#god. I hate Lance's legs | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thatsdemko · 9 months

Text

something blue - l.stroll

masterlist

requested: n

pairings: Lance stroll x bridesmaid!reader

warnings: not intended for minors + some teasing here and there

a/n: look at me finally finishing this fic!

“you’ll really like him! I promise you times have changed he’s super nice now.” Chloe’s on your tail, begging you to do her a favor. she claims it to be a bridesmaid duty suited perfectly for you.

that’s right, she wants you to be lances date.

Lance stroll and you did not have a nice history. he picked on you during your childhood and was mainly the reasons for your own beauty insecurities. you tried everything possible to erase that man from your life.

“that doesn’t excuse the fact that he called me fat when we were twelve.” you narrow your eyes on her when you finally whip around. you watch her eyes close, she nods in agreement muttering it was unacceptable of him to not understand the female body at pre-teen years.

“I promise you,” she takes your hands in hers, “if you want to back out you can, but its only for rehearsal and the wedding. after that? you can go back to hating each other.”

you sigh. over her shoulder is Scotty begging and pleading you with his hands and mouthing the words “please please” repeatedly until you finally give in.

“he owes me more than just paddock passes.”

“yes thank you! whatever you want, I will make sure you get it.”

what you really want is to never see or speak to Lance stroll ever again.

—

Lance places a hand on the chair you’re about to pull out. he looks up into your eyes, you’re practically unrecognizable to him, “oh this seat is taken.” he sends a small apologetic look that makes you roll your eyes and want to take the butter knife beside him and stab your eyes.

“god Chloe is so wrong about you, you haven’t changed one bit.” you slide into the chair beside him and purposefully push your chair closer to Daniels.

his expression changes when he finally connects the dots. high school you and you now, are two different people. you were unrecognizable and it wasn’t because of the makeup, you’d certainly changed since the last time you’d seen Lance stroll.

it had to have been during his karting days. that was probably the final time he saw you. you wore an oversized t-shirt and leggings for the warm weather of Monaco. back then you had braces and religiously wore your hair up in ponytails. it was no wonder he had all of the slightest clue.

“I’m sorry, you just look different,” he pauses gesturing to your hair, the tight midi dress that hugged your curves and breasts, “I’ve never seen you like this before. you look amazing.”

you’re not sure how to take the compliment. for the first time it wasn’t backhanded or his father, Lawrence, forcing him to be kind. this time for once, Lance seemed to genuinely give a thought about his words. so maybe that had changed.

“you look good yourself.” you comment on the blue crisp suit he’s sporting. the jacket snug around his broad shoulders, and the pants just cut above his ankle bone.

he catches your eyes grazing up his body. you can’t help but check him out, your weakness was a man in a good suit and you know a good looking man in one when you see it.

“how come you never looked at me like this before?” he whispers, but it comes out louder than he expects. he blames the music and the constant chatter for his need to scream over the music.

“because you were an asshole, Lance.” you remind him of your childhood. how he’d shut down any opportunity to sit beside you or even have to share twenty minutes alone with you. he missed those chances to really know who you were.

“an asshole? what did I do?” he sits upward, a twist in his stomach that doesn’t settle in him. he reached his hand out against your knee, “y/n, I’m so sorry. whatever I did, I apologize.”

you nod, accepting his apology. you realize it’s ridiculous to hold on to a decades long grudge. if Chloe is truly right he’s changed, you’re willing to let go. you can move on from it.

“so you want more than paddock passes? what can I get you?”

“right now? a cocktail would be lovely.” you hold up your empty wine glass. he stands right up from his seat and is off towards the open bar leaving you alone at the table.

scotty plops down into lances chair, a giddy smile on his face that seemingly can’t be wiped away begs for details on your conversation.

“shouldn’t you be with your fiancée?”

he lets out a puff of air waving his hand in the air dismissing your concern, “come on, tell me, I saw you checking him out.” he playful presses his hands against your arm giving you a little shove, “he’s into you, I can tell.”

it’s your turn to let out a puff of air and shake your head. Scotty can you read just like Chloe can, it’s an ability of his he’s picked up, and he knows right now you’re flustered, but you may have some feelings for Lance coming through.

“I’m rooting for this. go get ‘em.” Scotty gets out of lances chair, he kindly pushes Lance inward toward the table and is whisked off by a family member asking for a photo. he glances over his shoulder to send you a wink that, luckily, goes unnoticed by Lance.

“can you believe tomorrow is the wedding?” you look over at lance. you hadn’t heard much from the grooms side about the wedding, you’d only paid attention to Chloe’s needs and wishes, but you’re sure things were much more calm on the other end.

“it seems like just yesterday Daniel was introducing Scotty to Chloe.” he leans back into his chair, his eyes glance over at you for a second, and he takes the chance to very obviously scan you up and down. he notices how your dress clings to your curves and hips, he likes how they dip right before your pelvis line. he could see his fingers easily tracing the outline of your body.

“Lance, stop eye fucking me.”

his cheeks flush red as he takes a sip of the red wine in his glass, “it’s hard not to, you’re beautiful.”

you roll your eyes. you remember he was the same guy who made fun of your stomach when you were pre-teens. what was his obsession with thick thighs and beautiful curves now? maybe a change of heart? you’re hoping it’s that, because you can’t help but acknowledge the pulsating rhythm in your center.

you look over into his beautiful chocolate brown eyes, his fingers are rubbing over the rim of the wine glass that’s now empty. he takes the opportunity first to break the rather uncomfortable silenced you’d fallen into, “so what did you hate about me when we were kids?”

you can’t help but chuckle, it just was a response you couldn’t help before you finally tell him, “you were a prick and might I add annoying.”

he places a hand over his heart, “a prick?! you were little miss tattle-tail! I couldn’t do anything without getting in trouble.”

it’s your turn for your cheeks to flush red. you spent most of your childhood mad at Lance for how he treated you that you took up tattling his bad behavior to his parents. you’re not proud of it, but he needed to be put into check more often than not.

“yeah I’m not proud of that, I’m sorry.”

“all is forgiven, I needed it anyway. you kept me in check all summer.”

“maybe that’s why Chloe hired me as your date, to keep you in check during the wedding.” you send him a wink that makes him throw his head back. you get a peak of his chain that’s tucked well under his dress shirt, you can make out the silver ridges.

“with you around, I’ll be misbehaving. I’ll need a good punishment.” he licks his bottom lips, his eyebrows lift upwards before settling back into their place. you know exactly what’s on his mind, you know the punishment well before you can speak it.

“I’ll try my best.” your shaky hands reach for your wine glass and do your best to show you’re grounded, but the throbbing and butterflies in your pussy sure are there to remind you otherwise.

—

the knock on the closed wood door is followed by the familiar voice of last night, “it’s just me, Lance! can I come in?” he calls from behind the door.

one of the other bridesmaids rushes up from her spot on the couch and is quick to open the door slowly before allowing Lance all the way inside. “tight security you run around here.” he jokes making Chloe roll her eyes.

you watch Lance move across the room from where you’re seated, and if you’re being totally honest so does about half the other bridesmaids. you can’t help but feel a little jealous watching some of them nearly fan themselves over his beauty.

“you look beautiful, we should go take pictures.” Lance gestures to the other end of the room where multiple camera men are situated. they haven’t stopped taking pictures since she stepped in her dress, and you can’t blame them. Chloe looks stunning.

“when did Lance get hot?” one of them asks in a hushed voice, she’s practically undressing him with her eyes, and you’re sure Lance noticed by the way he turns his back towards the group of you all.

but he takes another glance over his shoulder.

his eyes land on you, a wink sent your way that had all the other girls fighting for his attention. you knew the wink wasn’t for them, it was for you. while he made it his mission to see Chloe, his eyes did take the chance to scan you in the beautiful caramel colored dress. he can’t wait for that dress to be on the floor of his hotel room.

chloe comes over to the couch, she takes your hands in here and guides you up off of the cushions, “come on my dad will love it if we have a picture of all of us!” she leads you to where the cameras are, and situates you beside lance. his arm carefully wraps around your lower half, hand gripping your hip, his thumb caresses the dips he was eyeing all last night.

you just smile. you can feel the butterflies and warmth fill your chest as his hand lingers behind your, fingers tapping along your backend. if it wasn’t for such a crowded space you would’ve taken Lance there, but you know he wants that punishment. he’s doing all he can to rile you up.

“beautiful!” chloe claps her hands together before running over to the cameras to look at the pictures, “you guys look so cute together! if anything ever happens you have to thank Scotty and I.”

—

“blue is your color.”

“what are you doing in here?” you whip around, arms covering your exposed breasts. you’d barely gotten the dress to zip leaving the top part of your chest exposed.

“turn around,” he gestures and you hesitantly do so. he moves your hair out of the way and carefully zips the rest of your dress up. you feel your breath caught in your lungs, he’s got one hand on your hip, the other rested against your back. you can feel his hot breath against your neck, chills are constantly running down your spine.

“did I ever tell you, how beautiful you looked tonight?”

you shake your head. looking up at him in the mirror, your eyes catch each others. his hand that’s rested against your hip moves across your stomach, his fingers pull up the tight material of your dress to reveal the lacy panties, “every part of you,” he whispers down your neck, his lips dangerously close, “is fucking beautiful.”

your body leans backwards against his. you can feel his hardness against your butt. your head leans back against his shoulder, lips press a soft tender kiss against his jawline, “please,” you whisper a beg that has him letting go of your body. he moves across the room to lock the bathroom door, it’s just you two now.

“what do you want from me? vocalize it.”

the words get stuck in your throat. your left staring at Lance bug eyed while his fingers work underneath your panties. his finger gently runs across your folds, he picks up on the moisture making him chuckle, “who’s all this for?” he whispers in your ear, his breath once again sending a wave of chills down your spine.

“you.” you breathe out feeling your knees weaken at his touch, your body collapses against his chest. once again, you feel his hardness against your backend.

his finger slips inside your entrance, a throaty whine exits your lips that he covers with his hand, “quiet.” he hisses. his finger is long, taking deep strokes you can feel him in your center.

he adds another finger stretching you out. another whine comes from your lips that is masked by lances hand.

“I think the devil sent you as my punishment. there’s no reason for you to walk around like you are.” he pulls his fingers out, pushing your body against the edge of the sink. your fingers are gripping the surface, basically white knuckled waiting for him to unzip his pants.

his palms rest against your ass cheeks giving them a squeeze, you’re not sure when it happened but you noticed you were bare. he had ripped your panties right off from underneath you.

“fuck you,” you mutter to yourself. you feel his tip before all of him inside of you. his fingernails are dug into the skin of your ass, he moves slow, you can feel those same fingers move to grip your hips, he’s guiding your body while his strokes become more sporadic and wild.

you can feel the tears brim your eyes, vision of your white knuckles become a blur while he rams into your clit more than a couple of times earning choked moans. he finds it sexy that you can’t hold it in, he goes in again just to hear that sweet sound one more time.

“fuck, you kill me.” he pulls out, and you can hear him zipping up his pants. he helps you stand up straight, a devilish smile on his lips you want to kiss right off his mouth.

you adjust the blue silk against your body, your panties were discarded on the floor, and no longer needed. you were ready to toss them in the trash when you turn around to Lance, you remove his handkerchief from the pocket of his jacket and replace your lace with it, “now you have your something blue.”

“you kill me just like you did then and now.”

a smirk forms against your lips before you press a kiss to his cheek, “come on, lancey I want to dance.”

tags: @oconso @xcicix @imsorare @weasleyswizardwheezes-blog @monzabee

want to be apart of my tag list? let me know here!

759 notes · View notes

autisticlancemcclain · 1 year

Text

Whoever came up with the term ‘draining your social batteries’ was one hundred percent correct, because that’s the exact feeling. Keith feels like he’s physically dragging himself down the dark hallways of the castle, like his duracells are barely puttering along enough to get him back to his room.

God, Keith fucking hates having to go to diplomatic missions alone. (Well, he wasn’t really alone. But Retired Shiro is about as helpful as a rubber duck, so. He mostly just comes along so he can wear his horrible dad shirts in public and be complimented on them, and to tease Keith at every given moment.)

There is one good part about having such a draining day, though: when he finally makes it to his room, door sliding open at the press of his hand, the scent of Lance’s floral shampoo and the sound of his gentle humming is like injecting concentrated relief into his veins. Like all his batteries got zapped by Zeus himself.

It’s a great feeling, is what Keith is trying to say.

“Hi, baby,” Lance says with great amusement when Keith flops on top of him with a groan. “Long day?”

“You know it was,” Keith mutters, batting Lance’s book from his hands and securing them in Keith’s hair, face pressed into his chest and legs tangled together.

Lance takes the hint and starts carefully detangling the mess that is Keith’s helmet hair, laughing softly to himself.

“It can’t have been all bad, hm? I’m sure there were some good parts.”

The quiet, reflective optimism makes Keith smile. It’s such a Lance thing to say — to be so sure that there must have been a good side, at least some sort of silver lining.

“I guess so,” he relents. “There was this pretty interesting tour of their history museum in the beginning. You know how the Floxions have all those freckles?”

“They’re the pink ones, yeah?”

“Yep.”

“Then yes, I know.”

Keith shudders as Lance runs his nails through a particularly sensitive part of his scalp. “Well, they have this belief that each of the marks is a place where they were kissed by a lover in a past life. I thought that was kinda cute.”

“Huh.”

Lance pulls his hands away, making Keith open his eyes and pout at him in protest, because hey. He had a hard day. He deserves to be petted.

But Lance doesn’t notice — he’s busy looking down at his bare legs, pulling down the waistband of his shorts slightly the glance at his hip. Then he tilts his head down to his chest. Finally he looks back at Keith, brows raised playfully.

“You were a fuckin’ horndog in our last life, then, babe. I have freckles all over.”

And then he bursts into giggles, covering his mouth with his hand and scrunching his face so hard Keith can barely see the brown of his eyes.

It’s a joke. Lance is teasing him, poking fun at the way Keith likes to kiss him all over and mark him up when they make love. This is nothing new, really, nothing he hasn’t heard a thousand times before.

But that’s not why Keith’s mouth has gone dry, or why he stares at his lover in a quiet sort of awe. It’s that Lance heard about marks from a past life, of the imprints a lover might make on your soul, and he didn’t even hesitate before thinking of Keith. Didn’t consider any other option, exhaust any other possibility — he was as sure as the day is long that his soul is entwined, unquestionably, with Keith’s. As if they have been each other’s since the dawn of time, in every life, in every way.

“I love you,” Keith says, a little helplessly. It doesn’t feel like enough. How can three little words capture the intensity he’s feeling in his chest, his throat, his lungs? How can eight letters convey the desperate kind of devotion that burns through his veins? How could any combination of sounds ever be enough to press the all consuming fire that burns for Lance, in every one of Keith’s cells, in the very molecules that make him?

It’s not enough. It will never be enough.

But Lance seems to understand, anyway.

“I know,” he says cheekily. “You’ve apparently been showing me for dozens of lifetimes, to cover me in marks this much.”

Keith snorts, settling on Lance’s thighs and pushing him back on the bed, grinning as Lance’s breath catches slightly. He leans down to press a lingering kiss to the juncture of Lance’s neck, and then another, and another and another and another, kissing down his shoulders and collarbone until Lance finally gasps, hands gripping the fabric of Keith’s shirt.

“When I’m done with you tonight, your next life will have more marks than clear skin.”

#mushy klance my beloved #vld #voltron #keith #keith kogane #lance #lance mcclain #klance #established klance #whipped keith #whipped lance #klance cuddles #soft klance #brown-eyed lance #brown eyed lance #black paladin keith #my writing #fic fragment #fic

452 notes · View notes

bluemantics · 9 months

Text

Keith inhaled quietly as he took in the smells and sights of the beach. He’d landed just an hour ago, and had spent the time since then covering himself in sunscreen and changing into beach gear. He wasn’t so much of a fan of the beach, but that wasn’t why he was there. Today, he’d promised Lance to meet him on this beach planet. All of the tasks from the Blade he was skipping sort of replayed in his mind in the background. He couldn’t shut it down, couldn’t stem the flow of anxiety that came with taking a “break.”

But.

Lance wanted this. Keith hadn’t seen him truly joyful since the end of the war, and maybe he was a softy, a sucker, or weak. He just knew he’d do anything to see Lance smile again.

“Keith!” Keith jolted up as if the sand burned his bare feet. Lance was running to him, steps clumsy and large (probably due to his legs, which were illegally long in Keith’s opinion).

Keith smiled, turning to face him.

“Hey—“ he froze. Lance. Wasn’t. Stopping. Oh, shit. With all of the Grace Lance McClain possessed— approximately none— he crashed directly into Keith’s chest and wrapped his arms around his waist.

They promptly toppled into the sand. Keith winced, already feeling a bruise in his hip, the sun from above now directly in his eyes.

“Keith, you made it.” Holy fucking shit, if that didn’t make Keith pause and suck in a breath as he reassessed their position. Because now Lance was directly over him, arms on either side of Keith’s head, blue eyes directly meeting his own. Keith shuddered as a wave lapped at their tangled legs.

“Of course I did,” Keith said, hating the warmth that was obvious in his voice. “I promised, didn’t I?” He ignored the flush rising to his face.

Lance laughed, rolling off of him and flopping directly on the line where ocean met shore. Keith felt himself breathe again.

“That you did, Samurai,” Lance agreed, lazily watching Keith sit up on his hands. Keith noticed the water spiraling up to Lance’s ears, but also… huh.

“Is your hair… curly?” Keith asked sharply. Lance turned his head away in embarrassment.

“Uh, yeah.” Lance worried at his bottom lip. Keith actively did not notice. “It’s always been pretty curly. I just didn’t have the products to take care of it in space. I’ve been using them more, lately, and the salt water also makes it a lot more noticeable. Why, is it bad?” Lance reached up a hand to touch the place where Keith’s hand was reaching out to a loose strand, and Keith yanked his hand away, because he hadn’t realized his hand was in Lance’s hair.

