#i seriously recommend you read this on ao3

[werewolfsmile]

With You - Ch 6

The English, Whipplocke (Eli x Cornelia) Mature Rating, graphic violence, period-typical racism, post-canon, canon divergent, found family, angst, references to rape 9,303 words Read it on AO3

Wichita was bursting at the seams. The sheer density and infrastructure after days out on her own was jarring. Cornelia let her eyes roam over it all, drinking it in as she rode into the city with White Moon beside her.

They had not been far from Wichita – only a little over a day – and after leaving the wreckage of the outlaw camp behind, they had ridden for only an hour before camping to sleep the remainder of the night. The risk had been low, what with Mickey the only outlaw left alive and wounded. Still, Cornelia could see Eli's disapproving face in her mind, could hear the soft sigh of frustrated resignation.

She would give anything to see that look directed at her again.

Both Cornelia and White Moon had woken with the sun, so despite their weariness and bruised bodies, they had mounted up and pressed on. White Moon spoke on the journey, occasionally stumbling over some words but quite capable of articulating himself.

"Didn't expect to see you there," he had said with a shy smile on his face. Cornelia smiled back.

"Nor I! What happened to Flathead Jackson? I thought you were travelling with him. Did he not keep his word?"

"Oh, he did," White Moon confirmed. "Were in Kansas City. Saw poster of Sergeant Whipp. It said you was looking for him. Knew that would send bad folk after him. Had to go warn him. Maybe bring him to you." He shrugged and Cornelia's heart ached for the genuine kindness from this young boy.

"But how did you know where to look for him?" she had asked and instantly received a glance that was fondly exasperated.

"I didn't. But knew I'd have a better idea than you."

Cornelia had been mildly offended at the time; White Moon had not travelled for weeks with Eli. Yet, on reflection, she began to understand White Moon's meaning. He had been on the move for much of his life, like Eli. Of course his own experiences were similar enough to lend him a unique insight.

"How'd you end up with those ghastly outlaws?" she had asked and White Moon grimaced, looking abashed.

"Ran ahead without looking. Got ambushed two days ago. Thought they would kill me." He looked so young and vulnerable in that moment that her heart ached, reminded sharply of her own son. "Didn't. Kept me alive, said they could do with a slave. Then you came along."

"Oh, White Moon. I'm glad I did, even if it was under such terrible circumstances."

He had smiled then, bright and brilliant.

"So am I."

Now, White Moon kept his horse close to Cornelia's as they rode through the streets. Many people were too focused on their own lives to pay them any mind, but there were some that paused and stared, some that shot him filthy looks or cursed under their breaths.

Cornelia glared back at every single one of them. How dare they think they had any right to pass judgement on a child!

She shot a glance back towards White Moon, chewing absently at the inside of her lip. They had travelled together without question but she could not help but wonder if White Moon wouldn't be better off elsewhere. She had left him with Flathead Jackson for a reason. Fair enough, his broken leg seemed to have healed without any adverse effects, but it didn't change the fact that this lifestyle she had embraced was no life for a child.

Cornelia had been mulling over this for the last hour. She had no desire to detour from her search for Eli, yet neither could she simply ignore the problem that White Moon posed.

"I will take you back to him, if you wish," she said, breaking the silence between them. White Moon shot her a strange glance and she continued. "Flathead Jackson. You were safe with him, weren't you? You had a new life, a future. There's no need for you to stay out here. I'll take you back."

White Moon looked away, frowning as he gathered his thoughts. His quiet demeanour was so unexpectedly reminiscent of Eli that Cornelia's heart ached.

"There is need," he finally said. "Like I said. Find Sergeant Whipp. I got better chance of that than you."

"Really, White Moon, I can manage just fine on my own. In fact-"

"Not just that," he cut over her. White Moon looked down, his lips tightly pursed together for a moment. "Want to see him for myself. Got … things to say."

He looked so young but serious that Cornelia's heart ached anew. For just a moment, she could see her own son on the horse beside her – the weight of the world in his eyes combined with far too deep an understanding of pain and suffering for one so young. Tears pricked her eyes and she had to look away.

White Moon could not be any older than her son. Just a boy, alone against a world that was full of so much violence and hatred towards him. Cornelia had thought she was finished grieving her son. After exacting revenge on Melmont, she had felt peace again. But now, the pain lanced through her, just as sharp and searing as it ever was.

She couldn't speak past the lump in her throat, so she let White Moon's words hang between them. Instead, she turned her focus back to the city.

It took a little while to find the police department – not a sheriff, not in a city of this size – but at last the building came into view. Cornelia dismounted and tethered her horse to the hitching post, with White Moon slow behind her.

"Stay close to me," she said when he finally stepped away from his horse, eyes still darting nervously around. At her words, White Moon nodded and followed so close he was practically on her heels.

The police department was bustling with activity. A woman screamed and sobbed as an officer dragged her to the cells. The desk clerk rushed with an armload of documents, only to spill them all over his desk. The man he was serving tapped his foot impatiently and rolled his eyes, muttering about incompetence. The door to the Chief of Police's office opened and a rough-looking man stepped out. A wad of cash in one hand, he narrowed his eyes at them and hastily pocketed it.

"What're you lookin' at?" the man growled as he stalked past them. Cornelia raised her eyebrows and muttered to White Moon after the man had exited.

"Charming place."

Stepping around the impatient man at the desk, Cornelia aimed straight for the Chief of Police's office. She rapped her knuckles on the open door, smiling confidently when he looked up.

"Chief Daniels?" she said after a quick glance at the name plate on his desk. He stood and she strode in, offering her hand fearlessly. "Lady Cornelia Locke. I hope I haven't caught you at a bad time."

"Locke, huh?" Chief Daniels shook her hand but regarded her through narrowed eyes. "Your name is familiar to me."

"I should hope so. The sheriff in Columbus assisted me in the creation of some posters for a missing friend of mine. I requested that any information regarding the whereabouts of my friend be forwarded here, to Wichita. And thus, here I am! Have you received any word?"

Chief Daniels sighed and folded his arms. His eyes cut from Cornelia to White Moon hovering behind her.

"D'you have any idea how much of a risk you been taking, ma'am? Putting up posters for a Pawnee scout is one thing, but travelling with one of them?" He gestured to White Moon and Cornelia felt her fingers curl into fists. "That's painting one hell of a target on your back. I got no interest being involved in that kind of trouble, nor do I want that kind of trouble in my city! I'll thank you to leave now with that … what is he, half-breed son of yours?"

