaned forward. That’s just plain creepy. I wonder how they learned such context specific body language? Not that it really matters, I guess. Not my problem.

“Certainly. After all, it can take years to accept a race into the Federation.”

Nodding again, I pulled up a document on my communicator, then leaned back in my chair as I began. This was going to be more interesting than that time your classmate Jimmy found some old matches somewhere and almost burned the school down by mistake.

“Excellent. This shouldn’t take much time. I mentioned that we found some issues with your device. Allow me to demonstrate: Espionage.”

The little device on the table beeped, and a red light flashed.

“ERROR: NO ANALOGUE FOUND”

I sighed. That one had been an accident. We just had the thing sitting in a conference room while we discussed the implications of the visit when it came up. But, when something that simple for us to understand came up, we had to try for more.

“Reverse Engineering.”

Again, a beep and a flash of red.

“ERROR: NO ANALOGUE FOUND”

“Spycraft.”

And again with the beep. This was going to get irritating if I didn’t speed things up a bit. Too bad we hadn’t managed to find a mute option for that feature.

“ERROR: NO ANALOGUE FO-”

“Overwhelming Force”

“ERROR: NO-”

“Scorched Earth”

“ER-”

“Kamikaze”

“E-”

Blitzkrieg, Stealth, Mutually Assured Destruction, Acceptable Losses, Pyrrhic Victory, Guerilla Warfare, Encirclement, Entrenchment, Siege.”

The device gave off a series of distressed beeps, punctuated by rapid blinking of the little red light. I almost felt sorry for it. Almost.

“TOO MANY ERRORS DETECTED. REBOOTING. RUNNING SELF DIAGNOSTIC. NO DISCREPANCIES FOUND,”

I paused, and glanced across the table at the alien before looking back down at the translator. This was going to hit it harder than a washed up holovid actor with no auditions and less money hits rock bottom.

“Xenocide”

The chair across from me clattered to the ground as the alien practically fell out of its seat. I don’t blame the poor thing. Of all the aggressive, militaristic words we tried, that was one of the ones we least expected to translate. I mean, really. Who has a word for the intentional extermination of an entire sapient species when they don’t even understand fundamental hostile international mechanics like spying?

“Why do you have a word for…what was all that just now?”

I chuckled a bit while motioning for the alien to sit back down. His reaction had been pretty good, perfectly suitable for one of those hammed-up old dramas where the hero realizes they’ve been working with the villain all along.

“We were confused about that too. So we took a look at the information you sent as part of first contact with us. We noticed something interesting. Every single race in your Federation is carnivorous. Why is that?”

The alien seemed smaller somehow as it settled back into a seat. It looked kind of like a balloon slowly losing air, if that balloon was made of moldering gray leather with eyes that made your spinal column decide it wanted a holiday in Fiji.

“First contact has always been made after sapient races make it to multiple worlds. We’ve never found a sapient herbivorous race which failed to destroy themselves in resource wars and aggressive action. We’ve never found herbivores capable of surviving long enough to leave their own world.”

I leaned forward in the chair and smiled while finally making direct eye contact with the alien. I think the poor thing shivered when I did that. Not that I blame it. Imagine your reaction when you start to put the pieces together and realize that your friendly, upstanding next door neighbor might be the world’s most wanted criminal.

“And the races you have found, while commonly using threat displays, do not waste resources on wars they cannot easily win, correct?”

The alien nodded as it slouched a bit in its chair. It looked kind of like it was trying to hide. Who wouldn’t want to hide from the monsters in their closet?

“Wasted resources means decreased likelihood of survival.”

I shrugged. That was true enough, though rather coldly logical. Dispassionate logic like that has never been our strong suit. Then again, that’s why I’m in this situation in the first place, so it evens out.

“And yet herbivores constantly waste resources on aggression, on movement, on having more young than will possibly survive.”

The alien was staring at me. I’m not sure when the last time it blinked was. I wonder if those eyes need some kind of lubrication to keep from drying out. Probably, they looked a bit less creepy than they should’ve. Looked like they were losing their shine.

“And they die for it. That’s exactly why we’ve never encountered spacefaring herbivores. Their inherent aggression is their own demise.”

I held eye contact. I’d almost swear the alien was a weird statue right now. Don’t know who would commission a statue made of old greasy leather, but I’m sure there’s someone with too much money and too little sense who would give it a shot.

“Indeed. Now, back to the subject at hand. I’ll ask you before we continue: what can you offer humans for joining your Federation?”

The alien sputtered as it started moving again. I’d swear it looked offended. Maybe it doesn’t see where this is going. Not that it really matters, I guess. I mean, it probably matters about as much as posting a formal complaint to a new corporate policy, which is to say not at all.

“We’ve already sent the offer. You’ve seen that, I’m sure.”

I nodded, and began to tap out a staccato rhythm on the table with my fingers. I never could remember where I learned this stupid tune. I’ve known it as long as I can remember, and it just moves into my head on occasion and sticks around like that one couchsurfing friend who doesn’t understand the idea of wearing out their welcome.

“And I’m asking, what else do you have to offer?”

The alien just shook its head again, staring at the device. I wonder if it thought we might’ve tampered with it. As if we knew how. That little thing is way beyond our current abilities. We had some scientists pry it open and look inside, just to be sure.

“Nothing. I’m not sure why you’re-”

I raised my hand, cutting him off. Huh. Not sure why that worked. Did they learn that much of our body language? That’s still really creepy, if it’s the case. Or, maybe I just have it on edge. I dunno. I guess it doesn’t matter.

“May I have permission to connect my datapad with my ship’s computers?”

The alien glanced away from me for a moment. I assume it was checking in with superiors somehow. Maybe it was psychic, to an extent. Or maybe they just had an implant of some sort. We’ll find out eventually, I’m sure.

“Yes, if you like.”

