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femininenachos · 9 months

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Do vacation clexa keep wells up all night when they go at it all night

Previously: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

The taxi ride is a test of restraint.

It’s only a ten minute journey, but it’s ten minutes of Lexa sitting right there, looking like that. Lips made even poutier from kissing. Hair finger-tousled and swept to one side, and Clarke can’t wait to tangle her hands in it again, itching to touch.

Even cast half in shadow, Lexa’s profile is downright rude, the cut of her jawline sharp enough to slice someone’s thighs. And when she turns dark, dark eyes on Clarke, that burning look scorches right through her.

At this point her underwear is a lost cause. She’s in serious danger of leaving a damp patch on the back seat, more than a little paranoid that the scent of her arousal is wafting through to the front where the driver is absently tapping the steering wheel in time with the song on the radio. (Hips Don’t Lie—and in Clarke’s professional opinion, Ms Shakira is correct. Because Clarke can’t stop shifting hers incessantly, unable to ignore the wetness pooling between her thighs, clamped as tightly as they are together.)

She winds down the window, hoping a breeze will help, but the dense, warm air that rushes in does nothing to cool her body. Neither does the covert stroke of Lexa’s little finger along Clarke’s own where their hands lay flat on the seat between them, or the faint smirk that’s tucked into the corner of Lexa’s mouth.

Blessedly, there are no signs of life in the villa once they pull up. The place is dark and silent when Clarke unlocks the door and leads Lexa inside; Wells, nowhere to be seen. Clarke prays he’s fast asleep in his room with noise canceling headphones on, because she has a feeling things are going to get… vocal.

She toes off her shoes, grateful for the cool marble floor tiles beneath her bare soles.

“I’d give you the tour, but uh…”

A gentle tug on her wrist draws her around, and whatever glib thing Clarke was going to say dies in her throat. Mind gone blank, because Lexa is all up in her space and a mouth that was surely designed for sin is less than an inch away, so close Clarke feels the soft fan of breath on her face.

She only gets a second to admire the tiny freckle that adorns Lexa’s top lip before Lexa tilts in. Slides a hand along Clarke’s jaw and into her hair. Kisses her slow and searching in a way that makes her tremble from head to toe, a gradual build of passion that floods her body with waves of tingling warmth.

While she could easily indulge in this for hours, she also craves so much more, and now is not the time for subtlety.

Taking the initiative, Clarke guides Lexa’s free hand to her inner thigh and presses meaningfully, hoping Lexa will take the hint.

And, thank God, she does.

Long fingers trail up and up.

When they brush against drenched cotton, Lexa’s sharp inhale sends a hot flare up through Clarke’s belly and she feels herself drip some more.

Lexa breathes out, a half-formed whisper in the shape of Clarke’s name on her lips. She pulls away slightly to look at Clarke, hooded eyes scanning her face before they drop to her mouth.

“Can I touch you?” Lexa asks, her accent grown thicker, coated with desire.

Clarke’s only answer is to take hold of Lexa’s nape and drag her mouth back to hers. She runs her tongue along Lexa’s lower lip then licks inside, a groan catching in the back of Clarke’s throat when a thumb traces her through her underwear, rolling over her clit.

For a second, she thinks she might come from that alone. Feels it rushing up on her fast. All it would take is a little more sustained pressure. A few firm, circular strokes. But Lexa shifts away, cupping Clarke instead, and she groans again—this time in frustration.

She feels the slow stretch of Lexa’s grin as they kiss.

It‘s a provocation—and Clarke never backs down from a challenge.

Ensnaring Lexa’s bottom lip, Clarke scrapes her teeth over the plump fullness of it. She relishes the hitch of Lexa’s breath, how Lexa’s fingers flex against the flimsy scrap of fabric that separates them.

“Go ahead. Touch me. Put your hand inside my panties,” Clarke whispers, even as her face grows hotter and some small part of her squirms at the brazen words coming out of her own mouth. But she quiets that voice. Draws on her inner sex vixen. “Feel how wet I am for you.”

She punctuates it with a roll of her hips.

A slight tremor goes through Lexa.

She kisses harder, rougher, the heel of her hand rubbing in to meet an urgent grind and before Clarke is prepared for it, she’s already shaking apart, releasing a choked whine into Lexa’s open mouth.

Her wrist slows to a stop.

She draws back half an inch, eyebrows raised.

“Guess I couldn’t wait,” Clarke says with a small, breathless chuckle. Her cheeks burn.

Lexa just makes a sound, words apparently failing her, but Clarke understands, because she feels that same brain-melting lust too. It isn’t just Lexa’s good looks that are such a turn on (though she is beautiful—even more so with her mouth swollen and wet). She has this understated presence, an aura that surrounds her. Innate magnetism that draws you in. Clarke noticed it at the bar, the way Lexa’s friends seemed to be caught in her orbit. It’s the confidence she projects, too. Or did. Clarke is pleased to see Lexa lose a little of that cool now, eyes wide and jaw hanging slack.

But she swiftly recovers, luring Clarke back in for a kiss by the grip on her neck.

Just before their lips reconnect, Lexa pauses.

She looks over Clarke’s shoulder, a speculative gleam in her eyes.

“You have a jacuzzi?”

~*~

They’re incapable of keeping their lips to themselves while they wait for the hot tub to fill. Clarke’s stomach won’t stop fluttering. Every nerve in her body is tingling, charged by the heat and pressure of Lexa’s mouth moving hungrily against her own. Lit up inside by the way Lexa’s hand is curved around her jaw, the other gripping her waist to keep her close, how Lexa sighs and fucking pouts every time Clarke starts to pull away. And how can she possibly resist that? She’s powerless not to give in.

It’s only once the tub is almost overflowing that Clarke suddenly finds the presence of mind to separate, hurrying across the courtyard to shut off the water supply and turn on the bubble jets. She injects a little more seductive appeal in the sway of her hips on her return.

“Would you like a drink? The fridge is pretty well stocked. We’ve got beer, wine, all kinds of mixers if you’d like something stronger.”

Lexa shakes her head. “I don’t want to have…” she pauses, clearly searching for a phrase in translation, “brain fog? Ah, fuzzy memories.”

Clarke drifts closer, curbing a smile.

“I don’t want to be hazy on the details either.”

She doesn’t want to forget a single thing about this night, not when it’s going to figure prominently in her fantasies for the rest of the year.

(The rest of your damn life. Be real, girl.)

Lexa’s eyes raking up and down her body with intent is already locked into her memory.

Once she’s within arm's reach, Lexa snags Clarke by the waist again and draws her near. Their hips bump gently and Clarke leans in to taste the slight smirk that sits on Lexa’s lips, just because she can.

Things intesifiy quickly, and before long their hands start to wander, Clarke feeling her way to the hem of Lexa’s t-shirt. She pulls it up and off, both smiling when it gets caught in Lexa’s hair, only for Clarke to suck in a quiet breath as soon as she registers Lexa isn’t wearing a bra. Her eyes drift, taking in the expanse of Lexa’s sun-bronzed skin, tits the exact same golden shade as the rest of her, and Clarke absently licks her lips, wanting nothing more than to have those perfect pink nipples in her mouth.

She also gets her first full look at the tattoo that spans most of Lexa’s upper arm.

Fascinated, Clarke lets her fingers trace the swirls and lines of black ink, three symmetrical bands stacked on top of one another. The design reminds her of the intricate carvings at the top of the crumbling stone columns that she saw dozens of pictures of online when she was researching accommodation options, remnants of the ruined temple that occupies the highest point of the island, only a couple hours’ hike from here, according to the Airbnb listing.

“This is beautiful. What does it mean?”