"How dare you! And so what if he was?" Cornelia snapped. "It is no business of yours what this boy is, nor is it any business of yours whom I travel with!"

"Careful now, ma'am. Don't want to forget your place. You ain't in England no more. Your fancy title and authority don't mean much out here." Chief Daniels lowered his hands to rest on his hips – only an inch away from his guns.

"Oh, don't go pretending to know anything about me! I've bled more for this country than you'll ever know! My place?" She scoffed. "My place is what I choose it to be. That's what you do out here, isn't it? Reinvent yourselves? In the land of freedom? You have no idea what I was before – nor is it any of your business. No, no, your business pertains to the posters you have stuck up on the wall out there. And that is why I am here!"

Cornelia dropped her own hands onto her hips and boldly thrust her chin out in a challenge. After all she had endured in her search for Eli, she was not about to be waylaid by some arrogant police officer.

Chief Daniels leant forwards, his thick brows drawn low over his eyes in a scowl.

"Your posters never should have been made in the first place, lady. That sheriff in Columbus forgot his place when he did that."

"All I want is the information that must have been sent through. Then I'll be gone. Wouldn't it be easier to give us both what we want?"

"It would be easier if you had never brought this trouble to my city in the first place!" Chief Daniels sighed and rubbed at his temples. "I don't want blood on the streets, ma'am. But I got bounty hunters crawling all over the place right now, and honestly? They're the least of your worries. If word gets out you've been here asking about your poster, you're gonna have all manner of people coming after you for that reward."

"Then give me what I want and I'll be gone!" Cornelia wanted the throttle him in exasperation. He was making this whole thing ten times harder than it had to be.

"I want you to take down the posters, ma'am. They were issued by you, they have to be cancelled by you before they can come down. So that's what I'm asking. Send a telegram to the sheriff of Columbus, cancelling the posters. Then I'll give you all the information you want."

"No!" Cornelia protested. "I can't take them down, not until I find Eli!"

"Ma'am-"

"You don't understand, this country is too big. He could be anywhere by now! If I am to have any hope of finding him, I need those posters – and I need that information you have. So why don't you give that to me first, and if it tells me where Eli is, then I swear to you, I will send that telegram straight away."

Chief Daniels frowned and sat down in his chair. Cornelia's heart sank.

"Posters come down first. If that don't happen, you'll never get your information. Make the smart choice, ma'am."

"This is no choice at all!" There was a hint of resignation in her tone – barely there, but enough for Chief Daniels to hear it and recognise it. A flash of victory passed over his face before he bellowed out into the room beyond.

"Deputy!"

"Cornelia." At the soft voice, she looked back at White Moon. The boy still glanced nervously at Chief Daniels, but spoke furtively to her. "I will help. I can find him. Trust me."

There was no time to respond, as a new man entered the office. Of similar age to Cornelia, he glanced curiously at her and White Moon before directing his attention to Chief Daniels.

"Sir?"

"Lady Locke, this is Deputy Chief Owen Flint. He will personally escort you to the post office where you will send the telegram to cancel the posters. Once that is done, he will pass on all the relevant information you have requested."

"What guarantee do I have that you are even withholding information from me?" Cornelia retorted and folded her arms. Chief Daniels frowned but it was Deputy Flint's huff of amusement that drew her attention.

"Oh, there's information for you, alright. Lots of it."

Cornelia raised her eyebrows at that and nervous energy gripped her chest. She was so close!

"Then let's get on with this."

Deputy Flint took a moment to gather his effects but in short order, he was leading Cornelia and White Moon across the city streets. The post office was only a few streets down and he lazed against the wall whilst Cornelia dictated the telegram to the clerk and paid for it. She hesitated before she could turn away, mind flashing back to a promise she had made before she returned to America.

There was no time for a proper letter but she had no idea when she would next be near a post office. So Cornelia hastily scrawled a short note to be sent to her parents.

Dear Mother and Father,

I have no time for a full letter so this will have to suffice. I am well and safe. I have yet to achieve my goals but there is hope. It might be some time before I can write again. I trust you are both well.

Your daughter,

Cornelia.

With that letter safely in the hands of the clerk, Cornelia ensured White Moon was still by her side before marching determinedly towards the deputy.

"All done?" Flint asked far too casually as they approached.

"I'm a lady of my word," Cornelia replied impatiently and held out a hand. "My information?"

Deputy Flint gave a wry smile and pulled out a thick envelope bound in twine. Cornelia took it, eyes wide in disbelief and heart slowly sinking in her gut.

"It weren't no joke when I said there was lots of information for you. Folks all over been sendin' word of your man. Doubt any of it will be of use, but who knows? Might be some luck in there somewhere. Anyhow, that's all I have for you. Good day to you, ma'am."

He tipped his hat and strolled away. Cornelia fought the urge to call after him; there was nothing else he could do for her now. Instead, she untied the twine and stared inside the envelope at the plethora of telegrams.

"White Moon, can you read?"

"Some," he said.

"Good. We need to go through every single one of these and try to figure out which one is genuine."

There had to be something. Cornelia refused to believe otherwise. The magic had guided her thus far, surely it would not fail her now! She ran her fingers over the pouch around her neck before pulling out the telegrams and handing half of them to White Moon.

It was arduous work. White Moon was slow in his reading but she trusted his judgement when he put the telegrams aside. She sifted through her own, trying not to grow disheartened. There were many telegrams reporting of an Indian man seen killing a woman, or stealing from a shop – or some other ridiculous crime. Cornelia doubted any of them were true and fought the urge to throw all the telegrams on the ground.

"Cornelia?"

Her head whipped up. White Moon frowned at one telegram, brow furrowed as he tried to shape the words with his mouth. He shook his head and held it out to her.

"Maybe something," he said. "Not sure."

Cornelia took the slip of paper and scanned over the message herself. She faltered, then read it again, slower this time. From a sheriff in Colorado. He had seen a man matching Eli's description south of Pueblo, travelling with a young Indian girl.

Girl? What girl? The hope that had started to rise wavered but Cornelia pushed past it to read the rest of the message. She could ponder over that part later.

The sheriff had spoken of the posters issued by Lady Cornelia Locke. Upon hearing this, the man had raced away, headed for Nebraska.

