#y’all better know I care cause I posted this here AND on ao3

[nocasdatsgay]

Ch. 1 of From the Shadows the Beast will Rise

Masterlist here/ Prequel “Chokehold” Here

Summary: Eris gets a visit from Azriel months later and is summoned to the Night Court.

Rated: M

Warnings (I forgot 😅): sexual themes, Azriel’s past trauma, discussion of mor’s trauma,

AO3 Link Here | Chapter 2

**Also read below**

It had been months since their last encounter, but Eris knew Azriel was watching him. He could smell hints of evergreen from the shadows in the far corner of his room in the Forest House. They had followed him around all evening, except during dinner when they had the right mind to make themselves scarce around his father. Eris reasoned it was probably due to his lack of responses to the letters in his study. 

It was only when the smell got stronger he knew Azriel physically arrived. Anger flared for just a moment within. Azriel knew better than anyone the sensitivity of the wards on the house. However, Eris wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction. Instead he schooled his features and looked down at the book he was reading and flipped the page. 

“Are you going to hide in the corner all night?” He asked loudly, not bothering to read the text in front of him. When no answer came he sighed, annoyed. “I can smell you, idiot.”

Eris looked up to see Azriel step out of the shadows. He smirked at the displeasure etched into his features. Spymaster wasn’t used to being caught. Eris folded his page and closed the book, setting it to the side table. He let his gaze run quickly over the male in front of him. 

“You have a lot of nerve coming into this house uninvited,” Eris folded his hands together in his lap and lifted his chin. “Just because I let your shadows linger doesn’t mean you’re welcome to enter.” 

Shadows whirled around Azriel, more pronounced in the light casted from the fireplace. If Eris didn’t know any better, they seemed agitated as well. Azriel didn’t move, save for his wings twitching. 

He glared at Eris. “Rhys wants to know why you’ve ignored his summons.”

Eris scowled. “Rhys overestimates his importance. He also underestimates mine. I’m not his citizen to be summoned. Maybe he should start asking politely; requesting instead of demanding.” Eris slumped back in his seat and grinned. “He’s so used to ordering you around like a dog, he forgets what it’s like to actually communicate with someone of decent intelligence.”

Azriel stepped forward. Eris didn’t ignore the glance he casted to the roaring fireplace before focusing back on Eris. 

“You’re the one who begged for an alliance.” Azriel emphasized the word beg just enough for Eris to notice. He didn’t react even if trousers felt slightly tighter. “If you wish for Rhys to honor it, I suggest you stop being an entitled bastard.” 

“Did he send you?” Eris snapped in reply. “Or did you come on your own to waste my time? I assume it’s the latter since Rhysand is fully aware of the stipulations of our bargain.” 

Azriel crossed his arms. Shadows slid to the carpet, and Eris watched them creep forward. 

“Where is your bargain mark, anyway?” Azriel tilted his head. 

“I don’t have one.” Eris felt the cool touch of a shadow circling around his ankle. 

“Has to be somewhere your father won’t see it,” Azriel mused. Another shadow circled Eris’s other ankle. “Does he weld the knife himself? Or does he make his guards extract information from you while he watches?” 

Both shadows slipped up his pant legs. 

“Himself.” Eris answered honestly. Phantom pains from all the times he’d been questioned lurked in the back of his mind.  “It’s strictly politics. You should know; Rhysand would rather bloody your hands than his own. At least my father is willing to do that part himself.” If that stung, Azriel didn’t show it. “Call back your shadows.” 

Shadows slid down his legs again, slinking out his pants and back onto the carpet. His eyes lost track of where they went when they merged with the others. 

“Inside your left thigh.” A hint of smirk graced his lips. “Of course it’s somewhere slutty.” 

“Are we done?” Eris finally stood and straightened his jacket. 

“Only if you want to be.” 

There was sincerity in those Hazel eyes. An offer. It was nighttime. Besides some guards, no one else  was up at this hour.  Eris debated for a split second if he wanted to risk it. 

“Not in this house,” Eris replied after a moment, more softer than he intended. 

Azriel nodded slightly. “Rhys did send me. He was wondering if you were dead.”

Eris laughed, the hollowness of it evident. “My apologies then, for disappointing you both. All of Pyrthian will know if I die before my father. My brothers would make sure of it with their bragging.” 

Eris could have sworn there was a scowl on the shadowsinger’s face before he stepped back, disappearing and taking his shadows with him. 

***

Eris waited two days after Azriel’s visit to send Rhys a letter. The meeting in the moonstone palace three days after the response was just as tedious as he anticipated. There wasn’t much he didn’t already know. He knew from his correspondence with Jurian that Koschei sent a warning to Vassa. He knew already of the efforts with Day Court to research; Lucien told him of that weeks ago. 

He didn’t like his brother being the one in talks with Helion but vocalizing it would draw suspicion none of them needed. The only surprise of the meeting was the presence of the middle Archeron sister, Elain. She sat silently beside Azriel, watching him. Eris waited until the end of the meeting to put his amber gaze towards her. 

“You never explained why you’re here, little sister.” He loved the way she scowled at him and bristled at the sarcastic endearment. “Are you even still to be my little sister? I can never tell with the way you string him along.”

He heard a scratching of wood. Probably Feyre’s claws since she hissed at him. “Don’t speak to her like that.”

“Why not? We’ll be family eventually.” 

He turned to Rhys and Feyre and he smirked at his correct assumption. He felt Azriel’s glare and a shadow slip around his ankle. He kicked out his foot, shooing it away. He then felt a claw against the wall of his mind. He mentally sighed and opened a crack in it. It was Rhys who spoke to him. 

Why do you always cause problems? Elain is here for a reason. 

What reason is that? I thought her sole job was to ensure Lucien stays tethered to your court. 

Eris shut down his walls again when Rhys growled at him. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. They always acted as if they were above court politics; like they weren’t playing games of their own. Eris leaned back in his seat, debating if he should just leave them to stew. But Elain kept her doe eyes focused on him. He stared back.

She whispered, “Autumn blooms wilt without the sun.” He furrowed his brows at her but she continued. “They weep for the lost fox and the slaughtered hounds. They weep for the sunlight.” 

“Poetry?” He cut his eyes to Rhys and Feyre. 

Elain continued and a chill went down his spine. “Only out of the shadows, will the beast rise. Autumn blooms make the path. If they falter the beast shall fall to the depths. The blooms will be set ablaze and burn to ash.” She blinked and looked at him like she was just now truly looking at him. “Kill your father before he kills you, Eris Vanserra.” 

Realization settled over him. Eris’s eyes cut to Rhysand. A scratch in his mind told him Rhys was listening. 

A fucking seer?

Or poetry. Rhys physically smirked at him. Heed her warning Eris. Time is running out.

***

Eris could have lit his entire guest room on fire with the rage welling in him. Of course Rhysand was hoarding Elain away from his brother, not only for his allegiance but also her powers. A fucking seer. There hadn’t been one in Prythian since before he was born. 

He continued to pace the room, chewing on his nail while he thought. The other sister- the witch, she lost her powers. He never anticipated she’d accept his marriage proposal when he asked but he wished she had. A waste of power. He didn’t know how Nesta lost her powers- his informants heard whispers of Feyre nearly dying in childbirth and Nesta used her power to save her and the heir. Now Elain, with her own abilities, was at risk.

His informants also told him of how a certain shadowsinger was close to Elain. Too close. A flower pendant necklace purchased by him was telling enough. Probably an order from Rhysand to keep Elain occupied while putting just enough distance between her and his brother. It kept Lucien tied to Night Court without risking him taking Elain away. He scoffed loudly. Rhysand and his games, an annoyance to the world. 

Eris stopped, dropping his hand when he smelt the air change. He waited and turned to the opening of the bathing chamber. There stood Azriel, his shadows a frenzy around him and making him look more dark and broody than usual. Eris slid his hands into his jacket pockets. 

“And what do I owe for this visit, Azriel?” 

Azriel walked up to him. Eris watched the shadows try and reach out to him when he stopped within arms reach. 

“I told you to stop antagonizing Mor. I didn’t mean for you to start taking your shit out on Elain.”

“Does she know what you did in this room, Azriel? Does she know you rutted like a mindless beast atop her mate’s brother until we both came undone?” Eris sneered when a hand came around his throat. “You think I don’t know about that? You’re the one who pursues her knowing she’s mated. And knowing you like to fuck males. Don’t act angry about it now.” 

“I’m sick of your fuckin mouth.” He squeezed before shoving him back by his throat. “You’re the one who begged for a lesser male to choke you. Choke you until you came from that alone.” 

Eris coughed, stumbling back and throwing out his hands for balance. “I asked politely. That isn’t begging.” 

“You asked because I told you to. You think you’re better than me but you’d get on your knees and choke on my cock if I pulled it out. Do you even like females? Is that why you left Mor to die?”

That was the wrong thing to say to him. Eris felt his temp rising and he set his arms ablaze with his magic. 

“When will you brutes let that shit go?” Eris stalked up to Azriel, who took just as many steps back. “You found her, didn’t you? I smelt your fucking shadows even back then. I smelled them coming. If I took her, she would have been murdered by my father.” Eris let the rage blind him as he cornered Azriel against the wall. “I’m not the one who put a nail through her womb to make sure that bastard’s seed didn’t take. Stop blaming me for her father’s doings.” 

He would have kept going if the smell of pure terror hadn’t reached his nose, snapping him out of his rage. He realized several things at once. Azriel was utterly still, wings tucked tight and eyes glazed over. Shadows covered his hands until they were no longer visible. Shadows also circled Eris’s arms as if they could suffocate the flames dancing on them. Eris shook out his magic and stepped back, shadows disappearing with the flames. 

Eris always knew those scars on Azriel’s hands were from burns. He knew because he had burn scars of his own, just hidden. Azriel seemed to come back to himself but the shadows didn’t leave his hands. Eris glanced down at them. 

“Who gave you those scars?”

Azriel slumped against the wall, wings drooping in a slump. He blinked a few times before responding. “My brothers. I try to not,” he shook his head. “I normally don’t let it bother me. But the way your magic,” he stopped again, like he might be ill if he opened his mouth. 

“I won’t do it again,” Eris whispered. 

The shadows eased away from Azriel’s hand and Eris grabbed his wrist. Azriel jolted but didn’t yank his arm away. Eris knew he shouldn’t but he traced the scarring with his other fingers while he held up Azriel’s hand with his own. 

“For what it’s worth, I like your scars.” A confession he said so softly he wasn’t sure he even spoke it aloud. “What happened to your brothers? After they did this.”

Azriel snatched his hand away. “Nothing happened.” Eris cut his eyes to see Azriel scowling. “Don’t patronize me, Vanserra.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Eris straightened his posture, clasping his hands behind his back. “Stay away from my brother’s mate and we’ll call it even.” 

“Jealous?” 

One of his shadows floated away and brushed against Eris’s cheek, wrapping around to file through his hair. Azriel’s eyes tracked it while he scowled. Eris pulled a hand from behind his back and lifted it. More shadows came and twirled around his fingers. 

“Something tells me jealousy isn’t necessary.” Eris shook away the shadows. “You should go. Keir will be here and the last thing I need is him thinking I’m in good graces with Rhysand’s inner circle. Unless you plan on fighting me as a cover.” 

Azriel rolled his eyes. “I don’t think Keir wants to smell how you react when I fight you.” Azriel then stepped back and slipped away into the shadows. 

[girlreblogger]

also to add to my previous post, when i say blk yn go through crazy situations im exaggerating but i mean (“cause me personally!!!!!!!!!!!”) allowing the character to be treated in certain manner and be put in “awkward” positions. i also want to say that the “situations” seem unfulfilling like i wanted to say in the first place.

because of the unsavory situations she is put in she legit has to have characteristics that are straight up unnecessary if the wellbeing of her character was prevalent. and i have to say that because of blk yn stories that it applies to. (and no ian talking abt how ppl be complaining abt yn being “ghetto” 😒)

drama, comfort, or for fun, is cool and dandy but it’s the same type of thing and i’m not tryna come for the plug stories like don’t nbgaf like omg i’m so tired of hearing bout them freaking stories.

to the ppl who still decide to ignore how damaging fr CERTAIN! blk yn fics y’all remind me of the ppl who support tyler perry movies simply because it’s for entertainment and “he’s telling a story” (that not everyone has)

yep. those things are true but an impact worse than good is being produced. like bffr.

and i feel conflicted by even saying that because some ppl obviously genuinely relate or find comfort in those stories but at what cost. like is comfort worth change and progression?

me rn:

some ppl just really don’t gaf and don’t care to want better. please don’t let the ppl who don’t gaf sway you. for the ppl who do, reblog nice fics or write. blow them up so other blk girls can find them. we deserve it.

there are so many blk fics where yn is not going through those things and if there is “drama” is solved or there’s a healthy resolve. (there’s so many blk writers who need to be publishing books fuck tumblr or ao3 and tryna get reblogs. with all that talent girl MAKE SOME MONEYYYY! YALL STUFF BE GOOD.)

i’m dead serious. why haven’t you thought abt it.

but yeah. it is what it is we have to put more work in to change as people in general. but i really just want my ppl to grow. ppl find comfort in fics for a reason. i really think a good balance of what everyone is looking for and needs should be found. i know ppl gonna feel like ppl telling them what to do but they prolly the ones who don’t want the change for wtv.. reason… ahem..

ppl feeling hit by what i said:

there’s obviously a problem and as a ppl! why can’t we just fix it. like at least try.

side note:

there’s so many ways to get drama. also the smut after arguing piss me off this is off topic cause it applies to a lot of ppl who make fics but like damn. y’all ain’t gon talk it out. and it be the most weird arguments and stuff and you wanna squeeze lemons after that???

idk that annoys me like everyyyy time? and i think smut after arguments can be well written but ….

anyways the blk ff community to damn big for us to be sitting here starving acting like we don’t have food in the refrigerator to make something.

get it together yall. youn want what’s in the refrigerator go get your keys and buy something.

i’m tired of this shit that’s why so many blk writers stop writing or ppl stop reading because it’s too much going on all for some damn fake characters we wanna imagine ourselves with.

and i know for some ppl it’s abt the followers and all that which i mean to each is own i mean

sigh i was tryna be proper and cordial but i really want better for us but it’s so many ppl who go too far or do too little. and some are so sheep that they go with someone else’s opinion too. you know you tired of all the toxic fics say sumn. you know you tired of ppl constantly bringing up yn being ghetto for no reason (that shit piss me off so bad i can’t. they be so close but so farr) say sumn.

me after thinking someone finna bring up how unnecessary struggle love/toxic/extra smutty blk fics are but they end up just complaining abt yn using aave:

anyways i’m ranting. i wanted to say what i felt.

muah

[revelinmagic]

Sleepless Nights - the Bad Batch (Crosshair x Reader)

Pairings: Crosshair x FormerJedi!reader (romantic), Hunter x FormerJedi!reader (platonic) [gender-neutral reader]

Warnings: no smut, mentions of insomnia, fluff, first kiss, intense kissing tho (no use of y/n)

Summary: With your insomnia acting up again, you decide to take a late night walk to try and clear your head. Unknown to you, a certain clone who has trouble expressing his feelings follows you, worried for your safety. When you catch him following you, questions are asked and certain mutual feelings come to light...

Word count: 3,329

Authors note: so this is my first fic, hope y’all like it! It does have slow start but it speeds up fast. This story takes place outside of canon story. It exists in a universe where Crosshair came back to the batch after time spent with the Empire but before any of the events of season 2. (this is also cross posted on ao3 , but I did just start writing on there too so there is nothing other than this fic...yet)

================================================

If the Marauder had to break down anywhere, you were glad it was this planet. The days were staying below too hot, but the night also did not get too cold. And you would know, seeing as your insomnia had gotten bad again over the past couple of weeks.

Sleep was constantly on your mind, and you could tell the Batch knew about it. Tech had “coincidently” started informing you on tips and tricks to sleep better, and had tried to pass it off as information he saw as beneficial for the entire team. Hunter was much better at being subtle, softly asking if you needed extra caf; he would also happen to forget to put you on the watch rotation recently. Echo and Wrecker were much more straightforward about their concern, with Echo offering his own extra pillows and blankets he kept to support his metal joints and keep him warmer while asleep, and Wrecker pushing Lula into your hands and announcing “She always helps me sleep!” Your squad truly cared about you. 

Omega, too, had picked up on your habits after catching you awake far too late whilst she tried to sneak into the cockpit and scare Hunter (which, of course, never actually worked, though Hunter would sometimes pretend it did for Omega’s sake). Following Wrecker’s lead, she offered to share the stuffed Tooka doll with you. 

The only person who had yet to comment on your nightly struggles was Crosshair.

Where the others cut you slack when you were sluggish in training, Crosshair would sneer and push you harder with his mildly cutting comments and sarcastic feedback on your abilities. You never fell behind in combat, though, the adrenaline always kicking you into focus and allowing your skills to shine through. And honestly, you know that is the only reason Hunter hasn’t sidelined you yet, or put you on permanent “Omega watch.” 

And so here you were, yet again, lying awake while the rest of your squad slept soundly, or as soundly as possible with Wrecker’s snores snaking through the darkness. 

Huffing to yourself, you twist again, trying to find a comfortable position in your bunk. A few more minutes pass with the same routine before you decide that it isn’t worth it to even try. Pulling on the sweatshirt and long pants from the foot of your bunk, you slip on boots as well, cause while the world outside was not cold, you didn’t want the air coming off the damp ground to give you a chill. Padding to the cockpit, you open the door to see the pilot’s seat swivel around, Hunter regarding you eyes containing the same worry they always seemed to have when he looked at you recently.

“Heard me coming?” You question, leaning against the door frame.

Hunter chuckles, crossing his arms before responding: “Heard you tossing and turning actually. Same as last night, and the night before.” You look down, not knowing what to say when he continues, “I suppose you are coming to let me know that you are going for a walk.”

He says it as a statement of fact, and it is. You had gotten into the habit of walking around at night under the guise of patrolling, though you were quite sure that at least Hunter knew that was bogus after you overheard a tense squabble between Crosshair and himself over the fact that you went out by yourself frequently. Crosshair had been saying how it was irresponsible of you to be wandering by yourself, and Hunter had chastised him for his comments. 

You nod at Hunter, and he just sighs to himself before turning to unlock the ship’s doors, “Just make sure to stay alert. I know our scanners would have picked up on any threats, but take your blaster with you in case.”

