#He's doing alright for himself - he has his own ship that only kind of breaks down every time it makes a wormhole - he's got this

[awesomebutunpractical]

Ford's fraught acquaintanceship with his one-time inter-dimensional uber driver has gotten funnier to me.

Also, Mondsly Joe is making me sad now, but Monds has always kind of made me sad so I can live with that.

[tinfoil-jones]

Gravity Falls: For Your Own Good, Ch. 8

Summary: A few years after moving to Gravity Falls and having his lab built, Stanford Pines happens upon his estranged twin brother, Stanley. He mentally prepared himself to be suffocated by his brothers neediness all over again - what he wasn't prepared for was Stanley walking right past him like he didn't even notice him.

Rating: M for language, violence, and adult implications

Preface: Dialogue only, but some actions will be annotated for clarity. Cross-Posted on AO3 Here

First - Prev - Next

CH.8

“You’ve been down here forever PhD. Maybe you should… I dunno, leave your evil basement sub-lab? Maybe eat something other than an entire tube of toothpaste?”

“This isn’t toothpaste. It’s a calorie-rich blended solution formulated specifically for daily nutrition, in a convenient tube to avoid the need for cutlery.”

“Doc. Read the label.”

“...”

“You should probably sleep too if you mixed those up.”

“You’re just trying to get me to leave so you can escape.”

“I’ve broken out of county jail, the trunk of a sinking car, a shipping crate, cement shoes, and even my loan sharks book club meeting. But this? A forcefield? A real, no-shit forcefield? I don’t have anything for that… anymore.”

“What was that last part?”

“I said I can’t break out of sci-fi prison. Go to bed already, Doc - it’d be a lot easier for me to sleep too if you weren’t hovering over there, looking at me all sad like I’m some stray at the pound about to be put down.”

“Fine, but don’t go anywhere.”

“Well there goes my plans for the night.”

“...What plans?”

“For the fifth time, it’s called sarcasm.”

“Now that I think about it, I think I still have an invention I need to calibrate…”

“Specs was right; how did you survive out here by yourself?”

(...)

“Thanks for helping me clean the place up, Fiddleford. I’ll admit, I’ve been putting it off for a while now.”

“You don’t say… You know, you still haven’t told me what that extra level in your basement is for.”

“I’ve already told you, it’s a private study.”

“You’re so secretive about it.”

“Private study.”

“Alright, alright.”

“After we’re done here, I have an anomaly in the woods I need to check out; would you be willing to keep an eye on the house and the lab while I’m gone?” 

“I have no problem making sure your brother doesn’t disappear into thin air, of course I’ll stay back for your peace of mind.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“It’s what you meant - oh don’t make that face at me. I’m not trying to make fun of you, I think it’s… Endearing, that you care so much even if you have the worst ways of showing it.”

“...Just keep an eye on the house. And maybe go down there every so often to interact with him, the isolation isn’t doing him many favours.”

“How did your last talk with him go?”

“He’s still convinced that I’m grieving over my ‘real’ twin, and using him as a substitute because we look alike. He can acknowledge that the timeline and traits line up, and that he himself has a missing past, but he still thinks he’s a ‘Malone’ and not a ‘Pines’. I don’t know why he’s being so resistant to the possibility…”

"You know... 'Stan Malone' sounds mighty similar to 'Standalone'. 

*Ford facepalms*

“I thought it was clever.”

“It is, that’s why I’m mad.”

(...)

“-and it’s actually called ‘Backupsmor’? That’s its name?”

“Yes.”

“Wow. They didn’t even bother hiding what they were huh?”

“I suppose so. What about you, Stan?”

“Pft, I didn’t go to college. I’m… pretty sure? I didn’t graduate high school.”

“You’re not fully sure?”

“F, I can only remember back when I was 17, and I was already living on the streets. I don’t think I could have graduated by then. Not like it would have helped me.”

“17, you say? Interesting…”

“What about you? Your whole family full of geniuses like you?”

“Everyone’s… smart in their own way. I’m the only member of my family to attend college, however. The rest of my family works on a hog farm.”

“That’s pretty cool, striking it out on your own.”

“Mighty kind of you to-.”

“Good-looking, smart, and independent? I like that in a-.”

“I’m back!”

*Fiddleford hastily presses the mute button on the containment unit*

“Stanford, you’re back! How was it?”

“I was hoping it was something new, but it was just the gnomes trying to utilize the size changing crystals. How were things here?”

"I was just getting more information on what past he does remember- didn’t rightly get much because he is such a flirt."

"He's only doing it to a) make you uncomfortable, b) make you let your guard down, or c) charm you enough to convince you to free him."

"Well he hasn't quite succeeded on any of those. Does he flirt with you?"

"That's disgusting, Fiddleford. I don't know how you do things in Tennessee, but here it is improper for siblings to-."

“Genius, didn't you just say he doesn't believe you're related?"

“Somewhere in there he must still know I'm his brother. Which is a good thing for us because his memories can't be buried too deep."

TAPTAPTAP

*Fiddleford presses the mute button of the cell to unmute it*

“No, that's not it. That motherfucker is ugly.”

“Ugly? We have the same face!”

“Yeah, but on you it doesn't work.”

To be continued...

[morganas-pendragons]

respite | Master Chief

this is the halo discords fault.

@lialacleaf / @embarrassedauthornerd / @empresskadia

***

His dreams are not kind to him.

It takes a considerable amount of effort to wake up in the middle of the night and not allow the scream building in his throat to break free. To untangle his grip from crumpled sheets, to slow his breathing back to something steady where his heartbeat isn't pounding in his own ears.

His dreams are not kind to him. His ghosts, even less.

You're woken up to screaming.

His adjustment has not been easy since Cortana's disappearance. So much has happened to the Master Chief in so little time, and not a single person onboard this ship has taken the opportunity to give him the time to process it.

You're determined to be the one who helps him do so. It starts off simple, as it did when you first met. Assurances of watching his back and being his partner on the field. Friendly touches on forearms and shoulders, firm nods of confirmation, always looking out for each other.

It had turned into something more when he'd saved you from the Flood.

It had turned into something more for him when you'd saved him from the group of Brute Chieftains just before High Charity had crashed. That's a whole other story for a whole other day.

John trusted you. He trusted you with his life, with himself, and that was not easy to obtain. Having the trust of The Master Chief as both a soldier and a person was like being given his heart and watching it settle into your hands.

A broken, bleeding thing.

You remember the first time he'd actually screamed. It was loud and agonizing and raw, and only hours after Miranda had died. You had maybe two hours tops before you had to activate the Ring. You'd forced him to sleep for said two hours, because he was not going to function well otherwise.

The Arbiter acted as he did not hear it. Dishonorable, he'd said, to look upon a man like that and acknowledge his turmoil.

"Well, your dishonor is our comfort."

You'd entered the room and sat by his side until he calmed down. You didn't touch him, you didn't say a word, but the act of your presence at his side was enough.

You slid his helmet back on and leaned forward to lightly knock your head against it. There is not an ounce of apprehension in your gaze. No. That's confidence.

Confidence in him.

"To war then, Master Chief."

John had come to appreciate that about you. When everyone else was betting on him to lose and the odds were entirely against him, your steady footing and steadfastness were all he needed to keep pushing forward.

He found himself seeking you out more than embracing his elusive nature and isolating to cope with what played behind his eyes when he slept. Miranda's death. Keyes death. Johnsons death. Cortana-

Cortana had taken his willingness to embrace the fight. Having you and her had rejuvenated him. Had given him a purpose that he felt he could successfully fulfill.

Then she was gone. She'd touched him, said those words that would forever be burned into his memory, and she was gone.

John would've been lying if he said he wasn't terrified that the same thing would happen to you.

That's what brought him to this point. Fingers wound tightly enough in the sheets to crumple them beneath his grasps, blue eyes wildly seeking something to anchor to while his heart pounded loudly in his ears. The moonlight fractured against the window to his right, illuminating the bedroom and his body in white as he twisted and turned on the mattress.

He didn't fully emerge from that nightmare until you opened the door.

Vulnerable. You're vulnerable. You are not safe.

"John? Are you alright?"

You haven't moved. He can just barely see you lingering in the darkness of his doorway. You've closed the door behind you on entry, fingers wound around the wall loosely as you wait for an opening to come closer.

He needs to breathe. His chest hurts, and his eyes are on fire, and why are his cheeks wet-

You're sitting beside him in a moment's notice. He can't quite hear what you're saying now, and perhaps he doesn't need to, because all he can feel is the warmth of your hand on his chest and the other curving around his jawline. It's a stark contrast from the bitter cold of death that always seems to linger in his dreams.

He reads your lips instead as the world slowly comes back into focus. You are safe. You are with someone you trust. You are secure. All attributes that the two of you have said about one another. All attributes that caused him to allow himself to be vulnerable, to allow you to see a side of him most people didn't.

His mind shifts backwards to the first time he'd let you remove his helmet. That alone spoke volumes. Most Spartans didn't even let the other members of their fire team remove their helmets, or their armor.

It had been the talk of the Infinity for weeks.

"John." You're still giving him an opportunity to talk, and the way your gentleness and patience is so all encompassing causes the breath he'd lost to slowly come back into his lungs. "What do you need?"

The logical part of his brain knows the answer to that. He needs to win the war. He needs peace of mind. He needs sleep, and food, and Blue. He really misses Blue Team.

What he does not need is to talk about this dream. About the death. About losing you, and how watching you die finally made him wake up to a very simple realization: Losing you was not an option. Losing you could not happen, because he was in love with you, and had been for a while.

His desires had just not allowed themselves to be known when being the face of a war only he could win.

His heart, however, is what wins out in the end. Master Chief Petty Officer Sierra 117 looks up at you and says, "You."

***

You don't know what that means. For all the time that you and John have been dancing around each other - years, in fact, because you'd resigned yourself to your feelings being one-sided long before this - you never anticipated broken, bleeding fingers shakily reaching out to wrap your own around what is left of his heart.

That is exactly what's on full display right now.

"I don't want to take advantage-"

Your breath catches in your throat as John's hands come to cradle your jaw. It's the first time he's touched you without gloves covering his fingers. It's the first time you've also been able to really see him without the helmet, and he is the most magnificent man you've ever laid eyes on.

You've wondered for years what color his eyes are. It has haunted your dreams, especially whenever the two of you were separated when the Forward Unto Dawn split.

Blue. Such a glorious, deep shade of blue.

"If I didn't want it," He says quietly. "I wouldn't ask."

You slide your knees against the standard UNSC mattress and allow him to, though slowly and hesitantly, take you into his embrace. Menial comforts are not something Spartans are afforded. To be able to take the offer of your comfort, of you, is not something he ever regret doing.

John's head slowly falls into the dip of your shoulder the minute you are in his lap. It's comfortable, and warm, and all you can feel against you is every part of him. It's exactly what you've dreamt of for all the years you've held such deeply rooted feelings for him.

You shiver as his breath fans across your skin. It's intimate. You wonder if picking his head back up to kiss him is too far, but you miss one hundred percent of the risks you don't take.

So you do.

"John," You whisper. "There's never going to be a time where I don't bet on you. You are the one who's gotten us this far, and you're the one who will see us through. I know it. I believe in you."

You watch the knot in his throat bob as he swallows, eyes brightened by the beams of moonlight from outside as you both hesitate.

"Believe in me a little bit longer," His voice is so low that you almost don't hear it, and he's the one who leans forward to follow that desire he has suppressed for is long. "Please."

You nod. Once, twice, three times.

"Always."

And the moment his mouth catches yours, the safety he has so desperately been seeking since Cortana disappeared finds itself encompassing him within their arms.

For the weary soldier, respite comes in the form of his partner: His compassionate, empathetic, gentle partner who will always be there to watch his six. To fight his demons, to ward away his ghosts.

He would not have it be anyone else.

Only you.

[tklpilled]

ship in a bottle

with all the time idia spends on his computer, it should come as no surprise that he has plenty of things on there that he’d…rather not be shared. he has folders of (totally legally) downloaded animes, his collection both impressive and highly embarrassing. he even has them nicely organised, into categories like “super underrated, binge when sad. or when happy”, and “terrible ending, can’t have shit in twisted wonderland”. he’s had to tinker with the storage a few times to make it all fit while still running smoothly.

then, of course, his games, dating sims and gachas and horror on occasion. he’s played just about every game anyone’s ever heard of, and then some.

even so, all of that isn’t even close to the worst on there. plenty of people watch anime and play those types of games, after all, and the fact that he likes them isn’t any kind of secret. he doesn’t have anything bad on there, exactly, just things that he’d rather die a slow and agonising death than let anyone else see.

like that one thing—

“idia-san.” azul’s voice breaks him from his trance. idia snaps his head up, blinking a couple times. the board sits on the table, displaying a half-finished word game. “it’s your turn.”

“o-oh, yeah.” idia scans the board in search of azul’s most recent play. he has some odd letters, but he’ll probably be able to make it work—

he freezes.

of course that’s the word azul put down.

he stares at it for a moment too long, hoping that maybe he’d misread it, but the letters don’t change. six of the tiles, in a neat row. does azul know? no, he can’t. it’s just a coincidence. it has to be.

azul speaks up. “idia-san?” he asks again, tilting his head, expression laced with concern. “are you alright? you seem rather flushed.”

“fine!” idia chokes out, squeakier than he’d like. he grabs some letters from his tile rack, spelling out jukebox using previously placed u and o tiles. he doesn’t think azul believes him; hell, not a person in the world would believe such a blatant lie. still, the topic is dropped and the game continues.

—

“you should tell him, nii-san!” ortho encourages, bouncing on his feet. “you want to, so go for it!”

idia buries his face in his arms, his normally freezing cold room feeling way warmer than usual. “i can't! there's no way he'll ever think i'm cool!”

he regrets even telling ortho about his problem. he should have seen this coming. doesn't ortho get it? azul is basically idia's only friend. sevens, he'd rather confess his stupid crush on azul over this, and he can’t begin to express how badly he doesn’t want to do that. literally anything but this.

“azul ashengrotto-san isn’t the type of person to judge his friends,” says ortho. “plus, his affection levels towards you are higher than usual.”

“th-that’s the problem!” idia squeaks. “being friends with him is already, like, a secret route! if he finds out, it's totally game over for me!”

azul is nice enough, but idia is still nothing short of terrified of what his reaction would be. maybe he'd distance himself, stop coming to club meetings or quit entirely. avoid idia at every chance. tell the whole school what a fucking weirdo the ignihyde housewarden is.

(and yet at the same time, idia can't stop imagining, fantasising about the other possibility. that azul would just laugh, reassure him in his own azul-like way, move closer and closer until his hands are on idia's waist, nimble fingers instantly drawn to all of his most sensitive spots. the mere idea, however unrealistic, fills his stomach with butterflies. he can't think about it too long before he feels likes he's about to explode.)

ortho sighs. “it’s worth considering, at least.”

idia mumbles into his sleeves, “yeah, whatever.”

he’s not going to consider it for a second.

—

idia can't get the conversation out of his head. he can't really tell azul about it, can he? no. no way. out of the question, one hundred percent. possible reaction aside, there’s no way idia would even be able to say it.

azul clears his throat and idia snaps his head up.

“apologies,” he says, straightening his glasses. “there was a bit of a tickle in my throat, you see.”

great. of course that’s the phrasing he uses. idia nods, trying his best to act casual, even though the word makes him so panicky and now he can’t stop thinking about it. the way azul says it, how easily it falls from his mouth. he’s obsessed. he hates it.

there's silence in the empty room as azul moves his piece a few spaces. then, as idia is trying to figure out his next move, azul speaks.

“you're blushing again.”

huh?! well, his face does feel rather warm. his eyes widen and he stammers, pulling his hood over his head to hide the pastel pink tips of his hair. ugh. humiliating.

“um, s-sorry. it’s my turn, right—?”

“tell me,” interrupts azul, tilting his head. idia glances over at him, but doesn’t quite look up. “why do you get so flustered when i mention tickling?”

fuck. fuck fuck fuck fuck.

it’s idia’s own fault, really. he’s the idiot for thinking azul hadn’t noticed. he was just so desperate, hoping that his most well-guarded secret would stay a secret—from the boy he likes, especially. he must have gotten careless at some point.

he realises azul is still watching him. idia coughs weakly, looking anywhere else. “i-i don’t know what you’re talking about! it’s def just some sort of bug, i’m totally fine…!” he’s talking too fast, too high pitched. it’s not a believable excuse at all.

there’s something dancing in azul's eyes; amusement? excitement? “is that so? then, please,” he gestures towards idia, “explain why your face has gone so red.”

“eh?!” idia hides his face with his hands, peeking out between his fingers after a moment. “j-just…drop it, please…”

and, to his disappointment, azul listens.

—

at least, in a way. he doesn’t mention it outright, but every interaction with him from then on is a constant reminder to idia that he knows (some of it, at least), and he’s not above using it against him.

azul begins to bring up the word as casually but as often as he can, and sevens, why are there so many damn phrases that use it? he jabs idia’s side when he spaces out, squeezes his knee under the table, pinches at his waist when he walks past. each touch is brief, and it only leaves idia craving more.

he can’t take it.

“stop teasing me!” he gets the courage to blurt out over a game of chess one day. he can already feel the warmth creeping under his skin.

azul stares for a moment, and in that instant idia has a sudden feeling of impending doom.

and then azul laughs.

he doubles over, pushing the board away from him as he holds a hand over his mouth to muffle the sound. he laughs like idia’s just told him some sort of joke, and idia wants to be annoyed by it, but the sight is just too cute. screw his stupid feelings.

when azul is done laughing, he looks back up at idia. “i'm surprised,” he admits. “i didn't think you'd say anything this soon.”

idia crosses his arms, glaring. his face could easily be on fire and he wouldn't know the difference. he can't say anything. he doesn't know what to say.

azul straightens the frames of his glasses, still smiling. “so, idia-san,” he starts, “what do you want?”

he must be dreaming. idia feels like he’s going to throw up, in some sort of excited way. is this not what he’s been wanting? what he’s been thinking about for ages?

this can't be real.

it takes a while to find his voice. “please,” he whispers. “i want you to t-tickle me.”

and azul…

…stays silent.

idia’s words linger in the air, neither of them moving an inch. idia stares a hole into the table, his hands trembling as he clenches them.

azul isn’t saying anything. he’s not doing anything. shit, he’s never going to want to talk to idia again, he thinks idia is some sort of freak—

idia stands up suddenly, preparing to run, but azul’s hand grabs his wrist before he can move. idia, finally, locks eyes with him.

“okay,” azul says, smiling so genuinely in a way idia has never seen before. “i'll tickle you.”

and idia stops thinking altogether.

azul guides him to the ground, lays him on the floor of the classroom and hovers over him, practically straddling him. their position in the end would surely give anyone who walked in the wrong idea; but then again, maybe that assumption wouldn't be too far off.