Cornelia chewed her lower lip and stared hard at the telegram. It sounded like it could be Eli – racing madly to catch up with her was certainly something she had imagined he would do! But she had no way to verify it. And what of this girl that was supposedly travelling with him? Eli did not have any children left, nor had he shown a particular interest in gaining another child.

Better on my own.

Even so, there was something about the message that spoke to her, called to her soul. Cornelia suddenly realised her hands were shaking and she set the telegram down. White Moon reached out to her, his hand hovering nervously over her own as he watched her in concern.

"I'm sorry, I don't …" A lump rose in her throat. Either a sob or a laugh or a combination of the two, Cornelia could not tell. She sucked in a deep breath and touched a hand first to the osprey skull pouch, then the locket.

"That the one?" White Moon asked. Cornelia could only nod, half afraid she was wrong even as she did so. White Moon picked the telegram up, eyes working to read it again.

"Wait, no. We should check all of them. Just to be sure."

Cornelia struggled to read the other telegrams. False leads or wrong descriptions, they all blurred before her eyes as her mind looped back to the other one over and over again. At last the final telegram was placed aside and she let herself take the other one back from White Moon, reading it again.

It had to be Eli. It had to be! Sent by a sheriff, a respectable person in society! If the word of such a man could not be trusted, then there truly was no hope for any of them. Drawing a deep breath, Cornelia closed her eyes and crushed the telegram to her chest.

"This is it, White Moon. It has to be!"

He smiled at her, tentative but hopeful.

"What now?"

Cornelia checked the date on the telegram then fished out her maps and sat down on the steps of the post office. White Moon joined her, both of them ignoring the people that muttered and moved around them in favour of poring over the maps.

"The telegram said Eli was seen around here just under a week ago. Now, assuming he has been travelling fast since then that would put him … around about here. So if we set out today and travel fast ourselves, hopefully we can intercept him … in this area."

She pointed to a spot in the south-west of Nebraska. White Moon frowned.

"There nothing out there. Lot of room to miss him."

"That's why I've got you with me," Cornelia shot back and nudged him. White Moon ducked his head and grinned. "If we get to this location and we can't find any sign of Eli, we'll head to Columbus. Check for him there."

"It'll be long ride," White Moon said as she folded up the maps. Urgency vibrated through her and she fought the desire to go running head-long right now. "We'll need supplies."

"Then we'll get them, and be fast about it. Oh, White Moon! This is it, I can feel it! Magic!"

They moved rapidly from there. Cornelia paid the local blacksmith handsomely for his best but fastest job. Their horses would need to be in top condition for the journey ahead. The general store had most of the supplies they would need and Cornelia wasted no time haggling over price. Her excitement was infectious and White Moon was soon rushing beside her, a bounce in his step and a gleam in his eye.

Laden with food and water for both themselves and the horses, along with blankets, fur coats, and medicinal plants and herbs, Cornelia and White Moon finally mounted up. It did not take long to leave Wichita and they set a steady pace.

Time fell into a frustrating crawl from there. Logically, Cornelia knew they were making good time by pacing the horses as they did but she still chafed at the bit. The days rolled from one to the next. She felt every moment, every second in excruciating detail. If only she could set heel to flank and gallop madly across the plains!

White Moon kept her sane. He sensed her frustration – impossible to miss, truly – and filled the time they spelled the horses with stories of his family and his tribe. Cornelia could not help but notice the similarities between the beliefs of the Cheyenne and the Pawnee. Such thoughts only made her ache all the more for Eli – she wanted to hear that low, smooth voice sharing the stories of his people under the glow of the stars.

The land grew colder with each mile that they travelled north-west. Cornelia struggled to sleep each night. Not because she was too cold, but because her mind worried that Eli was. Irrational, she knew. He had been born on these plains, of course he knew how to survive out here. But these facts did nothing to ease the anxiety plaguing her.

Tension grew in her with each day that dragged by. When the sun rose on the morning of the seventh day, Cornelia felt about ready to snap in half. Both she and White Moon had consulted her maps that morning, and her heart pounded so loud that it rang in her ears now.

If her calculations were correct, they could encounter Eli today! Her blood surged through her veins at the thought and she fought to calm herself – and failed. The landscape was so vast, it would be easy to miss him. Yet she could not stop herself from straining to see into the distance, from whirling to face every noise or flicker of movement.

"Need to relax," White Moon said when they spelled the horses late that morning. "We're on the right path. We will find him. Needs time."

"Oh, I can't! I'm trying, honestly, but this is impossible. He's out here, White Moon. So close I feel like I could touch him! But …" Cornelia shrugged helplessly and bit back the urge to scream in frustration.

White Moon frowned and crouched suddenly, his fingers tracing over the earth. The hairs on the back of Cornelia's neck stood up and she rushed to join him.

"What? What is it? Is it Eli?"

"Not sure," White Moon said. "Horse tracks, but more than one horse. Carrying riders. You want we follow them?"

Cornelia bit her lip, staring around the plains. What if these tracks did not belong to Eli's horse? What if following them took them hours off course? She clutched the locket and bird skull around her neck, desperately seeking the strength of their magic.

"What do you think?" she asked White Moon impulsively. "You said you could find Eli out here, well, now's your chance. If you think it could be him, we'll follow the tracks."

Reckless, perhaps, to put all her trust on the shoulders of a teenage boy. No, White Moon had crossed paths with her again for a reason. Cornelia had to believe that. So she kept her gaze steady on him now and waited for his answer.

"Haven't seen other tracks for long time," he replied. "These are travelling good direction. Could be worth the chance. I think we should follow them."

"Alright. Then we'll follow them."

Mounting up again, they adjusted course and followed the tracks. Time wore on and Cornelia pretended she did not feel the hours tearing at her nerves. As the sun sank lower but not quite to the horizon yet, White Moon stopped abruptly.

"What is it?"

"Tracks are gone. Too many riders, coming from other direction. They're mixed."

Cornelia's horse snorted and fidgeted beneath her, feeding off her nerves. She did not even bother trying to calm the animal; no point if she could not even calm herself. Instead, she watched and waited as White Moon cast further and further afield, trying to pick up the tracks again.

The terrain was rocky, with sharp drops from one shelf to another in random places. White Moon shook his head and Cornelia's heart sank.

"Too much rock," he said. "No tracks to read on rock."

Still, he did not give up. At length, he called out and Cornelia hurried her horse over to him. White Moon had found the tracks again – but they had changed direction.

"What? No! This can't be Eli! Why would he change direction and head away from Columbus?" Cornelia cried in dismay. White Moon shrugged.