“No, no,” Keith mumbled, the heat getting to him. “It’s good. Nice. More you, if that makes sense.”

Lance covered his face with his hands. “Oh my god, yeah, it does. You’re killing me, Kogane. What’s gonna happen when I get sun freckles?! Gonna poke those?!”

“Maybe,” Keith admitted. Lance squawked.

“Fuck off, that’s a stupid joke, you have no sense of humor,” Lance replied with an awkward grin. Keith tried to reflect it.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Pretty stupid.”

#this is technically a bonus scene from my fic ablyfh #i love Keith #he’s so dumb #Hahaha yeah We Are All Joking Here #RIGHT AFTER FLIRTING(#? MORON #klance #lance mcclain #voltron #keith kogane #klance fanfiction #lance voltron #klance fic #vld #fanfiction #klance voltron #bluemanfics

68 notes · View notes

midnighmoonligh · 3 months

Text

❀•°•═════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ═════•°•❀

Fandom

Voltron Legendary Defender

❀•°•═════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ═════•°•❀

Character/s

Keith ; 21 ; He/They ; Little

Lance ; 18 ; He/Him ; CG

❀•°•═════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ═════•°•❀

⚠Content Warning⚠

Brief mention of age regressor sexualizing themselves & cursing.

❀•°•═════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ═════•°•❀

Plot Summary

Keith learns about age regression.

❀•°•═════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ═════•°•❀

Keith woke up alone. The bed felt really cold. his head pounded from how hard he had been crying the night before. He would've swore he wasn't alone the night before. He wasn't really sure. He rubbed his eyes and pulled his pillow to his chest. He laid practically on it, hugging it and finding comfort in the position. He knew he really should get up, but his excuse is that he didn't feel well. Not that it's a lie regardless. Keith really wasn't feeling well, aside from his head his stomach was upset and his body ached. He needed rest if it was possible.

He slowly closed his eyes again. They felt too heavy to keep open any more. The door to the bathroom opened suddenly, making him hump in response. He peeled opened his eyes and looked over to see Lance. So he didn't dream that he was there, not that he hasn't before. God's he's not making any of this better at all is he.

" Morning, you sleep okay? " Lance spoke up.

He didn't really understand why he suddenly cared for him. Didn't Lance hate him? He rubbed his eyes with his sleeves and rolled over to his other side. He wasn't sure if he really was fully out of the fuzzy mind space or not. He wondered if it was normal. At least Lance didn't bully or hate him for it like he thought he would.

" Okay.. I'll just assume you did sleep okay. Are you okay? You still feeling fuzzy at all? "

" Kinda, I don't know, " Keith finally responded.

It felt like ripping off a bandage. He didn't remember it being so hard to talk. Maybe he really was still all fuzzy. He felt the bed dip near his feet. It caused him to pull his legs up to his chest. He assumed Lance sat on the bed, but he didn't dare to look.

" Hey, Keith can we talk about this? Please. I know you feel terrible, but it isn't like that, just let me help you okay? "

" Why do you care? Why the hell do you want to help me? Aren't I your rival or some stupid thing? " Keith huffed out before Lance could ramble any further.

Lance sighed softly.

" Okay, okay. That's fair, but this is different. I know what's going on with you and I want to help. I don't joke around when it comes to mental health, okay? " he explained in the best way he could.

Keith gave in. He slowly sat up, causing his head to pound harder. He let out an unconscious whimper and pressed the pillow to his chest. He say criss cross while he waited for his vision to clear. He still didn't pick up his head either. He just sat there and stared at the bed.

" Poor thing, you've got a headache huh? "

" Don't pitty me you ass, " he shot back.

Lance laughed. Honestly, it made him smile. He wasn't sure why, but the noise simply cause him to smile.

" Ah, there's your smile. Looks weird on you, " he teased.

Keith pouted.

" Okay okay, let me explain everything, okay? "

He nodded and waited patiently.

Lance wasn't entirely sure how to word all of this to the hot headed boy. At first he had thought he had always known about regression, but the more he thought about it the more he began to realize it had only just started happening because of all this and the war. It made his heart ache for the other. He simply wanted to scoop him up and cuddle him, baby him even.

" What you experience is called age regression, " Lance finally spoke up.

Keith gave a confused expression to the words. He's never heard of it. Then again, he didn't really have internet back on earth, not much for long anyways.

" It's where your mind psychologically regresses to a point in your life you felt more safe, " he explained, watching as Keith took it all in.

" But why? " the smaller bit questioned as he pulled a pillow into his lap.

Lance had chosen to sit on the floor in front of Keith. Keith on the other hand still hasn't removed himself from the bed. Lance didn't mind either, he could tell how much he enjoyed his bed anyways. He found it cute even.

" Usually because if trauma, but sometimes stress or just for fun, " he answered.

He watched as Keith tensed awkward on the bed. It hurt him seeing him react to a word like trauma. He couldn't help but wonder what all has the boy Ben through? What in the hell did life throw at him and make him go through? He couldn't help but fidget with his hands. Lance wanted to ask, but he also didn't want to push. He didn't like it when others pushed into his past or business, so he shouldn't do it to others.

" Okay, " Keith finally whispered out.

" And, there's people who sometimes help people who regress out. Like caretakers, or parental figures. "

" You're one of them? " Keith assumed right off the bat.

Lance had to admit it caught him off guard. However, he still nodded and continued.

" Yeah, that's how I know so much about it. I used to have a little at home, though we cut things off a few days before we left earth, " Lance told him honestly.

" Why? " Keith asked in almost a child like manor.

It made Lance smile. He knew all this talk about his headspace was making him slip. Either because he's uncomfortable or because it was making him comfortable knowing he wasn't the only one. He really hoped that Keith would allow him to care for him, even as a babysitter. However, he knew with all the rivalry stuff it was really unlikely.

" She was sexualizing herself and me, it was making me uncomfortable and I finally had snapped, " Lance admitted as his gaze turned towards his hands.

He stayed there for awhile until he felt warm arms wrap around him and hug him. Lance hadn't even notice Keith leaving the bed. He smiled and wrapped his arms around him. He knew big Keith wouldn't ever do this, so he figured he slipped by now. Maybe he should make a name for little Keith, it would be cute.

" 'm sorry, " Keith muffled out into his shoulder.

He smiled and rubbed his back, carefully slipping the smaller into his lap so he could cuddle him better. He rocked him back and forth slowly, stimming from his own happiness honestly. Though it worked out, as he could feel Keith melting into his touch.

" I know little one, but it isn't your fault, " he reassured.

" Do you want to go get breakfast? Or I can bring it here, " he offered a few minutes later.

" I don want thems to sees, " Keith mumbled with a noticeable pout.

" That's okay, I understand. Let's just stay like this for a little longer then I'll go get breakfast, okay? "

" Yes pleases, " the smaller responded fairly quickly.

Keith warmed Lance's heart. It reminded him so much why he liked him, more than just some kind of friend. He fell in love with little Keith the moment he saw him, he can admit that much. However, he always seemed to how feelings for Keith in general. He just didn't know how to admit them.

Lance had left Keith alone for the time being, mostly just to go and get them breakfast. He wished he had some little gear for Keith to use. Did he forget to mention how cute he is? He's adorable, extremely adorable. Given how much of a bundle of anger he normally was, it was so adorable to see him like this. He wouldn't even think of teasing him for it either and he knew at least Pidge and Hunk wouldn't either. He sighed heavily from the thoughts that ran through his head. He wished he knew how to control them, maybe so they wouldn't be so loud and focus on one thing. He's worried about many things, all surrounding around Keith. Lance wanted to be able to protect his little space, but he wasn't sure how hard it would be with the fact they are at war hanging over their heads.

He shoved open the doors to the kitchen, seeing Hunk happily cooking away. However the affectionate male seemed to notice Lance's strange behavior. He was still trying to make breakfast for the team, not that it was strange. They've all grown used to Hunk making most of the meals.

" You alright Lance? " Hunk asked, catching him a bit off guard. He about dropped the food goo he had in his hands.

" Yes! I'm fine- sorry, half asleep, " he apologized nervously.

Hunk raised an eyebrow at the paladin. However, he signed in defeat and nodded. Quite a few of the paladins are rather drained from missions lately so it wasn't difficult to understand. Lance finished getting the food for himself and Keith. He made sure to let Hunk know that they wouldn't be coming for breakfast. Lance simply made an excuse that they planned on training all day. It seemed to work well enough, so he scrambled off towards Keith's room once more. He found himself getting impatient, so he ended up running down the hallway. His shoes slid across the floor as he attempted to stop at the door. He managed to slide right past it. It didn't stop him though. He gained his balance and managed to get into the bedroom before he fell again. He blamed his lanky legs.

" I'm back little one, " he panted as he looked around the room for the little.

Lance spotted Keith looking out the window and rocking back and forth calmly. He assumed it was some sort of comfort thing. He really wasn't sure honestly.

" Baby boy, " Lance sang as he sat in front of the bed in the floor.

The pet name instantly grabbed the littles attention. He got up and carefully waddled over to him. He almost tripped a few times as he made his way over. Keith plopped down right next to him, thumb in mouth and a tired expression.

" Do you need me to feed you? "

Keith nodded hesitantly. The downside of his headspace was he regressed so young, especially from impure regression. He cuddled into his side and curled up again Lance. It made the caregiver smile. However, before he even could feed the little the alarms began to go off.

33 notes · View notes

sebastiansluts · 4 months

Note

boyfriend!coach!lance tucker with bratty!reader, she keeps mouthing off at him during practice and he teaches her a lesson in the locker room, fucking her until she can’t speak then pissing on her face and reminding her who she belongs to, and who she listens to. aftercare after where he cleans her up and coddles her.

hope this is okay 😭 completely understand if not!!

This is definitely okay!!! I hope what I wrote is okay!

Lance Tucker x Reader; everyone is above age, reader is 20s ish, coach/student relationship, dub-con, rough sex, degradation, extended orgasm, piss kink- pissing on face, aftercare

ANY HATE WILL BE DELETED THIS IS A JUDGEMENT FREE ZONE DON’T LIKE, DON’T INTERACT; MINORS DO NOT INTERACT 18+

“I swear to God, you mouth off one more time…” Coach Tucker threatened and you laughed right in his face, then turned and ran off, doing a cartwheel over to the balance beam. You hopped up, doing some simple moves, grinning at the junior coaches who were staring at you, before leaping off straight into Coach Tucker.

“Ow! Coach,” you whined, rubbing your ass where it hurt from landing on it. You could hear the other coaches murmuring and you knew you were in trouble when you saw his eyes on you- dark and angry. “If you hadn’t been standing there I would’ve been fine!” you pouted, crossing your legs as you sat on the ground, staring up at Coach Tucker who had stood up and was glaring down at you.

“Get. Up.” Coach Tucker said slowly, breathing heavily, and you grinned, recognizing that look.

“Make me,” you replied, sliding your hands into your lap, framing your crotch. Coach Tucker’s eyes darkened further and he looked up at the rest of the room.

“Practice is over, everyone go home. Except for her, I’ll be waiting with her for her mother, to talk about her behavior,” he informed everyone, glaring back down at you, and you just straightened your ponytail, grinning up at him as the junior coaches gathered their things. You pushed yourself to your feet, walking to the locker room to change, pleased with yourself for getting out of practice an hour early, and for riling Coach Tucker up.

You had just changed out of your leotard, throwing it in your bag along with your sports bra and underwear, letting your hair down from your ponytail as you turned to walk towards the showers. Before you could, you were slammed up against the wall, albeit rather gently, but still hard enough to make you gasp.

Coach Tucker’s bright blue eyes were full of anger and disapproval, all of it directed at you. You could feel your heart beating faster as he yanked you away from the wall and pushed you down onto the bench, making you straddle it.

“You fucking brat, you just couldn’t fucking wait for practice to end could you?” Coach Tucker asked, pushing you down so your torso was on the bench, kicking your feet apart and forcing your hips up, yanking you backwards until you had to wrap your arms around the bench to hang on.

“You’re such a pathetic slut, desperate for your Coach’s cock, huh? That all you were thinking about when you decided to mouth off to me? Thinking about this?” Coach Tucker punctuated his question with a slap of his dick to your bare pussy, before pushing in, making you yelp. “Oh, don’t gimme that, you can take it.”

By the time he bottomed out, you were breathless, body heaving in his hands. “That’s it, that’s a good slut, take it all, just like you were made to do. Perfect fucking pussy, just like that, nice and tight.”

“Then fuck me, Lance,” you whined, and he slapped your ass hard. You shouted, and he fisted your hair, pulling your head back until his lips were at your ear.

“Never tell your Coach what to do,” he warned, then dropped your head and gripped your hips. Lance pulled his dick out all the way then slammed it back in your cunt, making you scream. His dick stretched you out, filling you so completely, you were in tears immediately, begging him to slow down, overwhelmed with feeling.

“Coach please, it's too much! I’m gonna come!” You cried, his dick hammering your spot, making you see stars.

“Don’t you fucking dare. Brats don’t get to come before their coaches,” Lance spat harshly, fucking you harder, nearly lifting you off the floor as he lifted your hips up higher. You squealed, unable to hold back, and you came, dripping down your thighs onto the floor.

Lance didn’t stop, continuing to fuck you mercilessly through your orgasm until it hurt, until you were coming dry. Only then did he finally pull out, coming in hot stripes across your back and ass, your sobbing cries drowned out by his moan of satisfaction. He let go of your shaking hips, your legs folding immediately, you kneeling on the locker room floor, trembling and crying as you looked up at Lance.

“That’s it, just like that,” he murmured, and aimed his spent dick at your face. You closed your eyes, tears flowing relentlessly anyways, and felt his piss land on your cheeks, then your lips, your tits, before going back to your face, spraying you completely. It finally trickled down to nothing and Lance stood there for a moment while you cried. He grabbed your chin, forcing you to look into his steely blue eyes.

"I am who you listen to, I am the one in charge. You belong to me, baby."

Then he was moving, stripping his clothes, going into the showers and turning them on, before coming back and bending down to gather you in his arms. He picked you up easily, carrying you into the running water, and helping to hold you upright as the water began washing away his fluids.

“Come on baby, easy now, don’t fall asleep on me, I still gotta get you clean,” Lance murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead and wrinkling his nose at the smell of his piss in your hair. “Alright now, that’s my girl, let’s get that soap nice and sudsy, make you feel all better, princess.”

You swayed where you stood, falling into Lance’s arms more, as he did his best to wash you up while holding most of your weight. You wrapped your arms around his neck and nuzzled into his chest when he turned off the water, lifting you up and putting your legs around his waist. He carried you that way, like a child, back into the locker room, where he sat down on a towel on the bench, using another towel to start drying you off.

"There we go, my girl's all clean now, such a pretty little thing you are," Lance cooed, stroking your cheeks. You smiled dopily, your body sagging, only held up by his hold on you. “My sweet princess, let’s get finished up here and get you some food, huh? Whatever you want baby, just this once.”

You were floating, but you nodded anyways, leaning forwards and nuzzling into your boyfriend’s neck, mouthing at the skin and sucking light marks into it. “Thanks Coach,” you murmured, and Lance kissed the side of your head, wrapping his arms around your bare back, hugging you to him.

“Anytime princess. You know I’ll take care of you, however I want.”

#rose writes #lance tucker #lance tucker smut #lance tucker x reader #lance tucker x y/n #lance tucker x you #smut #no y/n

38 notes · View notes

voxofthevoid · 5 months

Text

Surprise Rut Wednesday #4: Gojou Satoru has entered the chat.

For an endless moment, all Kento can do is stare.

His mind stalls and stutters, failing to compute the reality of Gojou Satoru in the flesh in his bedroom. And the longer he stares, the more evident it becomes that Gojou’s been here for a while—at least long enough to make himself comfortable. He’s sitting on the swivel chair that was tucked against the table in one corner of the room, having dragged it close enough to the bed for him to prop both feet on the mattress.

Somehow, it’s the innocuous sight of his sock-clad feet that drives Kento’s current reality home.

He drags his eyes up the length of Gojou’s body, from the long legs stretched out between the bed and the chair to the dark blindfold pooled at the base of his throat. He lingers there a moment, uncomfortably aware of the weight of the eyes waiting for him as well as the state of his own body. Itadori is a solid line of heat against his back…and inside him. His cock is mostly soft but no less intrusive for it, and focusing on it is a mistake because Kento’s walls clench around it, his own cock stirring between his legs in helpless response.

He raises his eyes to Gojou’s, breath stilling in his throat at the sight of that inhuman brightness.

Kento spent several of his formative years with near-constant exposure to those eyes, every shade of blue in the world condensed to obscenity. He learned early on to smother the instinctive flare of unease at the sight.

He finds he can’t do it now, the Six Eyes lit from within in a way that’s wholly unfamiliar.

Gojou’s question echoes in his skull.

“Gojou-san,” Kento rasps, voice thick with sleep and worse, “I—”

He cuts off with a strangled sound as Itadori moves, and it’s nothing extreme, just a shift of the hips that’s considerably tamer than the unconscious affair that woke Kento god-knows-how-many hours ago, but his cock isn’t so soft anymore, thickening and lengthening inside Kento to dig into hurts old and new.

Not for the first time, Kento feels like he’s discovering internal muscles he didn’t know existed.

“Huh,” Gojou says. “Guess he’s waking up.”

Except he isn’t. Kento is intimately familiar with the way Itadori moves—awake, asleep, and all the states in between. These lazy, rutting motions and the idle nuzzling against Kento’s nape are all the actions of a boy who’s still blissfully dead to the world.

And Gojou doesn’t take long to realize that either.

“Or not.” That’s followed by a long inhale, and it’s almost certainly exaggerated for Kento’s benefit, but there’s something dangerously authentic about the way Gojou’s flutter half shut, leaving only slivers of vicious blue to lance through Kento. “He’s trying to soothe you. Isn’t that sweet?”