“okay?” azul asks once they're settled, tilting his head. he's waiting for idia's go-ahead—as if he would say no.

idia can't find the words in him, so he merely nods.

he flinches almost violently when azul's fingers meet his stomach, both because his hands are cold and he knows what's coming. he gasps in a breath of air, but it doesn't matter. the moment nails begin to drag across his skin, he falls apart. he couldn't keep from laughing if he tried.

“az-azuhul-shi! wait, plehease, please…!” he doesn't even know what he's begging for. he doesn't want it to stop, but he doesn't think he could handle any more.

azul giggles, a light sound that barely carries over the sound of idia's desperation. “please? is this not what you've been waiting for? make up your mind.”

idia can't remember ever laughing this hard. he doesn't even remember the last time he was properly tickled, if it ever happened at all. he didn't know his body could even be this sensitive; it's overwhelming, any attempt at a coherent thought being instantly washed away.

yet at the same time, it's euphoric. he can't deny that he loves this, even as azul manages to find the spots that make him practically scream. it's such a relief that all the classrooms are soundproofed.

“please,” he begs, “dohon’t stohohop!”

[vodika-vibes]

For your follower event, could you write up something romntic for Cody with anemone and blue daisy? Please and thank you!

For Eternity

Summary: Commander Cody is exhausted, luckily for him, his girlfriend works on the Negotiator too.

Pairing: Commander Cody x F!Reader

Word Count: 1070

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: Thank you for your request! I hope you like it!

Cody is exhausted.

The campaign that he just finished was supposed to be simple. Lasting no more than a month. But, as seems to be the norm lately, the information was wrong, and the month-long campaign turned into a four month long slog.

He’s exhausted.

So exhausted.

He’s not the only one. There’s a pall hanging over the men, leaving them quiet and solemn, and even General Kenobi doesn’t have the words to make them feel better.

They need a break.

Desperately. 

As exhausted as he is, Cody’s feet don’t bring him to his quarters. Instead he goes deeper and deeper into the ship, until he arrives at the small office where the single Droid Tech works.

He keys open the door and leans against the frame, his exhausted eyes taking in the scene before him. 

His cyare. His beautiful, kind, gentle cyare is sitting at her desk with a protocol droid stretched out on the table in front of her. And one of the Shinies, Cody thinks he goes by Pots, is standing at the side of the desk, a hopeful look on his face.

He folds his arms and he decides to listen.

“So,” Pots says as he moves closer to her, “I was thinking, when we get back to Coruscant, maybe we could go dancing?”

“Pass.” She flips her goggles down over her eyes as she leans in to look at the droid’s inner workings, “No offense, but when we get back to Coruscant, I’m locking myself in my apartment until our next deployment.”

“Well, maybe you’d like some company?”

“No thank you.”

“But-” Pots takes half a step towards her, and Cody decides that it’s time to intervene.

His Cyare is only so patient, after all.

He clears his throat, and Pots jumps, though, Cody notes with amusement, his cyare didn’t even look up from her work. Of course, he’s pretty sure that her goggles have mirrors so she can see if someone comes in behind her.

“Commander!” Pots salutes hurriedly and takes several steps away from the table, “Apologies, sir, I didn’t see you.”

“Clearly.” Cody replies with an arched brow, “Everything alright in here?”

“Yessir,” Pots replies, “I was just asking her out on a date.”

Cody’s gaze drags across his cyare’s back, taking note of the tension in her frame. “I don’t think she’s interested, private.”

Pots hesitates, and his gaze flickers back to the woman and then back to his Commander, “yessir, so it would appear.” He says sullenly. He salutes one more time, and then hurries out of the room.

As soon as he’s gone, Cody steps into the room properly and allows the door to slide shut behind him. “Are you alright?”

“Mm. He would have given up eventually,” She sets her tools to the side and lifts her goggles to the top of her head, before she turns on her stool and favors him with a bright smile, her eyes crinkling at the corner with the force of her smile. “They always do.”

Cody leans against the wall and folds his arms over his chest, “They shouldn’t be bothering you at all. You’re a busy woman.”

“Well, that doesn’t stop you from bothering me.” Her voice is light and teasing as she gets to her feet. She walks over to him and lightly cups his cheek, “You look tired.”

“I am tired,” He admits as he brings his hand up and covers her hand with his own, before he turns his head to kiss the palm of her hand, “I was hoping you had some space for me?”

“What a silly question, I always have space for you.” She steps closer to him, and Cody allows himself to curl around her, his head slowly falling to her shoulder. 

He moves his hands to her waist, pulling her in for a tight hug. “This has been a very long campaign.” He murmurs against her neck.

“I know. But we’ll be home soon. And you can lock yourself in my apartment with me.”

“That sounds amazing.” Cody replies, his eyes close as she brushes her fingers through his short hair, “I have the hardest time sleeping without you next to me.”

“I’m sorry, love.”

“Not your fault. I’m the one who’s insisting on keeping this a secret,” Cody pulls away only long enough to lightly bump his forehead against hers, “If I knew that it was going to make your life more difficult-”

“Shh.” She presses a finger against his lips, “Cody, I can handle a few lonely men.”

He sighs, “I hate that they think that they can flirt with you. I…” He laughs, “I’m jealous.”

“Don’t be.” She traces his lips with one delicate finger, “I chose you. I will always choose you. Forever.”

“I’m not worried.” He replies honestly, “I just hate that they can spend time with you and I can’t.” Cody catches her hand, and laces his fingers with hers, “Do you have any idea how much I love you?”

“Almost as much as I love you?” She asks with a teasing smile.

Cody chuckles, “I love you forever.”

She favors him with a loving smile and stands up on her toes to brush her lips against his. “Forever is a long time.” She murmurs softly.

“My love for you is undying.” He replies, “Forever isn’t long enough.”

She presses closer to him, “Would you like to spend the night with me, Commander?” She asks.

“More than anything in the world.” He murmurs, and he knows there’s something hungry in his gaze based on how she’s averting her gaze and the flush rising up on her face. And then he exhales slowly, “But I should probably return to my quarters.”

There’s a glimmer of disappointment on her face, and Cody clutches her tighter. “Don’t look at me like that, cyare.” He murmurs, “I only have so much self control when it comes to you.”

“I’m sorry,” She whispers, “I just…I miss you.”

He laughs softly, “You aren’t playing fair, cyare.”

“Sorry.” But he knows that she doesn’t mean it.

He locks his gaze with hers for a moment, “I suppose,” Cody says slowly, “I can spend a little time with you. So long as I don’t stay all night.”

“That sounds like a great idea.” She replies.

“Mm. Can your project wait?”

“Absolutely.” She kisses him properly, and, just like every other time, Cody is lost.

[nahoney22]

As a Wrecker simp, let me just thank you personally providing spice of this wonderful man. May I request another Wrecker x F!Reader?

If you need something to go off of, perhaps maybe the Batch has some downtime and Reader gets to break out some casual wear that wouldn't typically be worn in between missions, and Wrecker's reaction to the discovery that Reader prefers yoga pants when not crammed on the ship with the guys.

If not, whatever you come up with will be great. I mostly ask because you get his characterization communicated so well.

Cheers,

Can’t Help It***

Wrecker X F!Reader

word count: 4.1k

Wrecker thought you was pretty attractive before but when he discovers you in yoga pants? He tries to not let his head explode. But how will he act when you suggest a work out and he just can’t keep his hands to himself?

Masterlist

warnings: NSFW 18+ Only please! Explicit sexual content, consensual smut, swearing, praising, p in v, size kink, creampie, reader wearing some very tight yoga pants, Wrecker being a little bit of a perv, semi-public sex, not established relationship, dom!wrecker, rough sex, reader is rather flexible. Not proofread, ending is a little rushed.

A/N thank you for the kind words and I apologise for the wait! Hope this is okay @l-lend ♥️

You could not quite explain it but there was something in the air today that made your skin tingle. Knowing that there were no upcoming missions was perhaps the main reason for your uplifting mood and as you scurried to the cockpit to gaze out to the planet, the sun was shining. Perfect.

“You seem chipper.” Hunter notes, sitting in one of the pilot seats as he looks at you leaning against the control panel.

“I don’t know why,” you shrug, backing up and standing with your hands on your hips, “I just feel like today is going to be a good day! Maybe I could do a workout.” The idea popped into your head, causing you to smile. “Want to join?”

He chuckles but shakes his head. “Nah, no thanks. My shoulder is causing me some trouble at the minute so I’m just going to chill today.” He offers an apologetic look which isn’t needed.

“That’s alright, see you later!“ you bounce down the hall of the ship and begin to rummage through your belongings and when you know nobody will intrude, you change.

Snapping the band of your very comfortable and if you do say so yourself, rather flattering yoga pants to your waist, you feel better than ever. Hair no longer hidden under a helmet or brushed back, you let it go natural.

Doing a small stretch in the small corner of the ship to limber up, you grab some things such as a mat, canister of water and even your datapad and head outside.

As expected, the air was comfortingly warm and there were no black clouds in the sky to ruin your day. To your left you spot Tech sat upon a crate, minding his own business and tinkering away with something that looked like a part of the ship and to your right was Echo relaxing in the shade of the ship's wing.

Ahead however was Wrecker and funnily enough, Gonky. He’s doing his own workout by a large tree and in the shade, tossing the poor droid about and using Gonky as weights but if it meant for Wrecker to keep his strength, why not?

You bounce towards him, always having been one to enjoy his company. He was always so positive in the worst of times or he was just very good at cheering you up when needed.

“Morning Wrecker, mind if I join you?” You stop in front of him, hands on hips as you gaze at him on the floor doing some tricep presses. You’re quick to notice he’s wearing a plain dark red vest top, very different to his blacks as your eyes trailed up the veins of his arms, muscles tightening and loosening with every curl. With beads of sweat dripping down his body, your mind is riddled with obscene thoughts that you’d never voice aloud and the sound of Gonky being dropped to the ground made you snap back to reality.

“M-morning, you uh, doing okay?” He’s panting a little, leaning up on his elbows as he gazes up at you and tried so, so hard not to look at what distracted him in the first place.

You raise a brow, wondering why he was acting so peculiar and look at Gonky whose legs were flailing around, making a beeping noise so you carefully sit them back up. “Yeah I’m alright,” you reply as you prop Gonky back onto his legs, “are you?”

Wrecker was a little flustered and couldn’t even work up the courage to string a sentence along. Have you always had those pants? He was certain he would remember you strutting round the ship in skintight pants at some point. The moment you bent over just a tad to help the droid he had carelessly dropped with your surprise appearance, his heart stopped to see how perfect the material framed your rear. Inadvertently licking his lips, your voice brought him back.

“Wrecker?”

“Huh? Oh, I’m fine. Just fine. You planning on working out?” He stands this time, towering over you in a matter of moments and composed himself even if it’s only slightly.

“Yeah!” You beam up at him, moving around to take in the surrounding area and breathe in the fresh air. “It’s a good day to do something so I thought maybe I could do some yoga.”

Wrecker blinks, his eyes never once leaving you and when your back is turned to him, he just can not help but take in the sight of you in those pants. His current thoughts were definitely not repeatable.

Admittedly, he was not shy in voicing his feelings about you to his brothers yet he was a little shy when it came to telling you. He definitely did his best to get you interested in him and humbly, he believes he has done a good job so far. After all, if it wasn’t him seeking you out, you’d be going out of your way to find and talk to him literally about anything and everything.

“Yoga?” He questions, not sure if he had heard the term before but as you begin to explain the benefits of the exercise, he is seemingly intrigued. Then again, when was he not intrigued by anything you had to tell him?

“Sounds interesting but I don’t think it’s for me.” He says with a low chuckle, scratching the back of his neck as he begins to watch you get ready.

“Oh,” your tone showed a little disappointment but you should know better that Wrecker is much more of an intense physical and weightlifting kind of guy. You enjoyed cardio occasionally but yoga was just a little different and relaxed you. To which, you definitely needed to relax. “That’s okay, I can do it by myself if you wanna carry on with what you were doing?” You suggest with a smile but what Wreckee says next makes your heart spiral.

“Can I just sit and watch you?”

Despite him sounding pure in his words, he realised quickly judging by the flush up your neck and dip of your head that what he said was seemingly quite strange. “I-I mean just so I know what yoga is? Maybe I could get some tips?” He rambles, wiping the beads of sweat away from his forehead which were no longer from his workout but his awkwardness.

You meet his gaze again and just subtly nod your head. “That’s fine, Wrecker.”

Wrecker sighs in silent relief and grabs his own canteen of water and sits by the trunk of the tree and lets himself cool down while taking note of how calm and collected you looked. To his knowledge it only seemed like yoga was mainly stretching and controlling breathing and he found himself smiling as he admired how expertly you were when it came to alternating stretches and positions.

Every now and again his eyes would travel to your thighs, thanking whoever you got them from silently because he had never seen such an alluring sight. Deep down he knows he shouldn’t gawk at your body this way but when you stretch out your arms and lean forward, planting your palms flat to the ground, he has a very good view of what you have to offer.

“Kriff.” He mutters to himself, a silent groan aching in his throat as something else begins to ache between his legs. Wrecker was almost blown away that the others weren’t sitting with him and taking all this in but then again, he wanted you to himself.

Whilst leaning, you twist your body to the left stretching your torso and as you take a hold of your left ankle, you glance at Wrecker and catch him staring right at your bottom. You pretend you didn’t notice because non-surprisingly you felt a little proud that Wrecker was admiring the view so much so you begin to feel a little sexually frustrated. Problem was, you didn’t know if he felt it too and if it was too risky to make a move on the Clone without seeming obvious.

Returning to a standing position, you rest your hands on your hips and lean side to side, counting your breaths as you try to think of a way of getting Wrecker involved. It took a few minutes of you thinking, trying to conceive a plan and once you did, you turn to face him.

Though as you turn, you felt your heart stop for a brief moment. As you face him, you swear you had caught sight of him very, very quickly moving his hand away from a certain region. He’s acting innocent, looking at the branches up in the tree and using his canteen to cover the obvious growth between his legs and you’re doing your best to act like you did not see what you thought you saw. No, you definitely know what you saw. Besides, there was no hiding the warmth to his cheeks.

Wrecker felt a little guilty for briefly touching himself over his shorts at the sight of you exercising, but those pants left little to the imagination. He’s beyond turned on at this point and when you turn to look at him, he almost had a heart attack. The fear of being caught got the better of him so to save him from further embarrassment, he stands and clears his throat. “I should uh, go see if Tech needs any help.” He lies through his teeth regrettably but if he watches you anyway he’s certain that he may cum in his pants.

Now that is definitely something Wrecker would not do. He hates anything to do with working with Tech simply because he hates being told what to do and he was not in the mood for a lesson of calibrating system checks for the twelfth time after these last fourteen rotations. “Shame, I was about to ask if you could help me with something?” You say innocently, hands behind your back as you slightly sway from side to side.

There’s something in your eyes that he could not quite pinpoint at the minute and who was he to refuse you of any help? “What do you need?” He utters, taking a step closer to you and a grin breaks onto your face.

“Well,” you move onto the floor and gesture for him to stand behind you, “I need to do a forward bend but I may need you to push me further down if that’s okay?”

He’s a little lost at what you had asked of him but as you stretch your legs out forward and reach down towards your heels, he awkwardly gets onto his knees and places both hands to your back. “Push me a little further. I won’t break.” You say with a soft chuckle, already feeling the burn of your hamstrings and calves.

Hesitant, he does as you ask and adds more tension, large fingers practically wrapping around the whole of your bank. You let out a soft grunt and he almost lets go out of panic, sometimes not knowing his own strength until you softly utter a word under your breath.

“Harder.”

He swallows the saliva that had piled in his throat and obeyed. The touch of his hands on you had sent a heat to your core, loving how he was sort of man-handling you. This was only the first part of your little scheme to see what else you can do see how Wrecker acts around you and what better way to start than some innocent but naughty words? “Harder, Wrecker.” You mutter with a soft groan, head tilting down to the point your head touches your thighs and hands resting by your feet.

“How’s this?” He says with a voice barely above a whisper as his hands push further into you, his arousal growing.

“So good. You’re good at this.” You mumble, trying to feign your innocence but as you hear him let out a choked cough, you smirk.

When you’ve had enough, you push against his hands and he lets go, letting your bones and muscles relax. Now let’s see how much he was willing to help you again. “Want to keep helping me or?” You question, head tilting back to look up at the Clone who had an unreadable glimmer in his eyes.

“Of course I do!“ He chimes happily, hoping his upbeat and energetic enthusiasm is enough to hide the obvious sighting in his shorts. Clearly, you’re doing your best not to look at all but this next position may make it difficult for you both.

When you explain the position to him, his cheeks feel incredibly hot. He watches you get into the right situation where he timidly and carefully hovers over one of your legs, kneeling down, whilst the other lays against his chest. “S-so you just want me to push against your leg?”

You nod, chewing on your lower lip as you rest on your elbows. “Precisely that. It’ll,” you try and fathom the right words but your mind trails off as he presses up against you and a gasp is stuck in your throat as you feel something hard press to your leg, “it’ll h-help me gain flexibility with my legs.” You utter rather pathetically, eyelids now a little heavy in deep arousal.

Oh and how he noticed the arousal.

“Seems like you're rather flexible already. Do you really need a big guy like me to help you? I think you’re a big girl who can do it herself.” He teases with a deep smirk. It finally clicked for him that you were flirting, wanting to be close to him but he’s curious to know how you would act upon feeling his unmissable hard-on rub along you.

You’re taken aback. Was he… was he praising you? Either way, it was making your mind whirl. “I need you.”

He raises a brow and his gaze is intense on you as he begins to smirk. “Say please.”

You laugh softly but oblige. “I need you, please.”

He liked how you purred your words, gazes locked together as he pushed against your leg with his large and broad chest, leaning further into you as you equally pushed against him to hit that right spot. As if you cared about yoga anymore anyway.

There’s a thick, unmissable tension now and the second his cock brushes against your crotch, a painful and needy moan creeps out your mouth. His chuckle is dark at the reaction. “Do you feel what seeing you in these pants has done to me, pretty girl?” He coos, holding his position against you through gritted teeth. “Your arse looks amazing. I mean ya always do but Karking hells.”

You’re flushed in arousal, biting on your lower lip as you consciously raise your hips and buck against him just for that little more needed friction.

“I-I didn’t know you viewed me like that.” Modest, Wrecker tilts his head down at you and then casts a gaze to the side to see the others outside the ship but none the wiser what was going on a few klicks away from them.

“Always thought that. Just,” he lets out a soft groan mid sentence, you pressing against him a little more, the tightness of his shorts now unbearable, “Kriff, didn’t know if you would like someone like me back.”

“Does this,” Your eyes flicker between your crotch and his, “answer your question?”

He lets out a deep and guttural groan, not being able to stand the tension anymore. Swiftly, he stands and takes you into his arms and carries you towards the large tree and out of view from others. Which was ideal as the kiss he bestowed upon you is nothing but filth. It’s rough, desperate yet a small glimmer of tenderness did seep through the second your back is brushed up against the bark. “W-Wrecker,” you paint his name against his lips, causing him to break away but it’s not long until his mouth finds refuge elsewhere; your neck.