"Same horse. No doubt of that. Strange, though. Other tracks all going the same direction. Can't see any heading elsewhere."

Deep dread swept over her. What if something had happened to Eli? No, she couldn't bear it! Being this close to him, only to lose him being only days apart? It was too much!

"How far behind are we?" she asked.

"Not long. An hour or two."

"We can catch that up. Quickly!"

They raced across the terrain, only slowing when White Moon needed to pick up the trail again. The sun sank further, stinging their eyes as it reached to embrace the horizon. Cornelia could not help but notice they were headed straight for Wyoming. Her gut churned at the thought; she had never planned to return there.

When the sun finally hit the horizon and began to sink below, Cornelia caught sight of something ahead of them. A smear, just a blurred smudge at first, but gradually taking shape. Her heart froze then flipped in her chest, her breaths stuttering. She spurred her horse desperately, leaving a surprised White Moon racing to catch up.

The shape became more defined. Silhouetted against the sun and still too far to make out clear details – but she could see enough. Hope began to swell in her chest and she tried to fight it – she might still be wrong – but the magic singing in her veins was too strong to ignore.

She recognised the stride of that horse. The shape upon it could only be that of a person – ??a person with a familiar blanket wrapped around them.

A grin spread across her face and she kicked her horse again, asking for more. Her hat tore off her head but she never felt it leave, too consumed by the horse and rider coming slowly into focus before her. Cornelia sucked in a deep breath and let her voice ring across the plains.

"Eli! Eli!"

The horse ahead of her slowed down, and the figure turned back to face her.

~*~

Eli grew stronger with each day. Red Feather's medicine was just as potent as any he had ever received in his own village, and he never felt even a hint of infection. The pain lessened and mobility returned to his arm. Lifting the saddle onto his horse was still a challenge but Red Feather helped without complaint.

It was an amusing sight; she barely reached higher than his elbow and his horse's wither was higher again. Nor was his saddle light. Yet Red Feather still seized it with grim determination and swung hard to get it over the tolerant horse's back.

Between the two of them, they got the horses saddled and packed each day. Eli pushed them further and harder as his strength returned. Nebraska loomed ahead and he could not shake the thoughts of Cornelia from his mind.

Why had she stayed in America? Why had she not left? And why did she choose now to search for him? Why the delay?

Not to mention her health. Was she well? Eli's heart twisted savagely to think of her, weakening each day as that cruel sickness spread its poison through her veins. Hatred, hot and wild, gripped him without warning and he clenched his teeth, wishing he could bring Melmont back if only to tear him apart, piece by piece, all over again.

It would never be enough. No vengeance could ever right the wrongs that Melmont had wrought on Cornelia – on so many innocent people. Such vile cruelty, such abhorrent wickedness. How could it exist in the same world as a woman so good and kind, who saw the best in others until they saw it too?

Eli had thought himself numb to the violence of humanity. Now he knew better. Every evil act that he witnessed was a wound upon himself – a punishment, justly deserved, for his own apathy. He had not lied when he told Cornelia he was a killer; Eli deserved a slow death for the crimes he had committed. He had expected no less, either at the hands of white men or the hands of his own people, it did not matter.

But then Cornelia crossed his path. She breathed life back into his lungs, renewed his belief in hope. And as they travelled together, he felt the wounds on his soul starting to heal. Eli felt more connected with the man he wanted to be than he had for years. No longer would he ignore the suffering and injustices of his people. Wherever he could, he would right the wrongs and fight for what they were owed.

Starting here, with Red Feather. He couldn't bring her parents back, nor her tribe – but he could protect her, raise her, teach her how to survive.

Eli ignored the doubts that tried to clamour in his mind. He couldn't even keep his own children and wife alive – how could he protect this girl? No point in trying to change the past. Best to keep his eyes forward and fight for the future.

His eyes flicked to Red Feather now. Riding beside him on her dark bay gelding, the wind tousling loose strands of her hair. Wrapped in a dark blue blanket and with her eyes fixed on the endless horizon. As though sensing his gaze on her, Red Feather turned to look at him and raised her brows.

"How long till sunset?" he asked her, eyes flicking towards the sky. Red Feather squinted at the sun before replying.

"Four hours," she said, full of confidence. Eli nodded in approval.

How long until she did not need such skills anymore? How long before the landscape changed so drastically that they went from strangers in their own country, to ghosts? Eli hastily looked away from her and fought to ignore such thoughts.

"Best make use of them," he said and urged his horse on.

They stopped at a watering hole that evening to refill their flasks. Eli longed to push on further but Red Feather was yawning and his shoulder throbbed. So they made camp just over the ridge from the watering hole, hoping to avoid any unwanted attention.

The bounty hunters showed up just before dusk. One moment Eli was relaxing and resting his arm as Red Feather hummed while plaiting her horse's mane. The next, he was on his feet with rifle cocked and aimed in the direction of the whinny he had heard.

It only took a couple of minutes for the bounty hunters to emerge. Riding over the ridge, they drew their reins and stared down at Eli and Red Feather. Four of them. No one said anything. One man reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper.

"Yep," he said to his companions. "Sure looks like 'im."

"We're not open to company at our fire," Eli said and heard movement behind him. He did not need to look to know it was Red Feather. Holding her own rifle, probably kneeling to brace the rifle against the saddles.

"What d'ya think? Poster don't say nothin' 'bout no child," said the man to the left of the first. The first man scratched idly behind his ear and shrugged before stuffing the paper back in his pocket.

"Way I see it, the child don't matter. Live or die, she ain't part of the equation. But you." The first man looked up and stared Eli straight in the eye. "Well now. Someone's willin' to pay a lot of money for you."

Cornelia's poster. Stupid, foolish! How could she not think of the consequences of such a thing? Eli shoved those thoughts aside; he had to stay focused right now.

"I know the woman who made that poster," Eli said, careful to keep his tone even. "On my way to see her now. No need for you to get involved."

The first man laughed and shook his head.

"See now, that's where yer wrong. Can't claim the bounty without you."

"Not a bounty," Eli shot back. "Poster only asks for information." He remembered that much from his brief conversation with the sheriff back in Colorado. But what if he was wrong? What if Cornelia had actually issued a proper warrant for him?

No. A poster requesting information was one thing, but a proper bounty? She would never be so foolish!

"Sure," said the first man. "But imagine how much bigger that reward will be when we drag yer hide straight to her ladyship!"