I sighed. I guess that makes things easier for us. I don’t think anyone was going to like what I was about to do. This whole thing felt kind of like one of those holovids of an accident, where you know what’s coming and don’t want to keep going, but for some reason you just can’t seem to stop and pull yourself away.

“Computer, show video: Hiroshima”

A screen appeared in the air above my datapad. It started playing back an old, grainy video. Shaky, taken by hand in an aircraft in a firefight. Below, you can barely see a city being blotted out by a massive explosion. A cloud of smoke, fire and debris was rapidly climbing into the sky, billowing, growing, blooming into an eerie and easily recognized mushroom cloud.

“That’s…you’re using weapons of that scale on a population center? How recent was this?”

I shrugged, and closed the video. The screen on my datapad went back to the document I had up earlier. Gotta love how well they managed to predict this whole thing. I made a mental note to recommend a raise for whoever set up that document for me.

“Three centuries ago. Prior to our invention of spaceflight. Part of a much larger conflict. This is a relatively minor example of “overwhelming force”“

“ERROR: NO A-”

“Shut it. Computer, show infosheet: Battle of Stalingrad.”

A series of graphs and diagrams appeared above my datapad. They showed resources, time, maps, battle plans, and death tolls. Images were interspersed throughout, as were annotations on the tactical value of this, the emotional value of that. Prominent among them was a single apartment building, including notes on sniping from the roof and support via tunnels.

“That…what purpose would that…why w-”

Again, I raised my hand to cut him off, before closing the infosheet. Maybe it was both. Nah, couldn’t be. Only way it was both having this guy on edge and our body language is if it somehow had our body language built in. Unsettling thought, but not exactly likely.

“Because Stalingrad was an advantageous location and the people who died there were considered ‘Acceptable losses’“

“ERRO-”

“Computer, show gallery: General Sherman’s March to the Sea.”

A multitude of images appeared over the datapad. Rail lines and roads intentionally broken and destroyed. Farms and fields scoured clean and left to fallow. Buildings and towns razed to the ground. A broken people left to mourn and starve.

“So much waste…that can’t be intentional, can it?”

I glanced at the images, the wanton destruction that campaign caused, and the very orders that caused it. That kind of thing may be considered morally reprehensible now, even a war crime, but it wasn’t always. At the time, the strategy was extolled as one of the reasons the war ended the way it did.

“It was intentional.”

The alien stared at me, its reflective black eyes bigger than I’d ever seen them before. Creepy as all hell, that’s for sure. I’d rather not deal with these kinds of meetings in the future. Maybe after this I could negotiate for some kind of retirement.

“But…why?”

I tapped my datapad and closed the gallery, then leaned back and tossed my feet on the table. May as well relax, I already knew how this was going to end.

“Because it rendered the enemy unable to use resources Sherman couldn’t keep. Computer, assemble and show video grouping: RTS Games”

A large grid of videos came up, showing a huge range of scenes. Largely battle, the settings varied from open space to deep ocean, from early history to the far “future.” Even battles across space and time could be seen.

“The translator can’t have gotten that right. Those are military tactical simulations. Higher level than anything I’ve ever seen or heard of.”

I laughed as I closed out all of the videos and turned back to the alien. Creepy and unsettling as it might be, I’m pretty sure I was terrifying the poor thing. Not that I really felt sorry for it. Not at all.

“No. They aren’t. Those are games. Toys. For. Fun. And they’re a couple hundred years out of date. From what I’ve seen, nearly every human capable of coherent speech is capable of tactically overwhelming your Federation. And since we’re already here, in space, it’s too late for you to say no. So, I’ll ask again:

What do you have to offer us?”

#science fiction #flash fiction #humans are weird #space australia #aliens #writing practice

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perlocutionary · 6 years

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Morning Glory, pt. 16 - The Maze Runner - Thomas au

Description: Based off the original story of The Maze Runner, where Y/N has been around a long time and she and Thomas might be the key out of here. I have my own take on this, I have used particular things from the movie/books but a lot I did change for this story!

Relationship: Thomas x Reader - THE MAZE RUNNER

Title: A Griever’s sting Word count: 1998

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5. Part 6. Part 7. Part 8. Part 9. Part 10. Part 11. Part 12. Part 13. Part 14. Part 15.

“Can I have your attention please?” I yell over the Gladers, my feet trying to keep myself steady on the log I had stood on just a few weeks prior – speeching. The loud chatter dies down to quiet murmurs and I grin at all my boys, clapping my hands together once. “Thank you. First of all, enjoy your meal! Frypan has outdone himself this time.”

A chorus of cheers erupts around the open field of the Glade, the noise become louder and louder until I try and shut them down again. “Now, some of you know that we may have found something. A way out. I am here to tell you – that that is the case.”

“Please, please, guys, settle down. Otherwise this is going to take a lot longer than necessary.” I laugh, winking at Thomas and Newt who are standing right in front of me, to my right. I cannot help myself as to grin brightly when Thomas stares up at me, his tongue poking past his lips to lick daringly along his bottom lip. I wink again, this time only meant for Thomas’ piercing gaze, as I refocus back on the task at hand.

“From now on, there are no more Grievers!” I screech, throwing my hand holding my mug of moonshine into the air, feeling the liquid slosh and land on my hand before the droplets slowly trail down my arm to my elbow.

“As you all know, some of you found their place within our Glade fairly quickly. Others weren’t as lucky but did find their place nonetheless. Everyone was here with a goal – a goal that WCKD apparently set for us to let our community thrive. “

My voice drops back down to its original octave, glancing over all the eyes glued to me. A hand raises somewhere in the back and I sigh as I finish my introduction, holding my hand up as well. “Please, I want to have a discussion after. Let me get to this before I forget anything crucial.”

My gaze finds Thomas’ again. His happy-go-lucky smile has disappeared, and a frown has taken over his place. I can’t help but let my eyebrows furrow – why wasn’t he as elated as the rest of us had felt? I wish I had had the chance to talk to him before the bonfire started – but it would have to wait until we got to be alone later tonight.