“Yes, Sergeant.” And with that you make your way out of the cockpit, stopping by your bunk to grab your blaster before heading out the door, not noticing that the bunk across from yours was empty as well. 

=================================================================

He was laying on the roof of the Marauder when he felt the ship’s doors open and close. Sitting up to see who it was, it came as no surprise when Crosshair saw you step out from the shadows and into the moonlight. With his enhanced eyesight, you were more than just an outline, every detail of you perfectly clear as you took a deep breath of the night air before starting off into the night. 

Crosshair was the only one besides Hunter that was fully aware of your nightly walks. The others had noticed your lack of sleep, but none of them seemed to notice the muddy shoes you hid under your bunk, none but Hunter and Crosshair himself. 

While watching you walk away from the ship, Crosshair felt that familiar warm lurch in his chest that seemed to arise whenever he looked at you in the past couple of months. 

When he had rejoined his brothers, he was surprised to see they had yet another addition besides his younger sister: you. Apparently you were a Jedi healer, trained not only in combat but also in how to use the force to close wounds and soothe minds. You had been rescued from slavers by the Batch, and since then you had stayed with them, becoming one of them and aiding on missions. Cid was also happy, as it had saved her money on supplies as well as the Batch needing less time between missions to inevitably heal back up. 

Being the only one of the Batch that held no trepidation in interacting with him once he finally returned, you had since become stuck in his head. Well, interacting as much as he would allow. Crosshair kept his distance, not knowing how to act around you, and that space he kept between you only increased as feelings started to bloom from the seeds of kindness you showed him. And it didn’t hurt that you were one of the most stunning creatures he had ever seen.

So of course he was more worried than he let on about your inability to fall asleep. It distracted him when in action, feeling the need to check on you to make sure you had not fallen due to exhaustion or to simply make sure you were still there. 

It was starting to get annoying. And so he of course worked through it the only way he knew how, with sarcasm and aggression masking his true emotions. 

He pushed you in training in hopes the exhaustion would finally hit you and grant you at least a few hours of rest. He argued with Hunter about letting you on missions, trying to allow you time to yourself on the ship. Crosshair even convinced Hunter to take you off of watch duty, making the excuse that he would rather take your place himself than leave the safety of the team in the hands of someone who could not even figure out a way to sleep. And his heart had fallen when he turned to see you had heard what he said, not knowing he was trying to help you in the only ways he knew how. And by the gods, he wanted to help you.

As you disappeared into the sparse treeline, Crosshair decided that it did not do any harm to follow you, make sure you did not get into any trouble. Climbing down the side of the ship, Crosshair slung his rifle over his shoulder and followed you into the wood. 

Moving quietly, he kept you in sight. He noticed your blaster and smiled to himself. That’s my girl.

Your movements were relaxed yet confident, he noticed, and he guessed it was not the first time you had taken this path specifically. But where were you going?

His question was answered a few moments later when a clearing suddenly appeared, boasting a small, still lake, a perfect mirror to the galaxies above it. Crosshair hid just within the trees as you moved towards the bank and sat down in the grass, pulling your knees to yourself as you gazed at the starry reflection before you. 

He spent a few minutes like that, watching you watch the water. It wasn’t often he got to observe you outright like this, or for this long. He made sure to keep his glances short and excusable should he ever be caught by his brothers. But now, he noticed things about you that caused a thrill to run up his spine as he realized he was probably the only one to ever see you in such a relaxed state.

He saw the way the breeze gently riled your hair, how you seemed to sigh with the wind every time. He saw how you gently kneaded the wet ground, feeling the living force of each grass blade around you. He watched as you gently lifted tendrils of water with your mind, creating small spirals that would then cause ripples when they fell, your shoulders moving a bit in what Crosshair assumed was a light laugh. 

Crosshair was so focused on you, on the minute details you were exhibiting, that he somehow failed to realize when you sensed a lifeforce you recognized. 

“Are you going to come out and join me, Crosshair?”

His breath pushed out of his lungs in one swoop. How long had you known he was there? Did you know he had followed you? Could you sense his heart speed up at the sound of his name from your lips?

Crosshair silently took a deep breath before emerging to join you on the bank.

================================================

You were internally cursing yourself for not realizing he was there sooner as Crosshair came to sit beside you. You blame your sleepless state as the culprit of your failure to stay alert. You had only sensed him when you reached out a bit further with the force to check the trees for any creatures, but there was no way you were going to let Crosshair know that, knowing he would not let it go that a Jedi had failed to notice a threat so close. 

The two of you sat together, staring out across the lake you had discovered four nights ago. Glancing at your companion, he was staring at the ground, not likely to speak first, so you again broke the silence.

“So we both know what I am doing out here this late, question is why are you here?” you spoke each word particularly soft, not wanting to scare him off. In truth, your heart had skipped a beat when you recognized his energy. Excitement, nervousness, and heat had rushed through you. How long had he been watching you? Had he followed you? Did he come after you because he cared?

You hoped beyond all reason that he was here because he was worried, because he cared. Kriff, you wanted him to care. To feel something for you beyond the stiff formality of a co-worker’s relationship. 

Ever since you had met him, you felt a pull towards the Marksman. You knew that as glad as the other members of the Batch were that he was back, they were just as wary to trust him again. But to you, you who could sense the battle raging in his head, he proved himself without having to say a word. His love for his brothers and Omega was palpable to you, and it had almost knocked the breath out of you when you sensed his determination to gain their trust, to earn back their faith and love (though, you knew they had never stopped loving him). Crosshair seemed surprised when you showed no animosity at his presence, and even more so when you went out of your way to try and befriend him. 

That first meeting had been near 200 standard rotations ago, and at least for you, the want to be his friend had grown into something more. You wanted him. All of him; the dark, the light, and everything in between. And here he sat, mere inches away, where to touch him, all you would have to do is shift your weight the slightest bit in his direction. But he didn’t want that. He didn’t want you. Why else would he have built so many walls between the two of you. Why else would he cut conversation short and turn away whenever you managed to start talking about anything real. Why else would he flinch when you had to touch his skin to heal him, and then leave without looking you in the eyes as he muttered a curt “thank you.”

All of this ran through your head as Crosshair didn’t answer your question. He just kept staring at the ground, playing with the grass you yourself had been grabbing at just moments ago. 

Typical.

With a sigh, you went to push yourself off of the ground. 

“I -” Crosshair started. Freezing, you don’t dare to move. Crosshair takes another breath, “I saw you leave the ship, so I made the decision to follow you. Is that a crime now?” His voice had switched from soft to standoffish, and you knew he was embarrassed to admit he had intentionally filled you out into the forest. That is when you felt it, his unease and… Crosshair was nervous? 

Relaxing back onto the ground, you move the slightest bit closer, just brushing your ankle against his, and you hear his quick intake of breath at the contact. 

Impossible… Did he actually feel the same?

It is now or never, you realize. This is the moment. You cannot keep living in a state of pining and confusion. You need to know, whatever the outcome. Either he wants you, or he will reject you, and you can start to move on. 

“And why did you follow me?” You speak softly, the same way you would speak to a beast prepared to run.

His leg keeps bouncing as he formulates an answer in his head, so you decide to be bold. 

Placing a hand on his knee, you lean into his line of sight, “Cross?” Crosshair goes still at the contact and shortened version of his name, gaze switching between your face and your hand on his leg. He makes no attempt to move. He decides on your face, eyes wide guarded but laced with…hope. He looks hopeful. You push again.

“Were you worried about me, Cross?” 

Wordlessly he nods, swallowing hard as he can feel something shifting in the air. And he too knows that this is it. This is the moment that will define your relationship for better or worse. 

Moving closer again, you raise your hand to cup his cheek, giving him every opportunity to grab it. To tell you to stop. To get up and laugh at you. But he doesn't.

Crosshair can scarcely breathe as your hand meets his face, a shudder running through him as your thumb slowly traces the bottom of his tattoo and his eyes close. The force around you shimmers with tension and warmth, and without even trying to can feel your energies reaching out to each other, begging to unite.

Just one more push, you think to yourself as you brace on the edge of something new and inevitable. And you pray to the force that you have not misread this entire situation. 

“Do you care for me as violently as I care for you?” The words are a whisper against Corsshair’s ear, you being closer than even he realized. Though they may as well have been a gunshot the way they tore through him.

Eyes shooting open, his hand grasps the wrist of the hand touching his face. Chest rapidly rising and falling Crosshair studies your face: searching, reading, hoping. You hold your breath as you stay still as possible, all of your cards on the table as you wait for him. 

After what feels like a lifetime, Crosshair’s eyes focus on yours. And whatever he was looking for across the rest of you, he must have found it in your gaze because just as your heart starts to fall, one word is muttered from his lips: “Yes.”

You don’t know who moves first, but you also don’t care. The force explodes in and around you as his mouth finds yours. His lips come crashing onto yours with a passion that can only be found in a person who has longed for what they now possess. 

Pulling on your wrist, he drags you onto his lap, your legs straddling his thighs and waist. You hear Crosshair gasp your name as a whimper escapes the stoic clone. His hands then find the back of your neck and your waist as your hands come to run through this coarse silver hair that has grown long enough to grab onto. Tugging slightly elicited a groan from the Marksman, and you take the opportunity to swipe your tongue into his mouth for just a moment before retracting it. 

Growling, Crosshair flips your positions, pinning you beneath him and taking a moment to meet your shocked face with a smirk of his own before he takes advantage of your open mouth with his own tongue, eliciting a moan from both of you. His hands travel to your hips while you dig your nails into each of his biceps, earning you another growl. 

You let out a whine as his lips leave yours, only to gasp as Crosshair begins lavishing your neck. He kisses down your throat, only to lick up the same strip of skin. Finding the sensitive spot just below your ear he sucks slightly, pulling another moan from you that causes him to chuckle, his stubble scratching slightly against your earlobe. Kissing along your jaw, he dips his head to nip at the base of your neck, soothing each small bite with his tongue. Before long, you can’t take it anymore and pull his lips back onto yours. 

After a few more seconds, you each have to pull away, gulping down air. Lifting your head to meet his eyes, a smile starts to form on your face, mirrored on Corsshair’s own. A giggle erupts from your chest as you lean your foreheads against one another. With a dry chuckle, Crosshair pulls away from you and stands, offering you his hand which you gladly take. 

Once standing, Crosshair stares at you for a moment before speaking in that spine tingling voice of his, “In case that was not enough of an answer, mesh’la, I will reiterate.” He grins cheekily and you have to look down as you blush at the Mando'an pet name. That is when he takes his finger and raises your chin to him, making sure you are looking him in the eyes for the next thing he says.

“Yes, cyar'ika, I care about you. More than I can probably admit now or ever. I followed you because I was worried and because I wanted to. Because I wanted to be there for you. Because,” his voice drops an octave as he steps so that you are pressed together once again, “I want you, and everything that comes along with you.”

He presses a kiss to your lips, not as fiery and wanting as before, but instead filled with love, devotion, and promise. Pulling away to see that you fully understand what he is saying he watches as you nod, tears threatening to spill from your tired eyes. 

Without another word, he reaches down and takes your hand, leading you back to the Marauder just as the first light of day begins to spread its fingers into the sky. 

And if the others notice you snuggled up and sleeping soundly for the first time in weeks against Crosshair’s chest, or if they notice the sniper’s normally expressionless face set in a grin while asleep, no one says anything. Or at least not yet. 

For now, they let you rest. 

[tessa-quayle]

a Last of Us x Lasso masterlist

this is @jomiddlemarch​'s list.  i’m the annoying friend who will create a masterlist of a fanfic series you’ve written for The Last of Us (TV) and Ted Lasso.  sorry not sorry.  however, i will genuinely apologize for the amateur-hour board i assembled.

@jomiddlemarch has written for multiple fandoms - she has 800+ works on AO3. she writes great fics as quickly as i make myself coffee every morning.  like how and what the fuck.  (yes I'm also the roy kent of every friend group).  she’s fucking brilliant and I felt compelled to catalog.

this loose fit crossover series reads a bit better on her AO3.  

summary: angsty slow-burn romance between Joel Miller and Grace Yang (OFC), Jackson’s town physician.  Ted Lasso AU crossover with Ted and Beard.  Ellie, Maria, Tommy are here.  In this house we love Tess.  Other original characters include Lauren (Grace’s friend) and Kian (Grace’s partner while she was at the Seattle QZ).  Set between seasons 1 and 2.  Ted bakes, Beard philosophizes.  Joel and Grace mostly banter and occasionally get down and dirty.  Ellie is Ellie.

main pairing: Joel Miller x Grace (OFC)

ratings: mostly teen or mature (3 fics are slightly explicit)

warnings/notes: grief, mourning, trauma, sexual tension, post-apocalyptic domestic life, medical stuff, mentions of food, references to music and books, oral sex and rough sex (slightly explicit), fluff, coffee shop AU (i know, but trust me it works), airport AU, one fic alludes to miscarriage, profanity 

loose (head)canon for the OFC: Grace is stubborn, weary, does no harm but takes no shit.  Firefly-adjacent during her time in the Seattle QZ.  She’d finished her medical training at the time of the outbreak, so she’d be in her 40s in Wyoming.  (I initially chose Constance Wu as a visual stand-in cause she has a great resting bitch face, IRL she hails from Virginia, and I thought that Southern connection would be nice for Texan Joel Miller but out of chaos changed my mind and opted for Canadian actress Grace Park as a face-claim - same name a coincidence - since she’s older, about the same age as Pedro, and who among us didn’t love her in Battlestar Galactica?  So say we all)

word counts: range from 1.5K-3K

links to the vignettes/chapters below the cut - some of the AO3 stories are accessible if you’re a registered user.  these do not need to be read in order. 

my happiness depends on you - AO3 -  Grace and Joel search for supplies

that might as well be the first sign of the apocalypse - AO3 Tumblr - intro to Ted and Beard in the Jackson universe

your voice is soft like summer rain - AO3 - postcoital angst

y’all know it tastes like garbage? - AO3 - Tumblr - @jomiddlemarch​ hits it out of the park with Ted’s voice in this fic - all the fucking kudos for this one 

good French cooking cannot be produced by a zombie cook - AO3 - Tumblr - Ellie cooks for Joel and Grace, chaos ensues 

but I could never love again - AO3 - Joel and Grace in a bathtub

I walk the line - AO3 - Tumblr - Joel and Grace in the wilderness 

you turned my whole world upside down - AO3 - Tumblr - Joel, Grace, and Ellie banter over beverages

what I like to call making muffins of us - AO3 - Tumblr - the coffee shop AU in which Tess conspires with Grace

turn and face the strange changes - AO3 - Tumblr - Beard speaks, and a fun and respectful nod to a brilliant fic by @laiqualaurelote​

kindness and lies are worth a thousand truths - AO3 - Tumblr - Grace fixes Joel’s dislocated shoulder.  They miss Ted and Beard’s trivia night. 

where might I be, if I were not here? - AO3 - Tumblr - Joel takes care of Grace, hurt/comfort with a side of oh-wait-the-one-bed trope

because you saw me when I was invisible - AO3 - Tumblr - no outbreak hospital AU, Joel and Grace fake-date 

it is love, not reason, that is stronger than death - AO3 - Tumblr - tfw fucking is a coping mechanism for grief (smut)

but ah, united, what reverse we have! - AO3 - Tumblr - fluff and grumpiness - Joel, Grace, Beard, and Ted play charades

and there’s no way back to where we’ve been - AO3 - Tumblr - airport AU - pre and post outbreak.  Did Joel and Grace run into one another during another lifetime? 

only true things even when she wasn’t quite sure what was true - AO3 - Tumblr - oral sex (get it, Grace) (smut)

on the cold earth under the cold sky - AO3 - Tumblr - illness and sadness.  Joel is a kind partner.  Quick mention of Sarah’s mom.

time, doing this to me, may alter too - AO3- Tumblr - when two middle aged folks engage in shower sex - tw: low back pain (smut) 

there are shadows because there are hills - AO3 - Tumblr - bittersweet angst, probably the most authentic and cathartic read you’ll have on this hellsite about these heavy topics (miscarriage, life shit).  Ellie asks Grace questions.  Grace doesn’t tell Joel.

but simply an irrevocable condition - AO3 - Tumblr - domestic lowkeyness with the whole gang: Joel, Grace, Ellie, Tommy, Maria, Ted, Beard

they do become more real - AO3 - Joel as a dad.  Comforting Ellie, referencing Sarah's mom.

[kingkatsuki]

If it was art you wouldn’t be abusing the tags…

If it was art you wouldn’t be abusing the—

Are you THAT dense because I thought you were smarter than this. Majority of people don’t even fucking UNDERSTAND or CARE how to use the tags and you’re making them feel like garbage blocking them knowing you’re a popular ass blog hurting peoples feelings because you wanna be the tag police.

I don’t even follow ANY tags? Ffs. I don’t care.

Y’all fighting for validation when you need to stop running from the money and go put all this energy into putting out real fiction you can make money from instead of bickering over FANfiction lmfao. Like what.

Nah Im standing up for the people who are too chickenshit to say anything cause ur a super popular blog and ur “army” is gonna jump any opposition.

If you don’t use the main tags anymore because of “abuse” 🥴 then don’t use them? Stop trying to make other ppl feel bad. Yes it’s ART yes it’s CREATIVE and you don’t have a say in if tags make something art or not. It’s TUMBLR goddamn go back to Ao3 if ur so fucking bothered by people DOING WHAT THEY WANT ON THE INTERNET.

Damn DAMN I hate when people do this.

I’ve posted repeatedly about tag abuse, as well as reblogging other blogs who have also posted and spoke out on it.

All the people I’ve blocked today I have never seen in my notifs at all so I’m not sure how I could be “upsetting people”. I’m literally a chick on the internet, you don’t know me and I’m not here to be put on a pedestal or to be told I shouldn’t have an opinion on shit.

I’m fighting for validation for blogs who have 30k fanfiction pieces that have less notes than a “I wanna suck Bakugou’s sweaty fingers.” post. For the readers that want to find a Bakugou fic to enjoy before bed but are instead met with “I might write Deku, Bakugou or Todoroki tonight what do you think?”

There are multiple guides on how to tag shit on Tumblr. Don’t try and tell me that you can make your theme all pretty and aesthetic but you can’t understand basic tagging etiquette.

Also have no clue what you mean by “running from the money”? 😂 I don’t care about making money from fanfic or I’d be popping out commissions. Writing and reading fanfic make me happy and when I can’t even find fics in the tags anymore it just sucks.