“Yeah, mesh’la?” He utters, teeth nibbling against that perfect spot on your neck that sends shivers down your spine.

“Don’t know, it just felt right to say your name.” You answer sheepishly, head lolling back to give the large Clone more access to you.

When he chuckles against your skin, a small whimper of pleasure is made and a warmth pangs at your core. You're aroused, incredibly wet. Cursing silently, you begin to realise that these pants now seemed insufferable to wear despite it being what got you both to this point. “I saw you, y'know? Touching yourself over your shorts whilst checking me out.”

When he pulls away, his ears pinken and he seems rather sheepish and nervous. “Oh, I mean, can ya blame me? I just couldn’t help it. You look fucking incredible.”

Your hands place to his shoulder, your left one fleeing and drifts towards his cheek, tracing over the scarring. “I’m flattered. But, I’m not going to lie to you…” you trail off, lust filled eyes boring into his own.

“What is it?” He prepares himself to be rejected but when you lean into him again and seductively trace your tongue over his lower lip, he begs to differ.

“I kinda want someone to take them off. Right here.” You utter against his slightly chapped lips, warm breath fanning his face. “Right now.”

And with your consent, he wasted no time in doing just that. Well, kind of.

Before you knew it, you’re being spun around with your hands splayed against the trunk of the tree. He gently kicks your legs apart too and you’re a little confused at first until you felt a small tug, heard a loud rip followed by a soft breeze of the warm air.

“Did you just rip my pants!?“ you shout, quickly hushing yourself in the fears the others may have heard.

“Did you just rip my pants?!” You ask again, voice a lot quieter but full of surprise as you look over your shoulder at him, mouth watering as he drops his pants and his cock springs free. “Maker… you’re huge.”

He’s grinning at you mischievously before a large hand cups your sex, his fingers rubbing between your lips as he collects your warm eagerness on them.

Your mouth slacks open at the sensation, head falling forward as you allow him to tease your pussy beautifully. His strokes are slow, tantalizing and one finger felt like the girth of something just as needed. “I’ll buy ya more sweetie, I’ll buy ya a thousand more if it means I can tear them your body.” He purrs in a low tone, collecting the slick on his fingers and you feel him pull away but are more than certain you heard him having a little taste.

“Do you want this? Do you want my cock pretty thing?” He asks softly this time, leaning over your body and placing a small kiss to your shoulder for reassurance. Maker, you had never been more sure than anything in your life.

“Yes! Yes I want your cock so bad baby.” You beg, preparing yourself as the warmth of his member rubs against your exposed cunt. You grunt as you feel him grab himself, tracing his tip along your entrance before very slowly pushes into you.

A hearty sob of pleasure breaks out your chest, the sting of him stretching you open like you had never before made your eyes roll into the back of your head - legs jelly.

One of his hands wraps around your front, keeping you steady as he pauses and lets you adjust to his size. “Are you doing okay, sweet one?” Voice gentle, his knees bent a little to get a better angle inside you and he almost melted like butter. You’re so soft, so warm.

You nod, exasperatedly and unable to find your voice. Ever so slowly, he picks up a steady rhythm and the feeling of his cock sliding in and out of your was fucking filthy. Any minute, any second, one of his brothers could come over and interrupt this moment and so you do your best to suppress your wanton moans.

His other free hand rests on your shoulder, arching your head up a little enough to put his hand over your mouth and ushers you on. “Don’t worry, moan against my hand baby. The others won’t hear us but I want to hear every little noise ya make.”

So that’s what you did, mewling and whimpering against his large hand as his girthy and protruding cock fills up your little tight hole. You could hear his balls slap against you, a lewd and filthy noise that only urged you on more to reach a needed climax. It wasn’t until now you realised how much you found yourself pining for Wrecker but as he plows into you, harder now than ever, you didn’t want him to stop.

“Fuck, you’re so big. Fucking me so well.” You mumble against his hand only to hear him chuckle from behind you.

“Yeah? Yeah you like this, huh? Well let’s see how flexible ya can be shall we? C’mere.” He pulls out temporarily, turns you to face him again and hooks your right leg up, higher and higher until your leg extends against the whole length of his body.

His hand travels up your ripped stretching pants, griping at your thighs and calves and licks his lips as if he was about to devour you. It was a little silly that only your crotch area was ripped apart, the material clinging now loosely to your skin but you can’t complain about fashion now. Especially as his cock is pushed straight back into you. You’re flush against him and the tree, getting the feeling it wasn’t just the tree that was rough.

The sensation was creating a familiar wave of intensity that swelled in your abdomen and all but stole what was left of your voice. His lips were back on yours, holding onto your leg to keep it up as he ruts up into you.

His groans were loud and hurried, his high surfacing quicker than he wanted. He had to pace himself.

Whimpering against him, he sees stars clouding your eyes and he gets a wonderful kick out of it.“Ya like it rough? How rough do you want it in these tight little pants?”

He didn't give you time to answer that you wanted his cock so deep in you your legs could snap as he slid in with resolve, burying himself so deep you choked on yet another sobbing moan.

Wrecker kept his pace slow but pointed, barely sliding out before pounding back in. Your body jerks backward and pushes a fervent grunt from your throat with every thrust he gave.

“Wrecker,” you gasped, the feel of your own touch as your hand slid down your front and caressed your little bud sent you crazy. All the while his relentless pounding against that spot deep jolted through you. “That's it, yes...i love it when you kriff my tight little pussy, gonna make me cum.” Voice hushed against his lips, you completely forgot about the others.

“Gonna cum for me? Let me feel it, wanna feel that sweet pussy juicing all over my big cock.” He pants heavily, beads of sweat dripping down his face. Your legs begin to ache and he expertly notices, now lifting you with your legs wrapped his waist while non-stop thrusting.

Any sound your body wanted to make was silenced, choked back by the onslaught of satisfaction that swelled through you. He was saturating your entire being as your orgasm rocked you to your core. Blood rushed to your ears, making the slap of his skin against yours and his incoherent mutterings sound like a distant echo. Speaking of which, you heard his voice calling for you both that a transmission was being patched through. Though all you could do was drown in Wrecker, letting your body still agaisnt him like his loola doll while he fucked you through it, your walls gripping him like a vice.

Slowing down his rhythm as you came down, your chest heaved whilst your lips and throat felt so dry from panting.

He leaned into you once more and placed sweet open-mouthed kisses to your neck and jaw.

You whimpered as he pulled out of you, his large shaft was sloshed in your climax. The sound of his strained, heavy breaths filling the tight space between you both. You feel his cum dripping out of you and down your exposed thighs. Both of you completely spent. How did that just happen?

“You mean a lot to me.” He finally says, breaking the not so tense atmosphere so to speak but the atmosphere where you both just fucked the Maker out of each other.

You smile lazily, still pretty drunk on your high and peck his cheek. “Me too, Wrecker. But you better buy me some new pants.”

The moment would’ve been so sweet despite the situation if Echo hadn’t called out again and that’s when you became flustered and looked at your state of dress - or well - undress.

This will be an awkward walk back to the ship.

Masterlist

More Wrecker Works

tags: @nunanuggets @andyoufollowyourheart @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @captxin-rex @cwarssimp @jesseeka @ashotofspotchka @oohyesplease @megafrost4 @adriiibell @theroguesully @equalityforcats @rexandechosandwich @mustluvecho @inagalaxywickedfahaway @misogirl828 @ladykatakuri i @jambolska-grozdova @chxpsi @alexandrisonfire @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @rain-on-kamino @by-the-primes @torchbearerkyle @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @a-c-lee @autumnleaves1991-blog @tech-depression-inventory @mylifeinthetardisforever @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @lucyysthings @agenteliix @fiveshelmet @the-good-shittt @photogirl894 @cosmic-persephone @imalovernotahater @dissociativesworld @echos-girlfriend @erinwhelan99 @chubbernaut69 @mxkyrie

[rose-tinted-vision]

ReoNagi/NagiReo shower thoughts: a short essay

[manga spoilers ahead, the usual]

Disclaimer: These are just my own opinions on the ship.

The ReoNagi ship at its foundation is actually a "marriage of convenience/fwb-to-lovers" trope, if you think about it...

Or rather, it's the equivalent exchange meme: Reo gets to utilize Nagi's football skills and Nagi gets a convenient life with someone taking care of all his needs.

Although Nagi realises pretty early on how Reo essentially manipulates others around him to reach his goals (even back in school), and likely himself as well, but he lets himself get manipulated.

(It's shown in episode Nagi that Reo utilized methods like that "3rd meal trading" to maintain the harmony in Team V, to avoid turning out like Barou's team).

Or rather, allows himself to be manipulated because it benefits him in the end too, anyway: it's a somewhat mutually beneficial relationship playing to both of their individual strengths.

Though on Nagis end it may also have something to do with what Nagi says about Reo being the only person to be interested in "a slacker like me".

Whereas on Reo's end, given how he says everything back in the Mikage corporation is boring, and the way he latches onto Nagi, calling him his treasure, I'd say that Nagi probably symbolises his goal. Attaining something that can't be bought with money. Something beyond even the Mikage corporation.

Of course, their relationship evolves over the course of blue lock, in the sense that Reo is content with what they have, is alright with continuing as they are, but Nagi is partially influenced/caught up in the competitiveness of their environment and knows that he can play at a higher level, so he chooses to leave Reo.

Even though he's breaking their promise of staying together till the end, from his point of view, his growth also benefits Reo in the end, so he chooses that path. Nagi is more practical than emotional, and probably decided that the end result is worth it.

And this choice shakes up their relationship, of course. Like I've mentioned in this post: the miscommunication troupe is the very core of their relationship.

Because their relationship is also relatively new, no matter how well they work together. They've only been playing football together for about six months, of course Reo doesn't understand why Nagi would up and leave, because the other didn't tell him, and Nagi assumes that Reo understands his actions.

And suddenly their relationship is not so mutually beneficial anymore: Reo thinks that Nagi has abandoned him, so he avoids him, and Nagi doesn't have anyone fussing over him anymore.

Reo gets messed up by the emotional whiplash of his best friend leaving him and calling him a pain in the ass (derogatory), and Nagi has to look after himself.

Essentially, they're learning how to be less codependent on each other. Reo in the emotional sense, and Nagi in the practical sense of it all. Because Reo was kind of putting all his eggs in one basket (basket being Nagi here), who doesn't realise the weight he was holding.

Then Nagi throws a reverse-uno and asks Reo for his help in football. Kind of like a full-circle moment, also seems like Nagi's way of holding out an olive branch.

Though the above panels do show that

Nagi and Reo's goals are still unaligned

While Reo's goals shifted slightly from "winning the world cup" to "making Nagi the best in the world", Nagi's always been going along with Reos whims, and only just started thinking for himself.

In chapter 207 Nagi says he's been playing so far with the goal of "beating Isagi", he doesn't really have the ambition to be the "world's #1", keeping with his consistent theme of just wanting to slack.

And it's obvious that they both want to fall back to their old dynamics (a safety net), but they've both changed: Nagi has somewhat developed his "ego", and a hunger to defeat others, Reo has learnt how to fight by himself (though he doesn't want to). Thus their dynamics would inevitably change, too.

So this begs the question: are they still "mutually beneficial"? Do they have to be to maintain their relationship?

(Though it's my hope that Reo understands where Nagi is coming from now after that exchange they had on the field. I'm not as confident in Nagi understanding Reo's outburst, but. Maybe him thanking Reo for introducing him to football is a start).

[anewstartrekfan]

Alright I’m now convinced this was intentional

Guys buckle in cuz it’s time for another installment of Kirk judges someone for doing something morally questionable for possibly good reasons and then finds himself doing something similar/faced with the same dilemma several episodes later.

First round it was the Menagerie and Conscience of the King

Kirk was mad at Spock for lying and hiding why he took the ship off course with Pike and then literally the next episode Kirk hides his intentions with Kodos as he takes the shop off course until he is confronted. Another fun contrast between the two is everyone except Kirk thinks Spock is acting weird in the Menagire before he explains himself, while in conscience of the king, only Spock notices Kirk is acting off and has to do digging on his own to figure out what is going on because Kirk refuses to explain.

Second round was a taste of Armageddon and the Errand of Mercy.

In the former, Kirk was pissed at the locals for fighting this war on computers, condemning 3 million to die every year, instead of going to the negotiation table and working this out. So he destroys the computer (their weapon of war) to force them to negotiate.

And then in the latter story, the locals of a planet take away Kirk and the Klingons’ ability to fight via disabling all their weapons across the entire galaxy in order to force a negotiation that both sides are hesitant to start.

And round three is Tomorrow is Yesterday and The City at the Edge of Forever.

In the former, after the enterprise accidentally time travels, Kirk kidnaps some pilot b/c said pilot has seen their spaceship and could change the future. The pilot tries to escape several times to get back to his country and wife, not caring about the consequences, much to Kirk’s annoyance. And the episode ends with them erasing everything, even the events themselves so the timeline is restored.

And of course, in the latter story, Kirk is faced with the dilemma letting the woman he fell in love with die in order to restore the future, or saving her and condemning millions to die in a changed future. He chooses the former, and is so wrecked by this he curses for the first and last time in the whole tv series. And the episode ends not on a shot of the enterprise sailing away to its next location, but lingers on the time portal.

Edit: This one really gets me cuz that pilot was willing to break the timeline to be with his family, something extremely selfish, while Jim was able to let Edith die, sacrificing his personal happiness, saving the timeline.

Big picture is we can watch Kirk both see these dilemmas or actions from an outsiders perspective, and then later he either does the same thing or faced with the same situation personally. In short, it humanizes Kirk in a way that doesn’t make him an asshole.

I love this so much and I hope it continues.

Edit: so it didn’t really continue but I still really like this. You learn what kind of a person Jim Kirk is based on how he interacts with each given episode plot and how he deals with said plots in comparison to other people rather than him just monologuing about himself.

[shatterinseconds]

future, continued

Julance ‘23: week 4

Lance wakes up early one morning to find Keith training. The sun starts to tip over the horizon, early morning rays dancing across the ocean. Keith performs the typical hand combat training maneuvers he used to do on the castle-ship by himself, mostly late at night, and even then Lance would often find himself settling into the training room to watch, unable to sleep as well.

Lance perches himself on rock; his bare feet slide into the sand, covering up the bottom of his sweatpants. “The war’s been over for a year. It’s alright if you want to sleep late some days,” he says loud enough for Keith to hear him over the waves and seagulls. It was Keith’s idea to find a small cottage on the water, despite the fact that they do work in space more than half the year, and Lance couldn’t be happier about the location. 

Keith stops immediately, retracting from his stance. He rolls his shoulders as he looks at Lance unamused but there’s a slight quirk to his lips that Lance can see—that Lance can always see. “You know, you can just say you want to join me.”

“But that would be too easy.”

Rolling his eyes, Keith gestures. “Come on.”

Lance grins as he hops off the rock.

They don’t hold back their punches. War taught them to never show restraint even during practice. Despite the threat of battle having long since ended, it continues to take root in their bones. Maybe it will forever. A terrible souvenir really.

Keith counters his moves with practiced ease but still meets the challenge each other presents. They kick up sand as Lance blocks a punch and sidesteps a whirling kick to the ribs. Over the years they have become more evenly matched in hand-to-hand. It makes their sparring sessions much more exciting—less of Lance getting his ass handed to him after a meesely two seconds and more of actually having a chance to win, though still rarely.

Lance runs up a sand dune and back flips over Keith. Landing softly in the sand, he catches Keith, who spins around a second too late, and kicks his legs out from under him. Falling with him, Lance straddles Keith’s waist before he has the chance to stand back up. 

Whether because he’d already been training before Lance arrived or because they don’t need to sharpen their skills anymore, Keith doesn’t try to buck Lance off. Instead, he smiles in defeat—a sight that a few years ago may have rung alarm bells in Lance’s head, wondering what kind of deceptive tactic this was. But now he knows it’s more about wanting to head back home to have a proper breakfast and not waste their entire morning in the sand dunes. 

Chest heaving, Lance brushes back his sweaty curls and looks at Keith delight. He’s sprawled on the sand, just as wrecked as Lance is. Sweat glistens on his forehead, his pale skin flushed from the exercise and the sun.

“You have sand in your hair.” Lance brushes Keith’s bangs away from his eyes and traces the burn scar cutting up from his jaw.

Arching an eyebrow, Keith slides his hands up Lance’s thighs. “And whose fault is that?”

“Yours,” Lance answers immediately. “You never watch your left side.”

“It’s the only way you can beat me.”

“You mean taking advantage of your one weakness? I take pride in that. Don’t ruin this for me.”

Keith laughs, a full belly one that even Lance can feel. He wraps his arms around Lance’s neck to pull himself up slightly and kisses Lance the best he can. Lance thinks of a time when he didn’t believe he could have this, when he couldn’t be certain whether they would survive at all.

And now he’s married and owns a home and realizes that—

“We made it,” Lance says when they break apart. All of them made it, their entire team. He slowly opens his eyes to find Keith with a soft smile on his face, understanding. 

“We did.”

[dapandapod]

For the mermay prompts

Pairing: Eskel/Jaskier

Word: insecurity

Thank you for your prompt dear!! And CLEARLY it is still Mer-May. Mer-maybe-time-to-post. This little darling grew bigger than I planned, and thus promptly took a break under the waves until it was ready to see the splendid light of day. Ish 7300 words, big bad monsters under water and shipwrecks ahoy! On Ao3 here

Mer sing. Mer are beautiful. Mer are deadly.

Eskel is none of that. Alright, he is deadly, and he has the scars to prove it. But song never came naturally to him, and beautiful he certainly is not.

Not only does he have scars that cover the right side of his face, but he is too big, too scary. He knows, and has been told repeatedly.

Eskel is never included in the hunting party. Not included in much of anything, really.

He is often sent to patrol their borders on his own, something he gladly does, something that he is good at.

It doesn’t involve much killing, other than when something dangerous emerges from the depths. It only gives him more scars, but he prides himself at being able to keep his family safe. Well. The pod where he resides.

They haven’t felt much like family since he lost his daughter.

It wasn’t humans who took her, after all. Fights between pods are rare but vicious, and what remained became a part of the other pod when they accepted their new leader.

It’s been years, and despite not knowing exactly who bears responsibility, Eskel has never forgiven them. He fights to keep his brothers in arms safe, and his mentor.

But despite it all, humans remain the biggest threat to their kind. Another failing of his, because Eskel can’t bring himself to kill them.

~

Shipwrecks are nothing new, but Eskel has never been close to one before.

The storm is raging, tearing the ship apart, and soon pieces of debris crash together in the churning sea, bodies mixed littered amongst the wreck.

He knows he shouldn’t, but Eskel goes there. He swims close to the surface, dodging a heavy barrel. Most of the bodies he sees are broken, already lost to the great beyond.

There is one, however, who is not. Eskel senses it more than he sees it, drawn to the man slowly drowning in a mass of bubbles, and reaches for him.