Lexa peers down at her arm. “It represents each generation of my family in Polis. My great-grandfather was born in a small village called Trikru on the mainland. He was only nineteen when he left his home, everyone he knew, and came here to make a better life.”

She lifts her chin as she speaks, a note of pride in her voice. “He built the taverna from nothing nearly a century ago, and it’s still standing today, passed down through our family.”

“The legacy continues. That’s wonderful.”

“Mm. Now my half-sister manages the place.”

“Not your parents?”

“They’re retired, but they still help out during the busy summer months.” She purses her lips. “Sometimes I think the power goes to Anya’s head. She enjoys bossing me around too much.”

Clarke smiles to herself. “I’m going to take a wild guess that she’s the older sibling?”

“By seven years. She says she’s preparing me to take over eventually.” Lexa sighs. A slight frown appears on her brow as her jaw shifts. “Duty and tradition is everything to her, but I have dreams of my own.”

Clarke runs her fingertips lightly over the patterns on Lexa’s skin, feeling goosebumps rise to the surface. “What do you want to do instead?”

A shrug. “Travel. See the world. Experience other cultures and far-away places.” She looks at Clarke, rolling her eyes a little. “I know, it’s a cliché.”

“Well… if you ever find yourself in Washington DC, look me up. I’d show you around the city.”

It’s half tongue in cheek, but the way Lexa studies her for a beat, so solemn yet clearly unconvinced, Clarke finds herself saying, “I’m serious. You should visit. My work schedule is crazy but if I can wangle some time off, I’d be happy to play tour guide. Plus, I have a guest room.”

Another of those minimal smiles touches Lexa’s lips, her mouth just barely pulling to the side. “We wouldn’t be sleeping together?”

Suddenly coy, Clarke lowers her gaze. Eyes on Lexa’s ink once more as she feels herself flush again. “I mean...” She catches her bottom lip between her teeth and looks up through her lashes. “I could be persuaded to share my bed.”

“Yes?”

She nods. Whispers, “yeah” before the distance between them vanishes and they’re back to kissing. Hands gripping, running up and down, moving restlessly over dips and curves, and Clarke can’t control her shivers, a current buzzing through her, a million tiny sparks going off under her skin.

Lexa palms at her breasts and the chafe of satin bra cups against Clarke’s nipples is enough for a moan to slip out between the seal of their mouths.

A minute later she’s gasping hotly, “take off my dress” before recapturing Lexa’s lips, driven by the overwhelming need to feel skin on skin at last.

Nodding once, never ceasing contact, Lexa peels the straps from Clarke’s shoulders. She locates the zip at the back and drags it down smoothly. Tugs, and Clarke feels the dress slip from her body to puddle at her feet. The bra is next to go, unhooked with consummate ease. Warm hands move over her hips and waist, gliding up her ribs to take hold of her tits again. This time it’s Lexa who makes a sound, a low, throaty groan that only adds to the flood in Clarke’s underwear.

They tip their foreheads together, breathing heavily as they watch one another, eyelids at half mast. Without a word, Clarke reaches for the button at the waistband of Lexa’s cut-offs, but the thumbs slowly circling her nipples make her far less dexterous than she should for all her surgical training. Finally, she pops the button and gets the fly open. It’s a joint effort to wiggle the tight denim down Lexa’s hips, taking her underwear along with the shorts, all smiles when she kicks them off to the side.

Clarke only gets a brief glimpse down Lexa’s body before she’s drawn back in by the cheeks for a greedy, open-mouthed kiss. As if she wasn’t already painfully aroused by everything else, the subtle definition of abs, the flare of wide hips, and the uninterrupted view of those legs pours further fuel onto the fire. Like an unstoppable force, Clarke pursues Lexa’s mouth relentlessly, recklessly, the forward momentum driving them across the courtyard until Lexa’s back meets the nearest vertical surface.

Unfortunately, it happens to be a vine-covered trellis and Lexa lets out a muffled yelp, wincing when something jags her bare skin.

Twin puffs of air hit their cheeks, expelled through their nostrils, before they each dissolve into quiet chuckles, the absurdity not lost on either of them.

“Sorry,” Clarke says through a slight grimace, running a soothing hand down Lexa’s spine.

“Don’t be.”

Lexa is smiling, but Clarke still dies a little inside, already imagining Octavia’s reaction when she hears about this during their inevitable overanalysis of the entire evening at brunch.

She takes a deep breath. “So…” Followed by a short laugh. “Where were we?”

Lexa inclines her head towards the hot tub, teeth dug into her lower lip.

And just like that, the awkwardness is forgotten.

Not taking her eyes off Lexa’s, Clarke needs no further instruction, pushing her panties all the way down and stepping out of them. Her heart is racing, but she holds still under Lexa’s appraisal, a flash of heat surging over her when that dark gaze settles low for a stretch of seconds and Lexa swallows, lips parting soundlessly on an exhale.

And while she stands there on display without a stitch on, Clarke is really fucking glad she went ahead with that appointment to tame her bikini line, however painful it was getting waxed within an inch of her life.

The ordeal was worth it for the spell she seems to have cast over Lexa.

Not that Clarke isn’t equally entranced, legs and hips and breasts and that gorgeous face all competing for her attention.

She moves on instinct, curling a hand around Lexa’s neck and slanting their mouths together again. Barefoot, they’re of a similar height, and there’s something so exhilarating about the way their lips and bodies meld. Clarke can’t contain a string of tiny halting whimpers as they trade deep kisses, hyper-aware of every point of contact, from the skim of hard nipples to the brush of their thighs to the press of Lexa’s fingers at the base of her spine, sliding lower to grab at her ass, raising another desperate groan.

God, if this is what handsy making out with Lexa does to her, Clarke doesn’t know how she’ll survive once they dispense with foreplay and get down in earnest. At this rate, she might be flying home in a casket.

It doesn’t help matters when Lexa’s mouth strays, trailing along the underside of Clarke’s jaw, sucking shallow kisses down her throat to find that sensitive spot where neck meets shoulder. Already weakened, Clarke’s knees nearly give way to feel the nip of teeth there.

Somehow, somehow she finds the willpower to slip out of Lexa’s grasp.

Worth it for the reappearance of the pout, the flash of consternation on Lexa’s face as her eyebrows dip together.

But that pretty scowl is erased by a dark look of a different kind when Clarke climbs into the hot tub. Eyes blaze over her naked form with enough heat to rival the Mediterranean sun, and it gives her such a rush.

People have wanted her before; that’s nothing new. It comes with the territory, being blonde and in reasonably good shape (considering her questionable eating habits, constant state of fatigue, and general disdain for working out). She hasn’t gone through life oblivious to the attention. Frankly, she’s sick and tired of male patients, young and old alike, salivating over her like cartoon dogs during consults, eyes practically on stalks while they stare at her chest. And it’s truly wild how often she’s been hit on by visiting relatives moments after breaking the bad news about their loved ones.

Hell, it’s become a grim bonding ritual to compare horror stories with fellow residents during breaks or on the rare occasions when she allows them to drag her out to a bar after work.

This, the way Lexa looks at her, is worlds away from what basically amounts to workplace harassment.

Lexa’s desire is a thrilling, palpable thing, a thick charge in the air that makes it difficult to think or breathe.

Half dizzy with lust, Clarke sinks into the water and reclines against the tub, pulse accelerating as she watches Lexa put her hair up into a loose knot. Lips subtly curling at one corner. Nothing unsure or shy about her as she advances, and Clarke wishes she could bottle some of that supreme confidence for herself, because it doesn’t always come naturally.

Lexa takes the spot opposite, lowering herself into the tub. Drapes an arm along the edge and waits.