I’m not trying to fight, I’m not baiting anyone out. Im simply saying people need to understand how they are ruining Tumblr.

If you wanna come into my dms and talk about it we can, if you’re one of the people I blocked today (or friends with them because clearly you are) you can. I won’t bait you out, won’t make a discourse post but unfortunately people have been posting about this issue for months.

And I’m sorry. “I want Bakugou to do my back out.” Isn’t art. It isn’t creativity. And it doesn’t belong in the x reader tags.

As I mentioned previously a better fit would be #bnha thirst #bnha thirsts #mha thirst #mha thirsts #*character* thirst

Oh! And just to make you aware, this is also a super big issue on ao3 too!! Just incase you try to cross post your “art” there also. 🥰

But I digress, as I mentioned my dms are open! But I assume I’ll be receiving another passive aggressive anon in a few minutes✌🏻

[everwitch-magiks]

RWRB Fics Roundup

Hey y’all! Once upon a time I had the ambition to post links on here to all the fics and new chapters that I publish on AO3, and I think it’s safe to say that I’ve been an absolute disaster at that over the summer. In my defense I’ve just had so much to write, but that’s not much of a defense seeing as it doesn’t take ages to chuck a link on here. Anyhow. Bottom line is, I’ve severely neglected it, and it’s gotten to a point where I’m just gonna make a post with links to everything I’ve written since June (ish) for you to peruse, so you can see if there’s one that you didn’t catch wind of that catches your eye now. Neat, huh?

So, without further ado, the links! The fics! Let’s go.

Completed works

Love At First Bark General Audiences, AU, tooth-rotting fluff. 3K. “I still don’t know your name, do I?” Henry watches Alex where he’s crouched down in front of David and gently scratching David below his chin. David absolutely loves Alex. Henry can relate. “It’s David,” Henry supplies. “Cool,” Alex says. “And what’s the dog’s name?” Henry blinks at him. “... David?” “What?” Alex exclaims. He looks from David to Henry and then back at David again. “Wow, okay, that is a choice.” Henry wants to sink through the earth and never come back up again.

Shameless Explicit, AU, Henry has a reputation. 14K. Henry has a lot of sex. A lot. He's young and in college and there is no shortage of men to fall in bed with. What better time to explore what he likes and what he fucking loves, as well as to catalogue how to make his many, many partners feel as good as possible? It’s all part of the learning experience. And Henry is a very dedicated student.

Alex has been inescapably aware of Henry ever since that one time they kissed. You don’t just stop being aware of the guy who basically caused your sexuality. So when Henry propositions Alex at a lame frat party, Alex accepts eagerly. Maybe this is exactly what he needs. Maybe, if he can just have Henry once, he’ll have a better chance of finally getting over his embarrassing fixation with Henry. It's worth a try.

When The Time Is Right Part four of my sex club series. Explicit, AU, dom Henry and sub Alex. 16K. “Maybe I could challenge you more,” Henry suggests, his eyes carefully trained on Alex. “And hold you accountable for longer. How does that sound?” “That sounds fucking amazing,” Alex tells him, the words coming out in a rush. “Yes. That. Please.” “Alright, then.” Henry offers him a sly grin. “Alex, love. You just gave me a wonderful idea.” It’s really something, how quickly Alex’s heartbeat picks up. “Oh? Do tell.” Henry’s grin widens. He looks alarmingly pleased with himself. “How would you feel about a staycation?”

When Alex asks Henry for something a little more intense in the bedroom, they end up taking more than just their sex life to the next level.

Out For A Bite Explicit, AU, suspense and supernatural elements. 3K. Henry's eyes fly up, zeroing in on the reflection in the mirror. There, behind him. The man from the bar. He looks different in the fluorescent bathroom lights. Sharper. There’s a look in his eyes that has Henry shivering all over again. It's greedy. Hungry.

He’s staring right at Henry.

Henry's throat feels dry. His heart beats madly. He's heard whispers of this place, and more importantly of its patrons. He thinks he knows what this man is.

ever fallen in love (with someone you shouldn’t have fallen in love with) Explicit, AU, Alex and Henry in DIY Punk & mainstream pop punk, respectively. 34K. Teenage music sensation Kensington have taken the world by storm. With their cool leather jackets and wickedly distorted guitars, they're a pop duo that packs a punch. Or at least they sound like one—their lyrics unfortunately lack any semblance of depth. Alex can't fucking stand Kensington. But thankfully, he doesn’t have to. He’s not likely to cross paths with those British pop losers during his final semester of high school in Texas. And even if he did, he'd never let some stupidly attractive blonde take his focus away from the goal that Alex has worked towards for years: winning the Austin Band Slam with his latino punk trio.

But when Henry comes crashing into Alex's life, with his intriguing piano pieces and piercing blue eyes and slow, purposeful kisses that make Alex burn with want, Alex finds that he might need to reevaluate his stance on both pop losers and distractions. Or maybe not. Maybe he’s better off keeping Henry at arm's length, since it's so painfully evident that Henry will never love him back.

Never Tell Me The Odds Teen and Up Audiences, canon verse, an outside perspective on First Prince as well as a story about a certain Star Wars mural. 2K. "Wait!" Alex yells up to the driver. "Stop! Stop the car!" Up close, it's beautiful. Two stories tall. He can’t imagine how somebody was able to put together something like this so fast.

Ash had never imagined that they'd get the chance to actually meet Alex Claremont-Diaz, and much less get the chance to tell Alex about how that very special Star Wars mural came to be. Although of course, Ash never would have met Alex if it hadn’t been for Farida. Farida and her bold courage, and her warm compassion, and her sometimes infuriating (but always endearing) stubbornness.

yrs. faithfully (with nowhere to go) Explicit, canon verse, a lazy morning in bed leads to something more. 3K. When Alex and Henry wake up together the day before their anniversary, they're genuinely planning on getting out of bed and spending the day as productive members or society. Truly, their intentions are honorable. But a trip down memory lane gets them reminiscing about that night exactly one year ago, when Alex had come running through the rain to deliver some choice words about obtuse fucking assholes.

As Alex and Henry start to relive the memory, they quickly realize that they both remember it intimately. So intimately that they might be able to pull off something of a do-over.

Gadgets and Gizmos A-Plenty A companion piece to dearest Hattie’s soulmate fic. Mature, AU, a look into Henry buying sex toys. Yes. That’s the fic. 2K. There’s a bunch of regulars that Amir knows by name (and, unavoidably, by kinks), but most often Playtime gets one-time visitors. Which makes sense, really. A lot of people don’t seem to want to step into the same adult toy shop twice. So Amir is always a little extra curious when there’s a repeat customer, especially one who is this attractive. And, interestingly, one who’s come back so soon.

The tall, classically handsome man with blond hair and blue eyes left Playtime no less than five hours ago after having purchased a medium-sized, fairly standard vibrator well suited for anal play. And now he’s back. Because apparently, he’s found he needed another vibrator.

If Sex Was A Sport We’d Be Winning Mature, AU, a classic Olympics hookup. 3K. It's remarkable, truly, that Alex didn't even want to be here. He only came all the way to Ariake because June was determined to watch a bunch of prissy ponies strut around to music. Still, perhaps the true Olympic experience lies in the wide variety of disciplines. Or, perhaps, it has something to do with chatting up a pretty blond behind the stables and getting him to show you the inside of an Olympic tack room. As Alex quickly takes to Henry’s sweet smiles and easy confidence, he realizes that just a few stolen moments with this man might turn into his most cherished memory from the Tokyo Olympics.

Alex knows better than to get attached, though. He and Henry live an ocean apart. There’s no way this quick fumble in the stable equivalent of a supply closet could ever lead to anything more. Right?

Talk Dirty To Me Explicit, AU, dom Henry and sub Alex. 9K. Henry studies Nora’s expression for a moment. There’s something about her favourable account of this guy she claims not to want to sleep with again that doesn’t add up. "But you're still not interested in taking him on?"

"He wants more than I'm willing to offer," Nora says frankly. Henry’s always liked this about her—how she doesn’t skirt around the hard facts. It's a part of what makes her so good at dominating. "But you know what? For you, he'd be kind of perfect."

Henry has been active in the local BDSM scene for years and there’s no shortage of men who’d love nothing more than to find themselves at his mercy. But Henry is on a break. He’s not looking for a new partner, but he’s also not expecting to become so intrigued by the man that Nora insists he should meet. Alex is a newcomer on the scene who doesn’t yet know exactly what he wants, much less with who. There’s no way that he could turn out to be exactly who Henry needs. Right?

Date night (please toy with me) Explicit, canon verse, a night out leads to some fun with a toy. 4K. This… this is new. They’ve talked about trying this, about what it’d be like to conceal some of their intimacy in plain sight, about what it would feel like to try and reclaim what is most private to them by flaunting it without anyone even knowing, by daring to take risks again. They’ve agreed that they’d still need to be careful, but they’ve also agreed that it would be interesting. That it would be fun.

And apparently, Henry thinks tonight is the night for it. “Do you trust me, love?”

“Yeah.” Alex swallows. He picks up the box, studying it for a moment. “Do you want… what do you want me to do?”

“I want you to go to the bathroom,” Henry says evenly, “You’ll find everything you need in the box. Then I want you to come back and sit down. Can you do that for me?”

“Yeah. Of course.” Alex taps the box, grinning in Henry’s direction. “I expect we’ll be leaving soon?”

Henry smiles slyly. “If you’re good, yes.”

Ongoing works

Hashtag Soulmates Mature, AU, Henry writes fanfiction. 23K and 7 chapters so far. Alex is perfect and handsome, the golden boy, everybody’s secret crush. So there is absolutely no way that he is the reader who screeches in caps lock every time that Henry posts as much as a drabble. There’s no way. Except Alex just closed his browser fast as fucking lightning, but not before Henry had gotten a good glimpse of the page Alex had open: AO3. ‘Don't Stop Me Now’, Henry’s current wip. The one that Henry literally just updated.

Sweet Jesus. Could it really be?

That... is all! It’s been a productive summer. I’m very excited to continue writing Hashtag Soulmates, and also to start working on a few upcoming First Prince fics that I’m planning on writing. Stay tuned for fics! ♡

[grimelven]

Merrill for the ask game?

first time i saw merrill was in dao, i really didnt think much of her then. however, first time seeing her in da2 i had no idea she was the same persons from dao😭😭 they changed her look so much, i didnt recognize her until i looked it up. plus, her voice was different, which really threw me off.

my impression of her now; y’all ima be honest i really love merrill. she’s such an intriguing character who’s heart is always in the right place, even if her actions are hella questionable. i don’t care tho, i still love her unapologetically.

ughhh there’s too many! heh, i do love the “isabela is gonna teach me how to do something called…body shots???” line—her little one liners make me laugh. but, i really love how there’s party banter of her taking about how much she loves hawke. like, aveline questions why the hell merrill is still following them around and she straight up just says “because i love hawke.” and then when aveline asks again, she repeats that she loves hawke and says something like “i know i said that already, but its something that needs to be said.” which is really heartwarming. her morals or ambitions may not line up with hawkes, but to her it doesn’t matter, cause she’d do anything for them out of love. AND RIGHT BACK AT U MERRILL, me and all my hawke’s will die for her :’)

okay, so i have a really fun and odd story that i’ve been working on since February. however, i haven’t had the guts to post it to ao3 cause im too nervous ppl will make fun of me or laugh at my terrible writing. But, here’s the summary for it: “Hawke and friends swap bodies due to some magic going awry and it’s thanks to everyone’s favorite cottagecore blood mage.” which was focused around merrill trying to fix said problem and switching between everyones povs as they freak out/try to adjust to being in different bodies LMAO i swear it’s really funny, like i usually write things very ironically, but then out of nowhere angst gets splashed in. it was a fun story to write.

unpopular opinion, i hate the rival romance- i know, I KNOW, hear me out. so, i’ve heard ppl say they liked this version better than the friendship one, so i thought id give it a try, but honestly…it just felt like hawke was controlling merrill’s life and i didnt vibe with that at all.

favorite relationship (other than her and hawkes) has to be her and isabela’s, they are so cute together :’) i love how merrill looks up to her and isabela watches out for her and protects her. i also love her and varrics, cause i just live how they vibe together. varric looks out for her and she likes listing to his stories, its just really sweet.

favorite headcanon, ima be biased and say one that i came up with, but i like the idea of merrill moving in with hawke even if they arent in a relationship with them. merrill calls it “a never ending sleepover.”

[itsstrange]

Coffee Run & Green Eyes

Series: Spark Between Us

Relationship: Jensen Ackles x Skyline McNoir (OFC)

A/N: Hey everyone! I know it’s been a long time and I apologize for those waiting for more stories, but if you follow me on IG then you would know that this last week I was struck with a stomach flu which caused me to not have enough energy for various things. Luckily, I’ve recovered and feel much better. I also want to apologize to those who have requested me some stories, don’t worry I have Not forgotten about you! Just been dealing with some things!

But!! To not keep you guys in the dark I decided to post a Series I wrote for Ao3 on here, just to give y’all something to read meanwhile I work on some other works for y’all!! Hope y’all enjoy it!

Another thing, we have hit 105 followers y’all!!!! Thank you so much for all the love y’all continue in giving me!! I appreciate it so much!! 🥲💚

✨{Credits to owner for the gif}✨

Summary: Skyline McNoir tags along with a few friends who are attending a convention of some show she’s never watched. Little did she know, she would fall head over heels for the lead actor.

Word Count: 2.4 K

Warnings: Will contain Fluff, public sex, alcohol consumption, public fingering, just pure NSFW for all you Jensen fans out there 😊

————

ENJOY!!

————

The blasting chorus of Follow Me Now by Jason Gleed, wakes Skyline up. Her Hazel eyes glare straight ahead at the coconut cream wall for a few seconds before bringing the cover above her head, trying to muffled the music. Which didn’t help. At all. Then to make the morning less fun, her bed begins to shake violently by her best friend who’s jumping up down awhile singing at the top of her lungs. Skyline groans into the covers and tries to bury herself deeper into the warmth, but before she can even hide, the covers are being shoved off her form. A shiver runs throughout her body from the coldness in the room.

“C’mon Sky! Today’s the day!” Erin yells as she hovers above,

Skyline groans once again, eyes closed shut when it’s far too bright in the room “Five more minutes,”

“No come on,” Erin says, slightly pushing Sky’s body with her foot, “Tiffany and Laila are already downstairs grabbing breakfast,”

Still not moving, Erin shoves her body once again with her foot, when that didn’t do the trick an evil smirk spreads on her face. Grabbing an unused pillow, she raises it above her head before roughly slamming it against Sky’s head, causing her to jerk upright. With sleep still in her eyes, Sky is only able to squint at her best friend.

“Erin! What the fu-,” Her words were cut off when a large pillow smacks her in the face,

Erin chuckles at her, ignoring the death stare as she hops off her bed, “Chop chop.. we got a busy day today!”

With a roll of her eyes and a loud groan, Sky rolls off the comforter and towards the bathroom. After taking care of her regular morning routines, she hops in the shower. Erin’s music still blasted through the speakers, as Sky took a quick shower and she honestly hoped none of their neighbors complained about their disturbance, she knew she would have if she was trying to get a few more hours of shut eye.

That’s all she ever really wanted at the moment, sleep. After months of studying, exams, piles upon piles of work, and busting all nighters she was finally in winter break. The feeling of being able to come home for the holidays and spending those days with her family sounded amazing and relaxing. However, after the second day of being home, she gets a call from Erin. Mentioning something about having another extra ticket for a convention to meet the cast of some show she’s never watched. She kindly declined the offer, wanting to spend her days off with her family sounded like a much better idea than meeting unknown actors. However, Sky often forgets Erin is not the type to take no for an answer and demanded her to hand the phone over to her mother.

Thinking her mother would defend her and find a way to convince Erin to try and find someone else to take to the convention, Sky hands the phone over to her mother. You can only imagine who won that argument.

Once out of the shower with a towel wrapped around her body, Sky heads out the bathroom and towards her duffel bag. In the winter season of Austin, Texas, she decides on a plain long sleeve, black jeans, grey hoodie, black boots on her feet with a leather jacket on top. Once her hair is made and adds a couple splashes of makeup on her face, she grabs her phone and book from the small counter as she follows Erin out the room. After a few minutes later, they finally arrive in the breakfast buffet where Tiffany and Laila are already stuffing themselves with waffles and eggs. With a yawn, Sky makes her way over to the buffet with Erin right behind her. Once they both get their plates and sit down on the table, they dig in before getting on with their day.

****

8:45 am

“Oh my god!! I just hugged Speight!!” The sound of Laila coming around the corner interrupts Sky from her book,

The sight of Laila bouncing up and down on her feet with a wide grin makes a small chuckle escape from Skyline. As her friends beamed over this Speight guy, Sky returns her focus down on her book. Not really paying much attention at their excitement, but still having a smile on her lips as she reads the next chapter in her book. Even if she’s not having the same excitement as her friends, she is still having fun with them. Being around them in general for whatever reason always brightens her day. No matter how rough of a day she’s seems to be having, her girls always know just how to distract her and make her have fun.

“Ohh it’s almost time for Osric’s panel,” Tiffany says while looking down at her phone,

No longer able to focus on her book, Sky marks her spot before getting up from the floor.

“You guys go in, I’ve got auto’s for Kim at nine,”

It’s barely nine in the morning? Jesus. Sky thinks to herself, the day has felt extremely long she could have sworn it was already noon.

“Okay, let’s go Sky,” Laila motions her head to the side for her to follow,

“If you guys want me to continue tagging along, I’m gonna need an espresso,” Sky states, feeling yet another yawn creeping up her throat,

Her friends chuckle at her but agreed with her idea. They wouldn’t want her dragging her feet all over the convention, besides, coffee did sound like a great idea. Once writing down their preferred drinks in her notes, Sky leaves through the doors, down the steps and towards a coffee shop not too far away. It was only a couple blocks away, she should make it back in no time. Hugging her jacket closer to her body when the wind picks up, Sky quickens her movements to avoid its freezing weather but careful to not slip on the wet pavement. The last thing she needs is to fall flat on her ass, better yet get a concussion or go back home with a broken wrist.

Boy would her mom faint if she saw her daughter in a cast. Will most likely give her a lecture on why it’s important not to be on the phone during the most worst seasons. ‘If you weren’t on the phone this wouldn’t have happened Skyline’. Yep. She can definitely hear her ranting.