They are on the outskirts of the wreck, the storm pressing the debris further away, and so Eskel dares to hover, just for a moment.

The man is everything he is not.

Slender, pale, beautiful. His lashes are long, his lips open and stained blue with lack of breath. Eskel hesitates but a moment before he cradles him to his chest, holding him against his body as if he were a child.

His size is finally in his favor as Eskel pushes hard to reach the surface.

It might already be too late, he has seen the faces of the drowned, but something tells Eskel to keep pushing.

When they breach the surface, the waves are high and violent, attempting to pull them under again. Above water, the body in his arms seems heavier, but Eskel is strong.

With a stroke of luck, he finds part of the hull floating a bit further away, and Eskel aims towards it.

Once the human is stowed on the hull, Eskel grabs hold of it and steers it towards land. The man on the makeshift raft doesn’t move as the vicious waves attempt to pull him back down into the depths.

It doesn’t take Eskel long to figure out why their ship went under.

The lighthouse set on the cliffs is dark, quiet. He has seen humans prey on their own kind, leaving nature to do the dirty work and then scavenge what is left.

Eskel should not be this close, should not risk his neck for a human. But if he doesn’t, who will? Certainly not his kinsmen.

Eskel realizes his mistake when the wave lifts him and the raft both, hurling them towards the cliffs. If it can break ships apart, it most definitely will break bones.

Instinct makes Eskel wrap himself around the fragile human body, shielding it from the impact with his own.

A stroke of luck sends him tail and back first, his head somehow spared, but he can feel his ribs snap, feel the tear of his fins. The pain is nearly blinding, and when the wave pulls back, he makes another realization.

He is stuck.

The cliff they were thrown against doesn’t easily let him roll back into the sea, and he is unable to climb. As long as the sea rages, he is stuck, and the human with him.

The body in his arms suddenly convulses, water pouring from his now open lips. Coughing, gasping for air, fingers clenching and unclenching as his body expels the water.

Another wave hits them viciously, slamming them back against the cliff wall. The pressure is hell on his ribs, but Eskel makes sure to twist again to keep the human away from the worst of it.

When the water retreats, Eskel spots a gap in the stone, just big enough to shield them from the onslaught of the water. There is water pooling in the cliff, allowing him some ease of movement as he drags them towards their shelter, and another wave more or less shoves them inside.

In the relative safety of the cliff’s crevice, Eskel inspects the human in his arms. He props himself up enough to sit and lean back against the rock, grimacing when his ribs give a stab of pain.

The human is unconscious, but seems to be breathing at least, strained as it may be.

Eskel pats his back, thinking the thumping might help him to cough up more water. It’s not the first human he has saved, but it is the first he has ever held this close for so long.

The thumping seems to help, and the man starts coughing violently, hacking and wheezing for a long, terrible minute, but it seems to help.

He breathes easier after. Eskel still has the human propped up against his chest, and takes the opportunity to look for injuries. There is a gash next to a suspicious bruise at his temple, and a lot of scrapes that look older than the ship wreck.

Humans really can’t help but prey on anyone they see, huh? Eskel tips up the human’s face, inspecting it closer. His lower lip is swollen, and there is a cut that has reopened.

Eskel touches it, frowning.

His back and ribs ache still, and the rocks are digging into his tail. Waves keep pushing water into their little sanctuary, dislodging his torn fin and sending a jolt of pain up his spine. Fuck, he really is stuck.

Leaning his head back, Eskel settles in to wait. He fits the human better against him, so they both can rest as comfortably as possible.

Hopefully he won’t be stabbed when the human wakes up. That would be a fitting end, though, wouldn’t it?

Another wave explodes against the rockside, and with a sigh, Eskel lets himself drift off to sleep.

~

The storm rages well into the morning.

Eskel keeps waking up to something moving against him. Someone, he corrects himself every time. Despite the weather, the human is warm, and it seeps into Eskel’s skin, calming him in a way he hasn't felt for years.

Another heartbeat next to his own, someone’s chest rising and falling against his, a comfortable weight in his arms.

It’s nice to pretend that someone trusts him enough for this, though it’s selfish of him to leech off the human’s warmth to assuage his own stupid loneliness.

The wind has calmed, and the sea with it, but the sky remains heavy and grey. While considering if it would be safe to leave the human here and try to get back, the human stirs.

A deep breath, heartbeat speeding up, fluttering eyelashes.

Fuck, and Eskel is still holding him, shit!

It won’t do to just shove him off now, so Eskel stays as still as he can, looking out of the cave rather than the man coming to.

The man’s hand flattens against his side, just over his aching ribs, and it takes everything in him not to snarl for the pain. The man sits up just enough to notice exactly where he is sitting, and when Eskel looks at him, the man’s eyes widen comically large.

“Whoa, holy fucking shit balls!” the human swears hoarsely, throwing himself backwards and falling down on the ground with an oof.

“I’m alive?! You’re a- I’m-?!” The human looks around their little shelter, his eyes so very blue, Eskel notices. He decides to give the human time to get his bearings, and so far no stabbing has occurred, so that’s good.

“Where-? My lute, where is my lute?!” The human frantically looks around himself, patting the ground as if the instrument were merely hiding.

“Only saved you,” Eskel rasps out, his hand going to cover his side. Now that there is no weight against him, his body is adjusting, and it aches.

“You talk… You saved me?!”

Eskel gives a nod in agreement, and the human tilts his head.

“Are you hurt? What happened? I was in the holding cell and then-” The man frowns, thinking hard but seems to come up short.

“Shipwreck,” Eskel informs him. “Got you above water. Storm put us on the cliffs.”

“Am I- uh. Are you a mermaid? Or a Siren?” The human looks a little nervous, but not scared, which is… odd.

“Mer. Distantly related to Sirens.” ‘But I’m not like them,’ he thinks. Not pretty enough. Not clever enough, or bloodthirsty. Not… enough.

“Do you have a name? I mean, what may I call you? Shit, are you like Fae, where names are secret or something? Forget I asked, that is so rude of me, are Fae even real? There was this lady once who claimed-”

“Eskel. You may call me Eskel,” Eskel interrupts his rambling with a smile, before the human can talk himself into a ramble.

“Eskel,” the human breathes, then seems to get his bearings back. “I’m Jaskier. It’s a flower, back home…uh.” Jaskier trails off again.

Clearly his way of coping is talking, so Eskel lets him.

It is starting to get real uncomfortable to continue sitting up, though, and since the waves have calmed, he has started to dry out. He feels stiff and sore, and his fin is not looking good.

Looking outside the stone formation, there seems to be a shallow pool of water. Getting there will be very undignified, but what choice does he have.

“Can you climb up to land?” Eskel asks Jaskier, hoping to distract him enough for Eskel to suffer in peace.

Haltingly, Jaskier stands and moves on unsteady legs towards the opening between the rocks.

Thing is, in order to do that he has to step over Eskel, and looking up at him as he does was a mistake, it turns out.

Sun filters in between the cracks, and despite the bruises, Jaskier is beautiful. His hair lights up with a golden hue, his profile outlined with it, his white shirt almost translucent.

Eskel knows his tastes are seen as adventurous, knows that it’s frowned upon to look outside of your pod, but there is nothing for him there.

Jaskier steps over him carefully, minding not to step on his torn fin, supporting himself against the wall over Eskel’s head, and then steps out into the sunlight.

He can hear a gasp from outside, but doesn’t wait for Jaskier to come back to explain. His ribs protest something fierce when he crawls over the stone, feeling uneven edges dig into scales and skin alike.

Outside, Jaskier stands watching the ocean. It is dark blue now, instead of the inky darkness it was last night. Debris is floating around, bobbing along the glittering waves. Gulls and other sea birds are hovering overhead, looking for anything to eat.

Either Jaskier is so captured by the view, or he is giving Eskel privacy, but either way he doesn’t turn until the Mer has settled into the shallow water with a bitten back groan of relief.

“The wall is too steep for me to climb. And, uh… I don’t know how to swim.” Jaskier says, looking embarrassed. “All your hard work gone to waste, eh?” he tries to joke, scratching his neck and finally turning to look at Eskel.

The pool is shallow, but his skin already feels less taut, less painful.

“We’ll find a way. Maybe I can help get you to shore if we manage to get into the water again. Should be calmer now, except for the vultures.”

Eskel is cupping water and pouring it over his face and chest when he catches Jaskier looking. His eyes are big and jaw slack, cheeks turning rosy red.

“What?” Eskel asks, feeling very self conscious and vulnerable. “Is there something on my face?”

There is something on his face. A huge scar, ugly and badly healed, covering most of his cheek and part of his lip. Maybe Jaskier finally noticed the monster that had saved him.

“You are beautiful,” Jaskier breathes, and Eskel frowns. Must be sunstroke, or he did in fact hit his head.

“Excuse me?” he says, giving the man a chance to correct himself, but alas.

“Beautiful. Gods, Eskel, are all Mer like this?” Jaskier walks up and kneels by the little pool, hands reaching out as if he wants to touch and Eskel doesn’t understand.

“I’m… no? I mean we all look like this but I’m… not…” Beautiful, he doesn’t finish, but Jaskier notices it anyways, and gives him a disbelieving look.

Thankfully he lets it go.

“Will you be able to swim? Your fin looks pretty bad.”

It does. It feels bad too, but he won’t be able to do much about it without the right poultice back home.

“It will be fine. It’s not one of my main ones,” Eskel assures him, thinking the human is worried about getting to safety. “When the evening tide comes, the drop from here won’t be as bad, and the currents should help us move away from the rocks.”

“But won’t it hurt you? I don’t want you to be in pain because of me.”

Blinking, Eskel tilts his head, cupping some more water and pouring it over his chest. Jaskier’s eyes are on him, following the movement, his cheeks growing ever redder.

“It will heal. What matters is to get you to safety,” Eskel says slowly, a strange feeling building in his chest. Saying it aloud almost felt like a confession.

The human groans and throws himself on his back, arms hiding his face from the sun and Eskel both. He mutters something that sounds like ‘the end of me’, which Eskel does not like at all.

“I promise, you will be safe,” he says more insistently and Jaskier makes that groaning sound again.

“Perfect. Too perfect.” Jaskier sits up and looks around. “Alright. What can I do? How can I help? Should I look for food?”

Jaskier is unable to be still, and he is on his feet and looking around. The area is not big, but if you are able to do some light climbing, you can move around the cliff sides.

“If you manage not to fall in,” Eskel says with a smile. It comes out as teasing, but he means it. Jaskier stops and looks at him for a long moment, just looks at him, and Eskel feels terribly self conscious again.

“I’ll find something,” Jaskier says finally, turning away, and Eskel is left in peace once more.

This is so unlike anything Eskel has ever experienced. The humans he previously saved either didn’t wake up in time to see him, or fled when they noticed what he was. Only one person before this has talked to him, and none had asked his name, nor looked at him like… that.

The water in his little pool is getting warm from the sun. and he leans back in it. It feels better already, and he lies back to properly soak.

Despite their predicament, it’s peaceful, as it usually is after a storm has passed.

Even if the sounds of shore aren’t really reassuring to him, he dares to close his eyes. If it is too steep for the human to climb up, the same goes for down. And with their distance from the sea, other predators can’t reach them.

For now, this is their safe haven, as much as it is their prison.

The little pool is not big enough for him to stretch out fully, but it feels good to be able to straighten out his back, his arms, and then in turn, his tail.

When his torn fin twinges in pain again, he decides to actually look at it.

It doesn’t appear broken, but the membrane is split in two places, and there is even a part of it missing. He notices two smaller wounds along the side of his tail, where some scales are missing.

Probably where he landed when they were flung against the rock, if he would guess. It doesn’t hurt too bad, but it’s likely going to if he stays in this little pool for too long.

From the rocks where Jaskier disappeared, Eskel hears singing. He bolts upright, heart pounding in his chest. Is his pod here? Is Jaskier going to be lured in? That would be bad for so many reasons.

“Jaskier?” he calls, but not too loudly, worried the presumed siren will hear it too.

The singing stops, and some grunting and huffing later, Jaskier’s head pops around a large rock.

“Something wrong?” Jaskier asks, frowning lightly.

“Are you alright? Did you hear the singing?”

At this, the human looks almost embarrassed, and gives another smile. Always smiling at him, this one, and something clenches in Eskel’s heart.

“You heard that? Sorry, I didn’t mean to be so loud.”

Eskel blinks at him.

“That was you?”

“It was. Ah, maybe I shouldn’t have. You think someone else heard? Are we in trouble? I’m sorry, and singing with a Mer nearby, it probably sounded terrible to you too.” The human rambles and Eskel blinks again, at a loss for words.

The human had sounded… well, like a Mer. He is beautiful, he is slender, and he sings. The only thing Jaskier doesn’t do is swim. Or maim and kill, but that is yet to be determined, he supposes.

“Where are you from?” Eskel asks, and Jaskier climbs closer, hands full of clams and seaweed and what looks like a little crab. How he does not get pinched is beyond Eskel.

“Lettenhove. It’s a coastal town, and I was setting out to visit a friend down south. But uh, turns out people are greedy, and being a lord's son was too tempting, and I was taken as a captive. I think they were going to ask my father for ransom to release me.” Jaskier chuckles, but it doesn’t sound like he thinks it’s funny. “They never met my father, or they would have known he would have paid them to take me away. Well.”

He sits down next to Eskel again, legs crossed and puts his finds in front of him. The crab immediately scurries out of his grip and into the little pool.

“By the by, are you going to be alright sitting in direct sunlight all day?” Jaskier asks, which actually, is a very good question.

The sun is closing in on its zenith, and even if he is in the water, Eskel’s skin is not used to the direct sunlight, and it is already stinging a little.

“It will be fine.”

“You keep saying that, but I can clearly see you are hurt.” Jaskier bows his head and fiddles with his fingers. It makes him look young, and Eskel feels a surge of protectiveness.

“I am hurt,” Eskel replies. “But I will heal. It makes our situation a little bit more difficult, but I do not regret saving you, Jaskier.”

“Why did you save me? Don’t sirens- Mer hate humans?” Jaskier asks, and this is something Eskel would prefer not to talk about but they have the time, and something compels him to speak.

“I’m not much like my family,” Eskel admits. “Where they are slender, I am broad. When they sing, I cannot. Where they are beautiful, I am…” Eskel trails off but gestures towards his scarred cheek. “…Less. But I don’t carry their anger with me, and where I can protect, I will.” he finishes.

Jaskier’s eyes are soft, and he shuffles closer to where Eskel sits, reaching for him.

The Mer wants to pull back, but there is nowhere to go, and Jaskier has done nothing to harm him.

Warm fingers touch his cheek, palm fitting against his scars.

“A gentle giant,” Jaskier says warmly. “The world has treated you unjustly, it would seem.”

Something twists in Eskel’s chest. It is uncomfortable, aching, a simple touch his undoing.

“Though you are not so large,” Jaskier backtracks, taking back his hand. Eskel misses it immediately. “You are not that much larger than me. Though I’m not very small either, to be fair. Unless you meant large in other… assets. Which is very improper to say out loud, or even admitting to thinking about it, Melitele’s swelling bosom, Jaskier, shut your mouth!”

Humans are so strange. Eskel watches Jaskier change color, from simply blushing to a deep, embarrassed flush. It would be funny, had Jaskier not revealed thinking about Eskel’s… assets.

The human stands up and starts pacing, his mouth still going, but now about the small puddles of rain water he had found to drink, and if what he brought is even edible for Eskel. The day is slowly getting hotter, and Jaskier has taken to fanning himself with his hand.

The puddle that Eskel resides in is also getting warmer, but it won’t become dangerously so, he decides. His skin is starting to burn, though.

“Jaskier,” Eskel says, and immediately Jaskier’s eyes are on him. “Do you really want to help me?”

“I do.”

“You were right, I think I need shelter from the sun. May I borrow that thing you wear? Over your chest. Your shirt? I don’t think I can get back behind the rocks where we hid before.”

Jaskier starts unbuttoning his shirt even before Eskel finishes, revealing a surprisingly hairy chest. Eskel is not familiar with body hair, he knows there are Mer and Sirens closer to shore and in lakes or rivers who are sprinkled with it, but not his pod.

He finds his eyes lingering, watching Jaskier’s chest, how the hair dips down out of sight into his breeches.

When Jaskier hands over his shirt, their fingers brush. His fingers are warm, the fingertips rough in a way that doesn’t feel like a fighter’s.

Their eyes lock, a moment paused in time, until it fractures, breaks, and Eskel pulls back. The human had put his arms through the… tubes…? Sleeves? Eskel doesn’t dare try it, his arms larger, clumsier, more destructive than Jaskier’s.

He simply wraps the shirt over his shoulders, covering as much of himself as he is able, shielding himself from the sun.

Jaskier moves back, reclining in the shadows of the rock, facing Eskel.

He is not a bad companion, making good and entertaining conversation. It isn’t long until Jaskier’s eyes droop though, the heat and the wreckage finally taking its toll.

His head leans against his shoulder, arms wrapped around himself in sleep.

Eskel watches him sleep.

He should not. There is nothing to gain here but pain. Land dwellers and sea dwellers don’t tread the same path. Watching Jaskier, however, makes him wish there was a way.

“Jaskier. Wake up,” Eskel calls. The human scrunches his nose and smacks his lips, wriggling until Eskel calls his name again.

“Ugh, my ass hurts like seven hells,” Jaskier complains, stretching out his stiff limbs. Eskel agrees, he is not used to his own weight not being carried by water.

But the time is almost right, the tide has slowly been rising. They should make ready to ride the currents back, to where it is safer to travel from.

Eskel gives the shirt back to Jaskier and mourns the loss of the view only a little. He buttons up with nimble fingers, and Eskel heaves himself out of the pool as he does.

It never gets more dignified to move across land when lacking legs and being the size Eskel is.

He rolls, rather than crawls, towards the edge of the cliff, which luckily isn’t far, his ribs giving him hell for every movement. He doesn’t turn to look if Jaskier is watching him until he has reached the edge, breathing heavily enough for his gills to react too.

When he looks back, Jaskier is approaching him, looking down at the waves nervously.

“I really am useless in the water,” Jaskier reminds him.

“It’s okay, I’ll keep you safe,” Eskel promises, and he finds that he really, truly means it.

Jaskier in turns nods, and sits down with his feet over the edge. It’s more of a slide rather than a free fall, luckily, even if it is steep.

Eskel goes down first, angling himself to keep his already torn fin out of harm's way. He still feels the rocks scrape at his skin, his scales.

There will likely be even more wounds after this, but the important part is to get back into the water.

When he breaks the surface, it’s like the world has righted itself. The water is cool, holding him up and swaying him with the beat of the waves.

Home.

He closes his eyes for a minute and just enjoys it. The world sounds different here. Right. It echoes between the cliffs, muffles the waves’ harsh pounding, filters the sun to a smattering of rays, warming instead of burning his skin.

Eskel realizes he has been under for too long, and swims up and close enough to look back at the cliff.

Jaskier is sitting where he left him, feet dangling over the edge, but looking much more worried.