I scrape my throat, putting on my smile again as I address the crowd once more. “I want to give you all the information we inquired – this was an experiment.” Loud murmuring starts but instead of waiting, I just continue my explanation. “All of us are immune to a disease that torments the outside world, The Flare. They wanted us to survive. For mankind to once more thrive again. Without history to guide us, or knowledge, they silently asked us to build a new society – and we succeeded, as you can see.” I motion my hands around the Glade, nodding my head as once again, cheers erupt among us.

“Because, this… This is a safe haven. It’s designed to keep us safe – all of it. The Grievers were meant – ” I can’t finish my sentence as a voice among the crowd interrupts me, causing the whole Glader group to second guess my words. “Y/N! Look at Gally! Do you really think they were here to supposedly protect us?”

My gaze flicks over to a bandaged-up Gally, my lips pursing together into a thin line. Gally looks up, shrugging his shoulders as our eyes meet and I feel mine slump. The only theory I could come up with is that the Grievers were supposed to be there to keep us from finding this out too soon. We couldn’t enter the facility without the flower, which hadn’t sprouted until a few days ago.

Perhaps, the Griever were indeed also for us to remain safe. “I – well – I theorize that – “

This time, I am interrupted, but the words land straight in my heart. I swallow harshly. “Have you forgotten Rebecca and Isabella?” The Glade turns silent, the lone voice dying in the mass of people as I stand frozen. This is what I think a Griever’s sting feels like. Penetrating every fiber of my being, shaking its way to my core – my heart ached at the thought of them, of Alby… Anyone we had lost.

I couldn’t let them see – I couldn’t show them how much it had hurt. If I show them, they might not believe my next words – ones that I desperately believed myself. “It is safe here.”

Silence envelopes us all. MY attention is diverted when Thomas suddenly jumps into motion and stalks off, away from the bonfire and away from me. I feel my throat constrict as I see him disappear into the night. Newt scrapes his throat and my gaze flicks to him. The little nod he gives me tells me he’s onto it, and he trails off after Thomas.

I would’ve never survived if it weren’t for Newt. He had been my rock – during my first days here, the months thereafter, and everything that had haunted my mind at night. Newt was here. And now, even now, he remained here – not only for me, but also Thomas.

Still, nobody speaks.

“There are others out there – places like us. People that are also safe from the outside world. We have a chance to explore the world and try to find this other Maze. We can finally leave this place.” I sigh, defeated perhaps, when it stays eerily quiet.

“I cannot stay here, knowing that there are other out there. Knowing there is an actual world out there, that doesn’t keep us confined. Opportunities, an actual life, I cannot stay here. There is so much more out there. And I know, some of you feel the same way. I invite you to come along with us.” I motion to the only remaining person from my group, Minho, who nods his head, agreeing with my statement. I knew Minho and Newt had my back – always – but I was wondering about Thomas.

“Y/N…” Gally’s voice chimes out above anyone else’s, his features set into understanding – my heart swells when I see the emotions course through his eyes. “If everything turns to shit out there, know that the Glade is your home.”

“Boys, we’re still together, alive, we’re still here, and we’re safe. I propose we celebrate tonight. Everything else can be settled tomorrow.” I raise my jar, bidding everyone a good evening and hop off my log. Gally approaches me, his brow set into a frown.

“I figure you’re not going with us?” I cross my arms over my chest, smiling as a few Gladers pass us and congratulate me on our accomplishments, but remaining close to Gally. He sighs, shaking his head before he speaks – but I knew. I always knew. “No. My place is here, in the Glade.”

I shrug my shoulders, keeping my features stoic. “Then the Glade will have an amazing new leader. If you’ll excuse me.” I nod to Thomas and Newt, meters away from the bonfire, as I smile briefly at Gally. He nods his head, the frown never wavering, as he takes a step back.

I motion Minho with my head to follow me, the tan male falling into step beside me as we trail over to Newt and Thomas. They’re muttering but silence themselves when we approach. “Are you guys alright?”

I take a step closer to Thomas, letting my fingers curl around his wrist as I pry his arms away from his chest. He reluctantly agrees, dropping his arms by his side as I intertwine our fingers. “What’s wrong?” A frown settles over me, my gaze flicking from my best friend to my lover in record speed – but Newt stays silent.

“I can’t help but doubt when I hear the rest of the Glade. Their concerns are valid, Y/N.” Thomas mutters, not meeting my gaze as he stares off into the distance. I thought Thomas and I were on the same page – that we had the same goals. I guess I had been mistaken.

I try to catch his attention, but when he doesn’t budge, I meet gazes with Newt. He smiles apologetically when he witnesses my pained expression, and I drop Thomas’ hand from mine. “Thomas – I – we can’t stay here. That was never an option before.”

Thomas turns as soon as our contact his broken, his hand raising again to grasp our fingers back together, but I retract immediately. The littlest shakes of my head follows as I cross my arms over my chest defensively. He sighs, dropping his hand back to his side. “I know – but they have a good point, you know?”

Immediately, I reciprocate. “Are you not curious as to what’s out there? Am I the only one?” My eyes flick to the other boys in our little circle, but they remain silent, nor do they move. Newt sighs, eventually. “No, Y/N. Definitely not. We have to take our chances. But Thomas is right too.” My eyes widen as I feel Newt shift as well – we can’t stay trapped here forever. Newt, Minho, all of us wanted nothing more than to find a way out of here.

Why would Minho risk his life every day running that Maze if we were going to stay here anyway? Why would Newt help me plan out every single detail of the mapping, why did we even hold Gatherings to keep up-to-date with Minho’s findings?

I swallow harshly as I glare at all three men. “What do you want me to do?” When Thomas tries to grasp my hand again, I let him. He slowly pulls me closer, trying his best to look me in the eye, and I can see his concern course through the honey-speckled orbs.