After a few blocks in the harsh winds, Skyline is finally reaching the small little coffee joint. Just as she reaches for the handle of the door, another, large, hand reaches at the same time. Thick fingers slightly touching her own, making her pull back with an apology.

“No it’s fine go ahead,” A deep voice says beside her, letting a shiver run down her body,

Most likely from the weather, what else would it be?

She looks up at the man. Dark beard, shades on his face, black hat on his head, with a black T-Shirt underneath a checkered navy flannel and black Levi’s jacket. Even under the dark shades she can tell he was good looking, handsome in fact.

“No you can go ahead,” Sky smiles at the man, stepping aside for him to enter,

He only shakes his head, gripping the door handle as he opens it for her, “Please I insist, my mom would throw a fit if she finds out I didn’t show my manners,”

Sky chuckles at him, “Well we wouldn’t want that now,”

The man chuckles back, smile forming on his lips. Man did that smile just make her stomach flip.

“No, we really wouldn’t,” Chuckling once more at him she accepts the offer with a thanks before entering the coffee shop,

As she walks inside, the change of temperature immediately hits her cold cheeks. Almost as if a heating furnace was suddenly shoved in her face, but she wasn’t complaining, the warmth was needed. Walking further into the coffee shop, she takes a glance over her shoulder to see if the man was behind her, but only lets a smile appear when she catches the moment of him allowing an elderly couple enter before him.

That’s sweet. She thinks to herself as she walks up to the counter. Once her drinks have been ordered and paid, she heads over to a small empty table near the window. Sitting on the chair she pulls out her book and continues where she left off as she waits for her drinks. A few minutes had passed and Sky was too engrossed in her book to notice her name being called out by the barista. Eventually though, she comes back to reality when someone places her drink in front her. Looking up from her book she meets eyes with bright emerald orbs, and noticing those breathtaking eyes belong to the same man from the door.

“I’m guessing your Skyline?,” The way her name rolls off his deep voice sends a shiver down her spine,

Definitely can’t be the air this time, absolutely not.

Eyeing the cup of coffee in front of her, she lifts a eyebrow at the man, teasing him. Even if she sees her name written on the side of the cup.

“And what makes you think that?” The way his lips slightly lift causes something to flip in her stomach,

Again.

“Well.. seeing how there’s hardly folks in here,” He looks around the shop for a few seconds before landing his eyes on hers again, “and you being the only one sitting down without a coffee.. I took a guess,”

Sky hums with a smile as she takes the cup, “Nice deduction,”

He shrugs a shoulder with a smile, “This seat taken?”

Sky shakes her head as she takes careful sips from her drink. With a small smile the man pulls out the chair with his other free hand, seeing how he has a cup of his own in one hand.

“I’m Ross by the way,” The man extends a hand once seated,

With a smile Sky accepts his hand, feeling it warm and rough as it wraps around her own.

“Nice to meet you,” Still smiling she pulls away from his firm hand,

“You around from here or just passing through?” He asks, taking careful sips from his cup,

Sky softly smiles at him as she wraps her hands around her coffee, trying to warm up her fingers.

“Born and raised,” He raises a brow at the small fact,

“No kidding?”

She nods, “Yeah but I’m just home for the holidays,”

He hums with a nod, “In the army or something?”

Sky couldn’t help the chuckle that escapes from her, definitely noticing how the corner of the mans lips slightly lift as well.

“More like college. My last year,”

“Really? What’re you studying?” He asks, taking another sip, never letting his eyes drift from her Hazel ones,

But does notice how they dart down towards his mouth before quickly looking back up to his eyes. A small smirk hides behind the cup, but doesn’t hide it when he pulls it away from his face.

“Biology,” He hums once again with a sincere smile, making her stomach flip,

It was such an odd feeling, especially when it was coming directly from a man she hardly knows. But for some reason, it felt right. Their conversations switched from topic to topic, never faltering. It just felt right, as if they were long time friends catching up with each other instead of two strangers who just met. Eventually, their conversation was cut short with the barista calling out her name once again with the rest of her drinks.

Getting up from her seat she walks over to the counter where her drinks waited. As she grabbed a cup holder and begins placing her drinks in each space, Ross, settles next to her. Getting a whiff of his cologne. Leaning on the counter he had both his and her coffee in either hand, which he hands over with a smile once all coffees were safely secured in place.

“I should get going,” She smiles up at his green orbs, and only then noticing how freckles are splashed on his face,

This man was literally dashing, no doubt about it.

“Yeah same here,” He says looking down at his watch, “Need a ride?”

She shakes her head with a smile, “I’m good thanks,”

“You sure? Heard it might rain,” He continues to lean on the counter as she places her coffee in an empty slot of the holder,

“I’m sure, it’s just a few blocks from here,”

“Well it can rain from those few blocks,” He argues as he gives her a smile, not wanting to end their little moment,

Neither did she, but she had friends waiting and the moment she tells them the reason why she took a little longer than expected, they wouldn’t leave her alone until she gives them the whole shebang.

She lets a small chuckle escape her lips as she picks up the coffees, “I’ll make a run for it,”

He softly chuckles at her comment, green eyes staring straight into her Hazel orbs that have slightly turned grey from her sweater. Definitely finding her and her eyes fascinating and beautiful.

“It was nice meeting you Ross,” She smiles at him as she walks away,

He smiles as he watches her, sending her a wave goodbye when she looks over her shoulder before walking out the door. Watching her leave didn’t feel like a loss, it felt the complete opposite actually. Why? Well for starters, he knew it wouldn’t be the last time he saw her considering she had the all too familiar Creation Entertainment wristband on her left hand. Also, he had her book inside his jacket, another reason on why he would see her again.

Both to retrieve her book and to have a reason to see her again. Don’t get him wrong, he was actually going to give it to her before she left, but the thought of holding it and having a reason to see her again sounded like great idea. He wanted to see her again, wanted to have a conversation longer than 10 minutes and just wanted to get to know her. She was different, in a good way, absolutely in a good way. The way she seemed to not know him or maybe she did but simply did not care made him feel relaxed, made him feel somewhat normal and he would give anything to feel that way again.

Even if it meant “stealing” her book to have an excuse to see her again.

PART 2

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-Hope y’all enjoyed this first part of the series!! Stay tuned for random updates for ‘Spark Between Us’ I won’t give an announcement on when I’ll update it so keep your eyes peeled on it!!

-Turn on Post Notifications!! 🔔 For more!!

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[august-anon]

We Like It

Y’all voted Geraskier for today so here is some Geraskier lol

This was prompted by an ask from like a YEAR ago, now, and I finally finished the fic a month or two ago, and I’ve finally remembered to post it. I hope it’s worth the wait lol, and also I am Unbelievably sorry for making you wait so long to see this come to fruition lol. Thank you for your patience, I hope you’re still hanging around my blog to see this, anon!

pt1 of this series 

pt2 of this series

[ao3 link to this series]

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Fandom: The Witcher

Ship(s): Geraskier

Characters (lee/ler): Ler!Geralt/Lee!Jaskier

Word Count: 1973 words

Summary: Geralt wants to test out a few things that Jaskier showed him the other day, and it just so happens that he's decided to make Jaskier his test subject.

[ao3 link]

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They were staying with Yennefer for a few days as Geralt handled a particularly tricky contract, which of course meant living in the lap of luxury. Steaming baths that never cooled, rich and hearty meals, soundproofed rooms, fluffy beds that you just melted into, it was everything Jaskier was missing; and while Geralt pretended he couldn’t care less, Jaskier knew he was enjoying the brief stint of luxury as well.

The contract for the curse finally handled, they had one more night in their wonderfully soft bed before Geralt wanted to head out on the road again, so they took advantage of it while they could. 

They took one of those steaming baths, smelling sweet and fresh, and returned to their bed, smooth, fresh sheets awaiting them, changed on the daily. They stripped down to only their smallclothes to head to bed. Yennefer’s wards meant they would be kept safe enough that they needn’t worry about monsters or ambushes, so they could experience the full cuddling experience, all that warm skin soothing the touch-starved itch they both carried.

But even as Jaskier climbed into bed, prepared to hold his witcher close and relax, Geralt did not follow. Instead, he stared at their packs in the corner, humming thoughtfully.

“Geralt,” Jaskier whined. “I’m cold, come here.”

Geralt hummed again, walking over to their packs and rummaging through them briefly as Jaskier continued to whine and moan about the lack of cuddles currently happening. He immediately brightened when Geralt finally made his way toward the bed, sliding onto it and pulling Jaskier close.

“What did you need that could possibly be more important than me?” Jaskier teased, burrowing into Geralt’s side.

“A weapon.”

Jaskier sat up, bewildered. “A weapon? You’ve brought a weapon into our bed? Geralt, why could you possibly need--”

Jaskier cut himself off with a yelp as Geralt rolled over and on top of him, straddling his hips. His hands were quickly gathered up in one of Geralt’s and pinned above his head. In the moments it took Jaskier’s brain to process this, Geralt pulled his “weapon” out from behind his back and brandished it at Jaskier.

Jaskier’s own feather quill.

Jaskier sucked in a breath, already feeling his cheeks beginning to burn. “Now, Geralt,” he tried, squirming under him, “let’s talk about this.”

“You taught me some valuable information the other day,” Geralt said. “I’m just trying to see it in practice.”

Jaskier started giggling prematurely as the feather started looming ever-closer, butterflies swarming in his stomach. “You saw it in practice when I used it on you!”

“And now I’m going to see it in practice on you.”

Geralt started easy, thankfully, touching the feather down on one of Jaskier’s exposed shoulders and slowly brushing it towards his neck. Jaskier was able to keep his composure until the feather started trailing up the side of his neck, and his face crumpled and scrunched up trying to hold his laughter at bay.

He’d never been very good at that.

All it took was a particularly deliberate wiggle of the tip of the feather behind his ear and Jaskier cracked, tumbling into bubbly giggles. He didn’t bother trying to defend himself by scrunching up or trapping the feather, Geralt always found a way around his meager defenses, so he simply squirmed around on the bed to satisfy the urge to do so.

Geralt twisted the feather in his ear, much like Jaskier had done to him barely a week ago, and he went from cracked to shattered. That tickled more than Jaskier ever in his life imagined it could, and he wouldn’t even call his neck and ears bad spots! Jaskier shrieked at the soft tickling and jerked away, finally trying to escape for real.

“Geralt,” he cried through his giggles, becoming ever more high-pitched. “Geralt. No!”

Geralt simply hummed above him and moved to give his neck and ears the same treatment on the other side. It was pure torture in the best of ways, Jaskier both loving it and wanting it to stop immediately. Geralt was unfairly good at this for someone who tickled someone for the first time ever barely a month ago.

“I love your laugh,” Geralt said quietly, probably hoping Jaskier wouldn’t hear him over his squeaks and wild giggles.

“I love yours more!” Jaskier squealed as he jerked away from a brush of the feather against the shell of his ear.

“Well,” Geralt said, voice light and teasing, “I never said you had good taste.”

Jaskier let out an affronted noise that turned into an odd keening-giggle as Geralt began dragging the feather down the delicate skin of his upper arm, aiming for his armpit. He foolishly tugged at his arm, but Jaskier should’ve known better. He was no match for a witcher’s strength.

“Geralt, come on!”

“Why?” And oh, Jaskier loved to hate that wicked grin. “You like this.”

And by this point, it was no longer a question. It was a simple statement. Jaskier wasn’t sure which was worse, but he definitely felt his cheeks flush under Geralt’s gaze. They flushed even further -- though this time with laughter -- as the feather touched down in Jaskier’s armpit.

“Seeing this in practice is truly quite interesting.”

“Shut up--shit!”

Jaskier tossed his head back in loud laughter as Geralt dropped the feather and dug his fingers into Jaskier’s highest rib. Using that distraction, Geralt grabbed Jaskier’s wrists from where he had them trapped and pulled them down, pinning them under his knees. Jaskier’s stomach filled with butterflies as he realized Geralt now had two hands free to torment him with.

“You enjoy testing things on me, I should return the favor. Tell me, bard: which is worse?”

And then Geralt picked up the feather with one hand and readied his fingers on the other, sending both careening for his stomach. Jaskier tried to suck his stomach in, as if that would save him, but the second Geralt touched down, it was a lost cause as he started laughing again.

Geralt scratched to the side of his belly button with his free hand, his blunt fingernail making Jaskier’s nerves light up an unfair amount. On the other side of Jaskier’s belly button, he fluttered the feather in the mirrored spot, making Jaskier wish he had more room to thrash for his freedom. Each sensation was completely maddening and unbearable in it’s own way, and Jaskier didn’t know if he wanted to escape or let it go on forever.

“Well?”

“The feather!” Jaskier cried after a few more moments. “The feather!”

Geralt hummed thoughtfully and Jaskier squealed as the feather took a brief trip inside Jaskier’s belly button before Geralt found his next target: Jaskier’s hipbones. He scooted down to sit on Jaskier’s thighs to reach them, but his legs were unfortunately still long enough to keep Jaskier’s hands pinned easily. On one side, fingertips vibrated deeply into the skin and muscle, making Jaskier near-howl. On the other, the feather danced across the sharp bone with its maddeningly-light touch. 

Jaskier was thankful that Yennefer had the foresight to soundproof her rooms. Tomorrow would be quite the embarrassing morning, otherwise.

“And here?” Geralt asked, emphasizing his question by intensifying the tickling on both sides.

“Fingers!” Jaskier shrieked.

Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately?) that made Geralt drop the feather and start vibrating his now-freed fingers into the other hip. Then Jaskier was really howling, trying to buck his hips but being unable to get the leverage needed to do so. He could try and sit up to curl in on himself for protection, but Jaskier had the feeling that his ab muscles weren’t really looking to cooperate with how hard he was currently laughing.

After some minutes of that playful torture, Geralt picked up the feather quill once more. He danced and fluttered it along Jaskier’s pantline, making his eyes bulge out of his skull at the gentle touch. He choked out a mix of a squeal and a giggle, making Geralt let out a rumbling chuckle above him.

Then, as Geralt was searching for his next spot, the impossible happened: Jaskier finally managed to wiggle his hands free. They launched out from under Geralt’s knees, shooting directly for Geralt’s hands. Geralt tried to fight them off, but Jaskier managed to capture Geralt’s hands and interlace their fingers, the feather fluttering uselessly to the bed next to them.

“What now, tough guy?” Jaskier teased, though the effect was likely diminished by the fact that he was panting for breath.

Geralt furrowed his brow in thought and Jaskier’s heart fluttered. He sent an appraising look to Jaskier’s stomach before starting to lean down, and Jaskier started squealing before he even got close.

“Wait--wait, wait, no! Geralt, please, anything but that!”

Geralt chuckled. “I thought you liked fruit,” he said.

And then Jaskier was lost to wheezing cackles as Geralt took a deep breath, lowered his mouth to Jaskier’s stomach (right on his sensitive belly button) and blew. It tickled like all hell. In fact, it tickled worse than any raspberry had any right to, thanks to Geralt’s stubble.

“You need to shave!” Jaskier shouted through his laughter.

Geralt let out a little “oh” of realization before diving back in for another raspberry, but this time shaking his head as he blew. The result was a screaming Jaskier, tears of mirth being squeezing from his eyes, as his stomach vibrated with ticklish sensations, got scraped by stubble, and even got tickled by feather-light brushes of hair that had fallen from Geralt’s half-hearted styling.

After a few more of those wonderfully hellish raspberries, Geralt pulled back.

“I want to try something,” he said.

Jaskier let out an incredulous laugh, having nothing to do with his residual giggles. “Let me catch my breath first, darling. Shit.”

“Did I go too far?”

Jaskier shook his head. “No, no. You were wonderful, dear heart, I just need a moment. Not sure how much I have left in me, either.”

Geralt hummed.

After a few moments, his breath having returned, Jaskier nodded. “What is it you wanted to try?”

Geralt climbed off Jaskier’s legs, lifting one up into the air. Jaskier furrowed his brow, but his eyes then went wide as Geralt brushed a hand over his inner thigh before leaning in slightly and looking to Jaskier for permission.

“Oh fuck,” he said in a hoarse whisper. “Alright, but stop when I tell you.”

Geralt nodded, and then his lips were swiftly attached to Jaskier’s inner thigh as he blew a raspberry. Jaskier’s laughter went silent almost immediately, the sensations so overwhelming that he couldn’t even make a sound. He howled and screamed, but no sound left his lips to indicate his tortured state. After a few small raspberries dotted across his thigh, Geralt shifted himself for a better angle and gave a repeat performance on his untouched leg.

Jaskier was able to stand it until Geralt began digging tickling fingers into whatever thigh wasn’t currently being targeted by his lips. As much fun as it all was, it was too much for him to take. He slapped his hand against the bed a few times, and Geralt immediately stopped. Jaskier panted desperately for breath as Geralt firmly rubbed away the remaining tingles from his mouth and fingers.

“Alright?”

Jaskier laughed. “Alright?” He asked. “Alright?! I’m fucking incredible, dear. Now, come down here and cuddle me. I’m going to fall asleep at any moment now.”

Geralt did as he was told, shuffling back up the bed and laying next to Jaskier, pulling the furs and bedsheets over the top of them. They exchanged a few chaste goodnight kisses until Jaskier was too drowsy to even move his lips in response anymore, and settled down against the expensive pillows to finally rest.

Jaskier’s revenge could easily wait until the morning.

[carol-effing-danvers]

Steve Rogers is a Monster

Yeah, that’s a hell of a title, isn’t it? Strap in, it only gets worse from here. 

(click here if you’d prefer to read this on AO3)

Forewarning, if you enjoyed the epilogue for Endgame, this particular essay is not for you - and no, I am not bashing the Steve/Peggy shippers, you are beautiful human beings who make the fandom brighter and I’m happy that at least someone in this fandom got the ending they wanted.

Additional warning: if you expect this to be another Civil War debate, you will also be disappointed. There has never been a measurement invented that can adequately describe how much I loathe the verbal dick measuring contest that seems to pass for human interaction between Tony Stark and Steve Rogers in this franchise. It’s not funny or entertaining - it’s exhausting, uncomfortable, and frankly it’s rather lazy writing.

This is about the very specific way that the epilogue in Endgame completely changed the way the character of Steve Rogers can be interpreted, and I don’t just mean the very illogical and contradictory way that time travel is explained, both in the movie itself and the fact that the writers and directors have two completely different views on how that worked out. 