“Oh good. For a moment there, I thought you had left me…” Jaskier says, giving a strange chuckle.

“Slide down the slope. I’ll catch you when you get down.” Eskel assures him, and Jaskier gives a nod. He is still hesitant, looking down and licking his lips worriedly.

“I will catch you.” Eskel repeats, because he thinks Jaskier needs to hear it.

The human then all but throws himself off the cliff, getting off balance, and tumbles down.

His uncontrolled descent has him slamming into Eskel’s chest, and they immediately sink.

True to his word, Eskel pushes them up, and Jaskier is clinging to him, one arm over his luckily good ribs, the other around his neck, and both legs around his hips.

Eskel in turn is holding on to Jaskier’s sides, to easily adjust his grip if need be.

The human splutters and coughs and leans back enough to look up at Eskel, hair plastered to his forehead and into his eyes.

“Well. That went well. Very graceful.”

It makes Eskel smile, and before he registers what he is doing, he raises one hand to push the hair out of Jaskier’s face. Jaskier blinks, his cheeks coloring prettily. Eskel snatches his hand back, suddenly all too aware of himself.

“Sorry.” He mumbles, turning them enough so that Jaskier is mostly top of him, and Eskels swimming backwards. Both of Jaskier’s hands are now on his shoulders, and with the help of the currents they navigate out of the rocky parts.

When they are out deep enough, Eskel changes course. Out here the risk for collision is less, but being spotted by a predator is a lot higher.

Especially considering Eskel has many small wounds that are bleeding sluggishly. His movements are much easier in the water, less heavy, but with every flick of his tail, his ribs are screaming.

Swimming on his back also leaves them both vulnerable, no matter how nice it feels to have Jaskier close like this.

Looking up was a mistake.

The way they are angled, the sun is behind Jaskier again, giving him a halo of light.

Eskel is suddenly aware of how his hands have drifted from the human’s sides to his thighs, and how Jaskier’s hands have traced to his chest, now that they have slowed down and are just floating.

Jaskier notice him staring, maybe because Eskel’s fingers twitched, resisting to squeeze the firm muscle under his hands. His shirt is once again see through, water making it cling to his form, and Eskel wants to taste the salt of his skin.

“You have no idea, do you? How beautiful you look.” Jaskier says gently, hand splaying over one of the bigger scars on Eskel’s chest.

“I’m not.” Eskel says, breath catching in his throat. Nobody has called him beautiful, not ever.

“Can I do something stupid?” Jaskier asks, and Eskel licks his lips and nods.

Jaskier can do whatever he wants, especially when that means the distance between them is shrinking, and Jaskier tilts his head to place a gentle kiss on Eskel’s lips.

He doesn’t think. He feels like something clicked in place and broke at the same time, and he doesn’t realize they are sinking under the surface until Jaskier splutters and coughs.

“Sorry, sorry sorry, shells, I’m so sorry.” Eskel lets go of one leg to wipe the drops of water on Jaskier’s face, pushing his hair back from his face again.

When he does, Jaskier huffs a laugh, but nuzzles into Eskel’s big hand.

“No, I’m sorry. Did I over step?"

“No.” Eskel says, tongue tied with how this beautiful creature is still smiling at him.

“May I try again?”

Eskel just nods, and Jaskier holds his hand to his cheek when he leans down again. This time, Eskel meets him, allows himself to hold Jaskier close.

“My gentle giant.” Jaskier whispers against his lips, and Eskel makes a deep noise that makes the water vibrate around them.

The moment Eskel lets himself relax, he regrets it.

Sharp talons dig into his back, and he cries out in pain. A screech above them announces a second attacker.

Sirens.

The one above them, she beats her wings to get into position, her tail poised behind her. When she dives at them, Eskel has to make a snap decision.

“Deep breath.”

She dives through the air at them, as Eskel dives beneath the surface. He holds Jaskier securely to him, hoping to everything he had time to take a breath.

He comes face to face with the siren who swiped at his back, her fangs bared and talons tainted with his blood.

He snarls back, cradling Jaskier closer and protecting him against the next attack. He is well aware he can’t stay under for too long, nor go too deep to evade them.

He makes a sharp turn, doesn’t take the time to feel his torn fin protest, just spins out of her reach and dashes past her. He feels the shift of water, knowing the second siren is now under too, so he goes up for air. Jaskier is panting hard, clawing at Eskel to keep his grip.

“What-?” He tries, but Eskel shakes his head.

“Sirens, drawn by the wreck. They always scavenge, or tear apart what survived. We need to dive again.”

“I trust you.” Jaskier pants, and they go under again.

The trust weighs heavy on Eskel, and as he goes under again, he fights to keep memories at bay. Of the last time someone trusted him with their life.

The only way to hide in the open sea is to dive.

The second option is to swim against the current to get back amongst the rocks, but that is the sirens territory.

The third option is to fight.

His body is already gearing up for it, even before he knows the decision is made. His focus sharpens, as does his fingernails.

Mer are not sirens' usual prey, but they were no doubt goaded by the sight and smell of his blood. But even a hurt Mer is a dangerous Mer, maybe even more so.

He knows what he looks like when this happens, and he hopes Jaskier doesn’t notice. The pattern of his scales shifts in color, darkening, and if he were in the depths, he would glow.

Eskel dodges as they charge at him, lashing out when they pass. He tastes their blood in the water, his gills trembling with it.

The siren screeches at him, but launches herself into the air.

The second siren is more skilled. She dodges when Eskel attempts to cut her with his fin, and aims at his already wounded side.

He just barely manages to spin out of her reach, flicking his tail and hitting her in the head as he passes.

He notices a week tapping at his chest, and dread fills him.

Up, air, Jaskier needs to breathe.

The second siren is up there though, and the moment she spots them, she plunges in again, so close she almost hits them. Jaskier is gasping for air, breathing for all that he’s worth.

“I’m so sorry.” Eskel says, holding the human securely above the now agitated water.

“You’re bleeding.” Jaskier pants out, and Eskel clenches his jaw.

“So are they. We need to get out of here, or worse will come.”

Jaskier nods and tucks closer to Eskel again, which is good, because clawed hands drag them down, puncturing skin.

One of the sirens makes the mistake to come close, and Eskel manages to grab hold of her, and he bites her shoulder, hard.

Her blood is thick and disgusting in his mouth, and he quickly rinses it out when she tears herself free.

The smell of their battle is everywhere, of siren blood, but it doesn’t deter the other one.

There is a tremble in the water, and he knows it’s bad, and it’s coming.

There are bigger things lurking below, and Eskel wants to be out of here now.

He shoots off, away from the bleeding sirens, and not a second too late. Giant maws gape open, and in a flash they have closed around the wriggling siren.

Away, they need to get the fuck away.

For once, the surface is their best option, and Eskel takes the chance.

Eskel doesn’t stop to see if they are being chased, but he feels the water move as the Big Bad is hunting.

Jaskier doesn’t speak, just clings as hard as he can when Eskel swims as fast as he can. He holds the human tightly, knowing exactly how easy it is to lose his grip out here.

It’s hard to see where he’s going, but he knows where the shore is, too shallow for the old beast, and aims towards it.

Above, more sirens are gathered, but luckily they have lost focus on them, instead focusing on the slaughter of their kin.

When Eskel can sense the sea floor again, he slows down, but not by much.

He is still cradling Jaskier to himself, but only now, out of immediate danger, does he realize he still has his claws out. The human seems terrified, but alive, and his trousers are slightly torn where Eskel holds on to him. Damn it all.

“I’m alright,” Jaskier says hoarsely against Eskel, and the Mer doesn’t believe that for a second.

They are closing in on human territory. In the distance, Eskel can hear the creaking of boats and shouts and the telltale sounds of a village.

This is as far as he can go.

He chooses a spot that is blocked off, and brings Jaskier in just enough for him to reach the bottom. They turn, and Jaskier is safe at last.

It is shallow enough to stand on his own, but he doesn’t let go of Eskel. His arms are still around Eskel’s shoulders, his head buried in the crook of his neck.

“You are safe now,” Eskel murmurs, and realizes this is goodbye.

They have only known each other for hours, barely a day, and it would be foolish to give the feelings swirling inside him a name. If it had to have a name, it might have been hope.

Hope that he actually wouldn’t have to be alone, that despite everything, that somehow, somewhere, someone could care for someone like him.

“Will you be?” Jaskier asks, hurting Eskel in ways he did not think was possible.

He shuts his eyes against it, holding on, just a little longer.

“I always am,” he says. “I will heal in time, and there are safe ways home.”

Jaskier pulls back, and Eskel’s skin feels cold without him. The sky is full of colors and some left over storm clouds in the far distance. The sea birds cry and the sounds of humanity must be calling Jaskier home.

“Could you… stay around? For a little bit?” Jaskier says hopefully, and bites his lip, as if he didn’t mean to say that.

It is Eskel’s turn to blink in surprise.

“Why?” he asks, dumbly. Why would someone like Jaskier want him around? Unless there is a plot somewhere, to gather a group and spears.

To them, Eskel is a monster, after all. He is a monster to most.

“Because you got hurt! And because of me! I could… I don’t know, I could help you? Bring you food or something?”

Ah.

So he feels guilty.

Eskel sinks back deeper into the water. He will not make himself Jaskier’s problem with his misplaced feelings and wishes.

“I can’t,” he says, face barely above the surface, angled so his scars aren't as visible. May Jaskier remember him fondly, and better than he is.

The human looks down and takes a shaky breath before speaking.

“Can you… Will you at least come back to see me? We can meet here, if you’d like. When I can afford to buy a new lute, I’ll play for you.”

Eskel doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know what this is.

“I-…” He hesitates, but when Jaskier meets his eyes, looking at him in the way Eskel feels, he dares to say it. “I could visit you. I enjoyed your company.”

“Despite the circumstances?” Jaskier smiles. “Despite the fact that I can’t swim, despite the fact that I can’t shut up or only say ridiculous things?”

“Because you treat me like I am like everybody else,” Eskel says, but regrets it the moment he says it, because Jaskier looks confused.

“Because you sing as sweetly as a Mer, because you smile even when it’s hard, because you don’t… you don’t fear me.”

The human tilts his head, then reaches for him, ever reaching for him.

“Eskel, I feel safer with you than with most on land. I don’t know your past, but you have done nothing but protect me, and I hate that it was at the cost of yourself.”

His fingertips are cold, chilled by the sea water. Humans are frail. If he stays in much longer, there could be consequences. Eskel hums, and allows himself to be touched, turning into it.

“You have to go,” Eskel murmurs, but swims closer nonetheless. Letting himself have this, even if it is for a short while.

“I want us to stay,” Jaskier replies, touching their foreheads together, breathing the same air.

“I will come back for you,” Eskel promises. He doesn’t know how, but he wants to, oh how he wants to. “But you need to get dry, I need you to be safe.”

“Ugh, so noble,” Jaskier whines. “Can I do something stupid again?”

Eskel’s heart skips a beat, and instead of replying, he presses his lips to Jaskier’s, who hums into the kiss.

But the sun is setting, and Jaskier is shivering with cold now, so Eskel pulls back.

“I’ll come back. Soon,” he promises again. “But you need to go.”

“I will hold you to that. If you don’t come see me, I will get into the water and find you myself,” Jaskier says, and then stares when Eskel smiles.

“You can’t swim,” Eskel reminds him, and then Jaskier surges forward and kisses him again, knocking their teeth together and banging a lip.

The kiss this time is desperate and tastes a little like iron.

“That’s why it is a threat,” Jaskier grumbles when he pulls back. “Fine. FINE, I’ll go. I expect to see you within ten days. Preferably every day in those ten days, you hear me?”

Eskel makes an amused sound in his throat and chest that makes the water vibrate around him.

“I hear you. I will do my best.”

“Good,” Jaskier kisses his forehead, swears and complains, and then slowly makes his way towards land.

Water carries humans differently, their bodies not made for the waves and the currents. Jaskier looks like how Eskel felt on land, and he watches him go in case Jaskier slips under the waves.

The moment Jaskier has set foot on shore, Eskel dives.

Rarely has Eskel had something valuable to part from. Or someone in this case.

It only makes it harder, and from below, he sees Jaskier stand there, looking out over the waves, until he finally turns and goes.

Eskel remains for a while longer. Partially because he doesn’t want to leave, partially because his ribs are aching something fierce.

He stays for the better part of the night, resting and doing what he can for his wounds.

Eventually, he swims back out to the depths, aware how vulnerable he is to an attack, exhausted and beaten up as he is.

It surprises him to see his brothers out here, though.

“Why are you here?” he asks in their native tongue, and Lambert makes a disgusted sound.

“You were missing, and the shore stinks of your blood.”

“And Siren blood. Were you attacked?” Geralt asks, his hair pale as moonlight around his head.

What a strange day. Eskel didn’t expect anyone to notice him gone, but here they are.

“Two sirens, but they were chased off by something bigger. Think we should avoid that area for a while,” Eskel says, eyeing Lambert as he swims closer to inspect him, daring him to say anything about the smell of human on him.

There is a wrinkled nose and a baring of teeth. Lambert hates humans with a deep passion, but he is never cruel, which is a part of the reason Eskel trusts him.

“I have a new poultice I have been working on. Should help with the pain,” Lambert says, noticing his torn fin. “Was it an orca who finished off the sirens, you think?”

“Bigger,” Eskel says, remembering the size of those maws. “Much bigger.”

“You think Vesemir knows?” Geralt asks, flanking Eskel, protecting his other side as they start their return journey home. “He knows almost every creature with teeth bigger than ours.”

Their path home takes the rest of the night. It hasn't been that long, but Eskel looks at his little dwelling with new eyes, the pod from a different standpoint.

He never thought he would be worth anything to anyone again. The pod, their home, their supposed family, never made him believe something else.

As Eskel finally falls into a slumber that night, Geralt and Lambert sleeping nearby, loath to part from him when he is hurt, he thinks about it.

Thinks about home, and shore, and blue eyes, and warm lips.

It takes Eskel seven days to recover enough to be allowed outside their dwelling. Another passes until he can make Geralt leave off and allow him to go out alone.

On the eve of the ninth day, Eskel is back where he left Jaskier.

He hears the singing first, muffled below the surface. When he breaches it, it changes. Mer sing. Mer are beautiful. Mer are deadly. But it would seem humans might be too.

[dimdiamond]

do you have any headcanons about chang and tintin's relationship? platonic and/or romantic? their relationship is pretty cute and i'm looking for someone to talk about tintin with! is that alright with you?

HELLO 👋

YES!!!! I WOULD LOVE TO TALK ABOUT THEM!

However I have to clarify that my interpretation of them and their relationship may differ a lot from the one most fans have or the general fanon (if there's one). It also may seem OOC but a) I don't care if it is and b) I take into consideration the canon material about Chang (although it barely exists) but I try to see between the lines and beyond them. Lastly, I don't ship them (I'll get more into details about the romantic side of their relationship) but I don't hate the ship, if anything I do get it and it's cute. If you are ok with these then let's go!

Chang and Tintin met when they were young (Chang around 14 and Tintin around 18-19) and they were both alone and lonely, thus being each other's first and only best friend. This, actually, is the basis of their relationship and affects everything that happens later on. If Tintin hadn't met Chang, he wouldn't accept people coming to his life because he wouldn't believe that anyone could keep up with him and he would think that he doesn't need anyone. If Chang hadn't met Tintin, he would be even more distrustful and without any regard of his actions. They're each other's reason for finding their own family, Chang, by meeting Tintin, met the Wang family and got adopted, and Tintin, by befriending Chang, learnt to be more open to the possibility of having friends, partners even, and some stories forward befriends Haddock and gradually gets more and more people close to him.

Exactly because of being so young and lonely, Chang (at least until Tibet incident) idolises Tintin and considers him to be the prime example of what he should aim to be- brave, clever, persistent and most of all a good person. Tintin's values and ethos are close to Chang's heart and inspire him, as much as his family's beliefs, to be better and do better.

The perfect image he has for Tintin, ironically, breaks after Tibet. It's not because Tintin disappointed him or because Chang is ungrateful. It's because Tintin isn't the same Tintin he knew (take into consideration that they haven't seen each other since the first meeting, about 4 years or so). Chang realizes Tintin is a human and not an invulnerable hero and this makes him feel guilty for putting all this weight on him (yeah Chang is a whole mess after Tibet). If anything, this makes Chang reconsider their friendship (and actually everything in his life) and decides to rebuild it in new foundations. Yes, Tintin is his saviour but it's cruel to be only that and from now on the only fair thing is to be equals. And that's another motivation for him to take the plane again and see the world outside his secured home (he had already wanted that but now it's more about finding himself and be himself than finding Tintin and be like Tintin).

Meanwhile, Tintin also has had the same image for Chang as the first time they met, a kind, goodhearted kid (as he pacifies Haddock that Chang isn't like Abdullah) and after Tibet he realizes that Chang isn't just that. The image he had for his friend is true but not whole. Chang is more than just the good kid that helped him and, with this traumatic experience, isn't the same. He is a human too, with his good sides and his faults. Tintin really sees Chang and now their friendship can be more honest and direct.

After all this, Tintin and Chang communicate more regularly and try to meet more often. This is because they get to know each other all over again and, although in different phases in their lives (Tintin gradually settles down and Chang now starts his life), they still consider each other their best friend and equals.

With the new foundation of their friendship, they bicker more often. This is because they are more open and honest to each other and their attitude is like that, if they have a common target they're unstoppable but if they don't this energy will aim to each other. Of course this doesn't ruin their relationship, on the contrary it strengthens it and their trust. If someone knows Tintin well and can tell him the truth to his face that will be Chang and vice versa. Although they always considered that no one understands them more than each other, in reality this isn't true. Tintin doesn't understand Chang and Chang doesn't understand Tintin either. They want to, though, and that's why they keep in touch and talk to each other. (If anyone understands Chang is Haddock and vice versa but this is a different topic that deserves a different post- in my mind, from the Marlinspike gang, Chang has unique relationships with Haddock and Nestor).

They have common interests like languages, theatre, philosophy and so on but they have many differences in general. Tintin is more into art, literature, likes opera and Chang is more into history, supernatural, doesn't like opera. Tintin is more sociable and likes big gatherings and parties and doesn't mind interacting with politics and generals and cops (as we can see from his acquaintances and friends) while Chang isn't that sociable, can't stand parties for long and doesn't want to have anything with authority figures. Most of all Tintin is an idealist and Chang is a romantic. However, they're both still nerds and still highly respect each other so they continue talk about their interests, their adventures, and whenever they spend time together they will either spend all day in library or outside exploring (more than once they got lost and Haddock had to bring them back, Tintin knowing well that wherever he goes Haddock will find him and if not he's confident he will find a solution and Chang thinking he has an internal GPS but stubbornly ignores that it only works in his homeland).