Nothing about Gojou’s tone suggests he finds this sweet.

But he’s not wrong either. Itadori’s scent is rising and rising, smothering the sweeter notes of the alien, unwelcome scent Kento woke to, and they’re not gone, Gojou’s pheromones, but Itadori drenches the air in enough of his essence to drown out everything else, and Kento finds himself both relieved and concerned. Gojou’s expression is sharp and shrewd—a smiling mouth crowned by cold eyes. His nostrils flare again, and Kento becomes aware of the telltale throb of his throat and thighs, his body’s answer to the flood of Itadori’s pheromones.

Kento tries to ignore all of it—his body, Itadori’s body.

“Gojou-san,” he tries again, and by some miracle, his voice comes out steady, “I assume Shouko-san told you about the situation.”

“Well, she left out a few key details,” Gojou says, that scimitar of a smile widening. “Or did she? You didn’t tell her, did you? For shame, Nanami.”

Shame, huh?

Kento doesn’t need Gojou to tell him that. Even the hard cock he’s now impaled on is an unnecessary reminder.

“I take it you came to fetch Itadori-kun,” Kento says evenly.

“I sure did,” he confirms, all faux cheer. “Now, I don’t know. I’d hate to do that when Yuuji seems so…attached.”

Every word is serrated and suggestive, but even worse is the way Gojou’s eyes flicker to Kento’s groin, a pale eyebrow rising in some foul blend of surprise and mockery. Kento knows with damning certainty that he’s seeing more than he should, those cursed eyes not limited by line of sight.

It’s impossible, then, to ignore the cock inside him and the boy it’s attached to.

Itadori isn’t moving with any real intent, but it’s still movement. One of his arms is draped over Kento, and his fingers twitch against his stomach like they want to hold him. The rest of him is no less gentle, rocking against and into Kento, and he’d dismiss it as sleepy lust if not for the low, barely audible croon that’s started up, bursting in sweet slivers of air and noise against his nape. The pheromonal storm raging in the room makes it very clear what Itadori is trying to do, and it’d have worked any other time, as Kento knows from unfortunate experience, but not now, not with Gojou here.

Stop, Itadori, Kento thinks, knowing it’s useless.

Itadori isn’t even conscious. His instinct-driven body is only trying to help.

And Gojou knows it and shows it too, from the keen eyes to the sharp mouth.

“You smell so stressed, Nanami,” he says, tone anything but concerned. “You’ll make him upset if you keep this up. Alphas are very sensitive, you know. Should I help?”

Kento briefly screws his eyes shut. “Please don’t.”

“Don’t be like that,” Gojou murmurs, dangerously soft, and when Kento opens his eyes, alarm bells blaring in his mind, it’s to the sight of Gojou unzipping his jacket, the glossy black material splitting open all the way to the navel. He’s clothed underneath, of course, in some tight, clinging thing that leaves nothing to the imagination, but it’s the newly bared throat that snags Kento’s attention.

As if on cue, Gojou tilts his head to the side. Kento realizes with slow, dawning horror that the juncture of his neck and shoulder, where scent glands thicken the skin, is tellingly wet.

“Don’t,” he breathes, futility numbing his mouth. “Gojou-san—”

Gojou rolls his sleeves up, exposing his wrists—and the scent glands there. They’re smaller and weaker, but they’re also a piece of anatomy that Kento’s lacking entirely, and a single, searing second is all it takes for Gojou’s scent to suffuse the room, blending with Itadori’s and drowning out Kento’s.

He smells like a storm—sharp and electric.

He smells like threat.

Kento’s own throat and thighs flare hot in instinctive response, a pheromonal surge that leaves him dazed and panting, and it’s one hell of a way to find out his body seems to think Gojou’s competition.

Itadori’s reaction is worse.

A low growl is all the warning Kento gets before he’s rolled onto his front in a violent movement, Itadori’s entire body weight landing on him, and that would be nothing, nothing at all, but Itadori’s cock, it’s—

Kento shouts as he’s filled in a single thrust, the few inches of flesh Itadori had yielded to the sudden switch in positions savagely retrieved, and he doesn’t stop, rutting into Kento like a mad thing, and this is nothing like the lazy motions earlier, all intents to soothe superseded by the instinct to take, and Kento knows this hunger, he’s borne it often enough for its heat to be engraved into his flesh, but—

“Ah,” Gojou says flatly. “Maybe I overdid it.”

Kento hisses through clenched teeth, and he needs a long moment, a few shuddering breaths, to make sure his voice won’t waver to the rhythm of Itadori’s thrusts when he speaks: “You’re still doing it. Stop.”

Gojou laughs. “What, don’t you like my scent? Yuuji seems to. But then, he clearly likes yours too. Greedy boy, isn’t he?”

#nanaita #goyuu #jjk snippets #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #wip wednesday #my fic #fic: flesh is the only virtue #nanagoyuu

33 notes · View notes

silentwillowwhisperer · 1 year

Text

Adam

Guys. What if Adam didn’t die?

I’m just going to pretend that the paladins went to earth after Zarkon, Honerva, and aaall of those other random people are successfully defeated.

There’s cursing in this if that bother youuu.

———-

It has been a long, long time since the paladins set foot on Earth.

There’s so many people they want to see.

But for Keith, there’s only one.

Their lions land steadily on the desertous land behind they garrison. A small crowd of people in orange and gray uniforms come out to see why there are multicolored robotic wildcats in their backyard.

Keith walks out of black’s mouth and tells, “Adam!”

The man looks at him and breaks into a wide grin. “Oh my god. Keith you idiot! You’re safe!”

Adam levels him with an icy glare and slaps him across his cheek. Keith rubs at the spot and pretend to be more hurt than he really is. Adam has every right to be mad, it’s not every day that your little brother runs off without warning and disappears for 5 years.

Then they hug again, and this time they sink to the ground in a tiny huddle. Adam wraps his arms around Keith’s head like he’s shielding him from the world, just like he used to years ago when the first met.

Both of their shoulders are shuddering, and they exchange find words. Keith’s family may be small, but once he accepts someone, he’ll never let them go.

The moment is broken when Shiro shuffles over.

He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “Umm.. hey.”

Adam looks up, and they both stare at each other. Their eyes are filled with hurt and longing, but neither acknowledges it.

Shiro extends his robotic arm. Adam raises a brow as he stares at the appendage. That wasn’t there before Shiro left Earth. He knows that he broke up with Shiro years ago, but he could never move on knowing that Shiro was hurt, or worse.

And now he had the audacity to waltz right up to Adam and ruin his moment with Keith.

He accepts the handshake, and all of the emotion filters out of his eyes.

Shiro had chosen to leave Adam, and chosen to leave Keith. Both boys had spent long nights under a shared blanket sobbing together over him before.

Keith has clearly forgiven him, because loosing someone as important as Shiro hit him hard. Adam is so angry that Shiro could this to their brother, never mind himself.

Keith is over this already. He hates to see his brothers/parental figures so in love but so wounded at the same time.

He finally speaks up. “Damn, there’s a lot of tension in here.” He wiggles his eyebrows in a way that he knows makes him look ridiculous, but he would do anything for his family to be happy again.

They both death-stare him and start lecturing him. Keith is very embarrassed that this is happening in front of everyone he knows, but at least the gays are working together again.

Just saying, Adam should be a lawyer.

They both shoot each other longing glances all day, and it drives Keith flipping insane. They think that they are being subtle, it’s so obvious.

Lance eventually comes to Keith with Hunk, Pidge, and Allura trailing close behind, and asks what is going on between them.

Keith feels slightly guilty telling the story of the ex-fiancés without their permission, but if they’re going to put Keith through this torture, then they have it coming for them.

All he wants is for things to go back to how they used to be. But at this rate, it’s unlikely.

Keith finds Adam staring out at the sunset from a cliff. Anyone else would have struggled to find him, but Keith knows that this is Adam’s favorite place to look at the sky and generally relax.

Keith sits down next to the brunette, his legs hanging off of the cliff.

They don’t say a word to each other, but Adam is calmed by the younger boy’s presence.

Finally, he speaks.

“I didn’t want it to end like this. I knew that if I stayed with Shiro, if I had encouraged him to go on that trip even with his condition, and then if he had died, that I would never be able to live with myself. I asked him to stay with me, I made him choose between us and that stupid mission. And you know what? He chose to leave us here to deal with our grief alone. I know you hate blaming him for things, but it’s the truth.”

Keith looks down at the rock below him. The setting sun has turned it a glowing orange, and he is reminded of all the times he and Shiro went racing all over this desert. Not a day has gone by since Shiro left them that Keith has not felt the clawing betrayal in him chest. He used to think that Shiro would never leave him like all of the people in his past, but Shiro had proven him wrong.

It hurt.

Still, Keith defends him. “Well, I left you too. You aren’t mad at me, right?”

Adam looks at him seriously.

“You know I will never be mad at you for trying to save the people you love. I know you would do it for me. And don’t you deny it, you have the biggest heart of anyone I know, even if you try to hide it under thorns and biting words.”

Adam’s shoulders slump from their normally upright posture, like he’s being weighted down by the past.

“I wasn’t ready to move on. 15 guys, Keith. I’ve dated 15 Gus because you know I’m a hopeless romantic, but all I can think about is you brother. Where is he? Is he hurt ? Is he alive? Has he changed? Does he still love me?”

Adam’s voice cracks horribly in the last sentence. It wrenches into Keith’s gut, but the words cannot be stopped once they are released.

“Because you know what?” Adam is yelling now. “I FUCKING LOVE TAKASHI SHIROGANE! I HAVE ALWAYS LOVED HIM, AND I WILL NEVER SYOP LOVING HIM!”

His words echo down the valley before fading away.

Tears flood his eyes and dampen his cheeks. Keith wraps his arms around him tightly and just lets him cry.

In an ideal world, this would have never happened, but dating Shiro always will be a wild ride.

“Let him prove himself, Adam. He misses you so much. He knows you were right, but you know him. He’s too proud to admit it.”

The next day, Keith is a zombie. His warring thoughts had kept him up all night, and now he can barely see straight.

Lance’s arm around his waist is the only thing keeping him upright, but he feels so much freer after talking to Adam.

He’s so out of it that he doesn’t notice Shiro approaching him until he’s being wrapped up in a warm embrace.

“You are the best little brother ever. Thank you, Otōto.”

#vld #keith kogane #voltron legendary defender #voltron #keith vld #vld keith #takashi shirogane #adam vld #adashi #shiro vld #tawny post

80 notes · View notes

mostesteemedgingeroverlord · 3 days

Text

It’s about to be my birthday and I just keep thinking about how *much* the last year has been.

I lost my darling grandfather, but I’m slowly getting my dad back. Or maybe just truly having him for the first time. But that’s also mostly happening be he’s been sick for months, which is making him reevaluate a lot.

My parents are closer and healthier than ever, but they’re also barely scraping by because Dad can’t work.

My aunt who I have been very close to as an adult said some really hurtful things to me when Granddad was dying and now there’s a weird distance between us that I don’t know how to breach. But as I was crying about that my mom called me and told me how proud she was of me and how much it meant to her that I was there taking care of Granddad when she couldn’t.

My oldest brother is growing ever distant and into someone I’m afraid won’t be a kind and gentle man. But my younger brothers and sisters are growing kinder and wiser and, God, I am more hopeful for them than I have been in years.

My friend who I went to college with and have traveled the world started fighting with other friends and pulling away from us. But my friend who moved away last summer has become closer than when she was here and now we’re going to travel together (provided my finances become less bottom up lol).

I’ve given up on the idea of best friends (I was never too keen on it to begin with) and I’m trying to ride the waves of closeness as they come, bc very few of my close friends have remained the same for the last year. Even fewer the last five. I could certainly count them on one hand. But that’s okay! You can’t always love a lot of people and love them all equally well. At the end of the day, we’re finite and we most affect and are most affected by the people in our lives day to day.

My roommates both moved out (for separate reasons) right as several (more) things on the house went wrong and now I am back to paying for the mortgage by myself with a savings that has been wiped out by weddings and family problems as well as house problems over the last year.

My faith, as always, walks a razors edge, as I wrestle not let truth fall prey to opinion and desire. Trying to understand the things that bewilder me, to be faithful to God, to know and love Him, is slowly becoming easier. Setting down my burden, learning truly to be weak—oh I so hate to be weak— is healing me. In a lancing the wound, cutting out the gangrene, pouring alcohol on the cut kind of way. But in my core, in my heart of hearts, I believe and know (despite all the religious corruption I grew up in), that this Jesus was who he said he was and that truth must decide my life.

I once hiked a trail that I was not in the best shape for. But I had trained for it and was in better shape than I had thought. I got so hungry, but there were enough snacks. I was so thirsty, but we had plenty of water. I got winded, but there was enough time for me to take breaks. My legs were burning, but finally we started to go downhill. My brother got cold, but I had an extra jacket. We got frustrated, but we started to be silly and soon were laughing. I got disheartened, but my brother ran ahead to tell me there was a sign (parking lot one kilometer ahead).

I would not have been strong enough to do that hike unequipped and alone. But I was equipped and I wasn’t alone. Just as I have not been unequipped and alone the past year or the past twenty-five. And I won’t be for whatever’s left.

#this should’ve gone in my journal instead of on tumblr dot com #but I’ve already typed it out here lol #plus only like three people actually read my posts and I know you guys won’t judge my stream of consciousness

12 notes · View notes

awkwardgtace · 10 months

Text

Meeting Your God

Day 6 AU

THIS HAS SPOILERS FOR FF14 ENDWALKER AND PATCH 6.3 (Alliance Raid 2 post story)

Ash and Delphia are scouting ahead of their current group for this series of fights, but it's for some reasons that they want to keep hidden from the others

Meeting Your God

Delphia was excited. The next god to fight was Halone. All the stories she heard while training in Ishgard would be nothing next to this. Her tail whipped behind her and her ears twitched. The Elezen from her training days would never believe the little Miqo’te is the one who got to fight Halone. The Au Ra next to her clearly didn’t share her excitement. They had a glare on their face.

“Ash, I promise this will be fine. It’s just scouting. If we can tell the others what to expect the fight will go better,” she said. Ash groaned, it was clear they disagreed.

“We have faced Nophica, Althyk, and Nymeia together with no scouting. I don’t think we should be doing this. At the very least I don’t think you should be fighting as a Dragoon,” they said. Delphia frowned; this was an argument they’d had a few times already.

“Ash I told you I have to fight Halone of the twelve as a dragoon.” She held up her lance for emphasis. It wasn’t as though she had stopped keeping her gear ready. She also trained with her guild pretty often. Sometimes even getting Estinien to spar, usually with Tataru’s help. She was ready.

“You’ve been fighting as a ninja for all of the others. Halone is the goddess of war. The fight shall be worse than any other, we should not be alone for this.”

Delphia stopped walking and stared up at the tall Au Ra. Sometimes she hated when she couldn’t stare down at them. The house they’d bought in Gridania’s lavender beds gave her a perfect perch usually. Although, they hadn’t been there since the final days were averted. It was too painful to see the home that three of them had put together.

“Ash, we’ll be fine. Rescue me if it looks like things will go wrong and we’ll run. You’re one of the best white mages out there, you’ll keep me alive. Just let’s try this fight with Halone. I can’t just be part of the crowd later,” she said. She couldn’t wait. If they did it with the others everyone would know. She would be asked to leave, G’Raha would convince her to leave. She couldn’t have that.

“Is this truly going to help?” their voice was quiet. It made her shiver, they weren’t just treating it like a strange adventure anymore. They were making her face the truth too. “I know that this-”

“Pray not now.”

She had wrapped her tail around her leg, her ears flat on her head. Ash came up and pulled her into a tight hug. Things hadn’t truly recovered for them, not yet. The final days were horrifying. So many innocent people lost, and they lost one they loved. Nothing had been the same since they watched their partner disappear.

“This won’t bring her back, Halone didn’t-”

“The twelve didn’t help! You know how many nights I begged to bring her back. To show us she was safe. They could have done something… They could have helped. I need to be here to fight them, but Halone… She looked like Halone Ash. I can’t even enter the Holy See… I need to be sure I can face her, that we’ll finish this fight against them. I can’t let them keep me from fighting.”

“We’ll fight, but we leave at the first sign it’s too much.” They pulled back, large hands cupping her face. She leaned into them. “Promise me we’ll leave, I can’t lose you too.”

“I promise. We both live after this and… and maybe we can finally go back home once we’ve faced her. Just live in the memories until the next disaster. The next foray into the world of the voidsent.”

Ash leaned forward and kissed her. It was quick, but their emotion came through like fire. She wouldn’t be able to face this painful reality without them. Thavnair was rebuilding, the entire world was rebuilding. The lopporits were trying to find their place. The final days were stopped. Everything was good, but for the two of them life had been changed in horrible ways. Ways that they were fighting to overcome.

They spent the rest of the walk to Halone holding hands. This was about more than just discovering the truth of the twelve. This was her own chance at revenge. Revenge for the years she spent promising to serve Halone, to fight under her. The nights she prayed and begged for Alessia to be safe. That the disasters had merely separated them. Ash’s grip on her hand was tight, they were thinking the same things.

The battlefield for Halone was open, much like Nophica’s. There didn’t look to be any danger of falling, that made this easier. The goddess hadn’t appeared yet, but they were ready. They could do this. Ash had brought her back from death before. They took the events of the final days so much harder. They couldn’t save someone from their own dynamis destroying them.

“Ready?” she whispered as she squeezed their hand.

With a single nod they released her. Their staff in hand they started casting the spells that would keep her safe. She held her lance forward as she stepped closer. A large woman landed in front of them. The pain was already starting. The same hair and form as the one they lost. The warm feeling of Ash’s magic faltered for only a moment.