I mean that the choice made by Steve Rogers in the very last minutes of that movie alters the way I view each and every one of his actions starting from The First Avenger and that alteration is exactly what I want to talk about, because whether you view it as deserving or not, what Steve does at the conclusion of Endgame was the most selfish thing humanly possible. Time is a thief, but somehow Steve managed to steal even more than Time.

Side note here: I understand that I am a completely biased Stucky shipper, a friend to Barnes and Noble, a Starbucks aficionado - sorry. Anyway, I’ve always believed that Steve and Bucky were destined blah blah blah, but I was never expecting a Stucky ending. Disney wasn’t going to do that, and I knew that, I wasn’t bothered that Steve and Bucky weren’t doing the smoochies by the end. But Bucky’s facial expression during those last minutes was gut-wrenching. Like...I have no idea what kind of cues the script and directors gave him, but in the future, please don’t ask Sebastian Stan to look sad unless you want soul-crushing devastation. It’s not Seb’s fault, his features are just arranged that way - but the fact that the editing staff allowed Sam to be sad though elated to be entrusted with the Shield and Bucky looked like his soul was being physically torn out of his body was an… interesting choice. 

Other side note: if you’re writing about time travel, I’m begging y’all to get your facts straight. Or just don’t write about time travel. It almost always sounds better on paper than it does on screen and it means that you’ve opened doors to more questions than you’ve probably got the answers for. I know this was about trying to set up the idea of the multiverse, I get that, but there were better and less messy ways to do that, and I know that because I’ve done it before. @Marvel: Let me write you a six-way orgy you fucking cowards~

By going back in time, Steve robbed Peggy of the future that would have been hers - not only that, he’s robbed her of even the chance of making the choice between those futures, because you honestly could not tell me with a straight face that Steve told her the complete truth of what he had done and she would be okay with him alternating the very course of the future. It doesn’t help his case that he has a history of not disclosing truths that he knows will be painful or inconvenient for other people in his life.

He robbed his loved ones - Sam, Bucky, Wanda - of the years they would have spent with him. Sure, he ‘came back’ after Peggy passed away, but they are adults in the prime of youth who knew him sixty years ago in his own time and he is an old, old man who has lived an entire life completely separated from them. He is practically a stranger with a name they know, but a history that no longer belongs to any of them - not even his oldest friend. They have him back, but judging from his age, they’ll be lucky to get even ten more years with him. Assuming of course, that any of them can stand to speak to him - I certainly couldn’t blame them if they tell him to go to hell and take his dad jokes with him. 

Steve has stolen away their friend and dropped off an elderly and dying near-stranger in his place, and this is treated by the writing (and the majority of the acting) as a wild and unexpected but not tragic event. 

Is it really that unexpected, though?

I recall seeing a Game of Thrones essay on Daenerys across my dash (I’m sorry, love, I don’t recall who you are since it’s not a fandom I’m in, but if someone knows who wrote that, please post the link!) which detailed how her ending in the series was foreshadowed many times by her penchant for bloody killings and her habit of surrounding herself with her own fawning friends.

Months after reading that, I had the thought: though Steve is never really shown thinking about Peggy after Civil War, except in a few scattered scenes in Endgame, was this foreshadowed? Whether you believe that his actions are justified or not, what Steve does is still, in the end, selfish at its very heart, and Steve Rogers is not a selfish person. 

Oh no, my dear friends and readers. Because taking this action has solidified and clarified Steve Rogers as the biggest and most selfish asshole in this whole universe.

Steve does not do the right thing, Steve does the thing that will most make him feel better. The fact that this often happens to be the right thing in the end is more the result of happy coincidence than any special sort of moral authority that the man holds. 

Rescuing Bucky Barnes and his fellow captives in a prisoner of war camp from being experimented on by an insane Nazi eugenicist? That was not a moral stand, that was endangering himself, Peggy Carter, and Howard Stark because he couldn’t handle the reality of his best friend being killed in war.

Sacrificing himself by putting the Valkyrie down in the Arctic Circle? That was not about sparing human lives, that was about Steve seeing his friend die right in front of him and not being able to deal with the grief. There were ways he could’ve prevented the plane from killing people without killing himself.

Trying to make Bucky remember who he was? And later on, saving him from the government agencies who wanted to hunt him down? Although, arguably, that last one is also just good common sense - Steve was already shown that government agencies could and were corrupted by HYDRA and he’d also seen how dangerous the Winter Soldier could be when unleashed. 

Steve did, I think, truly believe that this was the right thing to do, but it was also about keeping his connection - his very last, since Peggy had descended into dementia caused by Alzheimer’s before she ultimately died - to a past that for him, was only months or years ago, rather than decades. In some ways, this is completely understandable - Bucky might be the very last person left alive who truly knows who the real Steve Rogers is, because the rest of these people only know Captain America and we are consistently shown through multiple movies how uncomfortable this makes him.

This gets...considerably less and less understandable as we are shown Steve’s growing relationships with Natasha, Sam, Wanda - even Sharon, though she barely gets any screen time and they share the most awkward kiss I’ve ever seen - and indeed, what might be the most uncomfortable kiss in cinema history.

Side Note 3: This is made even more awkward by the director’s choice to have two of Steve’s friends watching them the whole time - seriously, who even does that? Why would you make them do that? Only sociopaths make out with their friends staring at them like that. It’s so fucking creepy - and don’t even get me fucking started on the fact that she’s also apparently his own niece. AHHHHH!

But we are shown, over and over again, that Steve is capable of building close meaningful relationships with people in the present. They don’t know his whole history, but they do know Steve Rogers rather than Captain America and they care about him deeply. 

Side Note 4: Notice that I don’t count Tony Stark among those people - despite this strangely persistent narrative that the various writers and directors tried to sell to the audience, Tony and Steve were not friends. They were never friends. They were colleagues at best, but these were two men who neither liked nor understood each other very well, but had to work together. And sometimes that’s okay, too. (Oh dear, I just gave the Stony fans a fit too, didn’t I? Sorry, guys. Enemies to Lovers is a great trope, I support you!)

But let’s set aside Steve’s gross betrayal of the people who loved him. We’ll also ignore the question of whether the motive for these good actions has tainted the actions themselves. Because even without questioning these, the conclusion of this story arc still transforms Steve into the biggest monster this franchise has. 

The very fundamental way that the writers and directors can’t agree on how the time travel mechanics in their own story work mean that Steve has just done one of two things and they range from shady and very questionable to absolutely fucking horrific. 

The first, that he’s created his own alternate universe to exist in, is morally dubious at best. Even the people who support this theory and liked the ending seem to feel that it wasn’t necessarily a ten out of ten on the moral goodness spectrum. They’ll say things like ‘he deserved to have his happy ending’. Even that phrasing seems to acknowledge that doing this was the opposite of the right thing. It just considers doing the wrong thing as being justified rather than horrifying. 

But let’s examine this first idea for a minute - even this, the more innocent of the two implications, means that rather than really processing his grief or dealing with the repeated tragedies and losses that have occured in his life, even as he was running group therapy sessions and grief counseling, Steve Rogers chose to escape his current life by creating an alternate universe that specifically allows he himself to live out his own fucking fantasies of the way his life should have turned out. 

That, in case you are not aware, is wildly fucked up. I thought I was playing pretty fast and loose with Steve’s characterization when I turned him into an extremely polite serial killer but as it turns out, I clearly just wasn’t setting the bar high enough, because that’s somehow even more fucked up than being an undercover child soldier with a small sadistic streak. 

Hm, and now I feel I should have been more creative there...

The second, and even more horrifying option, is that this older Steve Rogers has been in this world the whole time, watching as things unfolded just as we’ve seen over the past decade, taking ‘the slow way’ through time. 

Side Note 5: I do kind of understand why you would do it this way, because that’s really cool and shocking when you say that! Until you think about it for longer than three seconds and suddenly you realize…

Everything that has happened here, every tragedy and downfall these people experienced, happened because Steve Rogers lived his happily ever after with his beautiful wife and did absolutely nothing to stop it. He got to fuck Peggy Carter and watched as his wife built an empire of intelligence networks, knowing that her efforts were completely in vain because her agency was rotten to the core and he never told her.

Every horrifying act committed by HYDRA under the guise of SHIELD was permitted through Steve Rogers’ negligence. And that’s just the wider big-picture worldview, large and shocking, but not personal. 

What about the people that Steve claims to actually care about? 

This means that Steve lived his whole life in contentment with his wife and children while his best friend was physically and psychologically tortured for over seventy years and just...let that go. 

He allowed one friend to murder another in the nineties, when the Winter Soldier was sent after Howard and Maria Stark. Then their child was being advised by a greedy self-interested warmonger who paid terrorists to drag him off to be tortured and slaughtered, and Steve did nothing about that, either. 

Bruce Banner was exploited, experimented on, and made into a monster against his will in the failed pursuit of recreating what was done to Steve, resulting in billions of dollars in damage and dozens or even hundreds of lives lost, and Steve allowed that to happen, too. 

Like Bucky Barnes, Natasha Romanov was physically and psychologically tortured for others to use her as a living weapon - except that this was probably happening to her since early childhood, and a man her future self loved and trusted implicitly did nothing to save her from this upbringing. 

The Maximoff twins are shown to have not wealthy but loving parents who are murdered in front of them and they both endure days of laying in the rubble of their ruined apartment, wondering if the bomb in their living room would go off and kill them. Later, they are taken in by HYDRA, experimented on, and recruited as child soldiers to the cause when they show signs of having supernatural powers. They start a series of events that result in the destruction of a major city and the loss of what is probably thousands of lives. Pietro is murdered while trying to help the Avengers to stop this, and Wanda suffers the loss of the very last living person she loved. None of these things seem to have bothered Future Steve. 

Steve “I can’t sit on the sidelines when I see a situation go sideways” Rogers, planted himself on that fucking sideline and observed for nearly eighty years as friends, colleagues, and his own wife were lied to, brainwashed, tortured, vilified, and hunted down like animals.

And then there Steve Rogers himself - not the Endgame Steve Rogers, the Steve Rogers who brought down a Nazi plane and will lie beneath the ice for seventy years while everything he knows disappear (mostly) innocent of these horrors, the life he would’ve lived stolen from him by a stranger with his name and his face from another universe.

What I’m saying here is that if you consider this idea for any amount of time, it took Steve Rogers less than ten minutes to become the most evil and disturbing figure in the entire MCU, only (not really tho) contested by Thanos himself. 

Gross and poorly reasoned libertarian ethics aside, Thanos genuinely believes that he did what he did for the sake of the entire population. It’s made fairly explicitly clear that Steve didn’t do this for anyone but himself. 

Call me crazy, but if everyone you know needs to suffer and multiple planet-wide devestations have to happen in order for you to get your happy ending, you might be the bad guy. 

Maybe I’m just old-fashioned?

[nukapind]

Hi can you pls continue the late night visit fics their great and I love seeing dad!dabi content yours became a new favorite of mine 🥰💜🤗

Enough (Dabi x Reader)

+ Request: “Hi! I was wondering if I could request a continuation of your series Of Visits and Drop Ins? Honestly I look forward to seeing more interactions between Dabi and his son along with how the family dynamic has changed to accommodate Dabi. Happy New Year!”

So I actually didn’t even notice it was the day to post and I did literally all of this on my break at work lmao. Lemme know if y’all have any requests and like always, this was crossposted to my AO3.

Late Night Visit (Part One)  Daylight Drop-In (Part Two)

___

The first change you made was the olive branch— a small key to your apartment that you’d left on the counter with a note. It’d always been an extra key but lately it’d found a home looped in some twine around Dabi’s neck in a makeshift necklace, hidden to the prying eyes of his so called coworkers under his shirt.

The second was the extra space that’d seemed to free itself up— from the empty hook on the coatrack to the new seat at the dinner table, there’d at least been an attempt to accommodate a third person in the house, even if there was no guarantee that it’d be used. After all, Dabi had never seemed to care about the smaller things before— never once cared if his placemat was at the table or if you’d freed up space in your closet to make room for his clothes— yet you still made space for him in your life.

And the final change certainly had to be Takeshi himself, he’d always been such a sweet and quiet boy outside of the home. He’d never been one to be loud nor to be mischievous

With Dabi here, he seemed to come to life just as his powers had.

“Mommy, look at what Dabi taught me!” An excited squeal rang in your ears, quickly followed by the sound of little feet running around the house. Those words had never been followed with anything good, the last he’d said that your hair had been singed slightly— Takeshi was very apologetic, Dabi not as much but he’d certainly got a kick out of it.

Immediately your eyes darted over the fire extinguisher on the kitchen counter, fingers antsy to reach out for it already. “Mom look!” He whined and reluctantly you turned, a soft gasp leaving your lips. A small blue flame rested on his fingertip, glowing just as much as the smile on Takeshi’s face.

“Wow sweetie, that’s wonderful. But remember that we don’t use our quirks inside the house, practicing is for our outside time.” He huffed but the proud look on his face didn’t seem to vanish. “It looks just like Dabi’s fire! I’m getting good.” You snorted, he certainly did seem to be getting the same amount of confidence that Dabi had, that’s for sure.

“It looks very cool, now put that fire out quick.” He pouted but nevertheless the flame quickly dissipated— only proving that though Dabi may have been a pain to have around before this, he had been teaching Takeshi quickly. The elementary school you’d sent him to had already said his control was far greater than the other students, that he had a remarkable quirk— a quirk that was an awful lot like Endeavor’s, that could work perfectly for a hero. You wanted absolutely none of that, and you were sure Dabi would rather skin himself alive than to hear that Takeshi had been compared to Endeavor at your parent-teacher conference.

Thankfully, Takeshi hadn’t had such an interest in heroes like all the other children his age— hopefully he never would.

“Kid’s got good control, better than me at that age.” Biting your lip, you nodded softly— though you’d made all these changes to fit Dabi in both of your lives, it didn’t mean seeing him was any less uncomfortable. It was obvious, from the beginning at least, that you’d only wanted him around to help Takeshi— who still hadn’t wanted  to call Dabi his dad.

It’d been a nightmare at the beginning, but slowly things had started to get better.

“Well, you’ve had more than enough time to learn how to control that firepower. Now you’re just passing it on I suppose.” You’d threaded your fingers through Takeshi’s hair, frowning softly at the white that was poke through at the tips— Dabi had said it was something that couldn’t be helped, that it’d happened to him as a kid too and the only solution would be to dye it back.

“Kid, go clean up. Your mom and I have to talk.” And just as he always did whenever Dabi told him to do anything, Takeshi nodded obediently before running off to the bathroom— Dabi had been his idol recently, hanging around him every second he could.

Which made this talk a whole lot scarier.

“Doll I—” “Dabi, I just wanna say thank you for being here.” You quickly interrupted him, wringing your hand nervously. What other reason would he have to talk other than to say he was done with teaching Takeshi? After all, Takeshi was already ahead of the curve, the schools could handle his quirk from here on out— there was probably no need for Dabi to stick around. But these last three months had been the easiest of your life, with the help with Takeshi you’d barely had to worry too much.

Because despite everything he’d done, you trusted Dabi to keep both you and Takeshi safe. That’d been enough.

“Takeshi has been… so so much better with you here, honestly I’ve never seen him this happy. He loves being around you, It’s all I fucking hear.” You laughed, rubbing the back of your neck. “You’re… you’re really helping us out Dabi.” The conflicted look on his face was enough to prepare you for the worst.

And his mind was conflicted indeed, all he’d promised was to get the brat’s quirk in check— he’d never promised all these family dinners and babysitting while you were out. He had better things to do than to watch a shitty movie with some snot-nosed brat while you did the dishes in the kitchen.

But then again, he’d been the one dragging out the training sessions, and he’d been the one that’d been showing up at the league less and less each week. He’d been the one passing out on your couch even though he’d told himself that this was just gonna be a quick thing.

He’d gotten too comfortable with all this fucking domesticity, and it was just causing him even more fucking problems.

“I can’t be here anymore Doll, you think they wouldn’t take your ass to Tartarus if they catch me with you? And if they find out who Takeshi really is, they’ll send him right to that asshole. He’ll do to Takeshi what he fucking did to me.” He kept his voice low, Takeshi had never liked hearing the two or you argue. “We can leave this place then, we can figure this out.” Your pleading almost made something in his chest twinge, but it was easy enough to shove that away.

“They could send him to the hero commission too, they’d make him a fucking soldier there.” He spat, the very idea was vile— for his own son to be working in what was one of the most flawed hero systems ever.

“If you run out on us again, you’re not coming back, Dabi. You’ll be out of his life for good. I mean it this time.” He hesitated, watching as Takeshi ran out the bathroom only to settle himself into the couch, cartoons already blaring way too loudly. And he hesitated again as he watched you: arms crossed and defensive, ready to protect your little fucked up family at any cost.

What he’d give to have just a little more fucking resilience.

“Fine.” He hissed. “You have one week to sort out all your shit, I’ll be back and we’ll take the kid and go. But don’t fucking say I didn’t do anything for you two.” Promptly he was pulled into a bone crushing hug, your face buried in his chest as tears dampened his shit. “I gotta do some stuff before we go, but seven days. Don’t go changing your mind.” “I won't! I won’t” Your grin wasn’t at all dampened by the sniffles escaping you. 

“Dabi, thank you so much.” 

And in that moment, it was a reminder of what had dragged him into your life in the first place. “Don’t fucking bail out on me, alright Doll?”

The nod into his chest was enough.

Masterlist

[electricbluebutterflies]

Kiss prompts: kabby + 36

Immediately post s2 finale. PG-ish, also on ao3. Y’all know how I do these babes.

a kiss … to give up control.

She lets him take care of her.

Abby is in pain, cold, and unable to move her lower body without wanting to scream. At this point she’d accept anyone who wanted to take responsibility for her brokenness. But it’s fitting that it’s him, her longtime nemesis turned recent something-else. Fitting, somehow, that his is the body that supports hers as next steps are evened out.

She just wants to go home. She wants to rest. She wants him to never let go.

It is her right to let her mind be blank during the journey and so she does, her consciousness fixating on Marcus’s solid hand in hers. This is not weakness, she will claim that now. They are both broken but he is taking a turn to be strong for her, and when they inevitably crash together after this…

That’s the thing of it, she realizes as the cold metal of home comes into view. She knows before it is officially decided that they will be temporary roommates for whatever length of time it takes her to recover from her violation. Easier that way, easier if there is someone there with her at all times to keep her from doing anything reckless, easier still if that person is solid enough to move her and guilt-ridden enough to do anything she may need. They will get through the awkwardness of this, they are more than old enough, they are-

It all feels too real, in this cold metal room she’s never been in before, with the door closed and her body exiled to this cold bed for the next several days if not weeks. She will winter here involuntarily, discover which of the ceiling cracks is problematic enough to let snowflakes through. It will be fine, she repeats, it will be fine she will be fine it will be-

“Do you want me to sleep on the floor?”