I also see love, determination and preservation. His tongue darts out to lick his lip, a deep breath leaves his nostrils. “Answer this one question I have…” “And that is, Thom?”

I hold in my breath as I wait for him to speak. He’s fiddling with my fingertips, stalling his question. I knew it was something I didn’t want to hear – or perhaps couldn’t answer. “Why would she call them trials, if it’s a supposed safe haven?”

I want to pull away, but Thomas won’t let me. Instead, he pulls me impeccably closer, pressing his lips against my temple as I slump against his embrace. My defensive stance wouldn’t hold with the people I considered my close family – and there was no point in trying to come up with a lie either. “I – I don’t know. But I trust them. I don’t get why you don’t.”

Minho laughs boisterously, shaking his head as he grins at my against-Thomas-slumped form. It’s Thomas voice that rumbles through the silence though, his chest vibrating against my shoulder as he speaks. “Because locking someone inside a death trap surrounding by a bunch of slimy technology is not something you can justify as protection. Especially not considering the fucking Maze and all.”

For the smallest moment I had considered not telling them what I had found in the control room and keep them to myself, perhaps even burn them when the flames of the bonfire were slowly licking at the wood and every Glader was asleep, but I couldn’t. They should know. “Thomas – you were there too. You made it. “

He’s quick to retaliate. “I made what?”

I pull from his grasp, walking away from the boys and to my back pack that rests against one of the logs. I rumble through it, pulling out the manila folders that I had jammed in there right before leaving the control room, squeezing the paper before turning on my heel and stalking back over. “Here.” I hold out one of the folders, the bold lettering on the front showing THOMAS.

Taglist: @mariariley96 @rebeccaannex3 @blue-berry-barry-allen @honeymoonmuke @dashofholland

Forever:@ssweet-empowerment @fuckwhateverfuck @youshiverwhenyouhearmyname @behind-my-hazeleyes27 @itsbilescallmebiles @7e6205 @4-a-m

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chibinightowl · 6 years

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The Adventures of Sir Timothy Drake

Link to Chapter Two

Chapter Three: A Lazy Afternoon

Tim lounged on a rock in the bright afternoon sun, overlooking a small sun-dappled stream. His few clothes were freshly washed (as was he, again) and he simply basked in the sheer feeling of being alive. After all, he’d thought he would be dead by this time today. Never in a thousand years did he think the outcome of this adventure would end in anything other than his death. But Jason, and his odd proposal, changed all that.

For that matter, what was the dragon getting out of this? He’d stated he was doing it to give him a chance to live up to his potential, but after spending some time with him, he wasn’t entirely sure that was the whole truth. If there was one thing Tim learned from his mother, it was to not accept everything at face value. As the old adage said, if it sounded too good to be true, it probably was. Still, he knew it was best to observe and form his own opinion and one day was barely enough time to formulate a well-rounded one.

Part of that was his overall lack of knowledge on dragons. There wasn’t much information on them, aside from the fiery rampages they purportedly went on and their desire for gold and treasure. Myth had a tendency to be based in truth and Jason did have a hoard. A hoard of books. Either the stories were all wrong or the dragon he encountered marched to the beat of his own drum.

The latter seemed more likely, Tim decided.

His stomach growled and below him in the stream, Jason laughed. “Patience,” he called out. “I’d like to see you fish without a line.”

“I already told you I have a line and hook in my gear, but no. You just want to show off.” Not that Tim minded the view. Jason was as bare as he was, thigh deep in the water.

“Fishing is a skill, not something to fall asleep to.”

“Well, while you’re showing off your skills to the fish, I’m going to check on my horse.” Tim rose and put his boots back on. The pasture he picketed his lovely sorrel mare in earlier this morning wasn’t far from the cave entrance. She seemed no worse for the wear, nickering softly as he approached and nuzzling at his hand.

He led her upstream from Jason and rubbed her neck as she drank. “We’ll be here for a few more days. It’ll be a nice rest for both of us after a month on the road,” he told her.

“You always talk to mostly brainless beasts like that?”

Tim jerked his head around to see Jason leaning indolently against a tree. “An argument can be made for brainless,” he said. “But Robin here is one of the smartest horses I’ve ever trained.”

“All I see is dinner, but I don’t think you want me saying I’m hungry enough to eat a horse.” Jason grinned sharply, flashing fang as he did.

“I’d really prefer you not,” Tim replied, playing along. “I don’t feel like walking home. It took me a month of steady riding just to get here.”

“Maybe if you asked nicely, I’d let you hitch a ride.” There was a hint of a leer and Tim’s ears heated up as he made the connection that he’d technically already gone for a ride on a dragon.

Still… “You’re not eating Robin.”

Jason huffed, but it was plain to see he was joking.

Tim led Robin away from the stream and up the bank to her little pasture with the dragon trailing after them. “I guess now’s a good time to ask just how you plan on returning home with me. The nearest town with a decent livery stable is about five days ride from here.”

“More like a couple hours in the air.”

Distance and time calculations rushed through Tim’s mind and he gaped as he came up with an approximate figure. “You’re that fast?”

“In the air, yeah. It’s not as though I have to take time to safely ford a stream or go around that inconveniently placed rocky tor.”

Tim had so many questions he wanted to ask, the first and foremost being if Jason was serious about letting him go for a real ride on his back, which led into questions of what a saddle would even look like for a dragon and what kind of materials would it take to build one, not to mention what it would take to safely anchor a rider should said dragon go into a dive or even bank. But he took a deep breath and swallowed the urge, and focused on settling his horse, making sure she had plenty of line to move about.

He paused at a sudden thought and this time asked the question as it was actually relevant. “Is it safe to leave her outside?” he asked. “The weather’s fine, but are there any predators around I should be worried about?”