Tintin gets drunk after the first glass while Chang gets drunk after many more glasses and the only reason they would go out drinking together would be to have Tintin drive them back. Contrary to Tintin that has a bet with himself to drive anything that exists, Chang can't drive anything except bicycle and motorcycle some years later. Tintin is a sweet tooth and he and kitchen are a dangerous combination. Chang knows to cook very well thanks to his mother and learns to bake later thanks to his uncle Victor (just one of my headcanons that his uncle in London, Yin, has a relationship for years with Victor, an Irishman). So Tintin is a big fan of Chang's cooking and it's hard for him to choose between his and Nestor's cooking skills.

Tintin and Chang are kinda competitive with each other and they easily get into challenges and bets and games. No one has any idea what's the score and if you ask them they will both say "I win".

They have a similar taste of humour and you don't want to be their common target for bullying jokes. When Martine joins their group it only becomes worse for the others. They wouldn't call what they do gossiping but they definitely do that. If they go out all three for drinking they affect Tintin and make him try one of these fancy and pretty cocktails. They end up calling a taxi or Haddock.

Milou and the cat love Chang A LOT and so he does love them. Tintin and Haddock don't get that much jealous of that but mostly it feels like they got a willing babysitter.

In a serious note, Tintin and Chang don't force each other to talk about their trauma or their past but in their own pace they do open up to each other (tremendously slow pace because Tintin needs more time to open up than Chang). Even after opening up, they never refer to them and if a word is mentioned, at least it feels less and less awkward.

About the romantic side (and sexuality):

If I add the romantic element, it is more possible to apply it as one sided unrequited love from Chang's pov. Tintin is his first love and eventually his first heartbreak. Probably is the one that makes him realize he likes boys and, with Tintin being the same as him, the bond is unavoidable. Of course he would cling to Tintin, especially since after Tintin he didn't have any other to form a bond like that in his environment, and the idolisation only makes it harder for him to get over his crush. It weighs him for the years to come and only after meeting Tintin again in Tibet he starts to get over it. So it's not much of a hurtful heartbreak as more of a sense of freedom and starting all over without any weights. He is ready to see Tintin for who he really is. He understands that they are both in different phases and have different needs, that they can't be together but at the same time he realises that he doesn't want this kind of relationship with him, that their friendship is so important and meaningful and worthy of treasuring it. Also getting to know more queer people helps him understand himself better and live his life open to any possibilities.

Tintin knew that deep down already, even if he couldn't word it. He knows that the bond he has with Chang is unique and their love doesn't follow rules, as they don't. He cherishes it even after making new friends and even after not seeing his friend for a long time. That's how Tintin is. He doesn't think that it's necessary to see someone all the time or talk about them to consider them important to him. And most of all, he knows what Chang needs and what himself needs (from a partner) and knows that they can't be this person for each other and doesn't deem it necessary to make their relationship like that. They are each other's first and best friend and they don't owe any explanation of their bond and feelings to anyone.

Chang and Tintin aren't the kind of people that will deem romantic feelings above other ones. For them a friend is as important as a lover and they would give their lives for any person they care about. The difference is with whom they would like to share their lives and be next to them and this isn't Tintin for Chang and neither is Chang for Tintin. Because they already have lives far from the other.

[starsfic]

Nightmare of Grins

Goliath has nightmares about the Mayor. About the furnace. About Meiyun's own face contorted with a horrible grin. At least she's there when he wakes.

A request for @twinklecupcake starring the ship she made, StrongSmoothie! Also involves nightmare violence and hurt/comfort in the realm of cuddles and LBD trauma.

AO3

They didn’t see him coming.

They never did. Goliath instead felt Huntsman launch into him, forcing him back. Goliath turned in time to see the massive monster’s fist slam into his brother. Despite the broken lights of the hallway, he could still see the twisted and stretched grin of the man who claimed to be the mayor.

That grin was his only warning.

Something cold wrapped around him and slammed him down.

And now he stood in front of the furnace. A scream clawed at his throat, begging to be loose, voicing his terror, but his mouth remained shut. He did manage to turn his head. Syntax and Huntsman stood next to him, faces frozen in warped grins.

“No, please, you promised me my destiny!”

“A promise I did not break…”

A hand wrapped around his. Goliath looked away from his clanmates and looked down. Meiyun stood beside him, her face horribly contorted in a broad smile, eyes empty and blank.

He could not keep it in anymore.

“MEIYUN-”

“GOLIATH!”

His eyes slammed open.

The moment the world came into focus, Goliath was so glad he had trained himself out of punching. (Huntsman had gotten way too many black eyes in the first few days after Spirit Jail.) Meiyun leaned over him. “Goliath,” she said as though he was still asleep. “Goliath, are you alright?”

Goliath couldn’t bring himself to speak. Instead, he found himself reaching up and stroking her face. Meiyun leaned into his hand on instinct but still looked concerned. Shame washed over him.

“I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

Meiyun shook her head. “No, I’m sorry I didn’t wake you up sooner. The way you breathed sounded like you were in distress.” Goliath pulled his hand away and pushed himself up. Meiyun’s laptop was on, casting blue light over his room with some kind of gaming video. He glanced over and gulped. His girlfriend stared at him. “What’s wrong?”

Goliath took a deep breath in. He would try to dismiss it normally. But the way she sat next to him, concerned eyes burning into his skin, it was…

He couldn’t bring himself to brush it away.

“It was about the mayor.” Meiyun raised a brow, and he internally swore. As far as she knew, the mayor was one Teng Xinyi, not the man who had simply said he was Shi when Syntax dared to ask. “Not the actual mayor. Just some guy who claimed to be the mayor.”

Meiyun raised a brow. “And…you had a nightmare about him.”

“No, I mean, yeah, it’s…It’s complicated.” Goliath took another deep breath in and let it out. He needed to rip the bandage off. “What do you remember about Lady Bone Demon?”

The concern faded. Instead, fear lit up Meiyun’s eyes. Goliath’s stomach hurt, and he had to bite back the lump that wanted to change the subject. He needed to talk about this. He needed to admit his part.

“Not much,” Meiyun gripped the edge of her skirt, looking at her laptop as if Mario would save her. “I was at home when the ice came, and it encased me entirely.” Goliath felt himself lurch forward. He didn’t know that! Meiyun held up a hand to make him pause. “I was fine. I got myself checked out by a hospital, and they said I was fine. Apparently, I’m lucky because that made sure I didn’t remember all those weeks.”

Goliath nodded. “But you do remember some things?”

Meiyun took a deep breath. “Just that there was a blue light in the sky, and suddenly it was cold, and I couldn’t move.” Just like him. “Then the ice broke…” Meiyun laughed. “I thought the world was ending because it was suddenly so warm, and there were weird lights in the sky.”

Goliath nodded. “It was the Monkie Kid.” He faintly remembered being grabbed by Sandy and thrown. “He saved us.”

“Not according to my coworker.” He raised a brow. Meiyun sighed. “He was really into aliens and kept claiming that everything was a mass kidnapping.” She winced at whatever memory came up at the words. “He got fired after accusing a rude customer of being an alien overlord checking on the prisoners.”

Goliath honestly would’ve paid to see that.

But there was something more important.

“We helped the Lady Bone Demon.” Meiyun’s eyes went wide. He winced, expecting her to start screaming, yelling, begging to know how could he?! Instead, however, she nodded. It sounded like she was ordering him to continue. “The guy who claimed to be the mayor was her henchman. At least, that’s what I think he was. He was always kinda strange.”

“I see.”

Her voice felt strangely empty. Goliath took a deep breath.

“In the end, she turned on us. She had always been planning to try and kill the queen for her giant mech thing.” Meiyun nodded. “She didn’t need us. He came after us and dragged us…” How best to describe it? The vast emptiness that gripped them, only broken by flashes of the real world and who they were attacking? Goliath couldn’t even speak of it. He settled on “He punched Huntsman.”

Meiyun hummed. “That sounds scary.”

“Yeah.” Even though his brother was smaller, Goliath had always believed Huntsman was stronger. That had broken the moment the “Mayor” attacked. “I had to watch.” That wasn’t true- in reality, he had launched himself at the mayor. Before he could attack, the giant hulking bone mass had grabbed Huntsman and slammed him right into Goliath. “Huntsman had an awful black eye for days.”

“That’s what your nightmare was about?”

Goliath nodded. “Yeah. But, again, I’ve had it for a while. I shouldn’t have disturbed-” Warm arms wrapped around him. Meiyun hadn’t said a word. Instead, she hugged him, her face scrunched up in sadness. “Uh…”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

Goliath blinked, and then the words “You were there too” slid out. Meiyun didn’t look up. She just pressed her head against his chest, an almost silent breath making her shoulders slump. He wrapped her arms around her. Tension finally released him and tears rolled down his cheeks. “I’m sorry.”

He was glad she was here, that she was safe, that she didn’t stand beside him and hold his hand and watch the queen be dragged down.

They were here and they were safe.

[tup-ika-5385]

Summary:

Taking a nervous breath, Tup approached the hangar bay, gearbag slung over his shoulder, all packed for his new mission. Recently, Captain Rex recommended him as a potential ARC candidate, which had him nearly vibrating in excitement. However, he didn’t have as much experience as some of the other applicants, so he’s been assigned a mission, a trial run of sorts, to see how he’d do fighting alongside someone outside the 501st. All this to explain Tup’s anxious anticipation as he approached the Omicron-class shuttle currently parked in the Resolute’s main hangar.

TLDR: Tup has a joint mission with The Bad Batch, and nothing goes as planned.

__________________________ “Okay… here we go.” Taking a nervous breath, Tup approached the hangar bay, gearbag slung over his shoulder, all packed for his new mission. Recently, Captain Rex had recommended him as a potential ARC candidate, which had him nearly vibrating in excitement, but because he didn’t have as much experience as Jesse and Fives, he’d been assigned a mission, a trial run of sorts, to see how he’d do fighting alongside someone outside the 501st. 

All this to explain Tup’s anxious anticipation as he approached the Omicron-class shuttle currently parked in the Resolute’s main hangar. Training on Kamino, he’d heard stories about Clone Force 99, breaking nearly every training record (along with a few dozen regulations), but he’d never actually met them. So when he saw a trooper in non-standard gear staring him down, he squared his shoulders and tried to look more confident than he felt. Their helmet was pretty unusual, with an asymmetrical visor and a target sight over the right eye.

He gave them a sharp salute, unsure what to expect. “Reporting for duty, sir. My name is Tup.”

The trooper scoffed before calling into the ship, voice dripping in disdain. “Hunter, the reg’s here.”

“Reg?!” Tup blurted out before he could stop himself. 

“Crosshair, don’t antagonize the kid.” A voice called from inside before another trooper stepped onto the ramp.

The first trooper, Crosshair, apparently, removed his helmet with a scoff, rolling his eyes. Tup blinked, surprised at his unusual appearance; Crosshair didn’t look like any clone he’d ever seen. But he pushed down his initial reaction to look back at the other trooper, gear much closer to standard, with a few added weapon sheaths, Tup noted appreciatively.

Tup crossed his arms, huffing. “I don’t know what you mean by “reg,” but I’m not a kid either. And my name is Tup.” He repeated, frowning under his helmet.

The new trooper lowered his hands in a “stand-down” motion. “Alright, Tup. No offense intended. The name’s Hunter. Come on inside and we can get started.” Hunter waved him inside, and Tup moved to follow him. Crosshair refused to move out of the way, shoulder-checking him slightly as he walked past, but Tup refused to rise to the bait. Rex sent him here to prove he could work well with others, so that’s what he’d do. He’d handled worse than Crosshair before.

Once inside, Hunter removed his helmet and Tup followed suit. He made a small noise as he saw the other trooper’s hair; long-haired troopers were few and far between. Tup himself was one of just a few in the 501st, and the only one who actually took care of it like he should. Hunter kept his back with a bandana, but other than a small case of helmet-hair, it actually looked pretty well-cared for. 

As his eyes adjusted, Tup noticed two other squad members in the combined briefing room/mess area. One was wearing goggles and fidgeting with a datapad of some kind, and the other, bigger than any clone Tup had ever seen, was inexplicably doing bicep curls with a gonk droid, of all things. 

Upon seeing Tup, the big one gave him a grin that reminded him of Hardcase after a particularly successful barrage of blasterfire. “Hey reg, catch!” All of a sudden, he hefted the gonk droid like he was going to toss it to Tup, eliciting a full-bodied flinch, but Hunter stepped in at the last moment with a look of warning. Crosshair snickered, and Tup sent him a glare.

“Awh, man! ‘Was just a joke!” But thankfully, Wrecker relented, putting down the gonk droid and standing up to give Tup a friendly pat on the back, which would’ve sent him sprawling if he wasn’t prepared. “The name’s Wrecker! Guess you’ll be working with us on this one!” 

Tup returned the greeting with a wary smile. Wrecker, at least, didn’t look like he was intentionally antagonizing him; probably just a little unaware of his own strength. “Tup. Good to meet you.”

Wrecker took a moment to survey the other trooper, grinning when he noticed his hair. “Hunter! He’s got long hair like you! Reminds me of when you used to put your hair in a nerf tail!” He went in to ruffle Tup’s hair, which Tup quickly noticed and sidestepped, just barely stopping himself from lashing out on instinct. 

“Oh, sorry!” Wrecker tensed slightly, realizing he’d overstepped.

The trooper who’d been sitting quietly until then spoke up, adjusting their goggles as they began. “You displayed an atypical response to Wrecker’s actions. Am I correct in guessing that you’re more protective of your hair than most standard troopers?”

“Yeah, maybe. I’ve had one too many bad experiences with the trainers on Kamino, if you know what I mean, so I’d appreciate it if you asked first.” Tup rubbed the back of his neck as he willed his heart to slow back down, surprised at the other’s perceptiveness. 

Crosshair, who’d given Tup a hard time earlier, elbowed Wrecker in the ribs, eliciting an apologetic look from Wrecker as the rest of the group sat down around the holotable. Maybe they’d just gotten off on the wrong foot earlier, Tup considered. 

Hunter’s gaze fell on Tup for a moment longer before starting the briefing, noticing his heart-rate going back down and deciding not to intervene. “Alright, here’s the mission parameters. Medical supplies have been going missing at the supply depot on Lothal. First we’ll be doing surveillance, learning who’s responsible and then taking them out.” He turned on the holotable as he continued, bringing up a projection of the supply depot.

“A stakeout? I hate stakeouts!” Wrecker grumbled.

Hunter ignored him, turning instead to Tup. “This is the layout of the depot. What do you think, kid?” He gestured to the table, curious what Tup would suggest.

Biting his lip again at being called a kid again, Tup took a closer look at the map, zooming in on a couple taller buildings. “Hmm… ideally we’d have two teams; one to watch the entrance and another to monitor the supplies in question. This building is a pretty ideal vantage point for most of the city. You’re the sniper, right?” He asked Crosshair, who grunted in assent. “This would be a good location for you, and the other group could be here.” He gestures to another building right across the street from the depot with a clear view of what’s inside. “You know your own men best, but Wrecker seems like a hands-on type, so keeping him closer to the fight would be best, and maybe your technology specialist would be able to tap into their security feed from there; sorry, I don’t know your name.” He nodded at Tech.

“Tech,” Tech offered. “And you seem to have deduced our typical division of labor. Usually, Hunter will spend time with each group as-needed.”

Tup grinned, happy to hear that he was on the right track. “Affirmative. I’m generally more of a forward-fighter than a marksman, but I can go wherever you want me.” He addressed Hunter.

Hunter gave a small nod of approval. “Sounds like a solid plan. Crosshair, you’ll be watching entrances and exits while the rest of us stay closer to the supplies in-question. When you need a break, either Tup or I can relieve you.” 

They continued to plan logistics for a bit, but soon it was time to head out, so Tech went to the cockpit while the rest of the squad got the ship ready for takeoff.

“You might wanna hold onto something.” Hunter called in warning, but nothing could’ve prepared him for Tech’s rapid takeoff. If it wasn’t for Wrecker’s steadying hand, Tup would have fallen flat on his shebs. 

“Thanks for the save, vod.” He grinned sheepishly at the larger trooper. Wrecker sent him a beaming grin in response, scooting closer to Crosshair with a stage-whisper. “He called me vod!” To which Crosshair rolled his eyes before getting up to find somewhere with a little more personal space. 

The flight itself took a few hours, during which time, Tup busied himself by cleaning his kit, eating a ration-bar, and sneakily admiring Hunter’s assortment of vibroknives as he cleaned his own kit nearby. From what Tup could tell, these troopers basically lived on this ship, so he tried to respect their privacy. It wasn’t long before they were touching down on Lothal, and this time, Tup was safely strapped into his seat for landing. Exiting the ship, Tup takes a deep breath in preparation. His first real mission outside the 501st; hopefully it’ll be off to a good start.

_____________________________________

It’s been about five hours since they got settled for their stakeout. Wrecker’s taking a nap (something about his overactive metabolism), and Tech’s been spending his time monitoring the security feed while Tup and Hunter take a turn on lookout.

From his perch in the window, Tup sent another glare towards the flickering lights outside the small apartment. They’d been making a faint buzzing noise for the past hour, and Tup was about five seconds away from chucking one of Hunter’s vibroknives at them. Looking around the apartment didn’t immediately reveal any switches to turn it off, but after a little investigation, he found a metal panel in the wall with rows of breakers. It didn’t take long to identify the correct one, and he let out a sigh of relief as the buzzing finally stopped. 

Glancing around the room, he grinned at Hunter, who had a twin look of relief on his face followed by brief confusion. “Wait, you could hear that too?”

Tup nodded with a groan of annoyance. “Yeah, I’ve got pretty sensitive hearing, but nothing like yours, I’m sure. Back on Kamino, the warning drill lights used to make the absolute worst noise, and I was the only one in my squad who could hear it! My batcher, Dogma, took my word for it, but the rest thought I was crazy.”

“Ugh, those were the worst! When we got our own bunkroom, Tech was able to adjust the frequency, but the rest of the facility was a nightmare.” Hunter complained, happy to commiserate with someone else who understood, even just a little bit.

Tup sat back down, a little closer to Hunter, giving him a sheepish grin. “I’ve, uh, been meaning to ask you… I don’t see too many vode with long hair. Mine’s always a disaster if I leave it down instead of putting it in a bun, and most civvie hair product just makes it stiff and itchy. How do you deal with it?”

Huffing in amusement, Hunter responded. “Heh, well… for me, my hairstyle’s the lesser of three evils. Regulation haircuts need to be maintained nearly every week; I used to scratch myself raw when I was an adiik, trying to get rid of all the little hairs after it was cut, so I started growing it out, which helped a lot. I’ve tried the whole bun-thing, and a couple other hairstyles, but they’d give me pretty bad headaches. The bandana is the only thing I’ve found that really works for me.” He ran a hand through his hair, returning Tup’s grin. 

“Huh, makes sense. My batchmate, Dogma, used to get annoyed when I complained about headaches from pulling my hair up too tight. Said if it bugged me so much, I should just cut it off.” Tup shook his head with a grin. “So do commando’s get better soap rations than the rest of us?”