Abby turns to look at him, this frustrating man who has found something worth saving in himself these past few weeks here on the ground. “Is that even comfortable with your leg…”

“Better than making things worse for you.”

She moves her body closer to the wall, well aware how small she is and for once that is not cause for frustration. “This would be better for me.”

He sheds shoes and jacket and sits down on the edge of the bed, not quite touching her. “I don’t…”

“I’m not scared of you anymore.”

He laughs, and she doesn’t think she’s seen that before, and it’s beautiful and it makes her heart melt a little. “You’ve never been scared of me.”

“Maybe that was the damn problem. I’m half your size, I have no experience with violence, and I still kept thinking I could take you down.”

“And you kept getting so close,” he reminds her. “It wasn’t…”

“And here we are now. End of the known world one more damn time.”

“Not the end,” he murmurs, reaching for her hand. “Not the end of us.”

“I’ve appropriated your bed and I am not letting go of your pillow. This may well be.”

“We’ll deal.”

“I don’t even have the energy to fight you right now.”

He drapes the thin blanket over her body before aligning himself for sleep, still holding her hand. They’ve always had personal space issues, but this is different, this is more…

On impulse, she brings their hands to her face, pressing her lips to his skin. It’s the kind of impulsive affectionate thing she was good at in another life and could be again, and she wonders…

“What was that for?” he asks, and she can’t see the kicked-small-animal eyes but she can visualize ‘em well enough.

“Giving in,” she replies. “Giving you full permission to take care of me until this blows over.”

He takes this as permission to hold her, the blanket between them enough of a boundary, and she closes her eyes. Maybe, she thinks, maybe this won’t be so bad.

[zeppelin-and-unicorns]

Fanfic recommendations part six: 100% Alternate Universe stories.

Hey! It took me a while to post this and I’m sorry, got too caught up with, well, you know, life (ew). But I’m back!

All the stories listed in this are stories are 100% AU (yes, I’m including the Soulmate AU’s in this category). I’ve read and enjoyed them all.

Accidentally In Love by the bohemian flow.

Rachel Hyde was a witness to a strange romance that blossomed between her twin brother, Steven, and Jackie Burkhart, of all people. Her and Steven weren't the biggest fans of Jackie, but now, he loves her. How could Rachel possibly put up with her brother's girlfriend?

AU where Hyde has a sister. Not 100% focused on J/H, since it’s from Hyde’s sister POV, but it’s still pretty good.

This story is a WIP and it’s being updated constantly.

109k words, 28 chapters so far.

Rated T.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde, OC/Kelso, OC/Eric, Eric/Donna.

A Different Start Could Lead to a Better End by SoftBubbles

Instead of Hyde meeting her as Kelso's annoying girlfriend, what if he met her as his annoying English partner, whom he quickly learns is more than she seems.

This story is not complete, it was last updated on July of 2020, and I pray for the author to come back to it one day, it’s a really good story.

Trigger warning for child abuse.

13k words, 14 chapters.

Rated T.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

Bad Moon on the Rise by Badfanfic

Set around season 2. Jackie starts to develop feelings for Hyde, even though its the last thing she wants. Hyde is just trying to survive but is having difficulty controlling himself, especially around a certain cheerleader.

Hyde is a werewolf in this story. And THIS IS GOOD Y’ALL, I’ve read this like 10 times already.

Unfortunally, I think this story is abandoned, the last time the author updated was in June of 2020, but I still have hope, it’s really good and I’m DYING to read more. I absolutely adore stories with supernatural elements, and it’s so hard to find good ones in this fandom. Please read this.

13k words, 9 chapters.

Rated T.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

Focus by Jenny7

After a metaphysical awakening, Hyde develops the ability to telepathically connect with a single stranger. What he doesn't expect is that the girl that he shares the connection with, a rich cheerleader with a complicated past, will forever alter his views on life and love.

SO GOOD. It’s complete and it has a sequel (that’s not complete but still worth the read), called Darlin, Walk Awhile With Me.

2k words, 19 chapters.

Rated T.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde.

History Rewritten by kezztip

What if Hyde got his Season 1 wish and stole Donna away from Eric? And then what if Eric had turned to a certain tiny cheerleader instead?

This story is complete, and if you have a soft spot for Eric/Jackie, than you might like this a lot.

81k words, 25 chapters.

Rated T.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde, Jackie/Eric, Hyde/Donna, Eric/Donna.

(I absolutely hate the Hyde and Donna pairing but it’s temporary so it’s okay).

Playing Pretend by isnotme

Caught up in her teenager concerns – and some wounds to heal, Jackie didn’t realize that her parents' marriage was crashing down for real, causing a major turnaround in her world.

.

In the edge of seventeen, Hyde had too much on his mind. With graduation coming so soon, he knew too well he was about to be kicked out of the Forman's home. But when Bud’s illegal activities came to knock on his door, Hyde saw his plans falling apart once again.

Or

An AU where Jackie and Hyde get themselves in one of those fake relationship situation and somewhere along the way, they find somethings in commun. Highly inspired in every cliché Rom Com ever made, including Netflix's most recents TATBILB and Isi and Ossi.

This story is a WIP and it’s being updated often.

33k words, 13 chapters.

Rated T.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde, background Eric/Donna

Pretty in Wisconsin by BelleBae

Jackie Burkhart has a lot to deal with. Her dad is in prison, her mum can't get it together and one of her best friends is in love with her. Will she be able to sort everything out by Prom? Inspired by Pretty In Pink.

Cute and complete.

20k words, 23 chapters.

Rated T.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

Rock You Like a Hurricane by zeppelinandunicorns (yours truly)

Alternative universe where Donna met Jackie before meeting Eric and the rest of basement gang.

Jackie and Donna are 16 and 17 when they finally met the four basement misfits after a Fleetwood Mac concert.

This story is a WIP, and I do not plan on abandoning it, I love it too much to do that.

77k words, 15 chapters so far.

Rated M.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde, Eric/Donna, background Red/Kitty and eventual Fez/Laurie and Kelso/Brooke.

Also Available on AO3

She Belongs to me series by QueenBookBuff

A universe where Kelso cared a lot more about Jackie and Hyde getting together and implications of a deeper background for both Jackie and Hyde and Kelso and Jackie.

This got me hooked, it’s really good, please read it.

It’s complete and there are sequels! They are called All Our Tomorrows

and The Scarlet and SJ Chronicles.

27k words, 7 works in total.

Rated M.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

Summer Music Series by Wickedfetch

What if Hyde and Jackie didn't meet until 1985?

Complete.

7k words, 3 chapters.

Rated T.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

Also Available on AO3

That 70s show by Zenmaster21

What if Jackie had dated Hyde from the beginning instead of Kelso? This is simply a re-write of the episodes had Jackie and Hyde always been together.

One of my favorites stories from the entire fandom.

Not complete, but please read it, it’s worth it.

Trigger warning for child abuse.

152k words, 37 chapters.

Rated M.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde, Eric/Donna

The Fifth Forman by BlueZeppelin

What if it wasn't just Eric and Laurie? What if they had another sibling? Like...Jackie? What would happen with Hyde? Would Eric be happy with his sister dating his best friend? Would Red like his daughter to be with one of the basement dumbasses?

This story is complete!!

52k words, 18 chapters.

Rated T.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

The One Where Jackie Moves In by Floweerchild96

Jackie has been living in New-York with her family but after her father goes to jail and her mother abandons her, she is forced to return to a town she thought she was done with for good. How will Jackie's reemergence in the basement effect the gangs lives?

A really good story, but unfortunally, it’s not complete. Still worth the read.

103k words, 20 chapters.

Rated T.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde, background Eric/Donna.

Wall Around Your Heart by ourinvisibleink

Jackie Burkhart-Forman was adopted at almost ten years old by Red and Kitty, after her parents flee the country for drug trafficking crimes. Laurie grapples with addiction, Eric is messed up because of Red’s verbal abuse, Steven’s arrival is brought on by Jackie, Kelso is neglected, Fez is victim to racism, and Jackie befriends Jason, the new kid who happens to be gay.

This story is really good, but it deals with some serious stuff. I still love it.

Complete and it has a sequel called Plastar and Mortar.

52k words, 26 chapters.

Rated M.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde, Eric/Donna, Fez/Laurie, Red/Kitty.

One-shots:

A Little Less 70s, A Little More Modern AU by fairytalesandfolklore

A modern AU where the characters from That 70’s Show grew up in the 90’s x early 2000’s instead.

Cute as hell!!! Worth the read!

1k words.

Rated T.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

found a wife and a home (and a family that matters) by blackorchids

Hyde’s been part of the Forman family for years before they make him move in.

I placed this in the AU category because apparently Jackie and Hyde always dated, it doesn’t specify much.

1k words.

Rated G.

Pairings: background Jackie/Hyde and background Red/Kitty. This is not focused on the couples, but on Hyde’s relationship with the Forman’s.

Lady and The Tramp by soobeans

'See, I, myself, don't like you. I find you abrasive. But if I didn't know you, and I'd never talked to you, I'd think you were totally hot.'

In Point Place, Wisconsin, there are only three distinct areas. The Western area consists of the burnouts, thugs, outcasts, hopeless dreamers, poor people, and overall, tramps. The Eastern area holds the classy, rich, and more fortunate ladies and gentlemen. In between is where the two are forced to intermingle, but of course, they found a few ways to separate themselves.

8k words.

Rated T.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde, some minor background Eric/Donna moments.

That Disco Episode: Zenmasters Style by springsteenicious

What if Hyde had learned how to dance to impress Jackie instead of Donna? And what if Jackie hadn’t been dating Kelso?

That Disco Episode, rewritten for Jackie and Hyde.

2k words.

Rated T.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

Bonus: Soulmate AU’S:

I am so in love with Soulmate AU’s that I’m currently writing one, I wanted to make a special post just for this category but it would be too small so I just included it in here. 

Finders Keepers by nannygirl

It's said that before you find your soulmate you will find one of their lost items first, so what happens when Hyde finds a gold bracelet in The Formans' backyard? Will it lead him to his soulmate, someone who he's sure probably doesn't even exist?

This story is not complete, but worth the read.

5k words, 2 chapters.

Rated K+.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde, some background Red/Kitty

It Takes Time to Fall in Love by yabookreader96

Jackie can't wait to meet her soulmate, but a dire mistake on her part leads her to mistakenly identify him as Michael, while Hyde watches his soulmate clock hit zero and immediately knows that it's Jackie. Years pass, Jackie with Michael, Hyde saying nothing as he knowingly watches from the side. Will this dynamic be permanent or will destiny bring the true soulmates together?

This story is complete.

18k words, 12 chapters.

Rated T.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde, temporary Jackie/Kelso.

Mistaken Messages by MistyMountainHop

Jackie longs for her soulmate to accept her, and Hyde hopes his will leave him alone because he's in love with someone else. A stack of mystical index cards lets them communicate with their as-yet unidentified soulmates. But the more their soulmates write, the less control Jackie and Hyde seem to have over their fate.

This story is complete.

23k words, 5 chapters.

Rated M.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde, background Eric/Donna

Also Available on AO3

Until We Get There by poetdameron

Running away from their own wedding is the craziest thing Hyde and Jackie have ever done together. But the tug he feels at his heart when realizing she doesn't want to marry him? The worst.

This story is complete.

39k words, 8 chapters.

Rated M.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

Also Available on AO3

Voodooized by mc_1

Eric’s been noticing something weird going on between Jackie and Hyde. At a party one night, all of Eric’s suspicions are confirmed when the two become love-marked- an event that occurs when soulmates are ready to be together, resulting in a mark on the skin that bonds them together for life. The unlikely couple puzzle over how they could possibly be paired together as they struggle to understand each other.

This story is a WIP.

14k words, 4 chapters.

Rated M.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde. Eric/Donna

Where It Wasn’t Supposed To Be by moved-ao3

Jackie thinks it's a blessing, Hyde a curse. Set in an alternate universe where characters receive a list with their soulmate's worst qualities, Jackie and Hyde struggle to navigate their feelings for each other when everything else seems pitted against them.

Not complete, and it makes me want to cry, but it’s really good.

15k words, 5 chapters.

Rated T.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

Also Available on AO3

One-shots:

all i need by orphan_account

"When he is six years old, the words 'Pudding Pop' appear on his wrist in the curliest, loopiest handwriting he's ever seen. There's even a little heart dotting the 'i'."

1k words.

The author didn’t rate this one, I would rate it as T.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

Blush by springsteenicious

On a person's eighteenth birthday, they swap bodies with their soulmate. Hyde doesn't have high hopes for his soulmate, but when he wakes up in a very pink room with posters and painted nails, his life is changed for the better.

4k words.

Rated T.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

Also Available on AO3

I believe this is all!

I’ll repeat this at the end of every single post (seriously, I literally copy and paste this every single time): Speaking as someone who writes, it would be really cool if you guys decide to leave a review (or a comment, if the story is on AO3) in the stories you read, especially the unfinished ones. It really motivates the authors, and receiving a compliment is always a mood lifter. I’ve seen some authors updating stories after years because of nice reviews, so… yeah, this is just an idea.

Feel free to reply to this post if you think I left out a good story!

Next category: Christmas fics!

[vercopaanir]

Bad Men

The Lovely Moons, Chapter 13

Masterlist

Pairing: The Mandalorian x Blind!Reader

Words: 4.8k

Rating/Warning: Teen-Mature for violence and graphic descriptions of injuries.

Summary: The Mandalorian finds you.

Notes: Y’all got me nervous to post this chapter, now. I hope it uh. Delivers? But! Everyone who sent a message, left a comment, shared, and liked this story has my heart. You can’t believe how much this has uplifted me, especially having some health problems the last few days. I appreciate each and every one of you!

AO3

It’s been days.

It’s been days since you breathed in the sleeping agent that knocked you out from under your own feet, leaving you with a throbbing headache. You overhear two men laughing about it, later, that you were carried right by the Canto Bight police. When they’d stopped to inquire, they were told you simply had too much to drink. That they were helping you home. 

It’s been days since you could feel your arms. The binders securing your wrists are enclosed around a metal pipe, and your arms are twisted so tight that they’re asleep within minutes. It stinks where you are, a musty, spicy odor that must be from animals, because you can hear them close by. You can’t move your legs, you can’t even stand up or walk. When they take you like an animal on a leash to relieve yourself, they laugh when you fall, and they continue to laugh when you try over and over to stand. 

It’s been days since you could open your eyes. Freedom has made you irreverent, giving you a confidence you never possessed before. When the man who had drugged you brings in a chair to sit, you glare as hard as you can, and he grins with wide, straight teeth. He has no hair and large, dark eyes that seem to reflect the light, even when there is none.

“You know where you’re at?”

“I’m blind.”

“Yes, and not stupid.” You lean away instinctively when he brings a hand close to your face, waving it in front of your line of sight. “Ah...so you can see some things.” You scowl when he leans away, bracing his elbows on his knees and staring down at you like you are some kind of specimen. It makes your skin crawl, and you shift uncomfortably on the floor. He cocks his head to the side and demands, “How much are you worth?”

There’s a cold trickle of fear working it’s way down your back, and you feel sick to your stomach. He chuckles at whatever secrets your face betray, and you grimace. Of course, he’s a gambling man, after all. He can call your bluff, see your tells. 

“I know slaves enough to see the signs. Come on, now. Is it that low a price?” he laughs, and your hands flex behind you. When you say nothing, he grins with wide, white teeth. “I’ll guess, then. A few thousand credits? Your hands are soft, skin clear, hair long and...pretty.” Tears form in your eyes when he reaches forward to tilt your chin up, and you try to blink them away. They fall, and you can’t stand the tenderness in his touch. “How much did he buy you for?”

“I-It’s not like that,” you whisper, flinching when he laughs again, a barking, grating sound.

“No? A Mandalorian did it out of the kindness of his heart? Assuming he has one, it wouldn’t be yours. You’d know that if you were smarter.” He almost sounds sorry for you, letting your chin go. “You know who I am? He tell you?”

You blink the misty vision away, sniffing and looking down at your lap. “Tycho Ivalice, gambling ringleader. Wanted by...someone.” You frown, trying to recall the conversation you’d had with the Mandalorian, what he’d said. All you can remember is how soft his voice was, how he’d asked for the closer side of the bed. How he called you Cyare, and made your heart ache.

Tilting his head, Tycho hums. “And my brother. Know where he is?”

In carbonite, on the Crest.

“No.”

His hand connects with a solidity that you fear dislocates your jaw. Your ear rings, head spinning with a liquid imbalance that has you slumping to the side. The shock settles in, having gone for so many years without being struck, and you know holding your breath will only delay the inevitable. When you open your mouth, your lungs instinctively contract, forcing you to breathe. Heat courses through your neck and face, a throbbing, pulsing pain that leaves your vision pricked with black dots.

“I don’t like liars,” Tycho says after a moment, as if letting you gather your thoughts that he’d just slapped out of your still-ringing ear. “But we’ll come back to that.”

He did come back, every day, to ask the same questions.

Where is the ship you arrived on?

Where is his brother?

Who is the Mandalorian?

You think you must have smiled at the last one, because he grows impatient, and powerful men who do not get their way are more dangerous than loaded weapons. You feel your eye bleeding when he strikes you for that, the hot, sticky mess painting your cheek and neck as it drips and stains your torn dress. The scent of dirty copper gags you, and you want to cry so badly, but you know that will only make it worse. When your cheek puffs, the delicate skin swelling and shutting your eyes, you find some relief because it stops the bleeding. You don’t smile after that.

A small child visits you that night, no older than you had been when you’d gone blind. She uses the dirty hem of her dress, dipped in the water cup they’ve given you, to clean the dried blood away. You thank her before she disappears again, saying nothing. You think you can hear her crying somewhere nearby at night, and you wish more than anything to sleep. 

It’s been days since you’ve seen the child. Your child, you think pitifully in the dark to yourself. The little one you’d come to give your whole heart to, with eyes as dark as ink and a tiny smile that makes you proud to take care of him, to be a source of his affection. You hope he doesn’t miss you, because you don’t want to be cause for his sadness. You desperately pray he is far from this damn city, from people like these who could hurt him. 