“Nophica had warned me there would be an army to fight,” the voice was melodic. She hadn’t heard Halone talk, she didn’t expect a similar voice. The goddess had a change in posture as she focused on the two of them. Almost rigid. “Pray let the battle commence. It shall be one to remember either way.”

Delphia ran forward. The fight began and her own mind started to go numb. Halone had been a guiding light in her time training as a dragoon. She’d been disliked for her heritage. Looked down on for her small stature. Halone pushed her forward at each step. A calming thought of someone who could stand tall, someone she could look up to.

She jumped, aiming to hit that armor Halone wore on her face. She wanted to see the eyes of the goddess she had grown to hate. Hating her was almost strange. Following her brought her to Ash. The Au Ra had traveled to Gridania to train in healing magic. They wanted to see the forests the place was known for. They were why the house they bought was in the lavender beds.

Delphia bounced off when her hit landed. There was no visible crack. It would take time to build up the jump again so she went for quick stabs. Halone was moving slower than she expected. The other gods had all been constant attacks, but Halone was leaving wide openings. Delphia grew desperate to make this goddess take their fight seriously.

“All-piercing spear, drink deep of raging blizzards!”

Another set of warnings how the ice would scan the floor. Ash had to run up next to her. The safest part of this attack was the two of them together. They had tear tracks. This was hard on them too. Delphia reached up to her own face, her gauntlet came back with the frozen tears. The ice attacks were stopping her own from streaming down her cheeks. It made this easier.

“For glory you must be prepared to render your all!”

Ash ran back and Delphia jumped again. She landed a solid blow on the helm once more. It wouldn’t be impossible to keep this up. She would see Halone’s face, see the face of the goddess who failed. She could remember the day she and Ash had been traveling. When a random woman had been injured. Ash healed her while Delphia fought off the attackers.

“You must do better than that against me.” Halone’s voice sounded strange again. Almost like she was crying. Delphia would never expect that.

A massive spear attack was coming and she had to watch for the safe spot. Running to that location gave her only more time to think, to remember. The brown eyes sparkling as they talked. Night-sky hair that she spent time helping to free of blood. The laughter when the new woman had never heard of such normal things as the aesthetician. The excitement with some of it. Ash had even spoken around her quite a bit.

Delphia managed another jump, landing on the helm again. The attacks were landing easily. It didn’t seem right. There was something bigger coming. The goddess of war couldn’t be this easy to defeat. This wasn’t the fight that she wanted, it was… It was as though Halone wanted to lose against her. That wasn’t enough.

“Fight like you mean it, Halone,” she shouted. That caused a reaction from the goddess.

“There is no retreat - only victory or defeat!” Halone screamed.

A pulse of something came from the goddess’s feet. Likely a warning. Ash had stepped forward, she could see them considering a spell. They were ready to rescue her out of danger. As she reached them a ring of icicles appeared behind them. She grabbed their arm and ran to where the icicles spawned. Just as they reached safety icicles spawned where Ash had been standing. This time there was no sign of the goddess going easy.

The icicles continued to appear in a circular pattern growing closer to Halone. Ash prepared spells, the pulsing hadn’t stopped. Another circle of ice appeared, she realized then it wasn’t icicles. Lances of ice were shooting up from the ground. Apt for Halone. She took the chance to do another jump attack, the helm had cracked. This should be enough.

Memories filled her mind as she entered the air. Working as an adventuring party. Taking in anyone who wanted to aid in battle. Yet the three of them were always together. She was their damage, dragoon or ninja once she’d learned of that job. The stone spoke to her in ways the dragoon job stone never did. Then a paladin, the only paladin she and Ash would ever work with.

“Victory must be seized with one’s own hands!” Halone’s voice hadn’t moved. She took aim.

Another attack landed, but this time Ash pulled her away. The rescue spell hadn’t been needed. She could do this, she would win. They’d finally move forward, forget all the pain. Reminisce in the memories that were too painful to see. Ash grabbed her arms and held her facing Halone once the rescue had finished.

“What are you-”

“Look,” they interrupted her.

Delphia watched as the goddess who may even be bigger than the ancients stood with her head straight up. She… she was taking Delphia’s attacks on purpose? That made no sense. Those attacks could cause the helm to shatter, freeing up new spots to injure. Create better openings to defeat the goddess.

“Why…” she whispered.

Ash shook their head, but pulled her into their arms. This fight was over. Together they watched the helm split in half as Halone turned to face them again. Delphia fell to her knees. Now she could see the tears on the goddess’s face. The clear pain in her eyes. The helm fell to the ground cracking the ice at the goddess’s feet. It wasn’t… it wasn’t possible.

“Alessia?” Ash was the one to say it. Delphia shook her head. This wasn’t possible. Alessia was a miqo’te. Adorable ears that twitched all the time. A tail that wrapped around Ash’s horns when she slept. Alessia… was another warrior of light.

Halone didn’t continue the fight. She dropped her weapons, both fading away. This couldn’t be Alessia. Alessia was shorter than Delphia. Halone, the goddess who looked like their lost partner, was gigantic. Taller than even the tallest Roegadyn. This wasn’t Alessia, this was someone else. A goddess playing an awful trick on a follower who used to be devout.

Delphia climbed to her feet. Ash’s hold had already fallen away. It was the opening she needed, the opening she wanted. These battles weren’t meant to be fatal, but this time she’d end the goddess who failed her. She switched her jobstone out, all of it was prepared. She pulled out her daggers and ran forward, she’d punish the twelve for abandoning them.

“Delphia!” Ash shouted. She ignored them, rescue wouldn’t be ready yet. She used a skill to get above Halone, forced the pain in her heart down, and made a move to kill. Except… that didn’t happen.

Halone caught her waist. Two massive hands holding her like a Roegadyn held a Lalafell. She squirmed to escape. There had to be a way to get free. To continue her plan. The twelve abandoned them in the final days, they weren’t there for Bahamut. It was never their power that helped they didn’t get to take credit anymore. She’d make sure at least one was gone, even one that looked like someone she could barely live without.

The goddess moved her until she was cradled against her armored chest. She hated it. It felt like when Alessia hugged her in those last few days. The night just before they fought Zodiark. Before the final days began. Alessia hadn’t gone along on that fight. She said she’d stay back, she’d protect the others.

When they returned Ash found her first. Delphia showed up seconds later, but those precious seconds were too many. She watched Ash desperately trying to heal Alessia as that horrible black smoke took over her body. No creature appeared in the aftermath, Alessia was just gone. The dynamis destroyed the aether of her soul.

The goddess kneeled in front of Ash. She towered even over them, they just barely reached Delphia while Halone crouched. It felt almost normal. Ash near her while she was wrapped in someone else’s arms. This wasn’t Alessia though. It wasn’t their partner and she had to get away. She started to squirm, a massive hand set on her cheek stopped her.

Delphia was forced to stare into brown eyes that looked too much like the ones she lost. She couldn’t even use Ash for support. Their fingers were wrapped around the hand bigger than her head, trying to pull it away. There was no chance for this to work. She should have known better. She couldn’t kill a god, at least not if it was a real god. Something more than Zodiark or the other primals.

“I missed you,” Halone(?) said. Halone couldn’t have missed her. They had never met before. At least not outside of the times Delphia prayed for help. “I missed both of you, but I couldn’t come back.”

“Lady Halone, we have never met. Pray release Delphia. I will make sure the two of us do not continue with the fights. I beg that you forgive her. We both have yet to truly recover from the losses suffered during the final days,” Ash said. Delphia could hear the undertone of fear. That wasn’t her bigger concern.

“No!” Delphia screamed. “Our fight isn’t over! You can’t just decide it’s done!”

“Del, I don’t-”

“Don’t call her that.” Ash was angry, she didn’t even have to be upset. She was angry too though. Only Alessia used her nickname… Alessia gave it to her.

Halone finally changed how she held Delphia. The goddess set her down next to Ash who pulled her close. Together they were left staring up at a face that couldn’t exist. Brown eyes, red lips, tears still trailing down massive cheeks. Bigger than any other race in the world. One of the twelve gods and yet… A carbon copy for the women the two of them loved and lost.

“Ash, Del, it’s me. It’s Alessia,” the goddess said. Delphia had already started shaking her head. It wasn’t possible. “Pray… why would I lie? What… what would Halone have to lie to you about?”

“Ash…” Delphia whispered. Their arms around her grew tighter. A few taps on her hand where they held it. Taps that meant no. They knew what she was thinking, they both wouldn’t risk it. Hope had left them both nearly dead too many times now. Claims that people thought they saw her, belief that she had somehow escaped that awful fate.

“Pray, how can I prove I am who I claim? We bought a home in the lavender beds? You both said I was the only paladin you’d place your faith in? The private moments shared in bed after the hardest battles my loves, two warriors of light, fought?”

“Why are you doing this?” Delphia’s voice was wet with her tears. Ash had already crouched to bury their face in her hair. “Is this punishment for coming to fight you alone? For my attempt to kill you? I thought only the Ascians would be this cruel.”

The goddess’s arms surrounded them. They were pulled forward, pressed against her. Another feeling of normalcy. A feeling of home that shouldn’t exist. If Ash wasn’t holding her, still crying against her, she’d fall for it. Think this was just like before, that their lives could go back to the simple days before the final days began.

“Pray believe me. I wanted to come back, but it wasn’t possible. I had to return to my post as Halone…” the goddess said. Ash tapped her again. They believed the goddess, but it only hurt more. Alessia was Halone? The goddess that Delphia looked to for guidance so often. That she begged to bring her love back. That same person was who she wanted back.

“Why did you come to us?” Ash asked. That caught Delphia off guard. They didn’t usually speak up, but then again this was Alessia. “Why stay as long as you did?”

Alessia let them go. She backed away, standing up to her full height. Three times Ash’s height at least. Just as beautiful as when she was a Miqo’te. Somehow more gorgeous standing so tall. Able to carry both of them easily if she wanted. To take them from here, make the decisions about what happened next. Yet there were still tears dripping from those warm brown eyes.

“I fell in love,” Alessia whispered as she bent over to be closer to them. A hand bigger than her head cupped Delphia’s cheek. An identical one holding Ash. This really was her. Their Alessia. The same one who they watched disappear during the final days. She was alive.

“I don’t understand. How are you Halone? One of the twelve… Why were you left weak by the road if you’re a goddess?” Delphia started to ramble. Everything was too much. The woman she loved was alive. Both her partners were alive. The three of them were together. She wanted to kill this woman. Nothing made sense. “How did you disappear during the final days? What… why couldn’t you come back? What let you stay in the first place?”

A massive thumb wiped away her tears. Ash’s head had moved to rest on her own. Her loves, her partners, all around her. Yet nothing would let them go back. Their home in the lavender beds wasn’t right for a goddess. She’d been so cruel to Halone since Alessia disappeared. They didn’t deserve the happy ending.

“The same reason you’re here now. I have to be a part of these fights. The truth you must learn. After… after I might be able to come home.” Alessia leaned forward, her head was big enough to touch both Delphia and Ash at once. A motion that was reassuring and cruel. “I… the me you knew was something I made. I’d been drawn to both of you for a long time. When I saw your adventures I grew jealous.”

“I didn’t think one of the twelve could be jealous of the rest of us,” Ash muttered. There was mirth in their voice, the comment made Alessia laugh. Delphia was lost, by the twelve was Alessia’s laugh beautiful. Even thinking that felt wrong, swearing the beauty by the beauty itself.

“I’m different. I made that person you knew, a young Miqo’te woman who could live with you. My power had been affected by the final days. The body I’d been using was disrupted and faded away.” A sigh followed by those huge hands disappearing. They pulled Delphia and Ash into a hug again. Alessia’s lips by her ears. “It seemed like the feelings I had were the power behind that creation. I couldn’t be her anymore though. I wanted to see you as myself. I had… I had no way of knowing this would even be possible.”

“What next then?” Delphia pushed back, Ash moved with her. They weren’t letting her go. It seemed they were worried she’d collapse. She probably would without their support. “You’re Halone of the twelve. We’re just… we’re just people that others call warriors of light. Is it all over?”

“No.” Alessia’s voice was loud. Similar to her quips during their battle. “Tomorrow, I fight as I’m expected to. I follow my role until it’s done. Then, once this is all over, I’ll come home. I’ll find a way to be with you both again. Not as Halone, not as the Miqo’te woman who had been lost and confused, but as myself. Alessia, a paladin who aids two warriors of light as they save the world time and again.”

“If you can’t come back?” Ash asked. Their weight against Delphia grew, they were worried too. That this dream would turn to a nightmare.

“I’ve spoken with Menphina and Nymeia, you two are my loves and my fate.” Alessia lifted them both up, holding them tightly to her chest. “I will be back once this is settled. Once this business I am needed for is over. I can return then. We can go home and be happy. I make no promises I will be a Miqo’te again, I find I like being able to hold you both like this.”

Alessia laughed again. It caused both her and Ash to laugh along. Alessia was alive. Their grief could be over. Ash even loosened their hold, but that reminded Delphia of one thing. She slid from their grasp and reached a hand up to Alessia. The giant woman crouched until her cheek met Delphia’s small hand.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. Brilliant brown eyes were shining in front of her. Ash had followed her, their hand pressed on Alessia’s other cheek. “You heard my prayers and curses didn’t you?”

“I… Try as I did I could not avoid them.” Alessia’s voice was a whisper. Ash moved closer, pressing their forehead into her cheek. “I tried not to listen closely, I did not deserve to hear your words.”

“I’m so sorry. The things I’ve said… Pray, let me prove to you I had never meant to hurt you. Once we’re home I shall show you the truth of my feelings.”

“Alessia, I apologize as well. I have made my own cruel prayers.” Delphia jumped hearing Ash say that. They had tried to convince her not to blame Halone and yet they also blamed her. “You did not deserve the anger or pain from our hearts blasting your own ears.”

Tears rolled down the goddess’s face. Flashes of pain and relief in her eyes. Their words must have been akin to swords stabbing through her hundreds of times.

The remainder of the time was spent in silence together. Alessia had eventually shifted to hold them both. Her armor had been taken off and it was like the night before Zodiark. Before their lives changed. It was unbelievable to have her back. Unfortunately they had to leave. Sneaking back to camp where everyone would prepare for the fight the next day.

The trip to the battle was faster with their group. Everyone was anxious to fight the goddess of war. Delphia and Ash were towards the back this time. The fight would be exciting, Alessia promised a true challenge this time. There was a moment when the group reached the battlefield that Delphia worried the night before was a dream. Except she could see the mark on the helm where she’d cracked it. Everyone took their places, Ash squeezed her hand as she went to her spot. Alessia as Halone smiled, Delphia knew it was at them.

“I, the Fury, shall test your strength of spirit.”

14 notes · View notes

holylulusworld · 2 years

Text

Precious Metal (4) - Snippet

Summary: Lance is still an asshole. You still hate him. This doesn’t stop you from letting him do dirty things to you…

Pairing: Lance Tucker x fem!Reader

Warnings: language, banter, love-hate relationship, Lance is still an ass, light smut (unprotected), dirty talk, there is a hint of fluff

<< Part 3

“I told you to get lost,” you can’t believe Lance came to your apartment a month ago and didn’t leave since then. It was fun to toy with him at first, but lately, you realize, he was serious about marrying you. “Don’t you have a champion to train?”

“Maggie is fine with my co-trainer,” Lance eagerly tugs at your panties and tries to get you bare again. “Let me have my way with you. I want to fuck you over the kitchen counter this time.”

“Tucker last time was the last. I was bored and your dick was around. Now, leave my apartment and don’t come back,” crossing your arms over your chest you glare at Lance. You don’t think he can be a good boyfriend, so you need to get rid of him. “I mean it, Lance.”

“Nah, you love taking my dick, kitten,” he smirks, knowing you cannot resist him for too long. “Move in with me, Y/N. I got a big house and an even bigger bedroom. We could fuck every morning, evening, and during lunch break.”

“Everything is about sex to you,” you roll your eyes as he takes his shirt off, dropping it carelessly to the ground. Your eyes are glued to his crotch, and you hate yourself for it, you can already feel yourself grow wet for him. “I’m warning you, Tucker.”

“I’ll take my pants off and give you the gold again,” wishing you could resist the grinning bastard taking his pants off you close your eyes for a moment. “Come here, kitten…”

“Lance, I want more than sex from a relationship. And, I don’t want an unfaithful partner,” he grasps for your hand to bring it to his aching cock. “Christ, Tucker.”

“Kitten, you will wear my ring soon enough and I’ll only feed your kitty with my dick,” he guides your hand up and down his length now. “Feel what you are doing to me? I couldn’t even bang Maggie after she threw herself at me. I came here to fuck you and never left.”

“Do you honestly think that I’m going to marry you, Tucker,” he moves your hand to his chest, smirking as you dig your nails into his skin. “Hope was right, you are an annoying bastard.”

“Kitten, stop being a brat,” you squeak as he twirls you around to bend you over the kitchen counter. “Fuck, look at this.” He groans deeply as he kicks your legs apart to get a good look at your soaked panties. “If you don’t want me to give you dick, why are you so wet?”

“I watched porn this morning,” you stick your ass out, lying shamelessly. Giving in one last time can’t be too bad. Right? “Now leave my house.”

“Nah, I’ll do something better, Y/N,” your panties end up on the ground. “Just relax and open up for the god of gymnastics, kitten. You need to enjoy the good things in life more often.”

“Let me go,” you complain as Lance runs his cock through your folds. “Fucker Tucker!” he slips the tip in, savoring the moment he spears you open.

”That’s the best cunt I ever had, kitten. Do you know how good it feels having you wrapped around my cock?” Lance starts with shallow thrusts to slowly open you up for him. “I saw the perfect ring last week.”

You grip the edge of the kitchen counter and enjoy the ride. It’s not wrong to want an orgasm or two after enduring a stressful week at work. “Make it worth my time, Tucker.”

“Sweet kitten, I’ll always make it worth your time…”

“The answer is still no, Lance Tucker,” crossing your arms over your chest you stomp your foot to the ground. You angrily pout at him, hoping he’ll realize you don’t want to marry him.