One look, the slightest twitch of an eyebrow is invitation enough.

Clarke pounces, propelling herself through the water to swing a leg over Lexa’s lap and reclaim her mouth. Fingers dig into Clarke’s hips, pulling her closer, their bellies and breasts flush. Cradling Lexa’s jaw in both hands, Clarke pushes her tongue past Lexa’s teeth, slipping inside to flick across the roof of her mouth, revelling in the whimper it earns her, how Lexa’s grip tightens as the kiss turns greedier. Hot and wet and dirty enough for Clarke to start to grind her hips in search of friction. Already on course for a second orgasm when Lexa hasn’t even fully fingered her yet. Just the thought of this girl being knuckle deep, the reach of those long fingers, gets Clarke halfway there and she groans unabashedly. Kisses Lexa until they’re each short of breath, panting into the humid slice of air between their open mouths.

“Can I fuck you?” The hard ‘k’ hits Clarke’s lips in a hot puff and she shivers, despite the toasty temperature of the water churning all around her, steam rising off the surface.

She holds back a quip (it’s like you read my mind), sensing Lexa is serious about asking for permission by the way she searches her face so intently for any sign of hesitance, and Clarke melts a little to know that her comfort level and boundaries are at the forefront of Lexa’s mind, which is more than can be said for some of her past casual encounters.

“Yes,” Clarke says, leaving no room for doubt that they’re very much on the same page here, before she leans in to brush their lips together again. She makes a noise. Not lifting her mouth away, she adds in a heated tone, “God, I just need you inside me.”

It has the intended effect. Lexa surges into the next kiss with a ferocity that steals Clarke’s breath away and scrambles her brain. At Lexa’s silent urging and with a gentle squeeze of her hips, she’s repositioned so quickly that it’s kind of a blur how she came to be lifted up and sat on the edge of the hot tub with Lexa kneeling in the space between her legs.

“Is this okay?” Lexa asks, always checking in, and doing an impressive job of managing to keep her eyes up, showing far more restraint than Clarke would in Lexa’s place.

She has to remind herself to use words and not just shove Lexa’s perfect face into her crotch.

“More than okay.”

It’s automatic, how Clarke puts her arms out on either side to brace herself in anticipation. Held in thrall by the tilt of beestung lips as Lexa runs her palms along the tops of Clarke’s thighs and over her hips, dragging her that tiny bit closer, and Clarke doesn’t have the mental capacity to tamp down on a moan, beyond ready for this.

Green eyes dip down finally and Clarke sees that little smile falter. Lexa’s lips part, the tip of a pink tongue darting out to moisten them, and with it, the last of Clarke’s inhibitions fall away.

She spreads her thighs wider, skin prickling all over as she feels the weight of Lexa’s stare, roaming freely now, voraciously taking in every inch on display.

When their eyes lock again, it sends a jolt through Clarke. A spike of need so sharp that her locked elbows wobble and she forgets to breathe for a second, hanging on Lexa’s every move as she leans in.

The eye contact, heavy and sustained, when she tastes Clarke for the first time, lashes flickering, a thick groan in Lexa’s throat that Clarke feels the vibrations of through her whole body—fuck, she nearly comes on the spot.

Helpless not to, she arches into it, biting down hard on her lip to stifle a moan as a warm, velvety soft tongue runs through her.

A slow, deliberate lick around her entrance draws a whimper, Clarke shamelessly lifting her hips to ask for more only for Lexa’s hands to anchor her firmly in place.

With Clarke at her mercy, Lexa uses the flat of her tongue, broad laps that make Clarke’s toes curl, slipping against the porcelain tub with a squeak. Lexa varies the pace and pattern, slowing down or speeding up to prevent Clarke from settling into a rhythm. Every little lick and swirl has her twisting and squirming, and a sob of frustration starts to build in her chest.

But Lexa’s eyes are shut, lost in the bliss, a flush high on her cheeks. Mouth sliding over wet flesh, slick noises drowned out by the rumbling jacuzzi jets and the harsh, ragged breaths that Clarke expels into the night air.

She winds a hand into Lexa’s hair, nails scratching mindlessly against Lexa’s scalp as she works Clarke higher, drawing circles around her clit, the pressure in the pit of her stomach coiling tighter and tighter.

Sweat covers her skin and her calves tremble with the strain as she rocks forward, undulating against that mouth, chasing her release without a care for how desperate it might seem.

(It’s been six months without anything better than her own hand or a vibrator between her legs, so she’s willing to cut herself some slack.)

The hands curved around Clarke’s hips slide down, pushing her thighs even further apart, tearing a gasp from her. It feels like she’s being split wide open, exposed in a way that goes beyond mere nudity, but she trusts Lexa, finds safety and reassurance in the sweep of thumbs back and forth over the inside of her thighs as Lexa devours her.

She barely lasts another minute under the onslaught. Pushed so hard and fast over the edge that her jaw drops and a throaty moan flies out.

Every muscle in her body tightens, hips shooting up to hold herself against the firm press of Lexa’s tongue, suspended there for those glorious seconds of blinding pleasure that seem to stretch on and on.

In her mind’s eye, Clarke pictures what this must look like: her neck tensed and head thrown back, giving herself over with complete abandon, and it only intensifies the feeling, the tremors working through her all the more forcefully.

And Lexa doesn’t relent.

She keeps on tonguing Clarke through the aftershocks, wringing out every last twitch and jerk until she can’t take any more, using her grip on Lexa’s wildly mussed locks to drag her mouth away, too overstimulated to endure another second or she might scream.

Even so, Clarke shivers again once she catches sight of Lexa’s expression, the wetness shining on her lips and chin, pupils pushed to the outer edges, only a thin ring of green surrounding the void. She looks like she’s the one who just got eaten out expertly, and Clarke doesn’t know how to process that, not in her present state.

All she’s capable of doing is tugging on Lexa’s hair, urging her up, another low moan passing between them when she gets a taste of herself on Lexa’s lips, greedy for more.

They remain fused in deep, languid kisses. Just exploring each other’s mouths, keeping things at a low simmer, now and then turning up the heat to bring the sizzle back. Whenever a little more tongue is added to the mix, that molten, heavy feeling settles between Clarke’s thighs again and she attacks Lexa’s mouth with renewed vigour.

By the time they pull apart for a breather, Clarke’s lips are tingling and her backside is half numb from being perched on the edge of the tub for so long.

Still, their lips cling. A string of saliva connects them as she backs off, just far enough to murmur into the gap, “Could we take this inside? I can’t feel my ass anymore.”

Lexa’s eyes crinkle at the corners when she laughs and she gets this cute little crease above her top lip that Clarke could fixate on for days.

As her gaze drifts around Lexa’s features, taking in the toothy smile and the sparkle in those big green eyes, Clarke’s heart thumps a little harder, a little faster, and she thinks: damn, I could really fall for you.

Without a doubt, it’s the flood of oxytocin in her system talking, but that half-formed thought causes an instant adrenaline spike, kicking up her pulse and drying out her mouth.

She blinks and glances down, biting her tongue before she blurts out something far too recklessly vulnerable when they only just met tonight and she doesn’t even know Lexa’s last name, much less her views on long distance.

It’s safer to steer this back to sex. That’s why they’re here, after all. There’s no sense in deluding herself otherwise when she’ll be gone in two weeks and Lexa will have already moved on to the next girl that catches her eye.

So Clarke pushes all other thoughts aside and lets her palms slide down to cup Lexa’s breasts, pleased when Lexa pushes into her grasp and they both let out a small, grateful sigh.

Oh, yeah, this she can do with certainty.