The men cackled and Eli tensed. His mind raced, cataloguing the distance to the horses and the nearest solid cover. Not much, not out here. This part of the prairie was too barren for a gunfight.

"I ain't goin'," he said. "And that lady? She don't want me harmed."

"What makes you think you know anything about what a lady wants?" the second man retorted and the men sniggered again.

"Like I said. I know her. Did her a favour once. I'm not her enemy. So don't push it."

"Clint, I'm getting' real tired of the sound of his heathen voice," said the third man and the others nodded. The first man moved his hand to the pistol on his hip.

"Right you are. Can't say I'm too fond of it, myself."

Eli took a deep breath, adrenaline flooding his veins.

A gunshot cracked across plains. The horses screamed and one reared as the first man toppled from his horse – falling forwards. Eli ignored his bewilderment. He fired at the second man. Red Feather's gun resounded behind him. A bullet whizzed past his ear and he spun, kicking dirt as a distraction as he fired again.

Another gunshot, from neither party. Another man fell. And just like that, the prairie was silent again. Eli stared, on high alert.

There was someone else out here.

He felt the tremor of hoofbeats through the earth before he heard or saw anything. The rider came over the ridge – a lone rider, with a broad hat upon their head. The horse halted and the rider dismounted with rifle in hand.

Eli's heart lurched. The figure was decidedly feminine.

No, it couldn't be! Could it? To find him out here, in this vast wilderness, was surely impossible! Ah, but Cornelia had always claimed they were joined by magic. What else could this be?

The woman stepped closer and Eli's hopes soared – only to crash violently as the firelight reached her.

A black woman, covered in the dust of the road but with a harsh mark of vengeance in her eyes. She cursed the bounty hunters, then lifted her eyes to Eli and Red Feather. Her rifle lowered.

"Don't go mindin' me, you folks," she called out in a voice that was far more amicable than Eli had been expecting. "I ain't here to cause trouble for you. Only for them."

Eli glanced back at Red Feather – relieved to see her alive and whole – then slowly lowered his own rifle. His shoulder twinged with the movement.

"They hurt you?" he asked and the woman nodded.

"Came for my man. Said he'd done some crime, of which he had no hand in! Wouldn't listen when we said so. Dragged him away in the middle of the night. Next I hear, the sheriff strung him up!" The woman bowed her head and made the gesture of the cross over herself. "My Leonard ain't never hurt a fly. What they accused him of weren't nothin' but a lie! So I made a vow to find his killers and bring them to justice. Finally! I done just that!"

With those words, the woman burst into tears. Red Feather came to Eli's side, glancing nervously up at him. He placed a hand on her shoulder in reassurance. For all that this woman had appeared out of nowhere and in a hail of bullets, he did not fear any threats from her. On the contrary, he felt as though he trusted her.

"I'm sorry," the woman said through her sobs. "I … I don't mean to …"

"No rush," Eli said and returned to the campfire. The last of the sunlight had almost completely faded now, and he built the fire up brighter before sitting. Red Feather stared at him as though he was crazy but reluctantly joined him.

The woman slowly composed herself. She took some time to inspect each of the four bodies, muttering curses over them and kicking them on her way. Eli pulled some rations from his pack and set a pot of water to brewing over the fire.

"What are you doin'?" Red Feather hissed at him.

"This woman ain't our enemy," he replied, answering her real concern. "If anything, we got her to thank for getting through this alive."

The woman eventually joined them. Wiping tears from her face and leading her horse by the reins, she smiled at them before picketing her horse off to the side.

"I must say, I didn't expect to meet other folk at the end of all this," she said as she settled on the other side of the campfire. "The name's Beryl. I thank you for lettin' me join you."

"Eli," he said in response but did not offer Red Feather's name. Nor did Beryl ask. "We don't got much food but you're welcome to share it. Didn't expect no help to come out here. Least of all from one such as you."

Beryl laughed and nodded as she brushed down her clothes, as though suddenly self-conscious of her appearance.

"I can't fault you there. Never expected to go out huntin' and killin' men, myself! Yet here I am. Somehow still alive despite all the violence. Got no way to explain that."

I mean that we're here at all. When only this afternoon you were tied up there, I was lying down over there, both about to get killed and yet here we are. And it's everyone else that's dead!

Like it was magic.

Like it is magic.

Eli's hairs stood on end and his heart panged in longing. For a moment, he had heard Cornelia's voice, as clearly as the day she said those words. He swallowed hard and struggled to bring his focus back to Beryl.

"I'm glad you're here, though," Beryl said and smiled at them both through damp eyes. "It's a relief, to not be alone right now. After I lost Leonard …" She bit her lower lip and eventually shook her head. "He would want me to celebrate his life, not stay mournin' his loss. So, celebrate with me! We are all still alive and those lyin' men are dead!"

She produced a bottle of alcohol and was only too eager to share. Eli, in turn, shared their meagre food supplies. He drank sparingly and firmly said no when Red Feather reached for the bottle. Beryl laughed and launched into a story of her own daughter – lost at the tender age of four, many years ago now.

The night deepened and Beryl gradually fell under the sway of the alcohol. When at last she slumped on her side, empty bottle slipping from her fingers, Eli rose and retrieved the blanket from her horse. He laid it over her before going to untack her horse and hobble it with their own.

"Why are you helpin' her?" Red Feather asked, appearing suddenly and quietly by his side. Eli glanced back at Beryl.

"Because it's the right thing to do."

Red Feather said nothing in response to that. Eli headed to the dead men, to drag away the bodies and search their horses before setting them loose. Wordlessly, Red Feather joined him. The grim but necessary work was done in short order, and Eli sent Red Feather to bed when they returned to the fire.

"No," she said stubbornly and shook her head. "Don't wanna sleep, not with that lady here."

"Red Feather, she will sleep till mornin'. You don't need to worry about her."

"It's not just her I'm worried about." She gestured to his shoulder and Eli looked down to see blood seeping through his jacket. He blinked in surprise; he must have popped some stitches during the gunfight but he had felt nothing.

"I'll be fine," he said.

"No," Red Feather repeated. She retrieved her rifle and sat on her bedroll with her back to the fire, eyes scanning the darkness beyond. "You sleep, I'll keep watch."

Affection for this young girl burst through him. Eli sighed and dropped a hand to her head before retiring to his own bedroll. He would not be so foolish as to let himself sleep. All he had to do was wait for Red Feather to doze off, then he would tuck her in and take up his post.