“Aw, you are shy, that’s cute,” Lance points at the next ring but you only roll your eyes. “How about that one. A heart-shaped diamond in a platinum setting.”

“Tucker, I don’t want to marry you,” he sighs as you barely glance at the ring. “Let’s just go back home.”

“Ah, you want me all by yourself, little kitten,” he flashes you a smile before turning his attention back toward the rings. “Do you like gold more? Stupid, question. I know you love gold.”

“Cocky bastard,” muttering under your breath you force yourself to look at the rings. You sneer as the jeweler shamelessly ogles Lance. She looks him up and down, licking her red lips and you feel the green beast you try to suppress since you met Lance win the upper hand. “I want that heart-shaped one over there. You know, the one you showed me earlier.”

“A nice one,” he hums as you allow him to wrap his arm around your waistline. You even bite your tongue as his hand wands to your ass to grope one cheek roughly. “How about we buy it right now, kitten?”

“Sir, that’s a good choice,” the jeweler coos, her eyes now glued to Lance’s face. “You’ve got a great taste.”

“Of course, I got a great taste,” Lance exclaims loudly. “Just look at my fiancé.” The woman’s face falls, and she hastily gets the ring out of the vitrine to show it to you and Lance. “It will look beautiful on her finger, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, beautiful,” you chuckle as the jeweler watches Lance put the ring on your finger.

“Damn me, baby. It fits,” Lance kisses your hand, smiling against your skin. “Now we can marry.”

“Lance I,” he doesn’t listen to you. He buys the ring, humming happily as you try to find out what just happened. “Tucker, you can’t just buy a ring.”

“I just did,” while you try to not strangle Lance, he wraps his arm around your shoulders to guide you out of the jewelry store. “We should celebrate and have dinner at your favorite restaurant.”

“I don’t know,” still a little shell-shocked you follow Lance toward his car, wondering if you should marry the man opening the door to the passenger seat for you. “Lance we should talk about a few things first…”

“Lance, what are we doing here,” another sigh leaves your lips as Lance guides you into his living room. “Did you even listen?”

“I’m showing my girl around the house we will share. What do you say?” he points at the comfortable sofa stand in front of a fireplace. “Do you like it?”

“I mean, it’s not that bad,” you chuckle. “I expected you to plaster your walls with images of you, and your gold, or mirrors hanging from the ceiling…”

“I keep these in the bedroom,” he smirks as you sit on the sofa. “We can change anything if you want to.”

“We need to talk,” pinching the bridge of your nose you sigh deeply. “I like fucking you, Tucker.”

“Same,” he grins.

“That’s not enough to marry you, Lance. Can you not make everything about sex for once?”

“I-“ he almost chokes on the words he tries to get out. “I like you, not just fucking you. You’re smart, cute, a good lay and if I marry you Hope will be second best to you.”

“I hate you,” hiding your face in your hands you try to ignore that your heart fluttered for a moment at his words.

“Nah, you love me, kitten. I know you do,” he sits next to you to pat your thigh. “You give me heart eyes any time I’m not looking. Now, when do we want to seal the deal.”

“Tucker.”

“Yeah, kitten.”

“Maybe I like you a little,” you grumble.

“I can work with that,” Lance leans closer to kiss your cheek. “How about we christen my brand-new bed tonight and see where this will lead us to?”

“That’s not the worst idea you ever had…”

Tags in reblog.

#lance tucker #lance tucker x reader #lance tucker x you #lance x reader #lance tucker x y/n #lance x you #Precious Metal (4)

119 notes · View notes

istumpysk · 1 year

Text

Operation Stumpy Re-Read

ADWD: Tyrion IX (Chapter 40)

Patient and sure-footed, she accepted Tyrion with hardly a squeal when he clambered onto her back, and remained motionless as he reached for shield and lance. Yet when he gathered up her reins and pressed his feet into her side, she moved at once. Her name was Pretty, short for Pretty Pig, and she had been trained to saddle and bridle since she was a piglet.

[...]

Easy as falling off a pig … though falling off this particular pig was harder than it looked. Tyrion curled into a ball as he dropped, remembering his lesson, but even so, he hit the deck with a solid thump and bit his tongue so hard he tasted blood.

+.+.+

Tyrion unbuckled his helm, twisted it off, and spat a gobbet of bloody pink phlegm over the side. "It feels as though I bit through half my tongue."

"Next time bite harder." Ser Jorah shrugged. "Truth be told, I've seen worse jousters."

+.+.+

"Caper as you like, it won't wash out your crimes. Daenerys Targaryen is no silly child to be diverted by japes and tumbles. She will deal with you justly."

Oh, I hope not. Tyrion studied Mormont with his mismatched eyes. "And how will she welcome you, this just queen? A warm embrace, a girlish titter, a headsman's axe?" He grinned at the knight's obvious discomfit. "Did you truly expect me to believe you were about the queen's business in that whorehouse? Defending her from half a world away? Or could it be that you were running, that your dragon queen sent you from her side? But why would she … oh, wait, you were spying on her." Tyrion made a clucking sound. "You hope to buy your way back into her favor by presenting her with me. An ill-considered scheme, I'd say. One might even say an act of drunken desperation. Perhaps if I were Jaime … but Jaime killed her father, I only killed my own. You think Daenerys will execute me and pardon you, but the reverse is just as likely. Maybe you should hop up on that pig, Ser Jorah. Put on a suit of iron motley, like Florian the—"

The blow the big knight gave him cracked his head around and knocked him sideways, so hard that his head bounced off the deck. Blood filled his mouth as he staggered back onto one knee. He spat out a broken tooth.

The only good thing Jorah Mormont will ever do.

+.+.+

"Are you a maid, Penny?"

She blushed. "Yes. Of course. Who would have—"

"Stay that way. Love is madness, and lust is poison. Keep your maidenhead. You'll be happier for it, and you're less like to find yourself in some dingy brothel on the Rhoyne with a whore who looks a bit like your lost love." Or chasing across half the world, hoping to find wherever whores go. "Ser Jorah dreams of rescuing his dragon queen and basking in her gratitude, but I know a thing or two about the gratitude of kings, and I'd sooner have a palace in Valyria."

Take your own advice, big brain.

+.+.+

She is young, Tyrion had to remind himself, as Penny scrambled from the galley and up the steep wooden steps as fast as her short legs would allow. Almost a child. Still, it tickled him to see her excitement. He followed her topside.

By the way, today I learned the fandom hates Penny.

Yes that's right, the fandom read these chapters and concluded it's Penny they don't like.

+.+.+

But when he clambered up the ladder to the sterncastle and looked off from the stern, his smile faltered. Blue sky and blue sea here, but off west … I have never seen a sky that color. A thick band of clouds ran along the horizon.

[...]

He was surprised to find that Moqorro and two of his fiery fingers had joined them on the sterncastle. It was only midday, and the red priest and his men did not normally emerge till dusk. The priest gave him a solemn nod. "There you see it, Hugor Hill. God's wroth. The Lord of Light will not be mocked."

Tyrion had a bad feeling about this. "The widow said this ship would never reach her destination. I took that to mean that once we were out to sea beyond the reach of triarchs, the captain would change course for Meereen. Or perhaps that you would seize the ship with your Fiery Hand and take us to Daenerys. But that isn't what your high priest saw at all, is it?"

"No." Moqorro's deep voice tolled as solemnly as a funeral bell. "This is what he saw." The red priest lifted his staff, and inclined its head toward the west.

Moqorro is one for one on correctly interpreting his visions.

Sorry Mel.

+.+.+

Tyrion and Penny watched from the forecastle, huddled by the figurehead and holding hands, careful to stay out of the way of captain and crew.

Oh please.

+.+.+

It was a futile effort. This storm was too big. The seas around them grew rougher. The wind began to howl. The Stinky Steward rose and fell as waves smashed against her hull. Behind them lightning stabbed down from the sky, blinding purple bolts that danced across the sea in webs of light. Thunder followed. "The time has come to hide." Tyrion took Penny by the arm and led her belowdecks.

So many of my favourite words.

+.+.+

There are worse ways to die than drowning. Your brother learned that, and so did my lord father. And Shae, that lying cunt. Hands of gold are always cold, but a woman's hands are warm.

[...]

Drowning is bad enough, he reflected sourly, but drowning sad and sober, that's too cruel.

In the end, they did not drown … though there were times when the prospect of a nice, peaceful drowning had a certain appeal. The storm raged for the rest of that day and well into the night. Wet winds howled around them and waves rose like the fists of drowned giants to smash down on their decks.

Including for those who think Tyrion will drown.

I should point out it's possible Arya's Sailor's Wife chapter originally came before or after this.

+.+.+

"When you were a little girl, did you ever play come-into-my-castle?"

"No. Can you teach me?"

Could he? Tyrion hesitated. Fool of a dwarf. Of course she's never played come-into-my-castle. She never had a castle. Come-into-my-castle was a game for highborn children, one meant to teach them courtesy, heraldry, and a thing or two about their lord father's friends and foes.

Not a big fan of this game or her virginity being brought up in this chapter.

He hopped down from the dais and grabbed Sansa roughly. "Come, wife, time to smash your portcullis. I want to play come-into-the-castle." - Sansa III, ASOS

+.+.+

"That game won't do," Tyrion told her, gritting his teeth. "Sorry. I don't know what game—"

"I do." Penny kissed him.

PENNY NO!

+.+.+

It was an awkward kiss, rushed, clumsy. But it took him utterly by surprise. His hands jerked up and grabbed hold of her shoulders to shove her away. Instead he hesitated, then pulled her closer, gave her a squeeze. Her lips were dry, hard, closed up tighter than a miser's purse. A small mercy, thought Tyrion. This was nothing he had wanted. He liked Penny, he pitied Penny, he even admired Penny in a way, but he did not desire her. He had no wish to hurt her, though; the gods and his sweet sister had given her enough pain. So he let the kiss go on, holding her gently by the shoulders. His own lips stayed firmly shut. The Selaesori Qhoran rolled and shuddered around them.

Finally she pulled back an inch or two. Tyrion could see his own reflection shining in her eyes. Pretty eyes, he thought, but he saw other things as well. A lot of fear, a little hope … but not a bit of lust. She does not want me, no more than I want her.

I have to take this opportunity to remind you all the curtain of light brigade theorize 17 to 19-year-old Penny is Tyrion's child. They're convinced.

The evidence supporting this? She's a dwarf.

+.+.+

"It was sweet," lied Tyrion, "but I am married. She was with me at the feast, you may remember her. Lady Sansa."

"Was she your wife? She … she was very beautiful …"

And false. Sansa, Shae, all my women … Tysha was the only one who ever loved me. Where do whores go? "A lovely girl," said Tyrion, "and we were joined beneath the eyes of gods and men. It may be that she is lost to me, but until I know that for a certainty I must be true to her."

False. Mother fucker, who chose to marry the child hostage?

I love how Penny is practically speechless after learning this.

+.+.+

The wind returned as a whispered threat, cold and damp, brushing over his cheek, flapping the wet sail, swirling and tugging at Moqorro's scarlet robes. Some instinct made Tyrion grab hold of the nearest rail, just in time. In the space of three heartbeats the little breeze became a howling gale. Moqorro shouted something, and green flames leapt from the dragon's maw atop his staff to vanish in the night. Then the rains came, black and blinding, and forecastle and sterncastle both vanished behind a wall of water. Something huge flapped overhead, and Tyrion glanced up in time to see the sail taking wing, with two men still dangling from the lines. Then he heard a crack. Oh, bloody hell, he had time to think, that had to be the mast.

Crack. There goes the ship.

Goodness me, everything about this storm seems dragon coded.

Crack.

The whip made a sound like thunder. - Daenerys III, AGOT

"Once there were two moons in the sky, but one wandered too close to the sun and cracked from the heat. A thousand thousand dragons poured forth, and drank the fire of the sun. That is why dragons breathe flame. One day the other moon will kiss the sun too, and then it will crack and the dragons will return." - Daenerys III, AGOT

She heard a crack, the sound of shattering stone. The platform of wood and brush and grass began to shift and collapse in upon itself.

[...]

And there came a second crack, loud and sharp as thunder, and the smoke stirred and whirled around her and the pyre shifted, the logs exploding as the fire touched their secret hearts. She heard the screams of frightened horses, and the voices of the Dothraki raised in shouts of fear and terror, and Ser Jorah calling her name and cursing.

[...]

The third crack was as loud and sharp as the breaking of the world. - Daenerys X, AGOT

+.+.+

Rain lashed at his face, blinding him. His mouth was full of blood again.

+.+.+

By the time the storm abated and the surviving passengers and crew came crawling back on deck, like pale pink worms wriggling to the surface after a rain, the Selaesori Qhoran was a broken thing, floating low in the water and listing ten degrees to port, her hull sprung in half a hundred places, her hold awash in seawater, her mast a splintered ruin no taller than a dwarf. Even her figurehead had not escaped; one of his arms had broken off, the one with all his scrolls. Nine men had been lost, including a mate, two of the fiery fingers, and Moqorro himself.

That figurehead has to be foreshadowing something.

Don't cry for Moqorro, a true hero will save him.

+.+.+

"Prophecy is like a half-trained mule," he complained to Jorah Mormont. "It looks as though it might be useful, but the moment you trust in it, it kicks you in the head. That bloody widow knew the ship would never reach her destination, she warned us of that, said Benerro saw it in his fires, only I took that to mean … well, what does it matter?"

It's amazing how many characters tell the reader not to trust in prophecies (ahem, Azor Ahai), and they just ... don't listen.

<- Jon VIII

A sword without a hilt, with no safe way to hold it. But Melisandre had the right of it. Even a sword without a hilt is better than an empty hand when foes are all around you.

+.+.+

The mate who had assumed command reckoned that they were somewhere off the southern end of the Isle of Cedars. When he lowered the ship's boats to tow them toward the nearest land, one sank and the men in the other cut the line and rowed off north, abandoning the cog and all their shipmates.

"Slaves," said Jorah Mormont, contemptuous.

Scumbag. I can't wait for what they do to him.

+.+.+

That night he dreamed that he was back in King's Landing again, a crossbow in his hand. "Wherever whores go," Lord Tywin said, but when Tyrion's finger clenched and the bowstring thrummed, it was Penny with the quarrel buried in her belly.

Um okay.

+.+.+

"A sail," she shouted, "there, there, do you see? A sail, and they've seen us, they have. A sail."

This time he kissed her … once on each cheek, once on the brow, and one last one on the mouth. She was flushed and laughing by the last kiss, suddenly shy again, but it made no matter. The other ship was closing. A big galley, he saw. Her oars left a long white wake behind her. "What ship is that?" he asked Ser Jorah Mormont. "Can you read her name?"

"I don't need to read her name. We're downwind. I can smell her." Mormont drew his sword. "That's a slaver."

Jorah Mormont's about to learn the author never forgets.

Final thoughts:

Two chapters on the boat. Completely unnecessary, and would not have happened with any other character.

The good news is nine out of twelve of his chapters appear in the front half of the book, leaving the back half mostly void of Tyrion.

The bad news is Barristan Selmy will fill that void.

44 down, 5 to go. :(

-> return to menu <-

#operation stumpy re-read #adwd #tyrion ix

41 notes · View notes

cybernecromancer365 · 1 year

Text

Aloy/Tilda Mini Fic Pt-2

Part 1 Here

Note: Not a drabble anymore. Had to change the title...

Her eyes closed more than once. Some moments in the flight a blur, others, blank lapses in her memory.

The Sunwing touched down in the middle of Varl’s place and she slumped off, falling to her knees when her legs gave. All-Mother spared her again. She stabbed the butt of her lance into the ground and hoisted herself up with a considerable amount of effort this time; the world spinning for a second or more, until colors shifted to blurs.

‘Just get to the door.’

She trudged forward on numb legs; the fleeting sensation of the ground beneath her feet a saving grace. At least she was standing.

Outside the base door, Aloy gathered herself. Tilda couldn’t see her doubled over in pain.

"Game face."

Tilda taught her the catchy saying sometime before the final push to Nemesis, and she couldn’t stop using it. She inhaled but her breath caught on the stabbing ache in her side.

“Come on Aloy.” She shook off the haze and straightened up, taking her hand from her waist as she stepped in.

The base was silent except for the internal hum of machinery, and Tilda was somewhere, waiting for her. She swallowed the sour lump in her throat and stepped into the common area, where her friends and allies used to gather. The door shut behind her and at the sound Tilda hurried out of the hydroponics lab a few doors down, poised to reprimand, but halfway to her Tilda stopped, glancing down with a strange look in her eyes.

Tilda sized her and they shared a gaze, Aloy smiling at the sight of Tilda again in a set of old world clothes. She called them her “work” clothes, and always looked great in that shirt with the buttons and rolled sleeves.

“Aloy…”

Sweat beaded across her brow. Her body hot and cold at the same time, as her grip on the lance numbed.

‘I just need to sit.’ The world closed in around her, her vision tunneling more with each passing moment. She eyed a chair straight ahead but she couldn’t move, her legs couldn’t hold her.

“Aloy!”

Reality was pulled like a rug from beneath her and the next moment Tilda was at her side. Aloy smiled weakly at the image above her. Even in a blur she still knew the shift of Tilda’s face when she was angry.

"…don't get mad—"

“Quiet.”

Aloy closed her eyes and turned her face into Tilda’s shirt. "I'm fine.”

A moment later the world faded away.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

There was only one person in the world she cared about.

…one.

And that one person was bleeding out before her eyes.

She caught Aloy before the huntress face-planted to the floor, but Aloy’s dead weight brought her to her knees. Pale-faced with dull eyes, Aloy looked like a ghost when she returned. Blood dripped to the floor from her side, and she didn’t even try to hide it.