“Anyway,” Clarke gives a slow knead, rewarded by Lexa’s hitch of breath. Hard nipples poke into the centre of her palms. “I’m still waiting for you to follow through on your promise to fuck me.” Her voice dips lower. “Or are you all talk, Lexa?”

They share a blistering look.

Lexa’s eyes flash, a glint that says challenge accepted.

“I’m just getting started, Clarke.”

She isn’t sure what’s more arousing, the arch, almost arrogant tone, accompanied by the flex of one eyebrow, or the sound of her name from Lexa’s mouth, wrapped in an accent that just oozes sensuality.

Either way, she pretends to be unaffected.

“Oh, yeah?”

With a hum and a slow, minuscule nod, Lexa tips her head to nudge into another kiss, but Clarke evades it at the last second, fighting a smirk when she spies Lexa’s little pout.

“Well, then.” Clarke brings her lips close to Lexa’s ear. “Show me how hard you can make me come.”

#I was going to post just the first thousand words but happy sin day I guess #vacation au #my fic #asks

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subzeroparade · 8 months

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Quick little doodle for the server and more specifically for @tinygigas

#technically on vacation and i have less time to draw than in my normal day-to-day #Bloodborne #but it’s one of our unhinged AUs #the medieval/fairytale one #Gehrman is a talking deerhound #that’s all you need to know

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cienie-isengardu · 3 months

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Mortal Kombat 1 Behind the Scenes AU: Cultural differences (paid leave)

[Cage’s Mansion] [Waiting for Liu Kang] [Special Bonus] [Grandmaster’s commentary] [Climbing scene] [Madam Bo’s Inn] [Cage’s Mansion 2 (fire extinguisher)] [Medic] [Shang Tsung’s sad face] [Smoke’s Fall] [Scenography (1)] [Scenography (2)] [Show off!] [Favorite brother] [Climbing on the wall (nonsense)] [Tomas’ commentary] [Perfectly fine] [Sexy, sexy man~♪] [Brothers between filming - Scenography(3)] [Wrong team!] [Since when you two are friends?!] [I like being evil sorcerer more] [I forgot my line, sorry!] [Read the script Kuai!] [Get. Lost.] [Dating] [Permission] [Why date a punk like him…] [Panic (Mom is visiting)] [Decapitation then] [Deep in trouble (Mom is visiting #2)]

#mortal kombat #mk1 behind the scenes au #shang tsung #bi han #sub zero #kuai liang #scorpion #johnny cage #probably more funny in my head but oh well #the lin kuei bros want to be paid and allowed to have some vacation time!#johnny has not think about lin kuei duty #while shang tsung is surprised earthrealmers are paid for their days off

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pocketramblr · 8 months

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I was tagged by @gentrychild

No pressure tagging: @proclaimersofheroes @owlf45 and @achairwithapandaonit

#not gonna tag my sister she's on vacation #also i spent so much time narrowing it down to ten #and then. forgot we got up to twelve now so had to add them quick #i might do a separate one for the wips in other fandoms but there's like only six of them currently so idk #will i be a glutton for punishment? who knows. delends #and now i gotta suffer not knowing who's winning for a whole day shdhfhg #poll #tag game #tagged for me #yes if you want to know more about a wip you can ask #tho i specifically picked wips that have at least one chapter published #that's why the warbreaker au isn't on there.....

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anime-grimmy-art · 1 year

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Only 8 hours seperate Daki from a vacation in Pokemon Spain.

Let's hope (for her) that nothing in this game will spark my angst fuel xD

#pokemon #pokemon legends arceus #pokemon scarlet and violet #fanart #oc #daki #fuecoco #smoliv #daki's vacation days #does this count as the happy au? xD

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steddio · 1 year

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steddie vegas au part 4

part 1; part 2; part 3; ao3

(thank you all so much for your kind words! this part gets spicy 🔥 if you want to skip the smut, it starts with "Steve holds Eddie’s gaze as he slowly strips off his shirt." you can come back at "Steve jolts back into consciousness abruptly")

–

“I can’t wear this, Robs, I look ridiculous.”

Robin rolls her eyes. “You look hot, dingus, please don’t make me say it again.”

Steve stares at himself in the mirror. He has on his favorite pair of vintage stone-washed jeans, which not only make his ass look phenomenal but at least offer some comfort to contrast the outrageous shirt Robin has put him in. She’d taken her scissors and a perfectly good black t-shirt into her bedroom an hour ago and emerged with something that can hardly be called a shirt anymore with how many holes she’d created. Worse than the slash on his left pec that nearly shows his nipple is the fact that she’d cropped it so that there’s a solid two inches of skin between his waistband and the frayed bottom. His happy trail is on full display, and Steve wants to scream that he’s a father and he shouldn’t dress like this, except he’s going to see Eddie. Rockstar Eddie. Who literally oozes sex appeal. Maybe Robin is right and Steve needs to step up his game.

He adds one last touch of hairspray to his hair and then admires Robin, who has somehow doused her space buns in glitter and is wearing electric blue eyeshadow. She’d been so thrilled to be invited (“VIP tickets, Steven! V. I. P. That means Eddie thinks you’re very important.”) and her enthusiasm had washed away the nerves that had haunted him since yesterday. He’s still not sure he can do this. Let Eddie see him out of his professional comfort zone. But he’s determined to try. Something about Eddie keeps tugging at him, and he wants more. He wants in a way he hasn’t let himself want for a long time now.

He’s startled out of his thoughts by Robin grabbing his jaw in one hand and turning him toward her. “Finishing touch! Close your eyes.” He halfheartedly splutters in protest but lets her smudge eyeliner near his lashes. “There we go, all done.”

He looks at them both in the mirror, side by side. They look young again, and it’s ridiculous, but he feels young again. He wants to say something, to tell her how much it means to him that she’s coming with him, that she’s supported him for so many years and pushed him to do this, but he settles for a kiss to the top of her head. He knows she understands. She always does.

“Let’s go, I’m driving.”

Steve makes a point of not coming into Caesars when he’s not working. But this evening as he and Robin join the crowd flowing into the venue, he feels like one of a million other tourists and he’s caught up in the excitement of it all. Vegas at its core, all flashy showmanship and delight.

They make their way to the VIP section, at the front and slightly to the left of the stage. Robin disappears to grab drinks and Steve soaks everything in. He can feel eyes on him, dressed as he is and elevated above the crowd, and lets himself relish the attention. He wonders if this is how Eddie feels all the time and then banishes the thought before his head can get any bigger.

Robin comes back with a gin and tonic and a shot of tequila each, and he scolds her for mixing alcohols but takes the shot anyway, sips on his drink while the lights go down and the opener comes on.

The music is rougher than his taste, but he’s heard far worse. Robin is already dancing beside him, arms flailing, completely unembarrassed. He settles for just nodding his head to the beat, feeling the heavy drums flow through him. When the opener finishes, he heads to the bar to get their next round. By the time he finally gets back through the crowd, the lights are dimming and the audience is chanting “Eddie! Eddie! Eddie!”

Robin turns to him, eyes huge with excitement. Steve hands her a tequila shot. “Bottom’s up,” he mouths and downs his own. As the lights start flashing and smoke billows off the stage, Steve feels like his heart is going to pound out of his chest. He grabs Robin’s hand to anchor himself, and when she looks at him, grinning, he can’t help but grin back.

Suddenly there’s an eruption of yelling and whistles and Steve looks up to see Eddie striding on to the stage. With how close their seats are, Eddie looks larger than life, his normally substantial presence magnified tenfold so that his energy fills not just the stage but the whole venue. He’s wearing tight black pants that flare over platform boots and a fringed leather vest that shows off his tattooed chest. His hair is wild and mussed, and Steve can’t help but imagine running his fingers through it, wondering if Eddie would like it if he pulled.