Hunter shook his head with a smirk. “Not exactly, but we do have a little bit more freedom with our mission stipends. Sometime in our first couple missions, we had to make an emergency landing on Nal Hutta, which if you don’t know, is one of the worst-smelling swamps in the galaxy, and none of the regulation stuff helped at all. Tech found a holonet article recommending this, uh, adiik shampoo, and it worked. Plus it’s supposed to be hypoallergenic, unscented, all that, so we’ve just kept it in stock since then.”

Nodding seriously, Tup made a mental note to look at the specific brand when they went back to the ship. “I’ll have to look into it. Thanks, vod!”

Hunter quirked his head in assent, lips curling into a small smile. It’s been a while since anyone outside the Bad Batch referred to any of them as a brother, but Tup didn’t seem to hesitate. Commander Cody had hinted at integrating them more with the other troopers for future campaigns, and if they were anything like Tup, it might actually be bearable.

_________

Meanwhile, in a nearby alleyway, a shadow lurks in the dark, cloaked by experiemental tech and a local perfume shop. Taking out a pair of scopes, it closely monitors dual silhouettes in a nearby window, partially obscured by a curtain. They can just barely see the barrel of a rifle poking out of the local chrono-tower, good as invisible to the naked eye. An hour passes, and one form disappears, closely followed by a door opening and someone exiting the building, extensive gear poorly hidden by a poncho. Bandana and distinctive tattoos turn away and start walking towards the chrono tower. He disappears from sight, and the shadow is quick to follow.

[go-home-neighbor]

OC Corner: Daniel “Danny” Dear✨💌

(Kinda cannon divergent/AU flavor Ig? Like WH is it’s own lil puppet universe that’s unknowingly—to most of its denizens ;) —suspended in a Lovecraftian realty that exists just Beyond their safe colorful bubble, but also bleeding in through little cracks in their “sanctuary“)

Random word building/OC talk/and minor OC x Wally shipping because I am Not Immune To Cute Silly Guy 🤡

Oh what fun! A new neighbor has wandered into town! …And what’s this? It looks like our one and only mailman is already well acquainted with him, how lovely! ❤️

Daniel is similar in terms of hight and color palette with his older brother. Although he stands a few inches shorter, his hair a few shades deeper and more shaggy (70s hair was a thing of beauty I tells ya!), and he is a tad “scrawnier” in comparison to Eddie.

The mailman struggles to recall who his brother is at first, only that he knows he cares deeply for the lanky puppet, but it’s alright since Danny is more than happy to be patient. “You always looked out for me, Ed; now it’s my turn! That’s what family does! :o) 🧡” Daniel’s pronouns are he/they, and I suppose he’s pan but silly fella doesn’t use a label for himself and instead just says “I dunno, everyone’s a cutiepie to me! :o)”

Well, he’s the dreamy sort, now isn’t he? Head up in the clouds, daydreaming~

…Or is he “meditating”, again? Best not let him stay idle for too long; sitting there letting his thoughts fall silent…he just might start to hear things he shouldn’t; what a mess that would be! Hee hee!

While Danny doesn’t struggle with memory problems like Eddie, he once mentions almost off handledly to Frank how he just might “Remember things a little too well.”

At times reflecting to himself in private about how clearly he can remember his past (or a least an expertly crafted montage of memories that very well could belong to him and Eddie as children) yet he cannot recall now he got to Home. If he pushes it more, trying everything he knows about (a childish-parody of) spiritualism, mindfulness, and meditation to gain more clarity; but all it gets him is a nasty headache, horrible anxiety, and a “surprise visit” from Wally.

To his credit, Wally truly is just checking on the silly string bean most of the time; because if anyone is getting their mind flayed by an unknowable comic horror, Wally rather it be himself rather than his pals. Short king knows he can handle it since he’s kinda “quirky” anyhow @:’{)

Fic Blerp Yipee!🧡

Ding-a-ling!

Said the cherry bell above the post office’s door.

“Hm? Oh it’s you…hello, Wally.” The orange puppet gingerly rubbed at his pounding eyes as he turned away from the post office’s window. Perhaps a patron would be a welcome distraction from the uncomfortable pit that settled in Danny’s stomach.

“Good afternoon, neighbor…” The stylish shorter man carried a parcel in his hands. A painting given its dimensions if Daniel was not mistaken.

“Another commission all dressed up and ready to go, I reckon? Golly, when you become all rich and famous you better not forget about us, Wally~” He chuckled fondly. Which Wally returned with his own slanted, choppy laugh.

“Never would I ever forget about my friends, Dear~”

Sure the lil guy was…eccentric, but Wally was also incredibly kind, patient, talented, and honestly very witty if you listened closely. A fine neighbor; he had earned the title of Town Darling as far as Danny was concerned. Even his very presence was enough to slowly untangle the odd knot of dread in Daniel, a kind calm smile on his sunny face and those expansive vantablack eyes…

At first it was a touch unnerving, to have the weight of such a heavy gaze fixed upon him.

Danny was so very worried at first—in those stumbling, humbling beginnings of being at Home—that he was doing something Wrong.

Breaking some unspoken Rule, earning the quiet scorn of this Wally Darling.

How such a cute little puppet could carry such a powerful aura, Daniel could never know! So he acted carefully, fell in line, and became the post clerk. All the while saying a silent prayer to some unknown, indifferent, higher power in the blind hope that maybe, just maybe, whatever unseen force wouldn’t take him away from the own family he had left….or maybe even ever had.

But Julie, bless her, laid his fears to rest in her bouncy, zany way: “Wha?? You think Wally doesn’t like you!? Heavens no, silly-billy! He just likes lookin’ at folks, is all. He don’t mean anything by it. Heehee! Heck, if he stares at ya lots I think it means he wants to be friends~!”

With that re-framing in mind, Daniel swallowed his nerves and found his courage. Speaking to the small puppet as he would any other: joshing around, asking about his impeccable style, and answering his odd little questions with his own long winded, flowery answers.

Eddie did like to say he should have become a poet.

“Hm, hello? Earth to Danny, please come in~” Wally’s iconic monotone had a faint sing song to it as he gently teased the other man.

“Oh! Mercy me, sorry Wally, I dunno where my head is today,” Sheepishly muttering, the lanky puppet reached across the front counter and took the painting from Wally’s patiently outstretched arms. No matter no large or cumbersome the parcel it always seem to fit into the “outgoing” slot anyway…it was strange, but maybe it was better not to question these things.

“Would you like some help finding it?”

Cheeky fella! Danny couldn’t but to laugh, “Nah, I’ve been using it too much lately anyway. It’ll be a refreshing change~”

“Ha. ha! If you say so friend~ Don’t worry Danny, you will feel better soon.”

The sentiment sounded kind enough, but there was a faint command to it. Well…Wally always seemed to be two steps ahead of everyone anyway. Whatever wisdom he seemed to have hasn’t yet harmed Home. Danny just had to remember the Greater Good, right?

——-

Lost steam at the end there so *large steel pipe falling.sfx* my bad but you get the idea~! :3

[heliads]

Hi again ! Well since there isn't much peter pan requests lately I am hoping it's alright that I request one? Where the reader tries to make Peter jealous (kind of like your other story"the plan") but maybe the readers tactics to make him jealous go too far and something happens, maybe the reader gets kidnapped or gets someone kidnapped? But then they save whoever and make up in the end and Peter tries to prank/make jealous the reader as payback? (I'm sorry if it's not the best request ;_;) Thank you so much if you do this request !! I just love your peter pan stories I keep rereading them a lot 💕

i'm glad you love the peter pan stories bc they are SO FUN to write (especially this one! that's around 4.2k words babe)

masterlist

Neverland is rarely short on entertainment. Still, on a day like today, all claustrophobic heat and humming insects, rattling pines and stiff branches, you can’t help but wish for something a little more invigorating. It’s not like you to feel trapped on this island; you chose it, after all, and you would choose it time and time again for all the centuries you have yet to witness, but then again, the urge to run still remains.

You could use a little something to break the stillness. The quiet mornings keep your mind spiraling in search of something to occupy your hours, and when you think for too long a time, you reach the one topic of consideration that you wish you wouldn’t know at all. This would be, of course, the fact that you love Peter Pan, and the corresponding fact that he couldn’t care less about you.

That isn’t to say that Peter hates you, he never could. You’re one of his Lost Boys, and that means that he would keep you by his side until the end of the world so long as you didn’t do a foolish thing like betray him. Most of these boys have been here for centuries. You’ve forgotten when it was that you arrived on Neverland, only that you would be content with never, ever leaving.

The problem came with the years in between then and now, the decades that rose and fell and left you here, gathering dust on the ground, lost in your own mind. You were not meant to love Peter; no one was, that’s why he is the way that he is and the rest of you are the same, but yet you managed it.

You’re not sure if that love is a victory or a curse, or merely just a testament to your spitfire way of never taking a no for an answer. Regardless, it dogs your footsteps, sinks you down into ash and mud, leaves you lonely in the one place where you should never have to be alone again.

Still, you have had your time of watching Peter from a distance, of pretending that he could love you back even half as fiercely as you love him. It will never come about, but you are on an island destined for the nevers and have-nots and couldn’t-bes, so you feel serene about letting your own heartbreak beat upon you like the tides upon the shore.

A shout from the camp drags you out of your reverie, and you join the growing throngs of Lost Boys in streaming into the center of the main clearing to see what the fuss is about. One of the boys, Devin, has come sprinting in from the direction of the beaches. Hands on his knees, he’s bent double as he tries to catch his breath, but you can tell from the excited shine in his eyes that whatever news he bears is worth hearing.

At last, he manages to contain himself long enough to gasp out his piece. “Ships on the shore,” he chokes out, “I’ve seen them. Black sails. I think it might be–”

“Pirates,” a voice finishes behind him, and the Lost Boys turn as one to see Peter Pan strolling out of the woods from the direction of his Thinking Tree.

Devin nods. “Did you see them too?”

Peter lifts a shoulder. “I can feel them approaching our waters.”

He shudders slightly, as if the sensation of oncoming pirates is just about as friendly as insects swarming your skin or having your hair set on fire.

The Lost Boys break out into excited murmurs. Visitors to Neverland are rare, often decades in between, and pirates typically make for some good memories. They’re always stunned to find a beautiful, magical island populated by a mess of immortal teenagers, you’re always welcome to a fight that you’ll win, and both parties part ways with a story they’ll tell for generations to come.

Peter nods solemnly, as if he can tell where your respective trains of thoughts are going. “Yes, pirates. Stay on your guard, boys. They’re likely not to be trusted, but then again, are we?”

You and the other Lost Boys break out into raucous calls of never, never, and Peter grins. “Let’s give them a proper welcome, then, shall we?”

With that, the camp is lost in a flurry of boys rushing to get their bows and arrows, spears hurriedly shined, and daggers fished out of old cloaks. You melt in with the rest, hurrying down the hills towards the edge of the forest. You can see a distant speck of a ship in the distance, but as the winds ferry it closer to the banks of your beloved island, you start to see corners of dark, inky sails, spires of masts, and ant-like pirates scurrying over the decks.

“Think they’ll be trouble?” A voice beside you asks.

You turn to see Peter regarding you, acid-green eyes latched on yours. You shrug.

“Pirates tend to be trouble,” you acknowledge, “but they’d have to have heard the rumors about this island. They could just have stopped by to trade a few things or get rid of their sea legs.”

Peter chuckles. “Either way, we’ll get a good show. Look, they’re dropping off anchor now.”

He gestures towards the open sea, but keeps his gaze on you, as if watching the scene play out on your face would be infinitely preferable to seeing it in real life.

As it turns out, the pirates aren’t looking for a fight. Not yet, at least. A small landing crew of about a dozen or so drag their rowboats onto Neverland’s sandy beaches. They seem to be of all ages, young and old, dressed in tattered silks and salt stained satins, cotton kerchiefs tying back curls and twists and shining heads. Gold hoops dangling from ears match jeweled rings on calloused hands, and they walk as if they’ve owned the world’s riches a thousand times over.

One in particular seems to be about your age. He’s a boy with blood-red curls dangling in his eyes, the ends bleached from so much time in the sun. While his captain addresses Peter with their goals, this pirate keeps his deep brown eyes on you, a smile never leaving his crooked lips.

The pirates are only there to refill their water and food supplies, or so they claim. Regardless, Peter is more than willing to let their schemes play out in favor of some sublime entertainment, so the pirates are welcomed onto the island with open arms, even if a few are clutching daggers behind their backs.

The boy you’d noticed before finds you as soon as his captain finishes speaking. He swaggers up to you, absentmindedly tucking a russet curl behind his ear.

“I’m Blythe,” he offers, “Blythe Law.”

“Y/N L/N,” you say, and the boy grins.

“Y/N,” he repeats, treasuring the syllables against his tongue like they’re the sweetest of symphonies, “I am most certainly glad that we stopped by this island.”

You arch a brow, unable to hide a smile. “And why’s that?”

Blythe dips down into a theatrical bow, one hand reaching up to pull a clearly stolen tricorn hat from atop his head. “Because it put you in my path, obviously. I’ve stolen many pretty things, but none measure up to you.”

“You haven’t yet stolen me,” you counter, but the boy seems unruffled.

“Perhaps not yet,” Blythe smiles, “but the tides are changing.”

Before he can elaborate on just when this might be happening, your conversation is interrupted by Peter, who strides quickly up to the two of you. Despite Peter’s penchant for feigning hospitality for pirates, he shoots Blythe an irate glare. 

“If you don’t mind, I’ll be needing Y/N,” he says irritably, before all but dragging you away. 

You wave a hurried goodbye to Blythe, then turn to Peter with an exasperated sigh. “What could possibly be so important that you had to pull me away like that? If you keep this up, the pirates are going to realize that you actually do hate all of them.”

Peter scoffs. “I thought you weren’t in the habit of fraternizing with pirates, Y/N. It’s not a habit I’d encourage you to keep up.”

Your mouth opens to issue a challenge, but something occurs to you, something that makes you silence yourself even before you speak. Peter doesn’t usually act like this, but then again, he doesn’t usually have an opportunity to doubt your loyalties as he’s currently claiming. 

In fact, if you think about it, it seems as if Peter is jealous. Peter Pan is fiercely proud of his Lost Boys, but at the end of the day, they are his and his alone. Perhaps he’s afraid that you’ll be tempted to grow closer to the pirates, and that’s why he’s acting like this.

For once, though, you have some sway over him, and you intend to use it to your advantage. If Peter can be tempted to feel jealous over who you speak to, maybe he can be convinced to feel something a little stronger. Blythe Law seems all too willing to play along with whatever game you’ve decided upon, so why not take it a little further?

You hook your lips into a smile. “Of course not, Peter. I’d hate to upset you.”

Peter nods slowly. “Good,” he says, but his eyes are still suspicious. He’s not wrong to have his doubts, of course, you plan on causing far more than your usual share of mischief.

The pirates will be staying the next few nights, so you just happen to be among the few Lost Boys who volunteer to help guide them to a clean source of water. You make sure you’re talking closely with Blythe the entire time. Even if Peter isn’t immediately beside you, that isn’t to say that he isn’t watching.

Your efforts are rewarded when you return to the Lost Boys’ camp later that night. Peter stays away from the campfire, preferring instead to stalk back and forth in the dark shadows of the forest. His eyes dart briefly to you when you return to the camp, but his gaze seems to stray to your wrist, your shoulder, all the places where Blythe had gently rested his hand upon you for a moment or so while you were walking.

It appears that your ruse is working well. A little too well, in fact. About twenty-four hours after the pirates arrive on Neverland, Felix pulls you aside for a little talk. He glances around to make sure nobody is listening, then leans close to you, his voice as harsh as a blunt blade.

“Whatever it is that you’re trying to achieve by talking to that pirate,” Felix hisses under his breath, “you need to stop. You’re playing a dangerous game.”

“We’re on Neverland,” you counter, “All of our games are dangerous.”

Felix sighs. “You know what I’m talking about. Pan has been– restless, as of late. I think you and I both know why.”

You spread your hands. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. We all hate pirates, of course, but I didn’t realize that me talking to one of them would cause him such grief. I didn’t think it was even possible. I didn’t know that Pan could feel a damn thing about any of us.”

Felix swats you on the shoulder. “You know that’s wrong as well as I do. Sure, we may not know what’s going on in Pan’s head, but I’d stop trying to mess with it if I were you. Sooner or later, he’s going to get tired of playing along, and then what’ll happen?”

“Peter Pan never fails,” you whisper, and Felix nods.

“Never. Even if he’s playing against you. Even if he likes you better than the others.”

Your eyebrows startle up at his remark, but Felix just smiles grimly and vanishes back into the forest. You’re left staring at the plants still murmuring restlessly where he’d just stood, his words racing through your head. If Felix suspects something, and Felix knows Peter the best except perhaps for you, then–

Well, it means nothing. Not unless Peter says something about it himself. You square your shoulders and head back to camp. You’ll keep playing your games as long as you please so long as it gets you what you want, and right now, you’re the most important person on this island to Peter. Even the sting of knowing that it’s never going to be quite what you want is nothing compared to that.

After a few days, though, Peter’s patience starts to wear thin. He corners you early one morning after you and the rest of the Lost Boys are leaving the campfire after breakfast. You’re still high on the bright shine of the dawn sun and feeling utterly invincible. Nothing can bring you down, especially not the success of your ruse so obvious before you.

Peter’s jaw is locked as he stares at you. “You’re spending an awful lot of time around the pirate camp,” he comments, “not sure why, though.”

You shrug loosely. “They’re interesting people, with tons of stories about all they’ve seen out there on the endless waves.”

You make sure to inflect your voice with a little bit of longing as you mention the sea. Let Peter wonder if you’d ever leave him, let him try twice as hard to keep you around.

If Peter’s falling for your ruse, though, he gives no sign of it. “Why would you ever want to spend time with a pirate? All they can offer you is hard tack, scurvy, or despair.”

You snort. “That’s just your own point of view. You love hating pirates, Peter, because whenever they’re around you feel so superior.”

Peter arches a brow. “Of course I feel superior, they’re pirates. I think you’re missing my point.”

“And I think you’re missing mine,” you counter, “I’m allowed to talk to whoever I want.”

You’ve left him an opening, and Peter takes it. “Not necessarily,” he says, voice like venom, “you’re still on my island, remember? That means you follow my rules.”

You take a half step closer to him, daring him to react. “And your rules involve keeping me away from cute pirates?”

Peter’s face twists with something that could be anger. “They do. I don’t want to see you around them again.”

With that, he strides away. You have no doubt that he intended to leave you fuming, but instead, you’re just smiling to yourself. Looks like your plan is working just as you’d hoped, Peter is more jealous than you’ve ever seen him.

The next step, of course, is to disobey the rule. You don’t do it directly, of course, even though you’re trying to provoke Peter you’re not stupid enough to invoke that much of his wrath. It just so happens that you’re practicing with your bow and arrow in a clearing where Blythe happens to walk. Nothing out of the ordinary, just a coincidence.

Blythe stalks towards you, hands casually jammed into his pockets. “Fancy meeting you here,” he says around a proud grin.