God, she hated it when Aloy omitted important details to “not worry her”. Yes, Aloy used the excuse often. It wasn’t the first, second, or even third time Aloy tried to spare her feelings by hiding her pain.

She eyed the nasty tear in Aloy’s armor and bleeding gash in her skin. It looked like a machine took a bite out of her. The injury was severe, yet, still nothing as horrifying as the aftermath of the final battle with Nemesis.

Nemesis brought Aloy to the gates of hell and back. Aloy made the final push alone, diverting her friends and allies with a clever last-minute deception. By the time they figured out Aloy’s solitary intentions and hurried back to her aid it was too late. They had no option but to watch Aloy fight to the brink of death before their eyes.

Nemesis was her fight, her duty and purpose to destroy the last obstacle to Zero Dawn. She was grateful for the efforts of each ally but wouldn’t let anyone else die helping her in the end.

That’s how Aloy saw it. No one else agreed.

For two weeks following the destruction of Nemesis, Aloy laid in a Zenith stasis chamber. With a deep furrow across her brow Tilda watched Aloy heal, herself a button-press away from forcing the longevity decision. She could’ve rationalized it, telling Aloy it was the “only option” once the huntress woke, but the trust they’d gathered would be lost.

Aloy would hate her for taking away that choice. Frustrating as it was, Aloy had to make the decision herself.

Tilda tossed Aloy's weapons aside and unhooked what she could of Aloy’s gear, anything to make her lighter. Then she dragged the huntress to her room—their room—and went through the motions, laying out the med kit on the desk; her heart beating in her chest no less than the last time Aloy came home torn and bruised.

Aloy wouldn’t die. In her control, death was no longer an obstacle. But the story would’ve been very different had Aloy never made it home. Alone in some forest or slumped against a rock, Tilda pictured all the places Aloy could meet her end.

The disconnected call made her angrier than the gaping wound at Aloy’s side. It could’ve been the last time she heard her voice.

If Aloy loved her, why did she hide so much? She needn’t. Not after all they’ve shared.

She’d watched Aloy age a decade before her eyes; the huntress growing wiser, though she still had much to learn. But new growth wasn’t Aloy’s journey alone. All this time later, and she’d just begun to adapt to this new, primitive world, and Aloy was her constant through ever-changing circumstances.

She couldn’t lose her, but measuring precise doses of Arum was stress-inducing. Each dose differed depending on the situation. It had to be just enough to repair Aloy's wounds but not kill her. Arum, the powerful Zenith healing agent, could end Aloy’s life in minutes if anything went wrong; the risk one of few things in life that made her palms clammy.

At Aloy's side, Tilda injected the wound with a dose of cortizene first—a quick fix steroid. Aloy had been needing it more often, to ease the aches and pains.

Between medications she pulled Aloy out of every piece of armor, an arduous process. Then came that meticulously measured dose of Arum and a clean bandage wrapped around Aloy’s waist.

Tilda pulled the blanket over Aloy; the huntress’s breaths even in her arms as she watched for any sign of intolerance.

Without full longevity treatment, Aloy’s body could still reject the Arum. In line with the cortizene it worked quick, rebuilding tissues and healing traumas. For now, the only thing left to do was wait. She wouldn’t bother the wound again until after Aloy woke, and by then it would only be a fraction of the size, continuing to mend until there was nothing left to heal.

‘I swear, you’ll be the death of me.’

#aloy x tilda #tilda van der meer #aloy #hfw #horizon forbidden west #i genuinely have no idea where this story came from #might have part 3 out tonight #my random bs

13 notes · View notes

autisticlancemcclain · 7 months

Text

fic rec friday 43

hello and welcome to fic rec friday! where, on friday, i rec five of my favourite fics.

These Walls Have Ears by notverystraight

Before Lance’s friends arrive at his apartment for their weekly movie night, Keith is in Hunk’s car on the phone to Lance, trying to explain why they’re late, again. Mid conversation, Keith drops his phone under the seat. Assuming Lance has hung up, Pidge and Hunk start pestering Keith about certain feelings that he may be harboring, leading to some quite personal confessions. Little do they know, Lance has not hung up, and is listening in on every word. Shenanigans ensue.

the second best part of this fic is how sweet and funny this is. this fic is blushy and silly and dorky and so so so!!! it is just fun and garrison trio my love. the BEST part of this fic is lance knowing hes hot shit

2. That Won't Last, He's Gay and She's An Alien by notverystraight

Lance didn’t know what he’d expected to see when he came onto the Garrison’s training deck, but it definitely wasn’t this. Keith was panting with exertion, pinning someone to the ground with the edge of his training sword just brushing their neck. And by someone, Lance meant Acxa, one of Lotor’s old half-Galra generals. Or, Lance walks in on Keith and Acxa sparring. He has not-so-mixed feelings about it.

usually every jealousy trope fic i read induces the PHATTEST eye roll literally of all time but this one made me laugh lol. its just such a ridiculous concept and its fun basically. also krolia lowkey being a thot is hilarious

3. Go the Distance by orphan_account [EXPLICIT]

Keith is a sprinter, Lance runs long distance. Despite not competing against each other directly and despite the fact that they're training to bring glory to the same high school track team, the two end up becoming rivals who are wholeheartedly committed to victory. Along the way, however, they find themselves awfully sidetracked by the other's inspiring legs--er, skills. Much fluff and smut and no angst.

bro lance is SUCH a goober 😭😭 he gets himself into the most embarrassing situations and there is truly no one he can blame but himself. honestly this one is such a fun read and if the explicit warning bothers you, it's not the whole fic! you can easily skip it. the rivalry and getting together is just as fun and stupid as you'd expect from them truly

4. Haunted House Hang-Up by Creatortan

Keith runs a paranormal investigation YouTube channel with his friend, Pidge. Pidge is friends with Hunk, who is friends with Lance, who is very, very haunted. And also, very, very pretty.

oh my LORD i love this. nd team? check. supernatural fuckery? check. cute flowery lance? check. dorky suave keith? check. side of hot firefighter shiro? check. just an 11/10 in general top notch

5. Rambling by Creatortan

Lance was a talkative person, and he thought he had accepted that.

no seriously bc the Can't Shut Up Syndrome is the Worst side effect of adhd and other nd's tbh. i hate the way you're excited and you can feel yourself start to build and trip over your words but it doesn't matter bc it's so background! there's so much cool shit ur sharing!! and then you see the eyeroll or the shrug and it just comes crashing back on you so so quickly and hard and. god. this fic captured that so well

that’s it for today!! i’ll see y’all back next friday for the next fic rec post!!!

#idk what the deal is lately but very few authors have been on tumblr #vld #voltron #lance #lance mcclain #keith #keith kogane #klance #rivals klance #adhd lance #lance is hot #pining keith #pining lance #pining klance #rivals to lovers #fic rec #fic rec friday #frf #longpost

133 notes · View notes

zensations35 · 1 year

Text

Viral Paradox (TVA Loki Part 5)

I give you, part 5!! The focus is going to be on Loki and Thor in this one, and they're both sick >:3 Catch up with part 1, part 2, part 3, and part 4! Things you'll see in this chapter:

-heavy HEAVY whump

-big thematic (and a little cheeky) fight scenes

-&$$#ed up dream sequence based on a real dream

-thunder snz

-big feels

Part 5:

Future Planet

Damn! Damn it all!!

Loki’s footsteps rip across the red dirt, dust clouding his ankles. He scoops up a nearby stone and hurls it across the air. It lances a tree trunk, the bark splitting, flecks of wood flying.

It’s not enough. Loki’s hands form claws and a bubble of energy bursts from him, fanning a radius around him. A shout tears at his throat, ringing his own ears.

Idiots! All of them!

Insults rattle around in his head, each more visceral than the last as he curses each damn Avenger for their stupidity.

How dare they send him away?! Now they will have no hope of survival!

Another thought pings through him. Why do I care? Years ago he was ready to lay waste to that wretched planet. Why should he give two fucks if they all end up dying now?

Loki shivers, teeth grinding together in the ghost of a snarl. He wraps his arms around himself, squeezing his body as if the act will contain his emotions. He tips forward, knees hitting the hard ground.

Fools. The whole lot. They should be grateful. They should be throwing themselves at his feet in gratitude! His vision blurs and he curses himself too.

“Do you weep for them, brother?”

Of course Thor would be here. Of all the times he’s shown up to needle Loki further, this might be the worst. Loki whirls on him, teeth tearing at the wind.

“Now you see my tears?!” he yells, “All those times we were children, you outshone me--every time I did something right, you had to do it more right. Every time you did something wrong, it was my fault!” his voice hitches as he fires his rage at the only person available. And he hates himself for it.

Loki, god of chasing people away…

Thor eases himself down next to Loki, lacing his hands in his lap. “Loki…I’m sorry. When I was young…we were competitive, you and I. One of us would be King.”

“Father never planned to make me King. And after that relic’s prediction, you were convinced as well.”

“Fear of your magic made our youth difficult. But I did always love you. Even when we fought. Even when you were misguided. I always cared for you.”

“Only Mother did not fear my powers.”

“I see her in you,” Thor says. “In every illusion. Every cantrip. Every time you heal.”

“I am not so good at healing as she was.”

Thor rubs his nose and sniffs. Loki chews his cheek worriedly.

“So, where are we?”

Loki places his palms on his legs, “We’re on the Variant’s base planet. He’s hiding here, plotting something. Wait, how did you get here?”

“Stark sent me.”

“He can do that?”

Thor shrugs vaguely and stands. “I imagine this Variant is some sort of villain of time?”

“Well, a bit. It’s a variation of another person, an alternate version of them. This one is…me. A different me.”

“I see. And you have faced him once already?”

Loki nods.

“Very well. We shall…” Thor’s eyes mist, his features pinching as he takes in a mouthful of air. “H-HRSCH!-HNN!” Ribbons of lighting encircle his arms, crackling once and then dissipating.

Loki stands and brushes himself off. “Perhaps you should let me handle this.”

“We are both ill, Loki. And you are more frail than I.”

“Beg your pardon! I am just as capable as you are!”

“On a good day, yes.”

“Look, if anyone is going to be able to fight in a battle while sick, it’s us. So we go together, yeah?”

Thor smiles up at him and they clasp hands, Loki pulling his brother to his feet. “We do. Together.”

They trudge along the packed red earth, bootprints dusting away in the wind every few steps. Every now and then, one of them pauses to cough or sneeze. Thor’s are continuously increasing in volume and danger.

He curls a fist under his nose, pressing against his nostrils as he drags in air, “HHh-HEH-SHHHHuuu!” lightning snaps the ground like a whip, thunderclaps echoing across the region.

Loki swears, “You’re so loud, are you trying to blast open the gates of Hel?”

Thor sniffs, “What do you expect from the god of thunder?”

Loki rolls his eyes.

“Just try to avoid the…hh-thhh-HEIX-TSHHHEU!!” another peal cracks the ground right next to Loki who dances away and glowers at Thor.

“I swear, I get shocked every time you’re sick.��

“Not every time. You’ve been dead often, brother.”

“Point taken.”

They continue a few paces before Thor asks, “Why does Stark call you dust bunny?”

“Thor, if you love me even a little, you will never call me that.”

Thor chuckles.

They approach what seems to be a stunted castle--barely even a fortress. It looks more like a historical landmark. It has turrets and a spindly tower, all dressed in the brown veins of dead ivy.

It's cheesy and ridiculous and Loki would never be caught dead in a place like this. His Variant must be losing his mind.

They enter the castle and find it's nothing more than a maze with only a few larger rooms in each section.

“Do you know where he is?” Thor asks.

“I can send illusions to map out the way.”

“Will that get us caught?”

“Not if you can keep your mouth, and your nose, shut.”

Thor grunts and folds his arms, waiting as Loki transforms into a mouse and splits into a dozen--two dozen--a hundred scurrying mice down the halls while his true form waits patiently on top of Thor’s boot.

Finally, Loki leaps into the air and changes back into his human form, straightening his tie and smoothing his hair.

“Find the way?”

“It was…Hh-XST!” Loki sniffs, pinching his nose, “enlightening. Follow me.”

Their boots echo through the chambers, muscles tensed and ready for attack.

Thor's breath snicks, lip stuttering as his throat rumbles louder "Hhh-Nhhh--”

Loki flings his arm out, fingers curling around Thor’s lips. His index and thumb find his nose, pinching it shut as the breath slinks between Thor's lips.

Thor scrunches his nose, jaw tightening under Loki's grasp. He tips his chin and exhales through Loki's fingers. Satisfied, Loki removes his hand. Close.

They turn into a long hall that leads to a wide archway. Then, a throne room--a shockingly destitute looking one, with merely a two tiered stage and a crumbling throne. Windows have ratty cloth covering the squares of light, only a few beams piercing the tattered holes in the scarlet drapes.

The Variant Loki splays his body across the crumbling throne, his smile so wide and vivid, it should have its own circus show.

As they approach, Loki can see the dark, archaic lines zigzaging down from his eyes--like ink under his skin. His eyes are a soft black, jittery, cutting back and forth between Loki and Thor.

His mouth cracks open, “Are you here to see me conquer death itself?”

The brothers still, rooted to the stone floor. The Variant sways to his feet, magic dripping from his fingers like liquid light. He flicks his fingers at the wall and it spins. The stone rotates, grinding as it reveals a marble table. Thor’s body is stretched out upon it.

Loki’s eyes widen. A variant of Thor?

“What are you doing to him?”

The variant cackles. “Isn’t it obvious?” his limber fingers trail along the corpse. “I intend to raise him from the dead.”

“What?!”

Variant Loki nods, lips tipping down. “I killed him. I regret it. But now I can reverse my mistake.”

“How in the Nine Realms will you do that?”

“It is not much different than what we did in our youth.”

Loki’s voice pitches. “It is completely different! That…that was a fluke of magic. What you’re doing is necromancy.”

The Variant’s eyes flash with rage. “The magic exists. It is my right to claim it!” He spins to the body, blackened ends of his fingers playing at the Variant Thor’s temples in a crown. “Wake up, brother.” A ripple of darkness coats the body, vanishing as quickly as it appeared.

Variant Thor’s eyes fly open, dark starbursts frothing in his irises. He sits up, face blank, eyes glazed. His skin is pale as moonlight, beard an inky black--a monochrome version of the god of thunder.

Loki and Thor backpedal. “You…is he…?”

Variant Loki places a fist on his hip. “His mind is still gone. That is why I wanted the scepter. I cannot bring his mind back without it. But, I can control the body.” He brushes the undead Thor’s shoulders, “Brother dear, would you please capture our guests? I’d like the skinny one alive if possible.”

Loki snorts. Skinny?!

Thor grabs Loki’s hand and tugs him back, but Variant Loki arcs his arms above his head, magic whooshing with his resounding clap.

The world tilts and suddenly, all four of them are outside. Undead Thor grabs what looks like a ghostly skin of Mjolnir and takes off.

Loki feels Thor’s arm wrap around his middle right before his feet lift off the ground. Thor takes off, Mjolnir carrying them through the air. Loki peeks back and sees Thor’s double rushing equally fast on their tail.

“You’re not losing him!”

Thor banks a hard left, jerking Loki with a grunt. He speeds toward the ground and hovers mere feet from it. Loki slips from his grasp and lands on the ground, barely catching his fall.

Thor doesn’t stop. He speeds past Loki, luring the double away.

“Thor!” Loki shouts, rage flushing his neck, “You utter dick!! Don’t you dare leave me behind!!”

But Thor does not return.

Damn him. DAMN HIM!

Loki starts to run, picking up speed until he’s sprinting full out across the field. He leaps off the ground and his body contorts into a sleek hawk. He zooms after Thor, finding him locked in combat with his undead double.

Loki upturns his feathered body, talons pointed down at the evil double. He soars, descending faster and faster, transforming at the last minute so his boots slam into the undead’s back. It knocks the double flying and Loki tumbles, rolling to his feet.

Thor knits his brow, tossing his hammer in a flip, “You should let me handle this, Loki.”

“Not a chance.”

The Variant Thor flings his hammer at them--it’s pitch black, drizzled with splotches the color of mist and bone. It brumes with dark energy.

Undead Thor flies at them, catching Thor in the ribs and kicking him clear across the field. Then he turns onto Loki and chucks the hammer.

The coal-stained weapon sails toward Loki. It catches him in the shoulder and he stumbles, his hand instinctively coming up to grab the hilt of the hammer, throwing it off of him.

Loki freezes. Wait.

He stares at the inert hammer, moving slowly toward it. He reaches out, wrapping fingers around its leather bound hilt. He lifts it. It’s both heavy and light at the same time.

“I…can hold Mjolnir?”

He looks up at Thor who is using the pure version to fight both variants.

That must be it. The hammer in Loki’s hand is tainted. Bound to chaos.

Does that mean…

Loki flings the hammer across the field, waiting until it’s a ways away before summoning it back. Just like Thor’s does, the hammer obeys him, rubberbanding backward and into Loki’s hand.

Oh. This will be fun.

Loki swings Mjolnir in an arc, attempting to take flight. He smashes it into his knee and stumbles to the ground.

Egh. Not as easy as it looks. Well, he’ll just improvise.

Thor is fighting both variants now. Loki needs to even the odds. He flips the hammer and chucks it at the undead Thor. It sings through the air, that metallic whirr, and cracks against the variant’s head.

Loki sprints toward the battle, arm out to catch the hammer before bringing it back down against the variant’s chest. Necro Thor catches it by the head and wrenches it from Loki’s grasp, swinging it around to smack him.

They play hot potato with the hammer for a good while, Loki finally getting the hang of spinning it like a ring. Loki finally gets the upper hand. He swings the hammer and misses. Variant Thor lunges and Loki snipes him with a burst of stasis magic, ramroding him into the stiffness of a board so that he nosedives to the ground, motionless.

He keeps his focus on the stasis to keep it from breaking, but he looks for his brother fighting the Loki variant--hammer versus spear.