Steve isn’t sure if it’s the alcohol or just Eddie, but he’s flying, blood buzzing in his veins. As Eddie strums the opening note on his guitar, Steve feels it in his bones, as if Eddie is stroking over his ribcage. When Eddie starts singing, Steve feels like Eddie is singing just to him.

His hypnosis doesn’t break until the end of the first song, when Eddie yells into the microphone, “Hello, Vegas!” Steve, Robin, and the whole crowd yell back in unison, “Hello, Eddie!” Eddie is all charm, graciously introducing his bandmates before beginning the opening notes of the next song. Right before he starts singing, Eddie’s eyes sweep to where Steve and Robin are standing. He meets Steve’s gaze and shoots him a wink. Steve must be having an out of body experience because he blows a kiss, which Eddie catches smoothly, miming putting it in his back pocket.

Steve belatedly realizes that Robin is staring at him like he grew a second head. He mock-glares at her and mouths “shut up.” She raises her hands in surrender but he still hears her say under her breath, “ok dingus, get in there.”

The rest of Corroded Coffin’s set passes in a blur. Steve finds himself dancing, letting himself match Robin’s wild movements. He’s sweaty, and smiling, and between each song he and Eddie exchange heated glances that are setting him on fire. By the time Eddie and the band are wrapping up their last encore, walking off stage to the echoes of “good night, Las Vegas!” Steve’s ears are ringing and he’s so dazed it takes Robin three tries to get his attention.

He turns to face her and sees his own wild energy reflected back at him. Grinning, she grabs his hand and pulls him toward the wings, brandishing her backstage pass at security like it’s a police badge.

They’re led into a small waiting room where a tiny red-haired woman is talking rapid-fire into a cell phone, staring down at a clipboard. She hangs up when she notices them, and stretches out her hand. “Hi, I’m Chrissy, Corroded Coffin’s manager. You must be Steve, and this is…?”

Steve nods and shakes her hand. He waits for Robin to introduce herself but she’s just standing there dumbfounded, like she’s been struck by lightning. Steve raises his eyebrows at her but she doesn’t even notice him, fixated on Chrissy. Steve suppresses a laugh and chimes in, “And this is my friend Robin.”

Chrissy doesn’t miss the emphasis on friend, and her neutral expression softens to warmth. “Robin, it’s a pleasure.” Chrissy touches Robin’s elbow gently and Steve swears he hears Robin squeak but his attention is interrupted as Eddie barrels into the room. He stops short, just inside the doorway and stares, open-mouthed at Steve. Steve stares back, all the buildup while Eddie was on stage making electricity arc between them.

Steve hesitantly takes a step forward, unconsciously reaching out, wanting to touch. Eddie comes to meet him and suddenly they’re face to face, so close Steve can see the sweat on Eddie’s brow and the stubble on his chin. He wants to lick both, and he’s not nearly clear headed enough to prevent himself from leaning in. Eddie stops him with a gentle hand to his jaw, tracing down his neck, shoulder, and arm, fingertips grazing lightly across Steve’s bare skin. Steve shivers under the scrutiny until Eddie takes his hand and pulls Steve down the hall and into his dressing room.

As soon as they’re inside, Eddie has Steve pushed against the closed door, one thigh pressed between Steve’s. Their chests are touching, breathing hard, and Steve relishes how Eddie inhales his exhales, taking a piece of Steve inside himself. Eddie leans in and traces his nose along Steve’s cheek and jaw. His hands rise to grip Steve’s waist, pulling him closer even as he uses his body to pin Steve firmly against the door.

“You came,” Eddie murmurs, lips against Steve’s ear. He bites Steve’s earlobe softly and Steve tries not to embarrass himself by whimpering.

“Yes, yes of course I came, I wouldn’t miss–” Steve cuts himself off with a breathless whine as Eddie’s mouth moves lower, to Steve’s neck and collarbones. His hands pet lightly over Steve’s exposed stomach.

“What are you wearing, sugar?” Eddie gives Steve no time to answer, instead moving his hands up Steve’s chest, gently touching where his skin peeks through each hole that Robin had cut into his shirt. Steve is burning, he can’t think, can’t do anything but feel, every place Eddie touches a live nerve. “Are you trying to kill me,” Eddie groans, bending to suck a hickey on Steve’s exposed chest.

Steve finally allows himself to touch, tracing the smooth plane of Eddie’s lower back and then the rough leather of his vest before finally burying his hands in Eddie’s mane of tangled hair. A sense of belonging settles deep in his belly, and he forces his frazzled mind to respond. “It’s you who’s killing me, baby.” Eddie’s breath hitches at the pet name. “You have no idea how hot you look on stage, had me hard in my jeans for hours.” He punctuates this with a slight roll of his hips so that Eddie can feel Steve against his thigh, can know what he’s doing to him. Eddie presses him even harder against the door, until Steve can feel an answering bulge.

Eddie pulls back slightly to look Steve in the eye. His lips are spit-slick and Steve needs to kiss him, to taste him. He crashes their mouths together and the kiss is inelegant but delicious with desperation. Steve takes the lead, licking deep into Eddie’s mouth, and Eddie lets him, pulls him even closer. Steve succumbs to his earlier fantasy and tugs slightly on Eddie’s hair, delighted when he moans in response. Steve is fully hard now, and as the kiss gets increasingly desperate he decides he’s not above begging.

He manages to extricate himself briefly to get out, “Eddie, please.” Eddie makes a low noise in the back of his throat and slides his hands down to grab at Steve’s ass. Steve is nearly riding Eddie’s thigh, the friction an exquisite torture. “Please, baby, Eddie, please,” he begs again. With one last squeeze to Steve’s ass, Eddie pulls back and licks a long stripe up Steve’s neck, tracing the tendon there.

“Shh, I’ll give you what you need, sweetheart, don’t worry,” he whispers in Steve’s ear. “But not here. I want you in my bed.” He leans in for one more kiss before pulling away, and Steve whines at the loss. “Come on, sugar, let’s get you somewhere comfortable. I want to take my time with you.” Steve nods, dumbly, unsure how Eddie is able to get full sentences out. After a few minutes of hopelessly trying to get themselves under control, Eddie gives up and pushes Steve out the door they came in.

They make their way back through the waiting area of the green room, where they almost fail to notice Chrissy and Robin curled up together on the couch, deep in conversation. Eddie, who somehow seems to have his wits about him, leans over to have a low conversation with Chrissy while Steve just stares wide-eyed at Robin. He’s immensely grateful in that moment that they’ve known each other so long as to be able to communicate without words, because his horned up brain manages to comprehend that Robin is fine, that she’s taking Chrissy back to her apartment, and that Steve should go have fun.

Eddie joins him again, and pulls Steve out of the green room and into the main area of the venue. “We have my suite all to ourselves tonight, Stevie.” Steve just presses himself closer to Eddie, loathe to leave any room between them.

“Steve, I…” Eddie trails off. “I’m sorry about this, but we have to be careful. Going through the lobby.” Steve tries to get his brain back online, to match the gravity of Eddie’s sudden tone change, but he’s fuzzy with anticipation and alcohol. Eddie tries again, “We have to separate for a bit, sugar. I’ll meet you by the elevators and then we’ll go up together. Do you understand me?” Steve tries to nod, to communicate that he’ll do anything Eddie says, but Eddie is insistent. “I need a verbal confirmation, okay?”

“Yes,” Steve manages to get out. “I’ll meet you by the elevators.”