It took longer than he expected. Stubborn to a fault, Red Feather doggedly kept herself awake. Eli realised he was lightly napping and tensed his muscles repeatedly to help shake off his weariness. At last, he looked over to see Red Feather slumped over her rifle, chest rising and falling rhythmically.

Eli carefully removed the rifle and covered her in her blanket. Then he stoked the fire and sat against the saddles to keep watch over the rest of the night.

He was weary come sunrise but that was a small price to pay for keeping them safe. By the time Beryl stirred and groaned over her aching head, both Eli and Red Feather were up and on their way to packing up camp.

"Where will you go?" Eli asked Beryl, once she had shaken off the worst of her fugue and could manage a wry smile.

"Burlington. It's only a half day's ride and I got people there I can trust."

Same direction as them, then. Eli glanced at Red Feather, before telling Beryl she could travel with them that far. Red Feather huffed but offered no other protest. Beryl was quick to accept the offer.

They rode off under the rising sun. Beryl chatted freely – just like Cornelia – and the hours slipped by. Before long, signs of civilisation rose around them and Burlington became a dark smear on the horizon. Beryl thanked them for their assistance, wished them luck, then rode off into the town.

Eli set a faster pace from there. Red Feather seemed grateful for the change in speed as well, urging her gelding to pull out in front of Eli time and time again. They devoured the miles before them, and Eli let his thoughts return to Cornelia.

Not long now. Perhaps another week, maybe a bit longer. Then they would be back in Columbus. He would finally track down Cornelia and get to hold her in his arms – right after he berated her for all her foolish decisions.

It snowed the night before they reached Nebraska. Eli woke in the small hours to the feel of tiny, cold flakes against his skin. Dread twisted through his gut and he lay there for some time, staring up at the cloud-covered sky and wishing he could see the stars.

Red Feather was delighted in the morning, kicking up the snow despite the cold air that made her shiver and hug her arms. Eli let her enjoy the moment, but pushed them harder again when they mounted up once more.

He could not bear the thought of Cornelia out here in this. With her health and how harsh this environment could be, winter on the plains could very easily be the death of her.

Still, the snow did not linger. It melted away under the fierce sun, leaving only muddy soil behind to mark its presence.

"How much further?" Red Feather asked in a whine one day. They had not been in Nebraska for long but their increased pace was clearly taking its toll on her.

"Week still to Columbus," he replied. Red Feather sighed dramatically and Eli brought his horse to a halt. She glanced up hopefully as she did the same. "We'll rest here. 'Bout time for lunch, anyhow."

Red Feather happily jumped down and flopped on her back. Eli rolled his eyes and smoothly dismounted. The terrain was rocky around here, with random drops from one plateau outcrop down to another. High up as they were, it gave them a good vantage point to see for miles around. Eli felt comforted by this and loosened his horse's cinch. Red Feather had the right idea. A break would benefit them both.

They ate and drank and lounged on the hard ground. Eli found himself drifting and fought to keep himself away – but the warm sun lulled him, and the sound of Red Feather humming soothed him.

He was not aware of falling asleep, nor how long he slept. One moment he was blissful and relaxed despite the gnawing desire to find Cornelia. The next, Red Feather's sharp cries brought him crashing back to awareness.

"Eli! Someone's coming!"

He leapt to his feet, all remnants of sleep instantly gone. Red Feather pointed in the direction they had come from and he saw the shape of riders easily enough. His gut soured and he reached for his rifle.

"Get your gun. Then get on your horse." His words were short and clipped. Red Feather rushed to obey. Eli tightened the cinch on his own horse and mounted up before looking back to the riders.

They were approaching hard and fast. Only moments away now. And from the size of that cluster, there was a lot of them. Even as he watched, some of the riders broke away. They spread out, as though they knew they had their quarry cornered.

As though they had been tracking them for some time.

Eli looked around the environment again. Not a lot of options, not with them being up on a plateau like this. The drops from one outcrop to the one below were not too dizzying, but certainly too high for a horse. Their only other option was running – but to where?

With this many riders this close behind them, running would only delay the inevitable. If he was on his own, Eli would not hesitate. He knew how hard and for how long he could push his horse. But Red Feather was already weary. To push her that hard would be to kill her.

The cold weight of dread spread through his gut and he cocked his rifle. He never should have let himself fall asleep. If only he had stayed awake, he would have seen the riders long before they could get this close. They would have been able to slip away and keep a large enough distance to keep themselves safe.

But now? Now they were left with no options, all because of his foolishness.

The riders slowed as they got closer. They had fanned out wide enough to cut off all escape save for over the edge of the plateau. Red Feather trembled in her saddle, her rifle shaking in her hands. Eli swallowed down bile as he wondered which of them these men would kill first. Would he have to watch another daughter die before his eyes? Or would she have to watch another father bleed out at her feet?

Ten men surrounded them, halting a good twenty metres away. Eli's horse snorted and shifted beneath him, sensing the danger and longing to escape. Eli let the animal move without complaint, instead training his rifle on the central man.

A man he recognised, he realised with a start.

Trooper Cam McKewan.

Just you remember, in there you been one of us. But out here … you're one of them.

"Sergeant Whipp," McKewan called out. "Now this is a day I never thought would come."

"Why you followin' me?" Eli shot back. McKewan had the grace to look bashful.

"Ah, yeah. I'm sorry 'bout that. But orders are orders. I might not be in the army no more but it seems I can't quite shake the habit."

Eli let his harsh gaze drift from face to face, memorising them all and taking note of how tense they were. Four of the ten were focused on Red Feather and he carefully suppressed the instinctive reactions to protect her.

There was nothing he could do for her anymore. Against these numbers? Not even his skills could keep them alive in this fight.

"Takin' me in? Or bleedin' me here?" Eli asked.

"There's someone who wants to see you," McKewan replied and Eli felt a wash of relief that he was not about to die.

"I know. The lady who made those posters-"

"This ain't no lady," McKewan interrupted him. A cold fist closed around Eli's heart. "I doubt if you even know him. But he knows you. And he wants you brought to him. Alive. For now."

Eli kept his rifle aimed straight at McKewan.

"Why?"

"I ain't paid to know that. Just bring you in. Better me than anyone else. Given our history and all … it was the hope that you would come easy."

Eli glanced them all over again, considering his options even though he knew how limited they were. Beside him, Red Feather's breath hitched in her throat.