Loki has fought Thor many times. They are a good match--on a good day. Today is not a good day. Thor’s movements are sluggish, his strikes weak from the toll of the virus or the Variant’s time magic. Perhaps both.

Either way, Thor is losing. He slings his hammer but the variant dodges with a cackle. Thor is not doing as well at dodging. Necro Loki keeps catching him with the spear--in the legs, the arms, even the face, leaving pink and red gashes trailing blood, until the ground beneath their feet is slick with it.

One of Thor’s punches catches the Variant in the jaw. Necro Loki gasps, stumbling backwards as Thor closes in. Thor reaches out to grab the Variant but Necro Loki’s form fades, vanishing in a flicker of gold trim.

Thor blinks, hand grasping air. Loki watches it happen as if on a screen in slow motion. The Variant appears behind Thor. The tip of the spear pierces his chest. Thor cries out, spine curving backwards, his body going limp as he falls out of consciousness.

Someone yells. Screams. It’s so loud it rings Loki’s ears. He gasps as if he were ravenous for air. His head feels cloudy, throat raw.

It was him. He screamed Thor’s name. His feet lift, preparing to race to his brother’s side, but something cracks against his head and darkness takes him. He doesn’t even feel himself hit the ground.

Loki strides into the room, boots clipping across the gold-flecked floor. He grins out at his subjects, hooded by his horned regalia. His arms spread out at his adoring subjects.

“King Loki!” someone calls, voice ringing against other cheers of praise. “Hail Loki!”

Loki circles the golden throne, cape arcing around his waist. He lounges across the seat, feeling weightless as a quilt of clouds.

A woman pads up the marble steps and places an offering at his feet. “For you, my King.”

A lazy smile blooms Loki’s face and he leans forward to admire the offering. It is an oval platter, black as void. It teems with energy, black and thick. As Loki stares into its center, his gaze fogs with darkness.

Loki…

His perspective shifts abruptly. He blinks and the scenery changes. It’s dark, his vision is narrow, as if peering through the eye of a needle.

He senses a form nearby. A warm body. Loki tries to move his head, but when he does, his vision darkens and he feels his neck snap forward, “HHhhIZZSHH!!”

The whole world tilts and he careens backwards. His head thumps against the back of the throne, gaze fluttering. His nose itches.

The faces of his adoring subjects pepper his vision. They look to him, shining with admiration. Loki rubs his nose with an index finger and waves his hand for a guard to take the offensive offering away.

Loki…

He stiffens in his chair, heart doing a drumbeat in his chest. It beats hard enough to hurt. Something pings against his cheek and he cups his jaw, glowering in the direction of the assailant. But he sees only his subjects, growing increasingly ravenous for him

They are clamoring toward him, desperate to glimpse the true king. Yes! Loki! The…ne T..Ru… Ing of aSgD …afYsoN Glor…urpse…

--LOKI!!

Loki throws himself to his feet, a cry clawing up his throat. The room goes dark. The roar of his subjects hammers against the howling wind of Frigga’s voice.

…dying…

Loki growls, “What are you saying!” he shouts. He will be obeyed. His subjects fall silent as the dead. All Loki can hear is the pulse in his ears.

“Am I dead? Is this…Hel…” his fingers graze his chest and he feels it pulsing, as if his heart were in his palm.

His neck cranes down, so slowly it barely displaces air. Dread pools in his gut as his King regalia fades and he is wearing a uniform and tie. There is a slash in the middle where a dull red glow pulses…the same tune as his heartbeat.

“What…”

His head jerks up. Everyone is gone. Loki stands alone in a blaring white hall. Frigga’s voice clangs around in his head.

TR IS DYG.

Memories explode in his head. The fight. The virus. The spear…

Thor is dying.

“No…” Loki hobbles across the screaming bright tile, steps echoing, clattering around his head in the formless world of white. “I’m dreaming,” he rasps, picking up speed even as blood begins to rush out of his wounds. “I need to wake up!”

Thor is dying.

He spins, breaking out in a sprint, chugging air. No walls appear, no doors, only the white void of his mind. “I need to wake up!!” He skids to a halt and claws at the hole in his chest. Pain. He needs to feel pain. That will wake him.

Wake up! Wake up damn you! Wake--

Pain shocks him with each rake of his nails, and he gasps, heaving air as if he’s broken the surface of the ocean.

His eyes fly open, his body jackknifing upright. The pain is white hot in his chest, his shirt painted onto his skin with sweat. The bitter splash of reality washes over his vision.

His head whirls, finding the body next to him. Thor. Battered, broken, breaths ragged and sporadic. His body held at an angle, the snapped end of the spear cutting through his chest.

“Thor,” Loki’s attempt to squeeze out the word comes in a whimper. He scrambles to his brother’s side, palms slipping across his motionless form, painting them red.

He presses his stained hands to Thor’s cheeks, vision blurred and drunk with grief. “No…this can’t happen.” The heat from him is sweltering, like hovering in front of an open oven. His face is pale and bathed in sweat.

"Thor," Loki cups the back of his head and gives it a tiny jostle.

Thor’s breath snags and he chokes out a wheeze. His voice is brittle, “Er du virkelig her, Loki?“

Loki blinks salt from his eyes, “I’m here, brother,” he squeezes Thor’s hand, “I’m here.”

Thor’s muscles tighten, body shifting, nose pressing against the cool stone as his chest inflates. “Hhhh-EXSHH-hhh!” Small spider legs of lighting crawl from him, flickering across the damp stone. He lets out a stormy cough and goes limp once more.

He’ll survive the spear--Thor’s lived through worse. But there is too much damage to his body, already being ravaged by the virus.

Even if Loki used the tempad, he can’t interfere with his own timeline to prevent the injuries. Every time traveler knows that, even the ones who don’t follow the other rules.

Shit. Loki’s jaw feathers, tears shivering down his cheeks. He has to do something. And only one thing comes to mind.

His fingertips wink to life, bathing the cell in an emerald hue. He presses his hands over Thor’s wounds and pulls with his magic. The wounds begin to knit together under his palms, flesh stitching closed.

Loki snarls into a grimace as his skin splits, pain spiking in a mimic of Thor’s healing wounds. His body starts to shake, blood cutting red lines down his arms to dot the stone floor.

Loki transfers all but the spear wound--if he takes that on, he won’t be able to get them to safety. He peers around and notices how rudimentary the cell is. Clearly, his Variant didn’t think they’d be in a state to escape. Only a small coating of magic along the bars prevents the cell from being a simple dungeon. Loki can easily get out, but Thor…he’ll have to carry.

It’ll be easier to teleport straight to help. He fumbles for the tempad. It slips around in his wet, jerky grasp.

“Hhhih-EKSZHH!” his hands shudder and the tempad slips from his grasp, landing on the stone floor with a clatter. Loki reaches a shaky, blood streaked hand to press the button.

A portal opens on the other side of the cell. Loki frowns. He was sure he set it for Asgard. He needs to get Thor to a healer.

“Holy shit,” the sound of Tony’s swear startles Loki, making his jaw unhinge.

“Wh-what…” The room begins to fill with the Avengers: Stark, Banner, Widow, Barton, Rogers. “What are you doing here? And how…”

Tony tosses the tempad to Loki. “You brought us here.”

Loki stares at the new (well, older) tempad. “This means…”

“It means we have a bad guy to fight.” Tony gestures for Loki to follow.

They all look well. Devoid of illness. Even Banner, who didn’t even get an antidote. How long has it been for them since they last saw Loki?

Loki hesitates, eyes flicking to Thor. “I can’t leave him…I…”

Tony sees Thor and blanches. “What the hell happened to him?”

“We were a-attacked--ngh!” Loki wobbles to his feet, cracking open his wounds. “Hhh-hizzSCH!” the sneeze wrenches his body and he gasps, pain singing to life.

“Well, we don’t know where to go. Can you tell us?”

Loki swallows and nods. He splits himself into two, and his physical form kneels beside Thor. His duplicate passes through the bars like a ghost.

“This way,” Loki takes the lead down the hall. As he walks, his wounds bleed, dripping from his glamoured form to vanish before it hits the ground. Loki explains everything: the time stone, undead Thor, Necro Loki’s magic to revive and control the dead.

They all take it without comment. Strange. Loki expected questions, quips, maybe a bit of Stark snark. But they all are treating him like…well…like they trust him.

“Hhhfff..” Loki’s illusion stumbles, flickering as if a dimming light bulb, “H-SZZCHhh!” it peters out completely before fizzing back to life.

“Stay with us, Loki.”

“Oh *snf* not dust bunny anymore? HH-ekgZH!”

“If you keep sneezing like that, you will be.”

Several steps later, the illusion flickers again; Loki’s physical body sprouts buds of pain causing him to grimace and suck in air.

“Loki,” Tony reaches out to grab him but his hand passes through the glamour. “Shit, are you dying?”

Loki fades in again. “No.” He squeezes his eyes and sips a breath through his nostrils. “I am doing all I can. Not sure how long…”

“Just get us to the bad guy and we’ll do the rest.”

Loki nods and pushes his illusion forward. The hall forks and Loki splits his projections, mapping out the correct path as swiftly as possible. His duplicates multiply until he finds the way, then all but one illusion vanishes.

Loki points, “This way.” He leads them a few steps, “Be cautious. My Variant is quite powerful. And Thor’s…” grief shocks his breaths and he shivers. “He will not easily be beaten.”

“We got it, Loki. Go take care of Thor.”

Loki nods and his illusion vanishes, leaving the Avengers to do their job.

In the cell, Loki cups Thor’s cheek in his palm. “I’m going to help you, brother.”

An inhale, too soft, too stilted, “hhh-RRsssHHeh! hhh…!” Thor’s voice is mostly breath, shifting the air between his lips. “You…” he sniffles thickly, “wounded…”

“I’m okay. I’m taking you to Asgard--”

Thor grunts, shaking his head. “They…you’re dead…”

Oh. Right. They all think he’s dead in this timeline, but really, he is disguised as Odin. In fact, none of the timeline will be safe for them.

Loki purses his lips, frustration a bubble in his throat. Thor seems to be growing more lucid as time passes. “Come,” he scoops Thor up, ignoring the jolt of pain skewering his bones. He heaves Thor to the portal. “We will get you help.”

He carries his brother through the portal to Earth, the weight of his guilt and grief heavier than his brother’s slack form.

11 notes · View notes

pandorafallz · 9 months

Text

Vampire AU | Run, Boy, Run

Fuck.

He backed away slow and steady, not looking at it in the eye but not willing to look away either. His shoe clinked against the gun; suddenly wishing he hadn’t been so stupid to drop it to hold a floating jellyfish plant but he couldn’t bend down and pick it up either. So, he kept retreating back instead.

He didn’t know what this creature was but he knew it was a predator. It was following, slowly but it hadn’t been triggered to attack so he was taking that as a good sign. He had read up on a few things, like Hammerhead Titanotheres; threat displays with no tremendous danger unless he was underfoot. Thanatores were the worst but again, you had a chance if you booked it over something they couldn’t get through but those things were feared for good reason. Survival chances were small as it was.

This was not a thanator either.

Fuck, god only knew what this was.

It was a mass of muscle, with six rippling legs, and a dark blue body with yellow and lighter blue markings like a stripe down the sides of its main body. Its face looked to be composed of hard plating and enlarged fangs at the front of its face.

“Jake,” Augustine’s voice echoed in his ear. “Jake, where are you?”

He couldn’t answer but he could hear them behind him before Augustine gasped softly which indicated that they were close by but didn’t get any closer.

“Oh…fuck.” She whispered.

“What is that?!” Norm whispered and Jake eagerly listened for what fountain of knowledge Augustine would provide to get him out of this alive.

“Slinth, fastest creature on land so you can’t outrun it. Its face opens up as a threat display and has a venom sac in lances in two of the jaw plating on either side of its face... It’s a paralytic venom so once it stings you, it will eat you alive. Happened to another avatar once; his mind never recovered.” Augustine spoke, her voice quick and sharp but he took those words in real fast because his avatar depended on them. “This looks like a juvenile. It hasn’t attacked which means it’s uncertain if you’re worthy prey, possibly waiting for erratic behaviour or to tire you out. Running will trigger i—careful, branch behind your left foot, step back carefully.”

He followed her instruction to avoid tripping and nodded slowly. Though the notion if its face opening up was a…fucking terrifying thought. He had seen that old Jurassic film with that fucking lizard dinosaur’s then its frills up a fan around its head. He had been terrified about that when he was young. He even spent the night in Tommy’s bed for two days as a result.

“Keep going back, there’s a herd of Titanotheres behind you in the clearing that you can use you can use as a distraction. They hate each other. They won’t focus on you once the Slinth shows up but their behaviour will attract the Slinth’s attention. Once it’s off you, run like hell and try to head towards the school, North ease of the sun.”

Jake nodded again.

He counted the distance well aware he was one trip away from death as the plates of the creature’s face twitched, the nostrils flaring beside its collar bones. Yet somehow, he made it through a treeline before the angry roars echoed.

Then the motherfucker’s face opened up like a flower with the inside skin bright yellow with a butterfly-like pattern as it roared angrily to the animals behind him and Jake just turned and ran towards the huge hammer-headed things which in normal cases, very unproductive but he gave little fucks if he survived.

He did.

Jake felt the adrenaline finally hit before he pelted on and past the group, the Hammerheads still roaring but he didn’t hear a pursuit aside from the running giants, not going his way but close enough in his direction to keep him going.

Fuck.

Fuck

Fuck.

Jake didn’t stop for a while, weaving through trees and over a ravine until he felt any sense of safe to pause and breathe. His lungs heaved for breath, his body too new to fully be ready for that much exercise; shaking as he sat down. Oh, he needed to get this body’s muscles worked and hardened for this world.

“Big baby.” He breathed softly at his avatar. A truer statement if any in a literal sense; it was a week old. He had a lot of work to do.

He shakily unclipped his bag, pulled out his stolen water canteen and drank heavily from it, before he dug for a snack, tossing the wrapper back into the bag then pulled out his tablet for his coordinates.

He was off track but he could see he was somewhat in the right direction, the compass on the tablet turned when he did so it was little effort to correct. Without death behind him, Jake swung his bag on and carried on more casually now.

Unknown to Jake, the Na’vi woman had watched, with a raised bow and notched arrow… the white sacred seed bobbing away from her arrow head as she unnotched it and watched the Dreamwalker for a moment then slipped away into the treeline again to follow at a distance.

It took about three hours before he found the shack.

Abandoned, it was one module tucked away from plain site. If this wasn’t already a known location, then he’d have thought it was perfect. Nature had already started to crawl up its metal surface and moss coated a lot. His heart beat faster with excitement, not hesitating to head up to it and open the door.

It was powerless, but that didn’t matter too much just yet; it must have a manual operation. Inside was cramped and…surprisingly clean. No broken windows so the air was sterile but the pandorian toxic air took away what had been sealed away for the last nine months if the notes on this shack were correct. He had heard this had been used by a group of two other scientists and a driver but had been abandoned in a rush.

Inside, there was a single link unit at the far end. There was a lab space near the opposite end with tools and equipment still there but there was also a small compartment door which turned out to be a cramped toilet space and shower room—he was too big to properly fit more than his head and shoulders but it looked spacious enough for his wheelchair to fit in. There were three beds, two fashioned as bunk beds but the third bunk bed frame was shared; the top being the bed but underneath were storage boxes or empty spaces for shit.

There were lots of fridges; all off so the food inside was certainly spoiled. He checked to make sure though he kept the dried shit that didn’t need to be refrigerated since they had a few weeks left—RDA’s dried rations did keep a while—he’d need to have a few backup options.

Jake took his time, setting his bag down to get the shack prepped. He used some of the scanners he had or found to sweep the shack for trackers; one that had been tied into the power so he was glad he hadn’t turned it on—he didn’t need to ping the RDA of it.

He collected the spoiled crap into a rubbish bag and he added the lone tracker into the rubbish for the RDA to collect once they realise what he had taken along with equipment he didn’t need to bring. Some of the glass beakers and science crap would serve some use, so he kept some of those. A few changes were clothes were there, though he was partially excited about the two other tablets and a few hand-comm and data banks they had there.

He dug out a solar panel and let that sit in the sun for the battery systems that could have been depleted then removed the yellow railing. Not that it was overly visible but he wasn’t going to take chances there. The shack support legs were also yellow but he couldn’t remove those so he slapped some mud over them.

A last check as night was falling to do a final sweep outside for anything, coming back with a few fruits for the morning and set that on the floor, using his shoe to keep the airlock from sealing shut and suffocating him in his sleep, Jake unlinked.

Again, unknown to Jake, two tall males hovered at a distance, waiting until all was quiet before he made his way towards the shack carefully, climbing up silently until he peeked through the window.

“<Another Dreamwalker>” the first spoke, “<alone.>” He turned to the second.

“<Let’s make camp.>” the second spoke, “<either he’s lost, or he’s not. We should at least see that he survives the night…and the morning by that fruit he had.>” A poisonous fruit. “He’s put care in this shack… I do not believe he’s lost.>”

The first looked to him, though his tail lashed. “<He escaped the human village?>” He didn’t look thrilled, “<you would invite him?>”

The second looked to the first then nodded, “<I will return to my mate, and discuss the option. We could do with more able hands, N’deh.>”

With an acknowledging look, N’deh nodded and resolved to sit upon a decaying log towards the shack as the other scampered off into the forest silently.

Also unknown to these two guy now, the Na’vi woman also kept her distance from them too.

Jake groaned, in part the first thing he saw was the bright fucking light in his face then the contact-covered eyed looking down at him and far too close for comfort and her hands felt far icier on his face than before.

“Come on back, kid, that’s It.” her touch pulled away from his face, setting onto his shoulder

“Wha --? Oh.” Jake looks around, blinking. Reality crashing in now to see the rest of the lab, the recycled air and the people.