Eddie kisses his forehead, and then lightly pushes him forward. “Go first, I’ll follow.”

Steve makes his way through the lobby, already missing Eddie’s presence. He feels floaty, giddy with excitement, his lust taking a backseat to the pure joy of getting to spend more time with Eddie, to the anticipation and delight of learning a new partner, of finding a rhythm. He presses the “up” button at the elevator bank and has to wait only a moment before Eddie is beside him again and they’re stepping into the elevator.

Eddie presses the button for 14, and the doors have barely closed before Steve is on him again, kissing him as if it had been five days and not five minutes. This time he has Eddie pressed against the wall, and he uses his leverage to grind unashamedly, reveling in the pleasurable ache and the way he can feel Eddie’s returning hardness. When the doors finally ding open, they’re both flushed and breathless.

Steve follows Eddie down the hall and into the suite where he stops short. “Holy shit, this is where you live?”

Eddie shrugs and makes a casual gesture as if to say, what? this? before he captures Steve’s lips in another searing kiss. They get lost in it for a long moment, tangled in each other, before Eddie pulls back to demand, “Bed. Now.” He manhandles Steve into one of the bedrooms, chasing him forward until the back of Steve’s knees hit the bed. Steve waits for Eddie to push him down, but Eddie steps back. Looks Steve up and down.

“Gorgeous,” he murmurs. “You’re gorgeous, sugar. Make me want to ruin you.”

Steve holds Eddie’s gaze as he slowly strips off his shirt. Traces one hand down his own stomach toward the fly of his jeans and watches as Eddie bites his lip. Undoes the button and pulls the zipper down. He starts to push his jeans down his hips when suddenly Eddie moves to kneel before him, covering Steve’s hands with his own. Eddie tugs off his jeans, and then mouths at Steve’s cloth-covered cock.

“Shit, baby,” Steve groans. He runs one hand over Eddie’s cheek as Eddie soaks his boxers in spit. He’s fully hard now and throbbing and if Eddie doesn’t do something he’s going to come in his underwear like a teenager. “Eddie, please,” he begs. Eddie takes pity on him and pulls Steve out of his boxers and licks him from root to tip.

“Big boy, indeed” he says with a wink, before taking Steve in his mouth. The pleasure is overwhelming, and Steve tries and fails to keep himself from fucking forward into that wet heat. Eddie’s grip tightens on his hips, holding him in place while he moves his mouth up and down, swirling his tongue, drawing moan after moan from deep in Steve’s chest.

Steve feels himself barreling toward the edge, and it’s far too soon, he wants more. “Close, Eds, I’m close,” he bites out, and tries to pull back. Eddie holds him firm, taking him down to the root one more time before letting go with a pop.

“Get on the bed,” he tells Steve, voice gravelly. Steve obeys, shimmying fully out of his boxers and jeans and all but throwing himself down on the duvet. Steve hears a drawer open and close and then Eddie is behind him, pulling Steve’s hips up and pushing his knees forward so that Steve is prone and exposed. He feels Eddie’s lubed fingers skim over his entrance before one gently pushes in. Eddie fingers him open carefully, smoothing one hand down Steve’s heaving ribs while adding a second and then a third finger.

“Eddie,” Steve can’t help but whine. “I’m ready, please, I’m ready.” Eddie pulls his fingers out and then takes a moment to roll a condom on and add more lube before positioning himself.

“Tell me how much you want this,” Eddie goads, rubbing the tip of his cock against Steve’s entrance.

“I want it so bad, Eddie,” Steve whines. “I want you, please, please fuck me.”

Steve hears Eddie groan “fuck” under his breath before he’s pushing in, and Steve is lost in the pleasure-pain of being stretched. Eddie bottoms out and then stays there, letting Steve adjust. As he starts to slowly pull out again, Steve lets out a low whine. Eddie moves faster and faster, punching obscene noises out of Steve with each thrust. Steve feels his pleasure build, and he’s helpless to stop it as Eddie drags his cock against Steve’s sweet spot over and over.

Steve belatedly realizes that Eddie is talking to him, murmuring filth under his breath. “You take me so well, Stevie, you feel so good. Yeah, baby, you like that cock in you, filling you up. You’re so good for me.” Steve just takes it, moaning in agreement. As he feels himself get closer and closer to the brink, Eddie suddenly pulls him up so that they’re both kneeling on the bed, Eddie’s chest pressed against Steve’s back. Steve leans his head on Eddie’s shoulder, nuzzling into his neck. Eddie wraps one arm around Steve’s chest and the other around his cock as he leans forward to slot his mouth against Steve’s. They kiss sloppily, Eddie pounding into Steve, pushing him to fuck his fist.

Steve feels his orgasm approaching and manages to whisper, “Eddie, I’m going to come, please can I come.” He holds off only until he hears Eddie affirm, “come for me, sugar,” and then he whites out, overcome with pleasure.

When he comes to, he’s laying on his side, Eddie curled around him. He turns so they’re facing each other, and kisses Eddie on the nose. Eddie’s eyes are closed, and Steve briefly worries that he’d been too selfish. “Hi,” he murmurs. “Was that good? Did you come? ”

Eddie’s eyes open to meet Steve’s, and there’s so much warmth and joy in them that Steve is immediately put at ease. “Hi Stevie, welcome back” he says. “You were so good, love. I don’t think I’ve ever come so hard in my life.” Eddie leans forward and kisses Steve sweetly, lazily, like they have all the time in the world. Steve falls asleep, safe and secure in Eddie’s arms, thinking that maybe they do.

—

Steve jolts back into consciousness abruptly, cringing as the morning light hits his eyes. For a brief moment he’s disoriented, confused as to where he is and why he’s sweltering hot, but he settles down as last night’s events come back. Eddie is a furnace behind him and Steve extricates himself from the tangle of limbs and sheets and goes to use the bathroom. On the way back, he grabs his phone, startled to see four missed calls and over a dozen text messages. Confused, Steve opens his message app to read a series of frantic texts from Robin.

Robin: Steve. Holy shit.

Robin: Steve, I need you to pick up the phone.

Robin: I’m sure you’re having the fuck of your life, dingus, but you really, really need to check your phone.

These are followed by a photograph of two men in an elevator. It’s backlit and somewhat blurry, but Eddie’s face is unmistakable, as is his look of naked want. With a jolt, Steve realizes that the other man in the photo is himself, from earlier that night. Robin had texted the photo with a link to a tabloid article titled, “MUNSON TAKES HOME MYSTERY MAN AFTER CONCERT.”

He quickly checks the rest of his messages, and realizes there are several from Nancy and, even worse, one from Max. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Unthinking, he grabs his clothes from the hotel room floor and bolts.

continue to part 5.

read on ao3.

tag list (let me know if you want to be added or removed!): @knightofthieves @exhibit-no-restraint @zerokrox-blog @nelotegreitic @samthemissfit @impeachy @mentallyundone @n0-1-important @xxbottlecapx @ameliajwho1993 @abstractnaturaldisaster @hellomynameismoo @epiclazershark @dogswithforks @i-less-than-three-you @aveys6 @anaibis @sofadofax @sunswathe @paperbackribs @questionablequeeries @scarletzgo @mad-h-w @sherrylyn628 @the-redthread @harringrovefansblog @wearelosersyoudumbfuck @throwbackthrowaway @oxidantdreamboat @grtwdsmwhr @jamieweasley13 @raisedbylibrarians @bleach-the-kitten @estrellami-1 @lifeisnotsobadonceyoustopcaring @introvert-even-on-the-internet

#steddie #stranger things #steddie vegas au #not me posting 2 days in a row oops! and this one's a long one #I hope you enjoy!!#I"m trying to get this finished before I go on vacation on tuesday #this starts to get a bit angsty but there WILL be a happy ending #probably 2 more parts #also i'm so so sorry if tumblr eats ur tag #A writes

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flipside-phoebe · 1 month

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I just created a Ghostbusters OC and wondered if there were others, and I really like your Flip City characters!