"No," she whispered and Eli's heart ached in his chest. He understood her fear. After what had happened to her parents … But what other choice was there? If Eli fought back, they would die.

"The girl?" he asked and McKewan shrugged.

"Got no orders for her. You want her with you, we'll bring her, too. S'long as she behaves."

Eli did not want that, not at all.

"You'll leave her be," he said firmly, flexing the sergeant tone that he had not used in months. "Send her on her way. And I'll come quiet."

"No!" Red Feather cried. McKewan scratched his chin and nodded.

"Sounds fair to me. Now put down that rifle."

"No! Eli!"

"Put down your rifle, Red Feather," Eli ordered in a low voice. She stared at him, horrified and betrayed. "We got no choice. Do it now."

Slowly, lower lip quivering violently, Red Feather obeyed. Eli lowered his own and slowly placed it back in the saddle holster. Next, he smoothly dismounted and motioned for Red Feather to stay where she was. Tears began to fill her eyes.

The men pressed in closer, several of them dismounting and coming towards Eli with rope. He stepped back, shaking his head and gesturing towards Red Feather.

"No. Let her go first."

The men glanced back to McKewan, who nodded then waved his hand at Red Feather in a dismissing motion.

"Get out of here, girl. Quickly. While you still can."

The tears spilled over and she shook her head rapidly. Eli's heart sank as she abruptly clambered off her horse and ran to him, sobbing. He grasped her shoulders as she threw her arms around him, holding him tight with all her might.

"No, no, please! Don't go!" Her words flowed on in her own language, too fast for Eli to catch any common phrases. Not that he needed to; her meaning was clear.

Eli hugged her firmly then began to pry her off. He had to do this, for her own sake.

Two of the men stepped in to assist. Red Feather screamed and flailed, kicking blindly to drive them off. She tightened her hold on Eli and his heart raced in his chest, eyes scouring the men for signs of violence. There was only so long they would tolerate this.

Red Feather shifted her left arm. Eli understood the movement a moment too late.

She tore away from him, wrenching his dagger from its back sheath as she went. Red Feather shouted a war cry as she turned on the men, slashing and stabbing with a vengeance. They cried out and leapt back but not before the dagger tasted blood. Eli lunged for – but found himself seized and dragged back.

"No! Red Feather, stop!"

She scored a wound across one man's arm, then slashed across another's hand. All the men were crowding in now, several holding Eli by the arms and shoulders as he fought to escape them – fought to protect his daughter.

One large man moved into the fray. He kicked out and Red Feather screamed, clutching her hand as the dagger flew from her grasp. She looked up with murder in her bloodshot eyes, and lunged.

"Stop!" Eli shouted and struggled harder. The last stitches in his shoulder burst open and blood slicked his clothes.

The large man deflected her with ease, knocking her to the ground. Red Feather leapt up, attacking wildly again. The man growled, then shoved her, hard.

Red Feather flew through the air. She crashed onto her back and skidded wildly across the hard stone. Eli yelled and strained to break free. Red Feather scrabbled at the ground but her eyes widened as –

The edge of the plateau disappeared beneath her. She fell, a high pitched scream ringing in her wake. Eli screamed back and thrashed madly.

A dull thud cut off Red Feather's cries. Eli strained harder and the hands on his body suddenly lost their grip. He surged up, fighting to run – but the hands crashed down on him again. Curses fell on his ears but he never heard them. Fists slammed into him and his knees were kicked in, driving him to the ground.

The large man walked to the edge of the plateau. He stared down to the shelf below, snorted in cruel amusement, and stepped back.

"Ain't gonna be no trouble from that one anymore," he sneered and a couple of other men laughed.

No! This couldn't be happening! Eli struggled again but there were ropes on his wrists now, binding them tight. He sucked in a deep breath and shouted her name, his voice echoing off the canyons.

Nothing.

McKewan walked to the edge and peered over. The large man shook his head.

"No point. That heathen belongs to the vultures now."

A groan escaped Eli and he sagged as all the fight went out of him. Dirt filled his mouth but he could not care. Hands dragged at him and he let them, too numb to struggle. He had failed. All these days and weeks thinking he could be a father again, that he could finally protect one child – all for nothing.

Eli found himself thrown over the back of a horse. Within moments, all the men had mounted up and were riding off, taking him with them. He caught sight of one man astride a familiar horse – Red Feather's horse. Pain stabbed through him and Eli wished they had just killed him. His own horse was nowhere to be seen but he did not care, not anymore.

Head falling against the warm body of the horse, Eli cursed himself and wished bitterly that he had fought till the end.

[hyunnieshannie]

Have you ever read a fic that captures you in every way?

Warning: this is a rant // Review about a fic I just finished. I DONT usually post this kind of thing on the writing blog and would usually post this on my secondary ( @hyunsungbased ) but I felt like I needed to rant properly so here you go.

I just finished the most gruesome. Heart wrenching. Psychiatric facility needing fic I have EVER read and enjoyed all 35 chapters of the gut twisting, anxiety inducing story line.

The tags? Usually ones I don’t go out of my way looking for (Dead Dove: Do Not Eat and others) but when I saw THE TRAILER. YES. A WHOLE. MOVIE. TRAILER. for it. I had to do it.

Like this fic genuinely surpassed being just a fic. I 100% believe that if the author changed the names around from SKZ / ATEEZ names it could be a published book. That would more than definitely capture the attention of horror // psychological thriller fans.

As someone who wants to be in film as a director I’d JUMP at a chance to make this a tv show or movie. It was fucking PHENOMENAL.

The plot. Attention to detail. Continuity. The side plots. The foreshadowing. The hints dropped throughout the story, Everything about this fic was so incredibly well done. The author must have been as meticulous as Chan was throughout the story to genuinely have me this floored.

There are very little authors who’ve had me this intrigued. A few being some mutuals I’ve made here. (@milkandhyunnie & @straywrds I’m looking at you) and some who I continuously read their works. (You can find the works I genuinely love SO MUCH in my Fic Suggestions list HERE

Back to my rant/Review:

I Don’t cry at fics. I barely cry reading but some of the deaths gutted me. I have an entire video of myself SOBBING over two deaths. Ranting to a friend of how cruel it was even tho I was EXPECTING it. And every-time it was brought back up I could feel myself choking. It was unfair and cruel. And one of the characters last words being “Do you think he’s waiting for me?” Destroyed me in my entirety.