Jason grinned, pointedly revealing his sharp teeth. “Can’t get higher on the food chain than me. She’ll be fine.”

Tim accepted the fact at face value and they walked back to the stream. Checking his clothes, the leggings were mostly dry, so he started to dress.

“No need to put clothes on unless you want to,” Jason chimed in, following him on silent feet. “There’s no one else around here besides me and I sure as hell don’t mind.”

He kept his mouth shut and continued his battle with the leggings. Tim preferred trousers but these were easier to travel with. Besides, while Jason had no issues with wandering around bare as the day he was born, he did, even though that could be chalked up to cultural upbringing.

The dragon shrugged and knelt beside him, drawing up a thin line of already gutted fish out of the water below. “How burnt you like these?”

“Enough that I won’t get sick by eating them raw.” Tim cast about, looking for wood to light a small cook-fire with, but Jason waved him off.

“Watch and learn.” He removed one of the fish from the line, eyed it critically, and drew a short breath. A small jet of flame whooshed out when he exhaled. Tim stopped what he was doing and stared as the reality of the last day or so finally settled in. He was engaged to a dragon. A real, live, fire-breathing dragon.

“How’s that look?” Jason showed Tim the now roasted fish. All he could do was nod numbly.

Pleased, Jason set it down and picked up the second one, and then the third, roasting all three evenly. Tim forgot what he was supposed to be doing, entranced as he was by the flames. He started when he sat down and his bottom came in contact with cool stone. Jason watched him finish dressing with a bemused expression.

“How do you do that?” Tim finally questioned when his wits returned. “Is there some sort of gland that secretes a combustible oil that bursts into flame when it comes in contact with air? What about your throat? Or your mouth? Does it burn your skin at all?” Questions spilled out of his mouth, one after another as he tried to process what he’d just seen. It was all completely fascinating and he needed answers. His fingers itched for his journal to take notes, but he’d left it back in the cave.

Jason shrugged and sat back on the rock, draping his arms over his knees. “I’m not sure how it works in this form, but in my dragon form, the closest I can describe it for you is that I have a second stomach where the flame comes from. I can consciously control the muscle letting it out and how much air mixes in. The deeper the breath, the longer and hotter the flame.”

Tim scrambled over to kneel beside Jason and started poking at his mouth, prying it open to peer inside. He’d spent a good deal of time exploring it with his tongue earlier, but now he needed to see. “But the fire doesn’t hurt the inside of your mouth, right? Or your throat? How does that work considering how destructive it can be? You definitely have smoke breath though. Kind of like a chimney.”

Hands bat Tim away and he rocked back on his heels, realizing what he’d just done. He’d just stuck his fingers in a dragon’s mouth. Heat rose in Tim’s cheeks and he felt mortified. “Sorry!” he apologized. “I just…I get curious about things sometimes and can’t let go until I figure it out. I shouldn’t have done that, it was a complete invasion of your personal space and…”

Jason raised a long-nailed finger and rested it against Tim’s lips, silencing him. “Remember, it’s for that very curiosity that I’m marrying you in the first place. Just give a guy a warning next time you start shoving your fingers in his mouth, okay? At least outside the bedroom.”

Tim nodded, his eyes wide in relief as Jason didn’t appear to be upset with him.

“Good. Now eat. I can hear your stomach rumbling again.”

He was halfway done before he realized the dragon wasn’t eating. “Aren’t you hungry?” Tim asked, remembering his manners and offering up the remaining fish.

“All jokes about your horse aside, I don’t actually need to eat as often as you,” Jason replied. He’d been basking in the sun, stretched out on the stone as though he didn’t have a care in the world. “Finish your fish because I want story time.”

Tim mulled over his words while he ate. He’d put it off for as long as he could even if there wasn’t a lot to say, really. His parents were, well, his parents and trying to find the right manner in which to describe them to a third party who’d just as soon step on them as look at them was difficult. When he finished eating, he washed his hands in the stream, then settled in next to where Jason was still sprawled out. He purposefully kept his eyes on the slow moving water in front of him.

“My parents are rarely at home, always traveling or spending time in the King’s court in Gotham. They fancy themselves to be well-educated and to an extent, they are. But when it comes to me, they never seem to know quite what to do…” Tim spoke about his childhood, the multitude of tutors and instructors that made more of an impact on him than anything his mother or father ever did. It still didn’t stop him from trying harder and harder to gain their approval, to feel wanted and loved.

“I was eleven when Sir Richard arrived to teach me fencing. He was fresh from King Bruce’s court and had barely earned his spurs. But in my eyes, he was the most beautiful person I’d ever seen, both inside and out. He was the one who saw something special in me rather than just some nobleman’s son and became my first real friend.”

Sir Richard Grayson wasn’t the typical knight. For one, he was born a commoner, the son of traveling performers no less. But a tragic accident during a performance before King Bruce granted the young boy an opportunity to rise further than his low birth would ever allow and he took it. Dick was talented beyond belief and thrived when instructing others. Their friendship worked in both directions too, the small and bookish Tim instructing his mentor just as often as the older man bent him into a pretzel.

“When I was knighted by King Bruce, it was quite possibly the first time I’ve ever seen my parents appear proud of me.” Tim toyed with a small stick, twisting it around between his fingers as he remembered that day. His mother’s smile, a real one for a change that actually reached her pale blue eyes, so like his own. His father, his usual dour expression relaxed and a faint smile on his face. Neither were very expressive people, so this was joy and jubilation for them. “I was sent to war with Dick for a time after that, and later on a diplomatic mission to Kandor, accompanying the King’s Lord Marshal, Sir James Gordon. Dick had just married his wife Kori, so it was my first time out in the world without him.”

Kandor was where he’d met his best friend, Kon-el, the eldest son of the King of Kandor, Kal-el. The two young men became close friends during the extended visit, which became even longer when an early snow blocked the passes through the mountains, leaving the Gotham contingent stuck for the winter. It was with Kon that Tim learned he enjoyed the pleasures of a man’s body as much as he did a woman’s.