Do Callie and Gary have counterparts?

That's awesome! It's nice to see more people create Ghostbusters OCs, and I'm very flattered you like mine too!

By default, Callie and Gary do not have Flip City counterparts in my AU. Originally, I was going to let this be a collaborative project that other fans could pitch their own ideas to. I'd provide my own Flip kids, and let other creators come up with Flip versions for the rest of the cast. Sadly... This idea never really caught on in the fanbase and I was left with just my kids.

I tried to come up with some reasons for why there were no dopplegangers for Callie or Gary, like maybe there was some vague "corruption" that prevented some dopplegangers from forming, or Igor (my version of Flip Egon) simply didn't think creating them was worth the effort. I ended up leaving it vague.

Eventually I did draw some designs for what a Flip Callie would look like. She's a spider-like creature loosely based on the Other Mother from Coraline. Since she's still not canon to the AU, this is more of a "what if" idea:

My idea for Gary would be that he's a frog creature, since some spiders keep frogs in their lairs to get rid of pests, I imagine he'd be the perfect partner for her! I haven't drawn him, though.

#Mera's answers #kyberinfinitygems #Mera's art #ghostbusters #callie spengler #gary grooberson #ghostbusters oc #flip city au #peoplebusters #thanks for sending!#this art is so oooold #I scribbled this while I was on vacation #I still haven't drawn the REAL Callie so I should do that one of these days when I get back to posting art for real

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lvl100hummuswarrior · 17 days

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I think betty has been self conscious about her hair since she was like 10 and simon is consistently annoying about how pretty her hair is

#petrigrof #simon petrikov #betty grof #adventure time #fionna and cake #atimers #vacation days au #golbetty #i had like abysmally bad fucking rats nest hair as a kid #and i feel like thats just one of those universal weird kid experiences #simon loves that she trusts him enough to have a bad hair day around him ;_;

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a-vague-yet-menacing-agency · 10 days

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Old news but the fact that Cody was manager at hot topic is so unexplored in fandom. Like he wasn't some shithead employee he was the boss Entry level retail workers are so rarely promoted to manager nowadays, like, was Cody just that good at selling/managing the store? Also, managers make good money. Okay, haha, it's a hot topic, but store managers make like 70,000$ a year (CAD). They have health insurance. So Cody was actually doing pretty well. It's kinda weird to pretend he was on the same level as his friend with just a standard sales associate position, even if that friend was also full-time. Like the power and responsibility that Cody actually had is kind of impressive especially for 28.

AND then! To become a carnie! Like sick move and also Cody lost all his money anyway but the financial disparity! Was Murph probably thinking of like an assistant manager position which would make more sense with Cody's vibe? Probably. Is it funnier to imagine that Cody had to make sales reports to corporate and design store planograms? Absolutely.

Cody was management.

#Cody Walsh #the unsleeping city #dimension 20 #Also reading the manager job ad for hot topic is very funny. They are trying so hard to be Relatable and it's Not Working #This is part of my headcanon/AU where Cody realizes that becoming the Jersey Devil means he inherits a bunch of minions and instead of bein #rad it becomes a logistical hell except Cody remembers he's a manager actually and creates a demonic employee shift schedule and a demonic #employee handbook called the Book of Infernal Deeds (ie the tasks employees have to do) and Cody starts to like make spreadsheets to track #how much infernal mayhem is being caused to see where they're being inefficient and everyone is so COMPLETELY BAFFLED both by this random #tone change AND the fact that Cody is good at it AND the fact that it's getting results and the mini devils are actually a lot happier now #that they have clear job tasks and vacation days and structures and so they're more motivated to work when they are working and they love #Cody a little but Cody doesn't even REALIZE that a) he's doing anything weird b) that it works c) that this is a specialized learned skill #the idea that Cody's greatest contribution to the infernal machinery is being a good middle manager would horrify him but it's SO funny

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u-seerosie · 13 days

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themisterhip · 2 years

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Hope you're recovering alright from the recent chapter. Sorry I don't know if you take requests, don't sweat it if you don't. I was looking through your art and it occurred to me that with all that's going on in canon, it would just be really nice to see the Gay Chicken AU family just have a solemn but heartwarming group hug.

I hope this meet your expectations!! And of course my request are always open <3 I felt the need to make this into a tiny comic, I just love them all so much QwQ

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blackwolfstabs · 5 months

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30 Day Writing Challenge: Day 29

VACATION

The Core Four go to the beach (but it's all about TARAcon).

based on @michiganstray's headcanon about Tara having her own convention called TARAcon :D (i will link the headcanon once she posts about it)

It was finally summer, and only a few days after college let out for the semester, Sam, Tara, Chad, and Mindy drove down from New York to California. They had planned to stay there for 2 weeks, Martha opening up her home to her children and the Carpenter sisters—whom anyone would’ve thought she’d adopted into the family already—to stay. Taking a plane would’ve been faster, but Sam and Tara hated flying and it was more expensive, so Operation: Road Trip Core Four Style was a go.

They left New York City on Monday at 7:00 in the morning, drove 14 hours for 2 days, then arrived in Woodsboro, at the Meeks-Martin residence, at around 8:00 at night on Thursday. Sam drove the first day, Mindy on the second, and then Chad finished the last 13 hours. They didn’t own a car in New York, so they rented one, which came out to be a 2013 white, Chevrolet Tahoe.

And as expected… Chad had to name it. So, for the duration of their vacation, it became known as The Core Four Tour Mobile.

Friday and Saturday had both been chill days with catching up on the past year in NYC, but Sunday, they headed down to the beach to have some fun under the sun.

That was where the Core Four were now…

“What are we even making?” Mindy asked as she clawed another handful of wet sand out from the hole they created to make a base for their sandcastle.

“Uh, a castle,” Chad replied flatly, clearly conveying an ‘duh, obviously!’ kind of tone.

She rolled her eyes, “Yeah, no shit, Sherlock. I mean, is it something specific? Like, how should we build it?”

To her left, Sam added to the small mound beside her. “TARAcon,” she suggested, sounding rather neutral but actually joking.

However, Tara, who was on the other side of the sand pit, wasn’t joking and immediately looked up with big eyes. “Um… YEEES! This is TARAcon. Tara-approved, so you all better make it the best thing on this beach.”

TARAcon was something Tara randomly made up one day that was basically a convention including everything Tara-coded and based. Joking around, Tara claimed she had fans because of the social media blow-up about Sam and insisted TARAcon was somewhere they could all hangout with the one-and-only Tara Carpenter. However, she grew fond of the idea, parodying it from the disastrous event, TanaCon, that wreaked havoc on social media in 2018. But TARAcon wouldn’t be anything like TanaCon, Tara assured. She’d make everyone homemade crafts, Chad and Danny would be her security, she’d have a million different snacks and drinks, and she would talk to everyone at some point.

It’d be great, because it’d be Tara’s.

Mindy nodded with a chuckle. “Alright then. How about these two towers are where people get their tickets to get in?” she pointed to where her and Sam had parallel sand piles.

“Like Admissions,” the eldest of the group put a name on it.

“Yeah, admissions.”

Tara nodded, “Yeah, that’s fine.” She smoothed out a path that led to what looked like an igloo about a foot away from the hole. “This is gonna be a private area… Like, solely VIP. The Core Four Cave.”