You just laugh. “I live on the island, where else would I be?”

He shrugs. “You never know for sure.”

As he walks closer, you pretend to back up. “I’m not supposed to be talking to you,” you say.

Blythe arches a brow. “Really? And who said otherwise?”

You give him a look, and he nods knowingly. “Ah. Pan. You know, you don’t always have to listen to him.” He says.

You chuckle. “And who else would I listen to?”

Blythe’s face hardens. “Me.”

He pulls his hands out of his pockets, and you realize that he’s clutching a glimmering handful of something that looks like pixie dust. Your eyes widen, and you turn to run, but it’s too late, he’s throwing the magical dust at you. It sticks to you like a second skin, weighing down your eyelids. Your last thought is that you should have listened to Peter, and then you think nothing at all.

When you manage to wake up again, your head is aching as if it’s been split by an axe. Sitting up slowly, you try to press a hand to your temples, but for some reason, you can’t seem to reach that far. After blinking the last of the spots in your vision away, you realize that you can’t do a thing because your hands and feet have been bound with thick rope.

You startle, and stare around you in horror. The ground is tilting beneath you, but that’s not due to nausea from the pixie dust. Quite the opposite, in fact– you must be at sea, at least judging by the sapphire waves visible through the portholes in your cell. You’re in a small room, wooden timbers making up the floor, ceiling, and walls. When you try the door, it’s locked by a thick iron chain, and you have no key.

Just as you’re trying to see if you could perhaps pick the lock, the iron chain retracts with a click and someone lets themselves inside. It’s Blythe, grinning at you like a stage performer after a show. You must be glaring at him, because he laughs. It’s a more twisted sound than you remember.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that, Y/N. It’s not personal, alright? We needed leverage over Pan, and you work the best for that. Besides, if things go poorly, I’m sure you’ll grow to like the sea.”

You frown. “Leverage? What for?”

Blythe leans casually against one of the walls. “Neverland is quite the island, you know. Our crew could make a killing out of all the plants and magic you crush beneath your boots everyday. Pan would never give it up, of course, but he’d be willing to make a deal with us if we had something he wanted.”

He gestures towards you, and you laugh. “You must be out of your mind,” you say, “Pan would never come for me.”

Certainly not after you disobeyed him. No, Peter will laugh over your corpse. This is what happens to those who break his rules, he’d say. You’d fade into obscurity as a legend of what Lost Boys should never become, someone who thinks they can play games with Peter Pan and win. If only you’d followed Felix’s advice while you still had the chance.

Blythe’s smug grin fades slightly when he realizes you truly believe what you’re saying. “That’s ridiculous,” he says, “Pan clearly valued you more than the rest. He spent all his time staring at you.”

You laugh coldly. “I hate to say it, but you’ve misjudged your enemy. I hope you have a fun time losing your claim to Neverland.”

With that, you settle into a seat on the ground, stretching your bound legs out in front of you as if you couldn’t have another care in the world. Blythe stares at you for a second longer, but when it’s clear that you’re done talking, he scoffs irritably and leaves, locking the door behind him once more.

You’re fully ready for the silence of the ship to engulf you again, but you’ve scarcely started trying to wiggle out of your bonds before you hear a sound behind you. It’s strange, you shouldn’t hear a thing other than the faint sounds of conversation drifting down from the deck above you, but it comes again anyway. In fact, it sounds almost like a knock.

You whirl around, and there before you is Peter, pulling himself through a nearby window. He laughs at your shocked expression.

“Come now,” he says, “you didn’t think I’d let the pirates win, did you? What do I always say?”

You can’t help but laugh along. “Peter Pan never fails,” you respond, and Peter nods with a solemnity that quickly fades into a proud smirk.

“Never,” he repeats, “although I’ll have you know that I called this from the first day. Didn’t I tell you that pirates were nothing but trouble?”

You roll your eyes, albeit a little fondly. “Maybe you were right. Just a little bit.”

He seems altogether too pleased with that, so you hold out your bound hands irritably. “Alright, alright, you’ve had your moment. Now, can you please get me out of here?”

Peter chuckles. “I thought you would have wanted to stick around a little longer, but now that you mention it–”

You cut him off with a sharp glare, and he subsides into quiet laughter instead. Peter flicks out a knife from his belt and saws through your bonds, then extends a hand to you to help you out the window. You’ve heard the other Lost Boys bemoan the rare times Peter’s tried to test their belief by flying with them using pixie dust, but you don’t hesitate a second.

The wind whips by your ears as the two of you soar away, Peter’s hand clasped around yours to make sure the two of you aren’t separated. You touch down minutes later, but your feet have barely hit the ground before Peter lets you go. Now that you’re out of danger, his pleased mood has left him in a flash.

“Why were you there, anyway? How’d they get you so easily?” He asks pointedly.

You try your best to look innocent. “I was practicing my aim with a bow, and they kidnapped me. Nothing more than that.”

Peter’s eyes narrow. “You were talking with that pirate, weren’t you?”

You shrug. “Technically, he sought me out. I was minding my own business.”

Peter groans, frustrated. “Do you ever do anything I ask? This could all have been avoided if you just listened to me.”

You fold your arms across your chest. “Hey, I don’t think either of us would have guessed that Blythe would have tried to kidnap me.”

“Then why else would I have had problems with dear Blythe?” Peter asks, voice dripping with scorn.

You lift a shoulder. “I don’t know, Peter, you tell me. You were the one who was freaking out when he so much as smiled at me.”

Peter looks away. “I just have an eye for these sorts of things, that’s all. Honestly, you should just be praising my intuition.”

You can’t help it, you burst out laughing. “It actually worked. You’re really–”

You cut yourself off in the nick of time, but Peter’s eyes still snap up to you.

“I’m really what?” He asks, suddenly suspicious.

The game’s already up, so you figure you might as well reveal your hand. “You’re really jealous.”

Peter stares at you. “That was the whole point of that? You wanted to see if I would get jealous?”

You shrug. “I’d say it worked pretty well. Technically, I didn’t get the idea until Blythe talked to me the first time. I just wanted to see if you would care if I looked like I wanted to leave.”

Peter’s face sombers. “You meant what you said to that pirate, didn’t you? You legitimately didn’t know if I would come for you or not.”

You shake your head slowly. “No, I didn’t.” 

Suddenly, you can’t take the force of his stare. “And why would I know, for that matter? You treat all the other Lost Boys as if they’re far more important than I am. The most you could feel towards me is apathy.”

“You’re wrong,” Peter says softly, and your flood of words cuts off mid-storm.

“What?” You ask.

“You’re wrong,” he repeats, “I feel more than that. That’s why the pirates knew to take you to get to me. They knew that if there was one person I could not stand to lose, it would be you.”

Your breathing seems harsh and erratic in your ears, but then again, that could just be the silence pressing in all around you. Even the usual sounds of the jungle seem to have gone quiet so they can listen in.

“You care about me?” You ask, not daring to lift a single hope.

Peter nods. “More than anything. More than I should. I wasn’t just jealous of that pirate, Y/N, I was afraid that you would go with him and leave me behind. I can take the passage of time, you know, I can live with the centuries, but I cannot survive on only the memory of you without the real thing.”

You should say something. You need to say something, but the fear of saying the wrong thing and ruining this most precious moment closes up your throat. Instead, you opt for the action which is both the easiest thing to do and the hardest thing in the world:  you kiss him.

Peter Pan isn’t usually surprised, but you swear he gasps quietly when it happens. Then he’s kissing you back and you haven’t ever felt more confident, more sure of yourself, than the fact that Peter likes you just as much as you like him, if not more. The force of his love is strengthened by the centuries, hundreds of years of living that taught him that he has never felt anything like this.

As for you, well, your centuries have taught you the same thing. You have plenty more ahead of you, which is perfect, because you will need thousands of years to bear the weight of all the love the two of you will share.

ouat tag list: @lovesanimals0000, @amortensie

[blouisparadise]

Here are some amazing bottom Louis fics that were posted or completed during the month of June. We really hope you enjoy this list. Happy reading!

1) Effervescent Opal, Say My Name | Mature | 3463 words

Louis has an oversupply of milk after his first pregnancy and Harry wants nothing more than to suck him dry.

2) Tide's Deathless Death | Explicit | 4350 words

The Red Serpent gleamed in all of her marvellous glory from where she was anchored a meagre few miles away from the land. Her flag waving proudly in the afternoon sun. The image was certainly memorable, of the flag, that is; a serpent coiled viciously around a human heart, fangs sunken into the organ and blood oozing from the very spot. If not for the ship herself, the flag had its own repute of conveying the message that the captain was not to be trifled with.

There was no single man who had survived after taking up arms against the captain. Well, there was one man, but including him amongst the hoard of common faces would be a foolishness on the feared-by-all captain’s part.

That man currently stood silently staring after the captain, palm curled around the handle of his blade, and teeth clenched in anger. He was certainly going to relieve all the navies of their plight by taking down the captain. At least then, in his relatively newfound life of piracy, he would have done one good deed.

3) Nothing Even Matters (As Long As You’re Mine) | Explicit | 5826 words

“Nothing?” Harry can’t help the dry chuckle, running his free hand through his short, wavy hair, messing up his anteriorly perfectly styled locks. “I don’t think grinding on strangers is nothing.” His low, hoarse voice reverberates throughout the empty bathroom and he notes the slight shiver that courses through Louis’ body. The boy fidgets in place and squeezes his thighs together.

4) Is Ur Muffin Buttered? | Explicit | 7053 words

He knew what he was getting into when he began to hook up with Harry Styles. How could he not? Everyone on campus knew about him, the type of player he was, ready to break hearts and beds and all that. But it wasn’t as if he had planned the mess he was getting into it, at least not in the beginning.

5) Taking The Long Way Home | Mature | 12499 words

The line is quiet for a moment before the man asks. “What kind of car you got, honey?” “Uh,” Whether it’s from the pet name or the question, his brain freezes for a second. “It’s pink.”

The man huffs out a laugh. “That doesn’t tell me much, love.” “Sorry, I don’t know cars well.”

The man hums, before saying. “Tell you what, i’ll come out there and get ya, then we’ll talk about the charge on the way back.”

“Really?” He asks. “That’d be amazing.”

“It might take me a minute to get out there, at least thirty or forty. So just sit tight.”

“Alright, thank you. I really appreciate it.” He does a little victory dance in his seat. “My names Louis’ by the way.”

“I’ll see you soon, Louis.”

6) Bundles Of Pride | Teen & Up | 12796 words 

As far as Louis can remember, Harry has always been extremely vocal about his feelings, always making sure to remind him he loves him. It could be overwhelming at times, but endearing most of the time and Louis picked up on the habit as well. Now, married with three kids, the love is only tripled, and thus even if they do have a teenager in a somewhat rebellious phase who is starting to venture the relationship scene - meaning he is trying to distance himself from his parents. Harry finds it amusing while Louis is trying to be okay watching his boy grow and go through the motions the way he once did.

7) Baby, You're The End Of June | Explicit | 13684 words

“Up for it, Harold? We can go over the rundown when we get back. If you’re not busy then.”

“Yeah, sounds good,” Harry says, closing his laptop and setting it on Louis’ desk. “It’s just Harry, though.”

“You look like a Harold,” Louis says, standing up and brushing some brownie crumbs off his t-shirt. Harry briefly wonders how he’s still hungry for lunch after demolishing half the plate of brownies as he stands and moves into the hallway. “It’s the cardigan, I think.”

“You guys can flirt on the way,” Niall says over his shoulder, beckoning for them to follow him as he strides down the row of cubicles. “Come on, I’m starving.”

Harry looks at Louis, but he just laughs as they follow Niall. Oh. He thought he’d been picking up a vibe while they hung out, but apparently not. Well, it’s better to know how Louis feels now, so he can nip his growing crush in the bud. Louis is a great guy, at least they can be friends as well as coworkers.

8) Three's A Crowd, Four's A Party | Mature | 16569 words

"Morgan, sweetie, mommy and daddy have something we want to talk to you about."

The little girl looks at them confused, having no idea what's about to happen.

"First I want to tell you that we love you very much and nothing will ever change that, okay?"

"I love you too!"

Louis smiles. "What we wanted to talk to you about is that there's going to be some changes around here soon."

"Why?"

"Because mommy's having a baby."

9) Angel Of Small Death And The Murder Scene | Explicit | 20634 words

Ever since Louis read about the new up and coming Detective in town, he had immediately disliked the man, despite never having met him. So, naturally, it can only be the worst thing that could have happened to Louis when he gets stuck with Detective Styles trying to solve a murder during his supposed to be relaxing vacation over the seas.

10) Lonely Shadow Dancers | Explicit | 20838 words

“Mm,” Harry’s arms circle him, and their fumbling somehow turns into a cuddle session, “still can’t believe we’re here together.”

Growing up with someone, one tends to become used to another. Used to the mannerisms and personality of them. Used to the changes and the things that stay the same.

Harry hit puberty and sprung up into this cheeky curly flirt of an alpha and Louis still hasn’t found the time to get used to it. His stomach flutters and he bites back a stupid smile and wonders if he ever will.

11) Worth the Wait | Explicit | 29262 words

In all the words Louis would use to describe a baby shower, the last one he’d ever thought to use was depressing.

12) You Fill My Lungs With Sweetness (Can I Be Close to You?) | Explicit | 29884 words

Busy picturing Harry’s stupid face on the stupid dummy, Louis goes through a series of kicks before returning to a low guard and cycling through punches. Harry’s still talking, gesturing with his hands as he rounds Louis, standing to his back. “You do a few butt-shaping exercises, tighten this up a little bit,” he smacks Louis’ arse and the omega freezes while Harry cheerfully continues, “you could pull this off.”

“You know what?” Louis snaps, lifting on his tiptoes to get the leverage so he can wrap his arm around the alpha’s neck, forcing him to bend in half while Louis locks him in a chokehold. “Pull this off,” he snarls. They stagger over a few steps, Louis gritting his teeth as Harry tries to break free. “Is it because Payne hates me?” he complains, voice edging on an annoyed whine, “Or is it, like, an omega thing?”

Too late, Louis realizes that Harry has got a grip on his leg and this time as he pulls against Louis’ hold, it loosens, the alpha lifting him in the air before slamming his back into the mat, breaking Louis’ grip completely. Harry kneels on the mat, hovering over him with a sneer, “Don’t kid yourself. Nobody thinks of you that way.”

13) Code Blue | Teen & Up | 40546 words

During their last show, Louis, unexpectedly, passes out backstage. When he comes to, Harry forces him to go to the hospital. What the doctors find is about to change their lives forever.

14) Insane | Mature | 47013 words

"Did you hear that? "

Truth or dare is said to be a fun, innocent game played among children and young adults at parties or with friends, so no one expected two high-school boys' lives to be at risk all because of one stupid dare.

15) Home Is Where The Heart Is (But God, I Love The English) | Explicit | 47458 words

“Niall, there is absolutely no bloody way your club shelled out over £400,000 to have Harry Styles ugly mug plastered all over London’s bus stops.” Louis scowls from the passenger seat as their car flies by yet another bus stop with his sworn enemy’s face on it.

“Harry was a proper diva that day too,” Niall fondly reminisces of the alpha. “Kept demanding they redo his hair and swatting away any of the players who touched it.”

“They could've done his hair six ways to Sunday and he still wouldn’t look any more attractive than some bigheaded giraffe type,” Louis continues on his tirade, hoping to get his best mate to commiserate with him, but it’s becoming increasingly far-fetched, especially since said best mate is also on the same football team as said giraffe.

16) Heat Wave | Mature | 64100 words

Italy, 2018. Summer in Italy is sticky, especially in Marina di Pietrasanta. Louis Tomlinson, a soft and independent omega, goes to spend his holidays there with his daughter Alice. He has rented a vacation home built on a large estate owned by one Harry Styles, a kind-hearted alpha who is not very fond of children, but he tries.

A lot can happen in fifteen days.

17) These Still Waters Run Deep | Explicit | 64602 words

“You and your brother are very different in that way,” Louis hums, noticing the subtle tick in the alpha’s jaw.

“Andrew and I are different in many ways,” he states, nostrils flaring the slightest.

Louis sighs from his nose. “I have never been one to conform to the conventional standards of royal morals. They’ve placed me in a box that I do not fit in, leaving me always wanting what I cannot have. It’s natural, at this point, to hold my words and pray everything blows over without a fuss.”

“You are free to speak as you wish,” Harry says intently, the ‘with me’ goes unsaid but it’s there, reassuring. “What do you want, Louis?”

Clacking hooves outside the house and the whinny of the horses for their carriage are loud in the silence as Louis thinks, staring at the alpha painted in orange and yellow and thinking ‘you’—knowledgeable and confident and willing to speak. I want to be like you. I want you.

18) Late Nights And Good Intentions | Explicit | 71808 words

“About last night,” Harry says suddenly, as if he’d been debating on whether to say anything. Louis whips back around to look at him.

“Do not finish that thought,” Louis says just as abruptly.

Harry looks at him oddly, as if assessing him. With a small frown, it seems the assessment is over. “I only wish to say that you do not have to dwell on it. The rest of the men will surely forget by tonight.”

“And you?” Louis asks, raising an eyebrow. “Will you forget?”

“I will remember every second of it fondly,” the Lord says, no trace of a tease in his words.

19) Lost & Found In Oblivion | Explicit | 74779 words

Everything wasn’t at all like he had planned. He was supposed to answer the door calmly and coolly, like a proper experienced adult dressed in protective hoodie and joggers. Not like this. But this was what he had and he had no choice but to roll with it.

“I fucking paid for this, didn’t I?” Louis muttered to himself and took a huge inhale.

20) Cherry Red And Gloomy Blue | Explicit | 94940 words

There was an alpha in his kitchen.

There was an alpha in his kitchen and he was in his panties and he reeked of sweat. Oh my God, he thought, what—

Suddenly, their eyes met. A strangled sound came out of Louis’ mouth as he got caught staring, his lips still parted as he scrambled to find something, anything, to say. The alpha preceded him.

“Cazzo,” he cussed, the glass he was holding in one of his hands almost slipping from it. He looked as surprised as Louis felt.

21) Locked Hearts | Explicit |100486 words

England, 1840. Triggered by a heart filled with ambition, the powerful Pack Alpha Harry Styles decides to create an alliance with the neighboring pack through marriage. The de Winters, having heard of Styles’ reputation as a charming yet abusive lover, refuse to put their only omega son through a life of misery—although they have no qualms coming up with a plan to make the advantageous alliance happen, even if it means subjecting someone else to that fate.

Enters Louis Tomlinson, a servant with a pitiful past who, against his wish, finds himself roped into a dangerous scheme that might very well cost his life in the end.

22) Sweet Lou | Explicit | 115949 words

The Sweet Lou is a mafia romance between Louis and Harry. Louis is the son of a mafia don, and Harry heads his own crime family. Though he's destined to marry Louis’ sister, they can't escape their obvious connection.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

You can find other monthly roundup fic rec lists here.