As he explained this, smoke started streaming from Jason’s nose, short puffs that hung in the still air. The dragon rose to his feet and paced around to disperse it, but Tim stopped speaking to wait him out. If he didn’t know better, he’d say the man was agitated.

“Something wrong?” he finally spoke up.

Jason waved him off, coming to a stop at the edge of the rock where it overlooked the stream. The intricate pattern of his tattoos wended their way over his shoulder blades, joining together seamlessly over the upper part of his back. Every time Tim’s gaze fell on the dragon, he appeared more wild and exotic than before. They hadn’t even known each other all that long, but Tim knew he was already entranced and under the dragon’s spell.

“It’s nothing,” Jason said flatly. “Keep going.”

Tim shot him another concerned look, uncertain exactly what it was in his story that set him off. If he knew, then he could avoid the topic in the future. “For the first time in my life, I truly enjoyed myself. The freedom of being a few hundred leagues from home was a heady rush and Prince Kon was determined to help me along that path every step of the way…”

The two of them became thick as thieves, but for all of that, they knew even then that they were better off as friends, especially since Kal was trying to arrange a marriage between his son and Helena, the daughter of Bruce and his consort, Queen Selina. Four years later though, the marriage still hadn’t happened, but Tim wasn’t at court often enough to find out why. All Kon’s letters would say was that Helena didn’t want to be married yet, which was fine with him, to which he’d then go on to wax poetic over the cousin of Queen Diana of Themyscira, Cassandra.

“That’s all well and good, but I don’t give a shit about court politics and intrigues,” Jason interjected, laying down again and shifting around so that his head was nestled in Tim’s lap. His eyes glowed blue-green in the daylight. “Even though your best friend better keep it in his pants unless he wants to accidently start a war over a spurned bride.” There was an edge to his voice, and Tim could tell he wanted to say something else but didn’t.

This didn’t start happening until he mentioned Kon. If Jason were human, he’d say he was jealous. But he couldn’t be. It made no sense at all, so Tim brushed it aside.

“I’ve warned him already. Kal, Bruce, and Diana are all friends, so I doubt it would come to that, but better safe than sorry.” He idly ran his fingers through Jason’s wavy hair as he continued with his story, the dragon already rumbling in contentment from the simple gesture. “Anyways, my parents and I didn’t see each other for a couple years and when I came home, they packed up and left almost a week after I arrived.”

The next few years played out much the same. Tim grew in status so as to be one of Bruce’s favored advisors as he didn’t have the same penchant as the younger knights to always rush into battle. But he preferred to be at home whenever possible, and so he took up the duties and responsibilities there that would normally fall to the Duke in his parents’ absence. His own desire to study and learn often took second fiddle to these and he grumbled, typically to Dick or Kori, whenever his parents would return as they were a constant source of frustration for him.

“It’s been a battle of wills these last few years,” Tim explained, the recounting of his story reaching its end. “I never seem to do enough in their eyes and I’m constantly trying to please them in order for them to acknowledge me. During my last argument with my mother, she informed me that I’d had my chance at court to make something of myself and further the family name, but all I was doing now was wasting it and dragging it through the mud with my scribbles.” The sour taste in his mouth that always accompanied his mother’s words over his studies was slightly mollified by Jason’s low grumble. “Before I left, I made it a point to hide all my old journal pages and sketches because on the off-chance I made it home alive, I didn’t think they’d be waiting for me. I still don’t for that matter.”

Jason’s grumble deepened into a true growl. “I already hate your mother.”

“Don’t. She takes out her frustrations on me and my father because neither of us have the desire to permanently move to Gotham and take up residence there. Seriously though, I think when we return home, I’m going to have her do just that.” Tim shook his head and sighed. “I almost feel bad for my father sometimes. He’s not a bad man, but he’s got a wife who’s a shrew.”

“Arranged marriage?”

“Yes. Just like the ones I’ve had contracts drawn up for, only for Mother to make Father back out at the last minute.” A fact he was rather pleased about now as he snuck a glance at the dragon still making himself comfortable in his lap.

Jason’s growl settled back into a low purr. “Good. Because I’d hate to have to share you with anyone.”

Tim laughed and tapped Jason lightly on the nose. “You do know that human marriages are supposed to be monogamous, right?”

“Emphasis on supposed to. I’m pretty sure I’ve bedded a few women who weren’t feeling satisfied at home,” the dragon snickered and opened his glowing eyes again. “But yes, I do. I won’t go fucking around on you while we’re married if you don’t. Not that I can see why you would, I mean, seriously. Look at me.” He stretched and arched his back, showing off the long, muscular line of his body, the thick thighs and strong calves.

“I haven’t been able to stop,” Tim admitted softly.

“I know,” Jason purred and reached up a darkly nailed hand to draw Tim closer to him. “Why don’t you come here and get a closer look?”

“Why don’t I?”

#chibinightowl writes #Tim Drake #Jason Todd #JayTim #Dragon!AU

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sweetcontradiction · 7 years

Text

Welcome to the Club, Baby

Synopsis: Miranda and Anderson get a little restless on their flight to Europe

(Read at your own risk)

“Dibs on the window seat!!!”

Anderson chuckled as he watched Miranda barge her way onto the airplane, desperate to beat him to ‘her’ seat. She had been insisting on her specific window location since they had planned their European trip but he had decided playing with her would be way more fun. They both knew she’d get her way in the end but what was the fun in that?

Miranda got acquainted in her chosen seat, grabbing her boyfriend’s ticket out his hand when he finally caught up with her. She switched them over to make sure she wasn’t scolded for the ‘wrong’ placing if an air hostess came by. Smiling in triumph, she patted the space next to her for her boyfriend to sit down.

