Won't Write? Did Write...

[moonlettuce]

So, I did this meme and got people to tell me what they thought I'd never write. And then I attempted to write some of them. Pretty much all of these are over the top crack. Don't say I didn't warn you...

From opheliafic: SG1: Jack, Sam, Thor (complete with ott title *grin*):

Where Shadows Dance at Midnight
By Claire

Sam reached out to Jack, running her hand over his chest and fingers pulling at the clamps on his nipples before moving lower. Glancing back, she waited for Master's nod before wrapping her fingers around his hard cock, thumb brushing over the cockring at its base.

Jack hissed, his body tense at her touch, as she slowly began to jack him.

"Do not fight it, Jonathan," the softly spoken order washed over them from the shadows.

"But-"

"Jonathan."

The tension drained out of Jack's shoulders. "Yes, sir."

"Continue, Samantha."

Sam nodded, her touch increasing, just the way she knew Jack liked it. It had been so long since either of them had been allowed to come, her own body thrummed with sensation along with Jack's. She rubbed her thumb over the head of his cock, gathering the pre-come and slicking it over the rest of his length.

"Oh god, Sam, please." Jack's entire body was vibrating, the need emanating from him in almost palpable waves.

"I'm not the one to ask," she whispered, her fingers brushing the catch of the cockring.

Jack looked over, eyes full of want, desire, need, please. "Sir. I need..."

There was a beat, and then, "You may."

"Thank you." The words were a sob of relief as Sam unsnapped the cockring, her fingers hard and fast as Jack stiffened and cried out, come coating her fingers as he slumped down, breath coming in harsh gasps.

Licking her fingers clean, Sam moved back, straddling the body behind her.

"Are you ready, Samantha? Do you need? Do you burn?" The smooth voice asked as fingers brushed over her hip.

"Yes," she gasped, arching into the touch.

The hand moved. "Then ride me, my pet."

Sam screamed and writhed as long, thin fingers plunged into her cunt, thrusting within her. Moving her own hand down, she pressed against her clit, rubbing frantically.

"Sir, I-"

But he already knew what she was going to say, what she needed.

"Come for me, Samantha," he commanded, as his fingers pressed deeper into her, his entire hand filling her.

Her muscles clenching around the hand inside her, Sam screamed as she came, her legs unable to hold her up as she sank down, sitting on Master's lap. "Thank you, sir," she murmured, placing a chaste kiss on his lips.

And Thor just looked at her and smiled.

End

From rhade_rad: Mag 7 Old West - Chris and Ezra find something strange and alien in the desert:

(Heck, is this where I admit that, even though I own season 1 of M7 on DVD, I've only actually seen 2 episodes…)

Kaboom
By Claire

Chris had thought it was an illusion at first. After all, they were both tired, having ridden hard for days in an attempt to cut some time off the journey home. Which was why when he'd first seen the strange looking thing sticking out of the ground, he'd originally dismissed it as a rock, only to realise that rocks didn't tend to come in that particular shade of green and purple.

It wasn't until Ezra had stopped speaking and angled his horse in that direction, that Chris understood that he wasn't the only one seeing it.

"What do you think it is?" Ezra asked, a hand reaching out to touch at the strange thing before Chris slapped it away.

"Don't touch it! It could be anything."

"Looks like some sort of ship. Some sort of alien ship," Ezra commented, a slight wisp of hopefulness entering his voice.

Chris rolled his eyes. Ezra had never been the same since that night in Ridge City, when he claimed he'd been taken by short grey people and introduced to something they called his prostate. JD had also never been the same after he walked in on Ezra in the outhouse four days later. The kid had never told Chris what he'd seen, but the wild-eyed and kind of scared-yet-awed looks he threw Ezra every time they were in the same room together made Chris think he didn't really want to know anyway.

It was when Chris was rolling his eyes, and therefore not paying attention, that Ezra darted forward and laid a hand on the smooth metal like surface of the thing.

They both held their breaths for long moments as nothing happened, and then a hiss heralded a crack appearing, with light coming from within.

"My friends have come to probe me again!" Ezra yelled gleefully as Chris debated whether or not he could get away with shooting him and hiding the body. "Come, my friends, come to me!"

And come they did.

Both of them took an involuntary step backwards as the thing (Chris still refused to think of it as a ship) opened, releasing its passenger, who jumped down, glared at them both, stamped a foot and pouted.

"Where's the kaboom? There was supposed to be an earth-shattering kaboom!"

End?

From alyse: McKay/Beckett schmoopy kidfic (evil, I tell you!):

The Softness of Light
By Claire

Rodney looked down in wonder at the bundle he was holding. "She's so small," he whispered, not willing to wake the sleeping baby up.