And you do pray.

Servants and slaves alike give up the hope of something higher, too tired or scared or sick to afford the luxury of dreams and thoughts that could save them. But you have kept your prayers close to your heart ever since you were small. Ever since you cowered beneath that old bed the stormtroopers dragged you out from under, making you look at your father with his dead eyes staring up and seeing nothing, you felt it was an act of defiance. You prayed for your lady when you heard the Moff strike her, and you prayed for that Moff to go far, far away. You prayed for the girls misused in the brothel near the cantina. 

You pray for the child, every night, that he would grow up happy and sweet and good.

You pray for the Mandalorian. You hope he assumes the worst-that you took money and left, rather than what truly happened. You think it might be better, because it would mean he’d move on sooner, and you don’t think this place is good for anyone. You pray for Din Djarin more than yourself, and when you allow yourself to think of his name, it keeps you as warm as his cloak.

On the third or fourth day, there’s a small boy who brings you moldy bread. You thank him after he reaches for your face and pushes the hair from your eyes, and he helps you eat without saying a word. On the fifth day, your jaw feels healed enough to dare to speak to the young girl, this time.

“Where am I?”

You hear her fear; it’s in her hesitation, in the way her knees knock together as she kneels beside you. Her small hand shakes when she tugs the torn shoulder of your gown up, for you were left indecent before by the cruel men who made you walk when you couldn’t feel your own feet.

“A stable,” she whispers. You frown, wincing at the pain it causes, and she shuffles closer. “The fathiers are noisy, it covers the sounds of people calling for help.”

You focus very hard on swallowing down the thick desperation threatening to send you into a panic. It would not serve you now. The desire to tug at the binders, as useless as it is, is strong, but you no longer feel your arms so you don’t even attempt it.

“What’s your name?” you whisper, leaning your head back against the metal pipe. You lick your lips, tasting sweat and blood and something foul. You can hear her shuffling beside you, and you imagine she draws her knees up to her chest, hugging herself. You did it, too, when you were her age and scared, wishing to make yourself small.

“Corde.” 

“You are very brave, Corde,” you whisper, feeling tears sting your eyes. Maker, it hurts, it burns like fire, like that first time the sun left your eyes so scarred you couldn’t see. You try to blink through your swollen eyes. “I’m sorry you have to be here.”

She is quiet for a long time, and your sleep deprivation begins to find you. You’re almost nodding off when she tugs at your torn dress again. It won’t stay up. “Did you get sold, too?”

You push your head to the side, towards her, hoping your injured face doesn’t make her nervous. She seems so sweet, and lonely, and sad. “Once, a long time ago. Not this time.” You think of that woman’s voice, oily and inviting like a flower with three leaflets, the kind the child would be tempted to pick that you would never let him near. You swallow hard. “This time it-it was my fault.”

Corde frowns, and you can hear it when she looks up at you and says, “I don’t understand.”

You lick your cracked lip again before you answer her. “I...I trusted someone I shouldn’t have.”

I trust you to be smart.

Stars, you want to scream, to lash out. He was right, he was right, he was right…

“Bad men,” Corde whispers, and you feel a bubble of a laugh threaten to come out. You fight it down and simply nod, gritting your teeth. Bad men always find ways to hurt little girls.

The two of you sit in silence, and inch by inch, the child scoots closer until you feel her pressing against your side, leaning her head against your arm. The sound you make, a mangled whimper, escapes your lips before you can hold it in, and there is more salt stinging your eyes. “I-I don’t even know why I’m here,” you whimper, sniffling against the stink of animal. “It’s wrong.”

Corde’s voice is so small, and you can feel how thin she is when she leans against you. Her voice trails off, though, and you can hear her fear again. “Will…?”

You try to shift from your cramped position, sighing deeply when it’s for nothing. “Will what, sweet girl?” you ask, angling your chin down toward her.

“Will...when the Mandalorian comes, will he take me and my brother with you?”

The question shakes you to your core. You can’t move, you can’t breathe. Your mouth opens and closes, working on words that won’t come out. When you finally speak, your voice is hoarse. 

“What...what are you talking about?”

“Tycho said it,” Corde whispers, and you can tell she’s got one hand beside her mouth to muffle her noise as she shares her secret. “He said there’s a Mandalorian coming for you.”

The questions Tycho asks you now make sense. It was a trap, and you were the bait. You feel even more ashamed than before, even more foolish than a stupid no-named girl from the outer rim. At least someone else in that cantina would’ve been smarter, you think. He could have picked anyone. But he chose you, and he chose wrong.

“The Mandalorian isn’t coming.” 

Even if you wanted him to, it had been days.

Saying it out loud doesn’t hurt as much as you thought it would. It’s simple, an understanding you had known from the beginning that the man had told you himself. He would protect his child at all costs-no matter the cost. You like to think some part of him held affection for you. But he’d trusted you, trusted you to be smart, and look where you are now. 

You wonder how this gambler had formed such a half-brained idea.

“Oh.” 

You detest how heartbroken she sounds, because you have nothing to offer her by way of comfort. You wish you could tell her that you would take her with you, that you would protect her, but how could you say such a thing when you can’t even protect yourself? 

Children know better, and they know the lies of people who swear false promises. If you could be anything for her, you would be someone who would at least tell her the truth.

You learn the little boy is Corde’s brother, Venka. He doesn’t speak at all. Corde tells you he hasn’t spoken since they were sold. They sleep in the empty stall beside yours, and they’re waiting to be moved where other child workers are kept. When Venka brings you a wet cloth to press to your swollen eyes, you finally cry in peace, the salt washing away with the dirty water. He wipes your face with gentle, pudgy hands, and you whisper your thankfulness. He hugs you around your neck, and you have never, in your life, wished to harm another person so much as you do the men who keep these children locked in the dark.

The privilege, however, is not yours.

It happens near midnight of the fifth day after you were taken, and a jolt goes through you, waking you from the half-sleeping slump. The two children are nestled close to the spare warmth of your body, the girl laying against your side and the boy with his head in your lap. You’re unsure why they were allowed to remain with you. Usually they’re forced into their own stall, but you soon realize the door to your paddock is open as if someone forgot to shut it. Both children are awoken by the sharp, short burst of gunfire that sounds like it’s echoing just outside the building.

Your heart is beating like a bird losing feathers, mad to get out, and Corde sucks in a breath. “It’s him, isn’t it?” she whispers, the hope in her voice prettier than a song.

“Get behind me,” you tell them, voice harsh with your own fear trapped in your throat, threatening to climb out. You didn’t want to hope it was him, wishing for nothing but for him to take his son and run far away from this foul city. But you feel a rush of relief against your will, and stars, of course it’s him. 

The paddock door slams when a body hits it, and you tense when a mass of footsteps storm right up to you. A familiar odor of stale beer and unwashed skin hits your nose, and Tycho has your binders off before you can wonder what he’s doing. Tiny hands grab at your dress, and your arms fall uselessly, weak, in front of them.

“Up we go,” Tycho rumbles, and Corde cries out as you're dragged onto your feet. Is this the last thing you’re going to see? Is this some kind of mercy kill before he’ll give the Mandalorian the satisfaction of finding you?

“I-It’s okay,” you whisper to the two cowering children, shaking at the idea of being led away to be silenced. You wonder if your father knew, before they beat him to stillness, that he would die. Perhaps that’s why those lies people tell children come pouring out of you. “It will be alright, I promise-” 

When Venka won’t let go, Tycho’s boot reels back and lands squarely, knocking him into his sister, and all three of you are screaming, trying to fight him. Stumbling on legs that you can’t feel, like a newborn foal, you fall as he drags you by the back of the neck, and cry, “D-Don’t hurt them!”

There’s a brighter light where he drags you from the stall, but you don’t have time to try and open your eyes before his robust arm, thick with muscle, traps your neck against the front of his chest, forcing you to try and balance on your unsteady feet. Everything is a swath of blurred shadows, a dim, running painting of mangled shapes that you have no way of discerning, and all the blood rushing to your limbs leaves you breathless. You are not unlike a rag doll that’s been abused, dizzy and lightheaded, and you keep your swollen eyes closed, focusing on staying conscious. 

“Not so trigger happy now, Mando?” Tycho bellows, and you can hear the power of his deep voice all the way into his chest. It rattles your bones, and you suck in a breath when his arm tightens around your neck. “I’ll take my money back, now. And an apology.”

The Mandalorian’s shape, familiar even in your disabled vision, even from between aching, pained squints of your eyes, stands still as stone, a gun still smoking held in his hand. There are bodies on the floor, blood dripping from one of his gloves. His voice, though, is like thunder, quiet and rolling and cresting deep from within, and hearing him is like an allowance you don’t deserve. “I’m not negotiating with you,” the forbidding baritone bites out. He is raspy with anger, and severe enough to make you fear what he is capable of. 

“No?” 

Tycho’s arm tightens, and tightens, and tightens, drawing you back until the tips of your toes barely brush the floor, and your voice breaks on a whimper for air. Your hands shake and scratch at the thick, corded muscle of his forearm, but you might as well be an insect he can’t be bothered to swat away.

And nothing happens.

You wonder, briefly in your dazed, slowly slipping mind, if you die here, what will become of the two children in the stall. You hope someone is kind to them, and does not fail them like you have.

“S-Stop. Stop it.”

Tycho’s arm loosens, and you gasp in the dirty, stinking air of the stable, gagging on it as he allows you just an inch or so of leverage. “Ready to negotiate now?” he asks, giving you a small shake in his hold. You feel your teeth rattle, your body swaying as if drunk.

There’s no sound, no movement for a moment until you hear a loud metallic clunk hit the ground. 

“Good. Now put your blaster down, and kick it over to one of my men.” 

Don’t do it. Please don’t give him that.

The clatter of steel on the concrete floor follows bluntly, and you hear the rattling scrape when it’s sent skittering across the ground. A man nearby picks it up, checking the chamber and release before aiming it at the Mandalorian. Your heart grows hot with indignant anger in your breast. This-this animal didn’t deserve to be cowered to, not worthy of anyone’s deference. Certainly not by the Mandalorian.

Tycho releases you and in the same, abrupt motion, kicks your feet out from under you so that you land hard on the floor. The use of your legs and arms are still shaky, and your whole body spasms with pain. Beskar hits the ground when the Mandalorian kneels over you, and you’ve never felt so weak, so pitiful when he pulls you up against his blessedly cool chest plate.

Desperate, leather clad hands cradle you with urgency, and he leans you back against his leg, propping you up so your breath fogs the shine of his armor as you inhale the scent of clean skin and cool woods. His helmet kisses your brow, and you can hear, now that he’s so close, how labored his breathing is, how tight and tense his arms are while he rocks you. His whole body shakes like a vibroblade, like the electricity before the crack of lighting, and you have never felt safer. 

You smile, a small, sad thing that doesn’t meet your eyes. “You came.”

A tiny, pathetic sound slips from beneath the lip of his helmet, and one of his gloves cups the side of your face, his thumb pressing just beneath the bruised and reddened skin of your eye. You can’t stop yourself from leaning into the cool leather, biting your cracked lip with relief, but a chuckle from somewhere behind you makes both of you go still as stone.

You hear the click of a blaster being aimed, and you know it isn’t trained on the impressively armored man who holds you in his arms.

“I’ve changed my mind,” Tycho says, towering above where the Mandalorian stays kneeling over you, and forcing the bounty hunter to look up with an air of utter hatred. You have never felt him so angry, so glacial and still. “If you both want to leave, I’ll need something else. Let’s call it interest for the disrespect you showed me and my brother.” 

You press your cheek to his chest plate, your fingers curling into the fabric at his waist. If you were going to die with a gun to your head, at least you won’t be alone, and you won’t be without this man, you decide. It is more than you hoped for, even if the way he breathes, like a wild animal, makes you wish to comfort him.

There’s a nigh imperceptible tilt of the Mandalorian’s helmet, and Tycho smiles and says, “I want your helmet.”

Your fingers dig into his waist with desperation, nails biting into the skin, and you suddenly can’t be close enough, can’t stop what’s happening. “N-No,” you whimper, struggling against the Mandalorian’s firm hold, trying to clamber to your feet. “You can’t do that-!”

“I’m no longer negotiating,” Tycho growls, leveling his blaster’s aim at the crown of your hair. 

“Stop, please-” he chokes out, arresting you so tightly against his chest, you can’t move. You want to fight him, you want to shake this dear man under the steel because he shouldn’t sound like that, like a ruin. He should be brave, no matter the cost. “I-I’ll do it.”

“No!” Your entire body is a force to be reckoned with, adrenaline dumping into your system, but the Mandalorian traps you around the middle, locking his arms around you so you’re pinned to his chest. You turn your face into his neck, tears forming in your eyes. “No, y-you can’t-!”

Two men move to flank the bounty hunter, and you feel him tense, his entire body coiled like a spring ready to snap. That is what you expect of him, the urge and hunger to fight. Your breathing is so heavy, your mind so alight with passion that your entire frame hums. 

“I want her to do it.”

“I will not!” you shriek, something feral and foaming bursting from your chest when you wrench against him. Everything begins to flicker before your eyes, the fireside touches, the hand stroking your hair by the stream, the arm that has held and supported you over worlds. He is stronger than you, but he doesn’t seem interested in seeking to detain you as much as he seeks to keep you from hurting yourself against the beskar covering his body.

“Cyare,” his deep baritone rumbles against your ear, too low for anyone else to hear. “Trust me.”

You go still, your arms slowly circling his waist and tucking your cheek against his chest plate. His heartbeat is like a war drum beneath the armor, and you bite your lip when you feel his arms slowly release you. You keep your eyes closed, your heart squeezing in Tycho’s fist as he and his men begin to chuckle at such a great warrior defeatedly drawing his hands down to his belt while you lift yours to cradle his helmet. Your lip trembles, fingers smoothing over the beskar warmed by your own skin, and then-

A clap of thunder, followed by an overwhelming flash, and the Mandalorian throws you to the side, rolling you beneath him just as the flash grenade he’d detonated sends everyone into a panic. Blasters suddenly go off in every direction, and you’re thankful when the Mandalorian crouches over you because you aren’t sure which way is up. His leather glove brushes your cheek, and you can’t hear what he says, but he disappears from your line of sight. There are muffled shouts, screaming, and you curl in on yourself, listening to the sounds of battle. You can hear a blade slashing flesh, smell the residue of gunfire, and you feel when a body hits the ground one after another.

And then there’s silence.

It takes an olympic feat of strength to pry your eyes open, and the pain is nearly unbearable. You see a blurry set of boots striding towards you, and you let your gaze fall closed when the sweet sound of beskar brushing the concrete floor meets your ears. You feel the cool leather touch your face, moving to your neck and up to cradle your head. No longer able to open your eyes, you manage to move your fingers enough to touch his wrist where a small sliver of heated skin is bared. Veins of hot blood that you had traced in the dark sing beneath your touch, and a tear slips from the corner of your eye.

You hear him muttering in another language, fast and rapid beneath his helmet, as if everything that has happened is too much for his mind to translate in the moment and he’s only able to speak the words he learned as a child. It’s the sound of that beautiful speech that breaks you.

He lifts you up into his arms, trying to hold your bones together as your body spasms through sobbing, wailing, because you’re still alive somehow. You can’t control it, you can’t stop it, and you’re worried you won’t be able to. A leather glove, wet with blood, turns your head so your hysteria is smothered into the fabric of his shoulder, and your hands can’t find a place to hold onto, wrenching and pulling at this man who’s saved you twice over.

When you are exhausted beyond speech, beyond the ability to lift your head from where it lolls against his neck, the Mandalorian moves to rest you back against the wall. His gloves cradle your injured face, and you again wonder what he sees. Does he see your foolishness? Certainly, your weakness. Bile rises in your throat, and it’s all you can do to choke on it as well as your pride.

A sound, not unlike the skittering of a mouse, triggers the Mandalorian. He draws his blaster and cages you between his body at the wall faster than the flash grenade, and you hear a small gasp come from the paddock.

“D-Don’t,” you mumble, your lips cracked and your voice dry from your outburst. You imagine the two children, staring at what is rightfully known to be a legend who coldly holds them at gunpoint, cowering back behind the soiled hay. “Don’t hurt them.”

You hear the strain of leather where the warrior holsters his weapon immediately, but nothing happens after that for a long, tense moment. There’s another shift of fabric, and he’s kneeling over you now, sighing wearily. 

“They helped me,” you murmur, forcing your eyes open enough to see his visor is tilted in the direction of the little girl and her brother. “They’re-”

“I know.” 

The Mandalorian stands and approaches the children, and you strain your ears to hear what he says when he begins speaking softly to them. Corde tells him something, ever the brave little thing you’ve come to know, and he seems satisfied when he kneels back down beside you.

“We need to go, Cyare. Can you walk?” he asks, touching your jaw with a brush of his fingers.

You wince when you move your feet in your boots, and that seems to be enough of an answer for him. He leaves you again, speaking to the children, and your mind wanders until you’re not sure if you’re awake or asleep. Perhaps it is the lack of food and water, or not having slept for nearly a week, but it feels as if your body is shutting down. The shock from everything is wearing off, and you can’t even feel his arms when they slip beneath you to lift you up.

“You were right,” you murmur, laying your cheek against the warm fabric of his shoulder. You can feel his helmet tilt down to you, almost as if telling silently for you to go on. You close your eyes. “We can’t trust anyone.”

-

Mando’a Translation

Cyare - beloved, loved

Taglist (if I’ve accidentally left you off, pls message me!): @lavenderl3mons @itzagoodthing​ @letaliabane​ @kateb013​ @yodaswrinkles​ @catsnkooks​ @notawhitegirlblog​ @ihaveashield​ @sinnamon-bunn @just-a-dreammm @tiffdawg @lackofhonor @btillys  @collectivefandom @kylolover96 @little-ms-fandom @earthtokace @blondecity @gaybroadwayloser @forever-rogue @lizajane3 @rzrcrst @themandjalorian @netflixandsnuggle @mrsparknuts @lonelystarship @adikaofmandalore @avoreahspromise @emilykjhgsj @fioccodineveautunnale @paryl 

[justlightlysedated]

20 Questions

20 questions, writer's edition, I was tagged by @lambourngb 😊❤❤

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

71! 70 for roswell and one for vagrant queen

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

468, 583!!