She watched with glee as he took several snacks out of his bag before shoving it in the overheard locker, namely the Cheetos she knew she’d be stealing from him.

“You’re starting early…” she winked.

“It’s a 7 hour flight, Ran. Of course I came prepared.”

Miranda nodded, smirking to herself as she heard the rattling of her mini vodka bottles jittering around at the bottom of his luggage. She had a feeling they’d be needing them quicker than anticipated. Months ago, they had decided a night flight would be far more beneficial to help with their hatred of aviation but now she was starting to doubt it. Especially with the jet lag they’d be facing for all of her shows.

When the usual announcements were declared over the tannoy, Anderson smiled politely when he saw Gwen was in the row across from them; Spencer and Danny in the seats right behind. It looked like they’d have company for the entirety of the flight.

“You sure you don’t want to swap seats and you can talk to both Gwen and I, babe?”

“You’re all the conversation I need.” she smirked, watching as Anderson settled back into his seat, pulling the seatbelt over for takeoff.

He grabbed the inside of his girlfriend’s thigh without her having to ask. From past experience, he knew how much she hated takeoffs and landings - and generally every second in between - but she would never admit it. For all her brave faces, having his hand close would provide all the comfort she needed.

Once the plane was comfortably in the air, both Miranda and Anderson felt themselves relax, ready for the long haul flight. As the staff came by offering drinks, Miranda politely refused each time, instead nudging her boyfriend to get into his luggage and take out another mini Tito’s the second they were out of sight. Not even an hour into the flight, she was down to less than half.

“What’s that you’ve got there?” Spencer asked, sitting up a little so he could pry. The constant giggles and secrecy between the pair in front had him curious.

“Nothing…” Miranda said a little too quickly, not wanting to share her already shrinking supply. She had only brought enough for herself and the quickly declining man next to her.

Spencer humored her, knowing fine well they were drinking their way through the flight but as he watched their heads turn to each other, moving in closer so nobody could see what they were doing; he figured he should let the lovebirds be.

As night came around and everyone was beginning to doze off, Miranda felt Anderson’s head begin to rest on top of her own before she could hear soft snores escaping his lips. The last thing she wanted was to be alone on the plane with no company. She moved her head out, seeing that Gwen too was asleep. An idea creeped into her head. Thanking her lucky stars when she saw the boys behind her were also passed out, she jumped at the chance to entertain her boyfriend one of the best ways she knew how.

As his snores began to get heavier, she knew now was the only time. With the alcohol slowly making her tipsier by the second, she moved her hand over, quickly unbuckling the belt on his jeans, laughing when even it didn’t awaken him. He was a pretty heavy sleeper at home but her hands always awoke him in the morning.

Looking around, she made sure everyone in other rows seemed to be asleep before squeezing her thighs into his before undoing the button on his jeans. As she slid her hand inside to rummage around, she bit her lip to stop herself from laughing when he began to stir but seemingly ignored it; groaning before resting his head on the back of his seat. Instead of being put off; it only spurred her on.

Grabbing him with her hand to try and wake him up (arousal would come second for now), she jolted her hand as steadily as she could all the while remaining discreet. Ideally, she would’ve brought a blanket just to be safe but on their endless list of things for Europe, airplane essentials had escaped her mind. As she moved her hand down further south, she chuckled to herself when her boyfriend subconsciously slouched in his seat and spread his legs apart, allowing her more room before his eyes finally bulged open.

“Babe…what are you doing?” he heaved, looking straight into her eyes; his own a mix of lust and fear.

“I’m bored…”

“You’re bored?”

“YES.” she sighed heavily, completely defeated but she didn’t dare take her hand out.

“I’m sure I can find you something to do…” he suggested innocently.

“Oh, I’m sure you can…” she flirted, leaning in closer and sucking on his ear to send him a message. “Tell me, Mike…are you a member?”

After a second of sheer confusion, Anderson finally caught on, smirking as he leaned his soft lips closer to her ear.

“I’m not…but I’m sure I don’t need to ask you if you are.”

Biting her lip to hold herself together, Miranda nodded her head.

“You know me too well,…”

“You wanna show me your expertise in the field?” he whispered.

“Mmmhmmm.”

She moved her lips over to his neck, sucking softly enough not to leave any marks. The last thing she wanted was their friends catching onto their plane adventures. They had a tendency to tease them already.

“Count until two minutes are up then meet me in the bathroom.”

“Oh wow you really have done this before.” he joked, slapping her ass as he watched her walk away; making sure to sway her body as obviously as she could.

“Hey…” she smiled seductively. Perched on the small countertop, Anderson felt his jeans tighten further when he saw she had unbuttoned the front of her dress already.

“You’re lucky you didn’t have any unexpected visitors looking like that…”

“You’d just tell them to get out anyway…” she shrugged, winking. “Come here.”

Not wasting any time, Anderson ran over to her, placing himself between her outstretched legs as she pulled him in for a passionate kiss. While their tongues fought, Miranda threading her fingers through her boyfriend’s curls, she inched closer to the edge of the counter, grinding her hips against him just the way he liked it. She knew how to set him off and as much as she wanted for the foreplay to last forever - as it always did at home - she knew realistically they’d have to be quick.

With Miranda’s legs wrapped around his, Anderson took his hands out of her hair, slowly moving them down her body until they reached her ass. As he gripped under her sun dress, he hitched it up to her hips in one swift motion allowing him more access but as his hands reacquainted themselves with his favorite body part, he felt a wide grin engulf his face.

“You already took your panties off?”

“No…” she smirked, directing her lips to his neck as she left an array of kisses all the day down, slowly making her way toward his chest. “I wasn’t wearing any to begin with.”

“You had all this planned didn’t you?” he laughed, grabbing her by the waist and yanking her body closer to his, his own lip biting her bottom one.

“Maybe…” she smirked, toying with the button on his jeans again.