Strong arms wrapped around him and he felt his lover's body-heat against his back. "She's like her daddies. Both of them."

Rodney's head moved back slightly and he rested his cheek against John's. "I can't believe he's gone. I can't believe the stupid Ancients never thought to label their fu-" he glanced down quickly, "-lipping machines."

He'd never imagined this outcome when he and Carson had both touched that Ancient device they'd found in one of the storage rooms; had taken a long while to accept that the pregnant doctor waddling around Atlantis was indeed carrying Rodney McKay's child. And he'd been so afraid of losing John, so afraid that John would turn away from him, when it had been John who had finally made him see what a miracle this was. This baby would have three daddies who loved her, three daddies who would support her, who would give her the world as she grew up.

But life in Pegasus was nothing if not ironic, and a man's body was never designed for the rigours of pregnancy. Rodney was sure that if it had been anyone else, if they'd had the support of the best doctor on Atlantis, then they would have survived. But it was the best doctor they were losing, John and Rodney both by his side as he held on enough to see his daughter and tell them to look after her before he quietly slipped away.

"Rodney, John?" Elizabeth's eyes were red-rimmed as she stepped into the room. "How is she?"

"Small," Rodney answered. "Small and perfect."

Elizabeth smiled at them. "Have you decided on a name yet?"

"Moira," John replied.

"After Carson's mother," Rodney explained further. There had been so many names flying between the three of them when Carson was still pregnant, so many arguments that now paled into nothing. "Moira Carson McKay-Sheppard." He felt John's hold on him tighten, because among all the things they'd discussed that had never been one of them. He looked at John. "If you're okay with that?"

John smiled, eyes suspiciously bright. "I'm more than okay with that."

"You're her daddy, too," Rodney murmured, his voice soft.

John trailed a finger down Moira's cheek. "Your daddy Carson was a good man, and we'll make sure you always know that, Princess."

"I'll leave you three alone for a while." Elizabeth paused at the door. "There's a lot of people very anxious to meet her, but there's time for all of that later."

Rodney nodded at her as she left. "Thank you, Elizabeth." Relaxing back into John's hold, he watched as the bright blue eyes of his daughter opened up and started to take in the world around her. "Hi," he said quietly. "I'm your daddy. And this is your other daddy. You had another daddy, as well, but he can't be around, even though he wanted very much not to leave you. And you've got lots of aunts and uncles, who are all going to love you just as much as we do."

Moira snuffled slighted as a chubby hand flailed in the air before John reached out and let her latch onto his finger.

This was it, Rodney thought. This was his family. "Come on," he said, "let's go introduce her to the world."

End.

(And, yes, I kinda cheated on this, but it is McKay/Beckett schmoopy kidfic. From a certain point of view *grin*)

From the4ts: Beckett/one of the Combat Sheep:

Do Scotsmen Dream of Lipstick-Wearing Sheep?
By Claire

It was still a bit of a mystery how they had ended up on Atlantis. All Elizabeth had said was that General O'Neill was sending them some specialist help, was sending them a team he had the utmost faith in. John's first thought had been SEALs, or maybe the SAS.

What he got was sheep. Combat sheep. There were some days it really didn't pay to get out of bed in Pegasus.

*

"They're sheep, Elizabeth." John was more than proud of the way his voice didn't go up an octave at the end.

Elizabeth looked at him, her fingers tapping against a thick file on her desk. "They are a highly trained, specialist team. One that comes personally recommended by Jack O'Neill, at that. And considering O'Neill has a habit of not sending us the people he personally recommends, I suggest we hold onto these ones and don't let them go." She picked up the file and held it out to him, glaring at him when he hesitated in taking it. "Harris, Moose, Cooper and Peaches; I'm sure they'll be valuable members of the expedition."

John's plaintive retort of, "But, sheep!" was cut off by Rodney's arrival.

"Elizabeth, I've worked out a way to increase the power from the ZPM by 1.5%. It's practically foolproof, and if it fails we'll only lose half the east pier, which doesn't really matter because it's only Botan..." He trailed off mid-word, eyes fixed out of the windows. "Why are there sheep in the gateroom?" he asked, before pausing and squinting at the group of said ovine. "And why is one of them wearing lipstick?"

*

Tuesdays. John loved Tuesdays. The mystery-meat lasagne on the menu reminded him of the meals he'd eaten at his grandmother's house. If said meals had involved purple pasta and a six-foot Marine cook called Dave, that is.

Dave smiled as he handed over a plate of the lasagne and sent John off with a cheerful, "Enjoy your meal, sir."