3. How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

not entirely sure tbh, but let's count now:

timkon, bandom, glee, specifically pukurt, but some other ships too, merlin, doctor who, torchwood, teen wolf, agents of shield, runaways, the old guard, vagrant queen, and obviously, roswell new mexico

i think there might be more, but i don’t remember rn

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

the cost of greatness, which i cowrote with marlo

a cure i know that soothes the soul (does so impossibly), the first pwp i wrote for this fandom lol

the person that you’d take a bullet for is behind the trigger, which i wrote for marlo

for better or for worse (til death do us part), which i also cowrote with marlo lol

it might be your wound but they’re my sutures, which i also wrote for marlo

so the pattern im sensing here is that my most popular fics were written with/for marlo which sounds about right lol

5. What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

i am not sure tbh, i write some pretty angsty one shots and longer fics, but i TRY to at least give a slightly hopeful ending, tho now that i’m thinking about it, i think the angstiest thing i’ve written was that prompt fill based on the song, for island fires and family, i remember SOBBING the entire time that i wrote it (there is miluca in that one), but ALSO there is the fic i wrote in reaction to the season one finale, which also made me cry, which was called, we both know how this story ends

6. What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

once again i’m not sure, like i said before, i try to give my fics hopeful endings if they’re really angsty, and i love me some hurt/comfort, but i’m not entirely known for writing happy, fluffy fics, tho i do TRY sometimes for certain people

7. Do you write crossovers? If so, what is the craziest one you've written?

yes!! i do love me some crossovers, and i guess i would have to say the malex, sort of doctor who au, i’m technically still writing for tove

8. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

yes??? but i’m not sure if i could classify it, like i’ll write pretty much anything within reason and if it doesn’t squick me out

9. Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

okay, so like don’t hate me, but no, i rarely, if ever respond to comments, i just don’t know what to say at all, like i’m the type of person that really wants every single message to be unique and special, but there are only so many ways to thank someone for reading your fic, so i just tend to post things and then thank everyone for reading afterwards, if there is someone that shows up often on my notifications, or if someone asks me a specific question pertaining to the story, then i will answer, i also answer back if i wrote the fic for someone and they left a comment, and if i’m sent an ask on here about something that i wrote, but i am simultaneously the world's most shy and confident person ever, when it comes to my writing, so i’m so sorry

this doesnt mean that i dont appreciate every comment that i get because i really do, im just super shy and awkward and i may write good-ish, but i do NOT have the same way with words in person

10. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

not really?? if i have i don’t remember it, usually i’m the one who talks the worse about my own writing

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

not that i know of

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

yes, the only kurtbastian fic i’ve ever written was translated into russian

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

yep!! as y’all probably saw from my top five fics up there somewhere, marlo @bestillmyslashyheart is basically my fic writing soulmate, we just really click when it comes to writing

14. What's your all time favourite ship? to write for?

atm it’s malex, which is more than obvious, BUT before they hijacked my brain and made their home within my neurons, it was skimmons!!! i wrote fic for them for YEARS, even after i stopped watching aos

15. What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhmmmmmmmmmmmmmm, i’m just gonna talk about fics that i’ve posted and haven’t updated and not any of the hundreds of wips that have never seen the light of day, my original witch au tbh, i just, roswell made maria and isobel somehow related, and just made me really uncomfortable with the ship, which is the main reason that i’m not gonna finish the fic if i’m being perfectly honest, there is ALSO that au i had where michael’s daughter from the future comes back to the past and she had been raised by alex, because of reasons that are petty, probably my space opera au as well, and only because i just want to write other things MORE

16. What are your writing strengths?

i think i’m good at describing things, especially kisses, i LOVE writing kisses, it’s one of my favorite things, that and my fight scenes are two of the things i pride myself the most on

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

dialogue, sometimes i feel the characters are ridiculously out of character, but then i don’t care because sometimes in canon characters are also ridiculously out of characters, also describing things, because sometimes i just feel like scenes don’t flow right, i am definitely a comma whore, and use dashes and hyphens in places they definitely shouldn’t be used, run-on sentences are my best friends, also english isn't my first language, so, sometimes the way i phrase things just come out wrong

18. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

tbh completely honest, i follow the nora sakavic method where you just write the dialogue in english like, “hey there love,” they said in perfect french, and i only break this rule if i actually know the language because just translating straight from english always makes things sound stilted and weird

19. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

dc comics, i wrote several timkon fics which i posted on livejournal

20. What's your favourite fic you've written?

oh, i know that love is all about the wind, how it can hold me up and kill me in the end (still i loved it), no specific reason why, i just love it with my entire heart!!

and that's it!! im not gonna tag anyone cause I saw that most ppl were already tagged, but if you want to do this just say that I tagged you!!

[sparkle9510]

Baby Robins and Tiny Ladybugs Ch. 3

Woooooo folks I finally finished it! I hate how long it takes for me to feel the flow and be able to write each chapter. I haven’t been feeling the motivation. I hope I am pacing this alright since I tend to rush it to not lose motivation to finish it. Like damn, I have 2 other mlb fics already in the making and I want to make animatics and draw. It be a busy time. Luckily SUMMER’S HERE! So free time!

PSA: With this chapter, my tag list is officially closed. If you guys still want to keep track of it, I finally published this to Ao3. I’ll post the link to my masterlist I’ll make after posting this. ;)

Speaking of Ao3, I proofread the chaps again before revising and posting and- Y’all ch 2 had so many mistakes?? I’m sorry ;-; Fixing it rn, with a few minor changes to clear up some things.

I’ll talk more after this chapter, so here, enjoy~ 

(posting at like 5 am so I’m sorry if there are mistakes)

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Masterlist

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“My apologies for this entire mishap, Mr. and Mrs. Dupain-Cheng,” Mr. Damocles said. “Starting tomorrow, Marinette can come back to class. She is no longer expelled.”

Marinette sat in the chair in front of the principal’s desk, her parents standing right behind her. Earlier that day, Lila had planted the solution to Ms. Bustier’s test in her backpack. Not only that, Lila framed her so that she would seem like she pushed Lila and stole from her as well. It had not ended well and caused for her expulsion. It had almost caused her to be akumatized as well.

Now, here they are again, but this time, with good news.

“Mr. Damocles,” Her mom began, “I do hope that the school creates a better system in case such an incident began again. What if another person had to go through this same incident? What if she wasn’t as fortunate to have this all ‘cleared up’ as you said?”

“I understand your concerns,” he replied. “this was very unfortunate, and I am glad to have Marinette back. We will ensure that new measures will take place to prevent an innocent student facing punishment again.”

“I do hope so,” her dad huffed. “or we will take this to the school board.”

That had caused Mr. Damocles’ face to fall. 

“Marinette, I really am sorry,” Lila apologized, catching all of their attention. “I don’t have control of my lying disease. Please forgive me.”

Marinette was puzzled. Why was Lila apologizing? Could she have learnt her lesson? How? When? Maybe... Maybe she had changed for the better?

“Of course, Lila,” she accepted the apology. “I understand but be careful. I hope there won’t be any more misunderstandings due to it.” 

“There’s a few more things your mother and I would like to talk to Mr. Damocles about,” Her dad informed her. “Why don’t you and Lila head out while we do the boring talks?” 

“Sure,” Marinette agreed, getting up along with Lila. “Have a good day, Mr. Damocles.”

“So, what’s going on?” Marinette inquired once they were outside and out of hearing range. “First you got me expelled only to lie in order to take back that expulsion. I find it a little hard to believe that you changed for the better.”

Marinette turned and crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow at her adversary. How was she going to reply? Lila smirked, pushing herself off the wall she was leaning on.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Lila mused. “Things aren’t what they seem. I don’t need to get rid of you to deal with you. You can stand right here and watch as I take everyone you love. 

“Convincing everyone that you are a cheat and a thief was child’s play.” Lila continued as she stepped closer to Marinette. “Imagine what I can make your friends believe next.” 

“Don’t you dare hurt my friends,” Marinette growled, “I-”

“Don’t worry,” Lila rolled her eyes, admiring her nails. “As long as they stay the sheep they are, I won’t do a thing to them. To you though...”

With that said, Lila walked off first, leaving Marinette to her thoughts. She glared at Lila’s back, silently fuming. Even if she doesn’t target them, Lila’s lies are going to catch up and they’ll lose chances at great opportunities in the end. The results aren’t going to be pretty.

“Marinette?” Tikki called, snapping Marinette out of her thoughts. 

“I’m good Tikki,” Marinette smiled. “Don’t worry about me.”

She sighed in frustration. If only she could say something. Well, she could, but at this point, many wouldn’t listen. 

Damian would probably be disappointed, she mused.  She imagined what he would say to Lila’s face. She imagined all the ways he could insult her for not standing up to the liar, in ways to hide the concern he actually had. How she wished he were still here to tell her. She still remembered the phone call a year or so ago. 

-----

“He’s gone.” Jason had told her solemnly. 

“Jason, what are you talking about?” Marinette asked. “What accident? What happened?”

“His mother’s side of the family decided to visit,” Jason answered. “Shit happened and he got pulled in the middle and well ... I’m sorry but he’s gone.”  

There was a hitch in her throat as she took in all this. Damian, her childhood friend, the one who was by her side for years, dead? 

“N-no,” Marinette began to hiccup slightly. “H-how, I-” 

“I’m sorry, Belle,” Jason apologized. “Sorry for springing this bad news to you. I’m heading over there right now, and we’re picking you and your family up for his funeral, sound good? Be strong, we’ll be there soon.”

Giving a sound of acknowledgement, she hung up the phone and went to her bed. She hugged the huge cat pillow that Damian had gotten her, trying to recall his voice and presence. Face-planting the pillow, she took a deep breath and screamed until her voice got hoarse.

-----

She went to Dami’s funeral and said her goodbyes. It still hurts, but she had made peace with the fact that he left the world too early. However, that doesn’t mean she stopped having contact with the rest of the Waynes. Nah, Jason was too much of a troll and loved dragging her into some of his shenanigans to let her get away. Even then, she wouldn’t have dropped them anyways. They were all special to her. Which reminds her...

She pulled out her phone and opened up her Tweeter. She then opened up her tweet from this morning to check on it.

@BelleOfGotham

      You think it’s possible to make pants that will catch on fire when someone is lying? You know ‘Liar liar, pants on fire’? Just wondering.

@theJToddler    

     @BelleOfGotham Yo, who we raining hell upon, Tinkerbell?

@HeIsGRAYceHeIsSON

     @BelleOfGotham You mean like real fire? Wouldn’t that be painful?

Calming down, she quickly wrote replies to them both.

@BelleOfGotham

     @theJToddler Nah, it’s all good now.

@BelleOfGotham

     @ HeIsGRAYceHeIsSON They can perish

“Come on Tikki,” Marinette grinned. “I wanna do some research about flammable clothing.”

--------

The next day came quickly. Marinette, after finishing her homework, had gotten really engrossed with her research and didn’t realize how much time had passed and fell asleep on her desk. Surprisingly, she had woken up an hour early, so she took her time getting ready and eating breakfast before she headed towards school. 

As she reached her classroom, she could hear the chatters of friends and fellow classmates in there. Taking a deep breath, she walked in and braced for the worse. 

“Girl, you’re back!” Alya grinned, waving her over. “How does it feel, to have joined the dark side and rebelled against the school?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Alya,” Marinette laughed. “It’s not like I meant to do it in the first place, so I was an unwilling prisoner.” 

“Unwilling to ditch school or from seeing a boy?” Alya smirked.

“Marinette!” Rose and Juleka rushed over. “We’re sorry we had doubted you. It was so shocking we didn’t think straight, and we’re sorry!”

“Yup, same as those two,” Alix piped up from her seat. “Sorry I jumped the gun and believe you had cheated.”

The rest of the classmates also voiced their apologies, to which Marinette had accepted. It was fine! It wasn’t their fault after all. Evidence can be misleading and accusing without proof wasn’t exactly the best thing she did again. Just like the Rogercop incident. 

“Marinette!” Lila cooed as she rushed towards her from the door, “I’m so happy that you’re back! I’m so sorry about accusing you! That was so wrong of me. If only I had control of my lying disease.”

“Thanks...” Marinette cringed away from her overly sweet tone. “Maybe next time make sure if it’s your disease talking or not?”

“Of course, Marinette! Though...” Lila continued, Marinette noticed a glint in her eyes, “I know what I did was wrong, but I think that pushing me down the stairs was unwarranted, don’t you? And how did my necklace end up in your locker?”

Murmurs then flew around. Yes, how awfully strange, she hears. She did push Lila earlier. How did the pendant find its way into her locker?

“Everyone, chill,” Alya talked over them. “Give her some slack. We don’t know for sure that was the case. Maybe she pushed Lila on accident, and someone may have planted it in Marinette’s locker to frame her.”

“Yeah, Lila,” Marinette grumbled, unfortunately too loud. 

“Mari,” Alya frowned. “for the last time, you can’t just go accusing people without proof. Hell, that’s the whole reason why this started, remember? You’re not helping your case out at all girl. Plus, Lila being the one to plant it would be too obvious. It’s likely someone was framing the both of you.”

Marinette felt her nails digging deeper into the palm of her hands. How could she get people to see the signs? Lila for some reason still has a hold of the class and she’s not letting go. 

“Alya, I never pushed Lila and there’s no way-” Marinette began. 

“It’s okay, Marinette!” Lila interrupted plastering a smile Marinette knew was fake. “Of course Alya’s right, with her amazing detective work and all. I guess someone is framing the both of us. Maybe they want the tension between us two to grow bigger. I don’t know what I did for you to start to hate, but I forgive you! Even for pushing me down the stairs.” 

“Lila,” Adrien cut in, frowning, “Marinette said she didn’t do it, and I believe her. She’s not the type to hurt, let alone cheat and steal from others. Maybe you accidentally tripped on the top of the stairs. Whatever the case is, stop making it sound like she had something to do with it.”

He stepped in front of her, seemingly like he was shielding her from the rest of the class. Marinette had no idea what he was thinking of, but she was glad to see he stepped in. He had her back after all.

*brriiiing*

“Class, to your seats please.” Ms. Bustier walked in, papers in hand. “We’re going to start class in a minute.”

The class quickly rushed to their seat, current conversation forgotten. They hurried to gather their tablets and prepare for the lesson of the day. Marinette sighed in relief as she hoped for the rest of the day to go by quickly. Already lost in her thoughts, she didn’t realize how Nino and Kim were giving each other looks.

--------

And luckily, the rest of the day went by peacefully. No one else brought up the problems, no one was akumatized, and no one started trouble. Adrien was one of the first people who finished packing and before he left to his limo, he was grabbed by none other than Marinette herself. They reached a corner of the school building, where no one would give them any second glances.

“A-adrien, I-,” Marinette stammered, feeling slightly nervous. “hanks for telp- I mean thanks for helping me out there.”

“No problem, Marinette,” he grinned, which Marinette noticed wasn’t as big as usual. 

He then proceeded to grab Marinette’s hand. “Marinette... I haven’t exactly been the greatest friend, have I?”

“That’s not-” Marinette began, only to have Adrien shush her. 

“I know,” he continued. “I’ve been home-schooled and raised to let people walk over me and keep things civil. However, I said ‘what does it matter as long as we both know?’.” 

“I said I would have your back and for a while, I didn’t. I let Lila lies hurt people, Kagami, Natalie, my bodyguard, and you.” Adrien grimaced. “I let you down, and I let her lies cause you pain and trouble when I could have prevented it.”

“I’m so sorry about that,” he apologized. “That’s why I had to stop her and make her lie to have you come back.” 

Marinette studied Adrien, saw his sincerity. However, she also noticed how uncomfortable he looked. How hurt he was.

“Adrien,” Marinette bit her lips. “What did you do?” 

“I made a deal,” he replied. “I’ll be her ‘friend’ and you return to school. It’ll be fine... I’ll be fine.” 

“No, you’re not,” Marinette frowned. “But... thank you...for proving yourself to be a good friend.”

She wrapped her arms around Adrien. Adrien was stiff for a second before he melted in her embrace. 

“If she causes you problems, let me know,” Marinette warned him. “She doesn’t hurt my friends and get away with it.”

“Thanks Marinette! From now on, we’ll have each other’s backs,” Adrien smiled. “I guess that makes us partners huh?”

“I guess that does,” she agreed, smirking and held her fist up. “Partners?”

“Partners.”

“Pound it!”

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Masterlist

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I hope you guys liked it! Let me know what you think! 

Marinette’s handle, “BelleOfGotham” is from the Bell from Tinkerbell, but the French form (form? is that how you call it?) and being a mysterious friend of the Waynes, who are in Gotham. 

Jason’s? We don’t speak of that. lol 

Tbh I was planning on more stuff happening and Damian popping up again. (Oh no, he’s alive after all. Whatever shall we do?) Buuuut, it was gonna get too long and it was enough for another chapter, so I’m hiding Damian away one more chapter. 

BUT we get Adrien with a backbone! I get how he is, honestly I’m kinda the same. I hate confrontations and trouble in general. So, he’s gonna learn to stand up for himself, and for his friends. Also, I decided that it may be class salt at first, but the class is going to snap out of it one by one. I don’t want this to end up being too salty and ooc. So, yeah. (Honestly, I hope Lila wasn’t too ooc during this ^^;)

I’m rambling too much, so I’ll stop here. If you guys want to know more about any of them, their relationships, au stuff, feel free to send me an ask. In fact, I welcome it! <3 Love you guys! Thank you for all the support!!

Taglist (damn this is a lot, but lemme know if any username is changed or I missed someone):

@mooshoon @bluerosette23 @zestyzealot @luciferge @gingerdaile @crazylittlemunchkin @queenmj10 @hypnosharkrebeldreamer @razzledazzle247 @dorkus-minimus @this-is-vander @abrx2002 @maribat-is-lifeblood @sturchling @witchsblackfox @noirdots @zalladane @jessigurl-design @myazael @velvetterabby @dawnwave16 @novicevoice @weird-pale-blonde-person @theyellowfeverexperience @lla-en-rouge @silverwhiteraven @corabeth11 @chocolatecatstheron @tired-butterfly @sassakitty @mon-berry @echpr @loysydark @miraculous-simmer7 @jardimazul @risingmoonyue @theatreandcomicfreak @dast218  @gracerosana @redscarlet95 @fusser90 @sam-spectra @elmokingkong @pirats-pizzacanninibles @shamefullove @xahriia @buticaaba @erick-rose99-stuff  @emjrabbitwolf