“Well, I better give you what you want then, huh baby…”

Without a reply, Anderson pulled her in for another kiss, his hands roaming anywhere they could, first her hair, then her neck closely followed by her back. While Miranda concentrated on being able to breathe, she quickly unzipped his pants, using her feet that were pressed against his ass to shuffle them down his legs until they were pooling at his ankles.

After he had pulled his boxers down himself - not wanting to waste any more time - he let his lips linger at her neck, sucking on the areas he knew got her aroused. When he felt her breath hitch in her throat, he smirked, picking her up by the ass as he pushed himself in. He smirked when she bit her lip so much it bled as she tried to keep her cries down. With her arms draped around his neck, he heard a few muffled sounds escape her lips but as he too struggled to keep his groans under control, he was relieved when a soft whisper echoed the gradually steamed room.

“It’s not gonna work like this…”

He instantly agreed, trying to turn his head to survey the tiny stall as he continued to hold her up by the ass, her back pressed against the wall.

“Close the toilet lid and sit on that…” she suggested, barely finishing her sentence before she attacked his skin once again, toying with the neck of his shirt to reveal as much of him as possible.

Anderson did as instructed, laughing when his girlfriend’s legs wrapped completely around his middle as he sat down; her feet digging into his back as he placed toilet paper under them. Straddling his lap, he groaned when she began to rock slightly, wanting to tease him a little.

“Ran…”

To muffle his soft moans, Miranda threw her tongue in his mouth once more, her entire body convulsing as she rocked him. She had done it in far more comfortable places but more than anything she wanted her boyfriend to join her elite club, so she’d make do.

“Hmmm, baby.” she groaned, throwing her head back as she began to ride him properly. She was never one for staying quiet and neither was he. A locked door would surely drown their ‘noise’ out enough for her to elicit a few moans of pleasure.

With his hands resting on her waist, grabbing at the skin under the material of her dress so tight it would later turn red, Anderson laid his eyes on the girl grinding on top of him, her body working overtime to please him. As he stared at her chest, slowly bouncing with each movement, he wished they had enough time and space to remove it. He always preferred to see every inch of her but the low cut blue summer dress was going to have to do.

“Oh, fuck Mike.”

She bit her lip to hold herself together when his thrusts began to meet hers. Throwing her arms out, she pressed each hand to the nearby walls - for once the small space was working in their favor.

With their pace picking up with each passing minute, Miranda wrapped her arms back around her boyfriend’s neck as she felt waves of pleasure wash over her. Moving her chest closer to him to tighten her grip as she rode out her climax, she tilted her head as she felt him fill her; his moans muffled into her shoulder as he bit down.

“Oh god, Miranda.”

Completely out of breath, Miranda felt her heart catch up with her as she rested her head on her boyfriend’s shoulder, her sweaty forehead leaving marks on his shirt. As she laid there for a minute whilst her breath evened out, Anderson rubbed her back in small circles and placed a soft kiss on her hairline. The small subtle thank yous always went further with her; she knew she was good.

When she finally lifted her head up, her face red and her eyes glazed over, Anderson couldn’t be more in love as he brushed his index finger over her cheeks, a little moisture collecting on his skin. As he let his lips linger against hers to calm her down, he tried not to laugh at her hair flying in all different directions. But he knew his would be the same.

“Did that live up to your expectations?”

Looking into her wide eyes, he smirked - the only answer she needed.

“Mind blowing, babe.”

Smiling a smile of content, Miranda eased herself off him before shimmying her dress back down to its original length. Anderson laughed when she stood up disorientated, her legs almost collapsing beneath her. When she reached the mirror, Miranda rolled her eyes, her hands immediately flying into her hair to attempt to tame it but after a few minutes patting it down; she knew it was a lost cause. Thankfully, she figured the lights would still be off and nobody would be able to see.

Grabbing her waist from behind, Anderson pounced up behind her, his chin resting on her shoulder blade as they both looked into the mirror; their faces a deep crimson. He pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder, swaying her back and forth while his hand resided on her stomach.

“I love you.”

Turning her head back so she could reach his face, Miranda pouted her lips out, rejoicing as he placed a soft peck on them.

“Love you.”

As Anderson unlocked the door and made his way back to their seats, Miranda waited the given two minutes before following in his footsteps, squeezing her body back into the window seat. Her hand went straight for his thigh, the grin plastered on her face as she settled back into the flight. For the most part, everyone around them seemed to still be sound asleep.

But as Miranda cuddled into Anderson’s side, her head resting in his chest ready to give in to some sleep, she heard giggling from behind her.

“Hey, Mike!”

Looking through the tiny gap between the seats, Anderson looked at Danny who was trying to mask the incessant giggles.

“How do you rate your flight out of ten?”

Confused, he looked over at his girlfriend who just shrugged, the source of his hysterics not hitting her yet.

“Like when they ask you if you enjoyed your flight. What you gonna say?”

Before Anderson could reply, Spencer couldn’t resist and butted in.

“Oh, the food was mediocre but the service I received from the blonde sitting next to me was on another level.”

As Danny burst into another laughing fit, Miranda’s eyes bulged as she looked at her boyfriend who had gone completely white.

“Y’all were so obvious. You didn’t even try to hide it.” Danny choked, standing up to ruffle Anderson’s messy hair.

As they were heckled by the pair behind them, Miranda leaned over and pressed a kiss against Anderson’s cheek, not particularly bothered. She smiled as he returned the sentiment, placing a soft kiss on her lips, his hand reaching up to flatten her little stray hair that was standing up.

Relieved that he wasn’t affected by getting caught either, Miranda returned to leaning her tired head against her boyfriend’s strong shoulder, snuggling in closer when he wrapped his arm around her. Despite the still giggling boys in the row behind, Miranda felt her eyes begin to close as Anderson rested his own head on top of hers.

“Welcome to the club, baby.”

#trash #but i cant make it any better #here u go

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