John nodded and scanned the mess, looking for Rodney. He was normally easy to find, you usually just had to look for the wildly gesticulating arms, or the one area of the room where none of the other scientists - with the general exception of Zelenka - were sitting. Or, John thought, reaching the table Rodney and Carson were sitting at, you follow the sound of the man smacking his head off the table.

"Oh god, Colonel," Rodney didn't even lift his head as his hand reached out to grasp John's arm as John sat down, "make the badness stop."

"What's wrong?" John asked, not moving his arm from Rodney's grip.

"He keeps talking about it... her... oh god, I'm having pronoun confusion over something that should be in mint sauce." He paused. "Wow, the pattern on this table looks different from down here."

John's eye twitched as he glanced at Carson. Surely Rodney was mistaken.

"Such a lovely lassie," Carson murmured. "Reminds me a little of my first girlfriend. Ah, bonny Morag. She had such lovely wool. I did so love to run my fingers through it. And Peaches. Such a fine name for such a fine figure of a woman."

John just looked at him. "Is he really talking about-?"

"Yes," Rodney whimpered.

"And so healthy," Carson continued. "I've never seen such bone structure."

And that was how John discovered Rodney was right about the pattern on the table.

*

It wasn't exactly how John preferred the first mission of a new team to go. What they were meant to get was a nice, friendly planet full of people willing to trade and not care that four of the eight Atlanteans were three foot tall and wool-covered. What they got was an abandoned village and the advance party of a culling.

"The Wraith are between us and the Gate," Teyla commented, her hands steady around the P-90 as the Wraith advanced on them.

"Not for long," Ronon replied, checking his gun.

"Wait," Harris said, stepping forward and looking at John, "let us handle this."

"Aye, laddie," Moose agreed, "we'll show ye how real professionals dee it."

Without waiting for John's answer, the sheep raced forward, the soft cry of Harris's "Stop flocking!" ringing out.

SGA-1 looked out to where the sheep had just reached the oncoming Wraith and then at each other.

"Shouldn't we help them?" Teyla questioned.

Ronon shrugged. "Looks like they're doing fine to me."

John had to admit Ronon was right. Four of the dozen Wraith were already on the ground, and the sheep were making short work of the others.

"I'm not quite sure whether to be impressed or horrified," Rodney admitted as Cooper took out another Wraith by running from it then turning around and head butting it.

Ronon smirked. "If you ask him nicely, McKay, he might teach you that move. After all, you've already got the running away bit down." John might have objected to the comment, if he hadn't known that three of the new Marines had had the crap beaten out of them during training after they'd insulted McKay within Ronon's earshot. Bickering among themselves may be allowed but team was team.

"Oh, that's right. Pick on the scientist who keeps saving everyone," Rodney grumbled, no real heat to his words as he continued to watch the sheep take down Wraith after Wraith until only one was left circling Peaches.

John winced as one of her hooves flew back and jabbed the Wraith in the eye, dropping him immediately.

"Christ," Rodney muttered beside him, "that looks like that'll sting in the morning."

Leaving the pile of unconscious Wraith behind them, the sheep sauntered back.

"Right," said Moose, brushing his hooves together, "now we've seen off those buggers, where does a sheep have to go to get a drink around here?"

*

The thing about Zelenka's still, John thought, was that it was great leveller of the field. Didn't matter who you were, what you were, nothing stood up to the rotgut that came from The Still. One drink and you were drunk as a skunk and talking to the person next to you as if you'd known them for years. Which was why he had a pounding headache and a slight memory of telling everyone about the first time he kissed Rodney, with a possible re-enactment for good measure.

Cracking open an eyelid, he tried not to groan as the light assaulted him. Taking deep breaths and asking Atlantis to darken the windows slightly, John focused on the room. Rodney was asleep next to him, the two of them having somehow managed to snag the bed - probably because no one ever wanted to hear Rodney complain about having to sleep on the floor ever again. Ronon and Teyla were against the wall, Ronon asleep on Teyla's leg as he snored.

Moose and Harris were a tangle of hooves and wool in a corner, and wow, that explained so much.

Cooper had his head in Elizabeth's lap, which mean that the answer to Cooper wondering whether Elizabeth would be 'up for a little woolly action' was apparently 'yes'.

And it looked like she wasn't the only one. Covered in a blanket and wrapped up together on the couch with clothes all around them was Carson and Peaches, proving that John's memory wasn't going, and the last thing he'd heard before unconsciousness had indeed been "Oh, Doctor Beckett, you naughty man..." in Peaches's dulcet tones.

"John?"

John looked down into Rodney's blurry blue eyes, eyebrow raised in question.

"Too early. Stop being awake. Go back to sleep." And since John had learned the hard way it was usually pointless to argue with Rodney, he snuggled closer and did just that.

End