Sam scoffed, “Sounds like a hideout, to me.”

“It is! Well, kind of… it’d be dark in there most times with, like, lights and a lot of other awesome shit. Maybe it’ll have a huge screen, like a media room, where we can watch movies. And we’ll probably have an aquarium in there. It’s really like a multi-purpose cave for us and maybe a few others.” Her younger sister dug out a small entrance to the said-cave. “VIP-access isn’t easy to get at TARAcon.”

Chad glanced up to observe the secret base. “How do you get over there though? There’s no path.” The trail that led to the cave’s entrance was a dead-end right into the pit.

His girlfriend thought about it for a moment, before shrugging, “I don’t know. We can’t build the actual TARAcon, because I’d need to make blueprints. It’s just a sandcastle, so just know that there’s some secret way to it, okay?”

“Aye-aye, Captain!” was the understood reply. Then, he jumped to a side-note, “Oh, can we name this hole Love, by the way?”

Sam didn’t look up, but her brow furrowed. “Why?”

“So we can watch people fall in Love,” he said, receiving a snicker from Tara. He gestured towards his sister. “Maybe Mindy can find herself a girlfriend at TARAcon.”

Mindy just rolled her eyes and scoffed sarcastically. “Oh, yeah, TARAcon is the place to meet Tara and find the love of your dreams. That’s really promising.”

“Maybe if you met them online first,” Sam added.

She laughed, “Yeah, meet them on Tinder and be like ‘Hey, are you going to TARAcon, we should meet up!’ for real.”

“Hey, don’t judge what goes on at TARAcon!” Tara was covering the dome of the cave with a wet sand design that looked like stacked aggregate concrete pieces. “Anybody can do what they like as long as it’s not illegal, immoral, or stupid.”

This made her older sister share another comment. “Wow, you sound like Mom…”

“Except Mom’s done stuff that falls under all three of those categories, so she’s not allowed into TARAcon.” The younger glanced over to where Chad was digging the hole even deeper and advised, “Chad, baby, you can start building the wall. Gotta have the territory marked, you know?”

Mindy nodded for him. “That’s a good idea. Sam, you wanna start on the wall over there?” From the looks of it, she was close to being done with her tower.

“Yep,” she replied and moved back to branch it off the flank.

That invited Tara to move onto the next idea. “I wish we could keep that car. I’d get a license plate customized for it that says TARAcon.”

Her sister jumped in, “You haven’t even driven it!”

“Yeah, but that would make me drive it.”

“No, we’d need it to say Core Four!” Chad intervened. “We could make all the o’s zeros and the e a 3.”

The youngest huffed, “Okay, fine, but we’d get a sticker that says TARAcon, and it’d go on the back windshield.” She glanced over her shoulder at the Tahoe that had been backed-in to its designated spot. “Actually, if the plate says Core Four, then we should each design a sticker that represents us to go on the back.”

“We’re not keeping the car, guys.” The older Carpenter met the base of the sand-wall with the one Tara made that led to her cave.

“It’s fun to think about though…” Mindy mumbled.

“Yeah, you’re such a mood-killer sometimes, Sam,” Tara groaned.

“I know, but I don’t really care.”

Chad gave a short chuckle, but it was nearly cut off by a loud exclamation from his sister, which caught all of their attention. The built wall that was connecting her tower to her brother’s had collapsed into the pit, the base sliding out from beneath it.

“Oh, nooo!” Tara watched it melt away with a sigh. “It was almost done, too…”

“Sorry, T…” Meeks-Martin tried to hold the last of it together, but she was told to just let it go.

“It’s fine. It wasn’t gonna last forever, anyway.”

“TARAcon’s over-con,” Sam concluded.

Her little sister gave a nasaled scoff, “L.O.L.”

Chad did the same. “More like, S.O.L.”

“Or F.M.L.” was Mindy’s input.

Tara laughed, then pulled the last member into it. “Alright, Sam, you gotta come up with one, too!”

Samantha paused in her contribution to the sandcastle to think about what kind of acronym ended with an L but still fit the subject. “Hmmm…” Then, she smirked, “How about just L? L TARAcon, because this sucks.” She gestured to the crumbled part of the castle.

“Hey!” Tara grew offended at this and threw her next handful of building material in her direction. “You take that back! TARAcon is the best!” It was all in good fun, of course.

Sam jumped back with a small yelp but shook her head, rubbing splattered sand from her cheek away with her shoulder. “No,” she giggled, “I’m not taking that back, it’s true!”

“TARAcon’s the best ever!” the other repeated, mock offense showing past the smile clear on her face. “Say it!” She raised her hand again, another round of sand in her fist, “Or else…”

But it wasn’t taken seriously. “Or else, what? You’re gonna throw sand at me?” She rolled her eyes and put her hands up in fake surrender, “Oh, I’m so scared!”

“Or else, I’m gonna get you!” She threw her sand-ball as she said this. “Say it, Samantha,” she demanded.

“No.” Sam pushed her boundaries as she grabbed some of the sand already placed on the wall, “Welcome to LoserCon!” She flung it in Tara’s direction.

Tara tried to swat it clear, but it didn’t work. “Okay, you asked for it!” she growled and lunged for her, “Get over here!”

“No!” Her big sister twisted to not be caught and got up to bolt away. “You guys heard it here, Tara’s a loser and so is her convention!” she hollered over her shoulder. “You’ve all been juked!”

The said-ressembler of that remark raced after her. “Chad! You’re TARAcon security, what are you doing?!” she barked, “ATTACK!”

And Chad was up in a flash. “TARAcon security incoming! Loyalty breach! LOYALTY BREACH!” His legs were longer than both sisters’, so he was able to catch up and gain speed like a predator to prey.

“Target: Sam Carpenter!” Tara howled, hot on her boyfriend’s heels as he passed her up.

Sam’s lungs were in a struggle between balancing breathing and laughing at the same time, so all that was heard from her was the product of breathless laughter.

And so, the chase was on to defend TARAcon, leaving Mindy to figure she might as well start picking up all of the shovels and buckets so they could head home afterwards. The sun was starting to make its way towards the horizon, and the drive back would take 45 minutes, at least. They had told Martha they’d be home before dark. So, once the puppies had chased each other ‘til they couldn’t anymore, they’d be leashed up for the day.

And that’s exactly what happened.

The TARAcon sandcastle was left to spend the rest of the day standing with the stubbornness of a mule, just like its owner, who had fallen asleep rather quickly on the road back to the Meeks-Martin’s. Both twins had also crashed in their seats, Mindy behind the passenger seat, where Chad was. His sunglasses blocked out the ability to see that his eyes were closed, but Sam knew. The oldest of the Core Four had one hand glued to the steering wheel, while the other held her head as she leaned against the car door. The highway was fast, but clear and quiet. And that time alone allowed her to go down Memory Lane to when she would babysit the twins and Tara. How they’d be wild and crazy and then drag her into their foolishness. There were days when they’d run themselves down into the night. Then, they’d go inside to wait for Martha to show up and Christina or Mr. Carpenter to get home.

And Tara, Chad, and Mindy would all fall asleep on the sofa before then, leaving Sam to wait the longest for rest.

Even after all this time… some things never change.

ONE MORE DAY TO GO AAAAHHHHHH

idk how i feel about this one but it's lighthearted and fun soooooo

All my best and more ♡ - parker

#scream #scream v #scream vi #sam carpenter #tara carpenter #carpenter sisters #chad meeks martin #mindy meeks martin #the core four!#core fuckin four #ao3 #ao3 writer #ao3 author #ao3 fanfic #scream fanfic #30 day writing challenge #vacation #TARACON #AU: All My Heart

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