Augustine seemed to be relieved, “Damn, you were dug in like a tick.” Though with a helping hand from Norm, he felt himself being pulled to sit up. Not nearly a few seconds later did the question change; not asking about him but simply…“Is the avatar safe?”

Jake nodded, his hand coming to rub at his face. Long fucking day. His body felt stiff. “Yeah, Doc. found a good hiding spot to put it in. That tree sap to keep the wildlife out.”

Augustine winced, “At least you’ve got out. We didn’t stick around but we tried to stay in the air as long as possible to look for you. Can you make it to the school tomorrow? Maybe light a fire on a hill and we can get a sweep done.”

Jake shrugged, “Not sure…I can try.” He didn’t try to sound confident but he reached for his chair. “When’s debrief with Quaritch?”

“Tomorrow morning, you need downtime to recover. You weren’t ready for such a long link time.” Augustine stepped back, waving Norm and Max to give them space.

Jake nodded, already feeling that. Norm didn’t look bothered but he suppose the guy did get five hundred and twenty hours to be mentally prepared for it as opposed of his five hours every day for the last week. Thirty-five hours was barely scratching the surface.

“I’ve already submitted my after-action report,” Augustine spoke, her attention turning away, “I can stay up and start running trajectory models on potential locations if he’s lost—“ her sentence paused, her head turning sharply towards the wall as if called by someone before sighing in annoyance. “I’ve…got to go.” She didn’t wait before she stalked off.

“What was that about?” Norm asked, watching after her. Max just shrugged, seeing this as normal for her and went his own way.

Jake shrugged, but who cared about what she heard? “I’m going to my quarters.” He slipped back into his chair, though he knew tonight was their best chance to leave…providing he wasn’t stopped before he could bail by the dead folk.

His stuff hadn’t been unpacked a lot, so it was easy to repack his stuff into the duffle, staring down at Tommy’s box for a moment before he opened up his RDA tablet for his final log to explain his…well bullshit escape and set it on his desk and leant it against the wall, mulling for a moment on how he was to proceed before he could hit record.

A ping on his tablet before he opened it up.

[Ready when you are]

He let out a breath, relaxing.

His hand touched over the box again, pulling this as the firm reminder of why he was here before he touched the record.

“Okay, so this is…personal log nine. My bunk, time’s… twenty-one, thirty-seven…” he listed as usual, “my last log, I should say. I know there are a lot of ears that can hear me make this call and that doesn’t bother me. I know their secrets and will out them if I have to, so don’t try to follow me. You know who you are. But, to get to business… I will get straight to the point. I am not here to be a meat puppet. I am not here to be a tool to be used and discarded when I’m not considered useful. I bought that once and it cost me my friends and my legs.” He gave the camera a solid look.

“Not again. I’m only here because my brother died. I wasn’t given a condolence or anything from the RDA, they gave me his contract before he was burned to ash.” Jake picked up the box, holding it out to be seen. “I may not have been as close to him…been the brother he needed to be when he was alive but…I couldn’t just leave him behind. He wanted to be here so I brought him. But…no one here cared that he had died; only seeing me as his replacement. I have his face… identical genes and now…his avatar. They didn’t want to waste an investment. He wasn’t a person to them. Just a number and person to be used and discarded after use. Just like me. When did humans become disposable? How are we supposed to survive with that mindset?”

Jake took a heavy breath to calm himself before he could get over himself, stroking the box with fondness.

“The RDA is a war waiting to happen. Killing the natives, trying to force the relocation of the native people who have been here for generations and scorching the dirt for minerals that don’t even belong to us… Sound familiar, Parker. People like you are the ones that will turn this planet into the dead one like Earth. You’ll step over the bodies of your own people to see that your…profits are up to standard. How many people have died in the last thirty years? What shortcuts were made for making things cheaper for yourself?” he questioned, not for Selfridge but to anyone who could or would be listening.

“You can find other mining locations that aren’t the home of children. You can’t bulldoze your way through everything. Negotiations won’t lead to relocation. It’s their home; everything they know and… I can’t be the only one who sees this ending poorly. Who here is willing to die for the RDA? For Selfridge? For Metal? How many of you will be forced into new areas when the shit hits the fan? I know I won’t.”

He scoffed at the camera again. “I know my reasons for leaving. Maybe some of you will see, some of you will not. Maybe none of you have had the idea or strength of will to act on it. I mean… Quaritch is a tough man; strong resolve but…intimidating. Manipulative of course; he has to keep people in line and Selfridge is a man with no loyalty to you. Only what you bring him. Money in his pocket. Augustine… all I see is a woman with a cold, dead heart and… I don’t want to be near that.” He phrased it carefully; hinting at what she was mostly; she’d know but it also worked in the metaphor as well; how she treated the rest of the science groups was not unknown information. People in SciOps would get it.

“So, yeah. I’m going. I’m taking what I need to survive and I’m out. I’ve got my avatar and…an opportunity in front of me and I won’t let that go for the RDA and all of their bullshit. This is Jake Sully, signing the fuck off.” With that, and his middle finger extended, he stop the record and bathed in the lingering seconds then chuckled, saving it onto the database then exited the RDA programs altogether and set it to go through its restorative functions for future use without a follow-up risk.

They’d figure it out later.

He wheeled nervously through Hell’s Gate and did his best to avoid the possibility of vampires and skeleton crew—a part of him wondered if the absence of the latter was because of the former— though he felt a swell of relief to see Reza standing casually by a wall panel next to the airlock out to the airfield, a little out of sight until he got closer. She stepped out though he handed over the thumb drive and let her stick it into the panel beside another she had installed.

Silently, she nodded him along and they both took the mask—and the rest from the airlock into his duffle for spares and the batteries, making this an exit the others couldn’t get out without bringing their own from another section. Plus, they’d need these good-grade masks for the long term.

Once out, Reza began to speak.

“Trackers are all out, disabled RDA’s access to autopilots and the black box will detach once we’re up. It’s glued to the tarmac. The boxes auto signal when the last wire is cut or snapped, the force up will break the line.”

“Noted.”

He accepted her help onto the Samson and then let her get to it in getting going. Noting her bags already secured as he tied his chair into a seat with spare kits also tucked about, the vent covers already removed before the engine began to kick into life. He crawled into the sealed-off area and strapped in though in good time as someone noticed in the airfield and shots were fired but no alarm was raised as they went.

Yet.

A metallic twang echoed though Jake only saw a glimpse of the black box on the concrete before they were gone.

Jake gave her the coordinates to where to head off though the sight of Hell’s gate getting smaller and smaller was a growing relief until it was gone altogether.

He let out a breath of relief, waiting until the air was cycled out before removing it.

The sudden departure of a Samson had kicked the command centre into life. Quaritch had sent men to the airlock out but the cameras didn’t look like to have caught anything despite the witnesses and gunshots which stung of help but his personal searching hadn’t seen any signs of Manuel tampering. The feed showed a Samson there then in one frame, it was gone.

This was twenty minutes ago now.

“Sir, we found something,” Wainfleet called through his radio.

Quaritch plucked his from his belt. “Go on.”

“Two thumb drives into the system by the airlock. Looks suspicious. Possibly a virus or something.”

“Get that to cyber geeks to crack open and give me something.” A virus would explain the cameras but it’d take a lot to get past security for long…. But it spoke at lengths at whoever fucked off that this was planned well in advance.

“Get me everything that was stolen. I want an inventory report done now!” Selfridge snapped as he finally exited his office to his assistant though looked very peeved off for being woken at night.

Quaritch didn’t bat an eye, though this time began to look further back to the quarters to see who was about. He almost rolled his eyes at the sight of Augustine being welcomed into someone else bunk—though he hadn’t anticipated she had any sexual interest in…anyone. Clearly, he was wrong. Again, he couldn’t care less. He moved on to a different camera.

A certain new guy on wheels, duffle bag and all pulled his attention so, he began to track him before Quaritch felt the scowl grow on his face as the feed cut off as he pause at the airlock.

“It’s Sully.” Quaritch barked to Selfridge.

“What? Why?!” Selfridge came straight over, “Fucking…. He’s your guy!”

Quaritch gave the man a solid look. “Go search his personal logs,” he ordered to the tech woman who was looking through them with him, her hands leapt into action to pull up Sully’s file; there weren’t many.

“Where’s Augustine? It’s her guy too.”

“Occupied.” Quaritch gruffed out, arms folding over his chest.

“I’m right here.” Augustine’s voice was smooth though he jumped at her sudden presence behind him, even Parker gave a slight, pathetic squeak. He gave her a look, glad to see her decent, aside from her shirt being a little more open and showing off a little more cleave than usual. The scowl on her face though was not missed.

“Sully’s jumped ship. Did you know?” Selfridge rounded on her like a grumpy child.

Augustine’s eyebrow rose. “No.” Her voice was smooth as she spoke before her scowl deepened before she seemed to realise something. “Fucking ass…. He didn’t even try to get his avatar to the rally point.”

“What?”

“Sully got his avatar lost following a run in with a Slinth.” Quaritch spoke, having already read that report, “You know, the thing that ate Hegner’s avatar four years back. I read the reports. He must have taken it as an opportunity to get the avatar away, possibly to a known location with a link shack and left it there until he could meet up. He must have a pilot with him.”

Selfridge’s face turned pink the more he spoke, fuming at both of them as if they had walked Sully up with party poopers and a personal lunch bag handed over to the guy.

“There are a shit ton of link shacks,” Augustine noted calmly before she moved to a monitor and started to tap at it. “And all the coordinates from Site One through Forty-seven are gone. Including Blue Lagoon.”

Quaritch’s head spun to face her. “What?” He moved around though the list of Sci-Ops sites was there, the dots on the map were gone.

Augustine though typed in a few coordinates that lit up five of the spots again. Site twenty-six, thirty-two, thirty-seven, forty-seven, sixteen, seventeen and seven.

“You just…casually know these coordinates, Grace?” Quaritch had to ask, mildly impressed as she input the last number and another dot finalised on the map.

“I got bored one night.” Augustine shrugged as if it was the answer to everything. “I’ll try and dig up the rest but these are what I know off the top of my head.”

Quaritch’s eyes lingered on her for a moment then snorted. “Let’s start checking out these camps when the day breaks.” Impulsively, he wanted to start off and go but… the night was far too dangerous. He had to wait. He’d not risk his men to the wildlife. Maybe Sully wouldn’t be lucky.

“Cross off Site twenty-six and thirty-two, they’re mountain bases and none he could reach without a banshee or a Samson. Forty-seven is eight hours away in the Metkayina territory.” Augustine added, “Thirty-seven, sixteen, seventeen and seven are your best options.”

“Alright.” Quaritch could take that. The simple factor of elimination based on availability Sully could get in a day on foot after getting chased through the jungle. Shacks also had trackers as well so they still had leads.

“Got something.” The woman spoke, pulling three of their attention away.

“Let’s see what this guy has to say for himself.” Selfridge took the prime spot, leaning over the woman’s shoulder for a good view. “play.”

“Okay, so this is…personal log nine. My bunk. Time’s… twenty-one, thirty-seven. My last log, I should say. I know there are a lot of ears that can hear me make this call and that doesn’t bother me. I know their secrets and will out them if I have to, so don’t try to follow me. You know who you are. But…”

Augustine scowled with a narrow gaze but Quaritch just glowered at the screen as it went.

“Well, ain’t he pulling heartstrings,” Quaritch remarked when it was done. The image of Sully’s middle finger extended was…kinda funny in a different mood. Right now, he was just annoyed. Calling out a lot of the RDA, though he didn’t seem to mention anyone else being dragged into this mess. Unlikely the pilot would return. He’d get a headcount when people showed up and find out who it was; someone had messed up on landing pads as well which Wainfleet had found.

Selfridge was very red in the face but Augustine’s demeanour was mildly annoyed yet very calm which was a jarring contrast given Sully had essentially called her a cold-hearted bitch.

“Fuck!” Selfridge fumed, finally speaking. “Get his ass! I want him back, I want him court-martialled and I want that chair taken away from him so he can’t wheel himself the fuck off again before he can get on a shuttle back to Earth!”

“Take a breath, Parker.” Augustine called, “First, you gotta find him. I’ll get a notice handed out to the rest of my people and get them to keep an eye on when we’re taking samples.”

“Alright.” Quaritch agreed.

“How are you so calm?!” Selfridge glared at her, “he’s your guy.”

“Clearly not.” Augustine met his look, “clearly he’s been looking for a reason to bounce and found it. He may never have been loyal to start with. Stuck around to learn what he needed to in terms of driving an avatar. He wasn’t a scientist; he bared no weight in my department. Not much of a loss in the grand scheme of things in that regard” She gave him a look, “You wanted a mole on my team and he bailed. Maybe you were also part of the problem there.” Augustine didn’t wait before she walked off.

“I can still cut your department, Augustine!” Selfridge called.

Augustine paused, though turning to face with a nasty smile that went straight down Quaritch’s spine. The hairs on the back of his arms stood up more and he hated how that felt. “I’d like to see you try.” Then it was gone with her.

How did one small woman get…him on edge like that? Quaritch pondered for a moment but returned his attention back to the more important thing.

Sully.

“Jake.” Reza’s voice echoed.

“Hm?” Jake turned his attention from the forest tops around to his friend.

“You were alone when you unlinked right…”

The cryptic tone of her voice made him anxiously immediately, leaning forwards to see…a campfire outside the shack with figures. The Samson lowered into a hover now.

“Oh no…” Someone had found him. Fuck.

“No weapons are raised but we have their attention.” Reza clarified. “Want me to land?”

Jake swallowed thickly but…he could see little choice given he needed to get into that shack and link up to get the module rigged up to lift. “If they’re native, maybe they’re checking in if they saw me? Land, let’s see.”

Reza eyed him uncertainly but complied to slowly descent, the turbines kicking up loose leaves and ash from the area before she cut the engines and they both put their masks on. He carefully pulled himself out and into the body of the Samson though peeking around the edge to see…two Na’vi standing, massive now in his human body but he prayed that they didn’t find a good reason to shoot him.

“Hi…please tell me someone speaks English. I don’t know…the na’vi’s langue yet.” He called tugging down his chair.

The two men looked at each other, the tallest nodded to the shorter, lankier one and both approached them. Jake was cautious, the na’vi’s glowing freckles the most prominent feature in the dark, the backdrop of glowing plants hardly helping show too much.

“I know English.” The short one spoke, surprisingly fluently. “ We mean no harm to you or your friend. Tho I assume that you…left the human village?”

Jake’s eyebrows pulled in. “How’d you guess?”

The short one chuckled. “It is a long and familiar story but…I assume you’re to take this link shack to a designated location?” His head tilted towards the shack as he said this. “We...don’t live with a Na’vi clan. Like yourself, we are…distanced from them and sky people, even though we live with a human who was…abandoned by the RDA.” The Na’vi explained.

Jake’s head cocked to the side. Augustine had mentioned a human had been missing, no body recovered. “What are you saying?” there was a clear impression these two were trying to make, if a little awkwardly which meant they didn’t interact with a lot of humans well, even if they lived with one.

“We have a place that can hide your shelter. We would like you to join us. We can teach you how to hunt and travel…be productive if you so wish.” The man clarified. “There is only my mate with the human at our home.”

“And…if I’m not interested?” Jake tested.

“Then we will leave you two alone and let you do as you please.” The Na’vi didn’t look overly concerned, “but I will point out that you have picked out poisonous fruit beside your avatar; it will kill it if you consume it.”

Jake frowned though his stomach sank a little at that but was glad that he had held back on eating… if it was true. It was a very tempting offer; two Na’vi who didn’t hate humans and…knew a human… but he’d have to see how well this human friend was.

“What’s your name?” Reza asked, finally leaving the cockpit with a torch. Both of the two blinked back, the shorter man’s hand coming to block the sharp light from his eyes but Jake’s hand caught sight of his hand to see…. The guy had five fingers.

“You’re an avatar.” He stated, the weary tension in his gut releasing after a moment. “You deserted.” That was a relief, in a way. There had been others that could adapt.

The avatar blinked though seemed to laugh. “My name is Jerome Epstein, this is a friend, N’deh.” Gesturing to the clear Na’vi who didn’t like the flashlight.

“Wait, an avatar that…isn’t part of Augustine’s group?” Reza questioned.

“No, two avatar drivers went missing a few years back and a human. Two fragments of human remains were brought back…” Jake’s tone turned questioning as he looked back to the avatar. “Were those yours?” did this guy and the other one rip out a rib and jaw to make a point here?

Jerome winced, “Yes. We…survived by becoming one with our avatar body with the aid of Tsahìk. Our human bodies died of injury so we gave elements of our human bodies that would indicate our death unquestionably. No one to look for us if they don’t think we’re alive.”

“Weird…but smart.” Reza whistled, though her head turned to her watch “How about…we get moving and then we can talk properly? We can drop off at your place, sleep then carry on in the light? The RDA will be on our ass as soon as it’s light enough, even if I did wipe out some of their shack locations. They might have hard copies of locations about.”

“We can help.” Jerome offered. “We’ve uprooted some of the plants at the leg supports so it’ll be easier to allow them to reroot in a new location. No point wasting Eywa’s work in covering such bright metals.”

Jake stared, feeling many questions rise but…he saw sense to get them moving first. They live inside their avatars? No need for a link bed… how that was possible?

Jake got out of the Samson, though begrudgingly accepted the aid to get out and into the shack and power it up, keeping the oxygen systems off but enough to power the link bed for now. The system ran a little off but he recalibrated it with Jerome's help before it was ready and he woke up blue. Jake collected up the loose solar panels, both the other two helping with getting the cables connected to each corner as Reza took to the skies again with the last chain. Jerome scaled up the chain to the ship to give directions as the shack was released from the ground.

Finally, on their way.

#avatar #avatar au #avatar james cameron #avatar the way of water #grace augustine #jake sully #avatar rda #n'deh #neytiri te tskaha mo'at'ite #vampire #vampire au #vampire grace #miles quaritch #parker selfridge

3 notes · View notes