This fic became an obsession. Almost as unhealthy and the relationship between the main characters. It ate me alive. My brain couldn’t function properly. It became an obsession. I stayed up countless nights reading because i couldn’t put it down.

I fell in love with the characters, their development, and genuinely felt so strongly. And DEFENDED THEIR ACTIONS.

There were times I found myself thinking ‘wow yeah I’m in love with Hyunjin’s character in this fic..’ when I know I should have been wincing at the thought of who his character was.

It. Fucked. With. Me. So. Bad. (In a good way)

I talked about it to all my friends —> told them what was going on as a play by play as I read.

They aren’t really down for the kind of fic it was (Murder// Gruesome killings// and other things that is best described in ‘Have you ever seen the show Hannibal?’ {no. No one in SKZ does those things to each other // Eats. Weird things}) they opted to me giving a synopsis.

They laughed with me and when it came to. Cried as hard as I did and they weren’t even reading it. (Ty to my friends for putting up with me because dear god. When I say it became an obsession I genuinely mean it. A lot of it inspired how Kierra acts within our fic super board. So if our last chapter of Kierra’s past shocked you that fic may have definitely had a part to play. Kierra was ALWAYS going down that road. The author inspired the gruesomeness of the act itself)

As someone who’s been writing another fic on the sidelines to test the waters of the dark and twisted this fic has truly inspired me. (I may perhaps leave it on AO3 instead as I’m not sure how our readers here - who are used to our casual fluffier happy ending writing style may react.).

I have never been more inspired to write angst with either a hopeful ending or no happy ending at all.

I could go on about this all day. I have done it too. I have went on a whole TWO HOUR explanation on how I felt about this I could probably write an essay about why it was so good.

If you made it this far thank you.

Here’s a gift for your troubles.

*cries seeing them because this fic altered my brain chemistry*

>> Mini’s Note: If somehow any of this interested you after reading this (i tried to leave it as vague as possible while my brain still tries to process the last 3 chapters) pls feel free to dm me for info on it but I cannot stress this enough. This fic is so heavy in terms of topics and the details put into it. SO. HEAVY. I’ll gladly pass it along but it really is not for the weak of stomachs. If you still want it, I advise you HEAVILY READ THE TAGS MORE THAN ONCE.

Ps: i have started their next series which is on going and supposedly DARKER than the one I just finished. Please pray for not only may sanity, but for the sanity of the friends who will have to deal with me for the next [insert time period] that I spend reading it.

[winterdeath81]

Deep in a castle, far far away from Hogwarts, Harry and Voldemort share a large throne.

Voldemort’s legs sprawl widely as he rests in the massive throne. He is gazing at Harry with the smugness of a conquering warlord, decadently indulgent. Harry’s knees are digging into the throne on either side of Voldemort’s hips, more than enough room on the massive throne, seated gently on Voldemort’s lap. Small hands press against the sides of Voldemort’s face as Harry gently traces his thumbs under Voldemort’s blood-red eyes, fingertips ghosting over the man’s skull. Harry touches that odd serpentine nose, trails down to bloodless lips.

Harry is exploring the beast and Voldemort allows it, letting Harry press against him and examine Voldemort’s inhuman features with hedonic amusement.

Voldemort presses a curled knuckle under Harry’s chin, lifting Harry’s face up. Harry’s eyes flicker from Voldemort’s lips to crimson eyes, the gaze simmering and enigmatic. Harry feels small like this; he is petite compared to Voldemort’s inhuman frame but right now he feels engulfed, surrounded by the heavy cloak of Voldemort’s dark magic.

Harry just wants to curl up in this magic, roll around in it, and he sighs against Voldemort’s face, eyes flickering back down onto Voldemort’s lips. Harry gently presses his palms against the side of Voldemort’s neck, hands sliding under the beast’s jaw, around his neck. The pads of Harry’s thumbs rest on inhumanly pale cheeks, guiding Voldemort forward until their lips touch.

Harry is breathless, mind static, heart stuttering as Voldemort’s hands wrap around his small waist. Until now, Voldemort has given Harry all control of the pace. But now, now, the cool press of lips explodes in world-destroying heat, a tongue delving into Harry’s mouth. Harry is plundered, Voldemort taking the spoils of war and Harry keening as he arches against Voldemort in helpless need. Harry cries against Voldemort’s lips as sharp teeth dig into his bottom lip, eyes rolling back in his head as Voldemort rolls Harry’s hips, guiding Harry to grind down on the hardness between his thighs, and Harry is whispering reverent prayers against Voldemort’s lips.

Voldemort pulls back, his lips dripping Harry’s blood, Harry gripping the broad shoulders under his hands as he steadies himself.

“My sweet horcrux, all mine,” Voldemort whispers in soft praise, amused and smug and feral, hands tight against Harry’s hips.

Harry smiles down indulgently at Voldemort, the man’s twisted features striking.

Harry doesn’t mind Voldemort is ugly. In fact, Harry rather likes it. Likes holding a monster between his thighs, likes how Voldemort goes crazy for him, likes feeling small and outpowered and outgunned. Likes perching on Voldemort’s lap. Likes being indulged with sharp nails and sharper teeth and soft praise.

“I love you,” Harry whispers, exultant, pressing his scarred forehead against Voldemort’s, drowning in Voldemort’s dark gaze as he offers his thoughts up as proof of his adulation.

“Yes, I know, my darling,” Voldemort laughs, bringing Harry’s lips back to his.

It’s crazy, but Harry wouldn’t have it any other way.

[mariana-oconnor]

Types of AO3 Summary

Option 1 - The Excerpt:

The quickest, the easiest! Find a section of your fic that contains the main premise of said fic and also showcases your writing. Copy paste that into the summary box. BOOM! Done.

Best used for any fic, unless it's so short the excerpt would be the whole fic.

Option 2 - The No Frills:

Just a description of the fic. No need for drama. No need to complicate matters. Keep it simple, keep it safe.

Example: "A short character exploration of Blorbo's thoughts after Daisy leaves."

Best used for short fics, poems and fics where the style/format is more important than the plot. Or fics that tie directly into a scene/episode from canon or another fanfic.

Option 3 - The Hook:

Draw the reader's interest by giving them a set up with no conclusion. Introduce the main character(s), introduce the status quo, describe an inciting incident, leave a question in the reader's mind.

Example: "Blorbo is a barista at a coffee shop, struggling to pay their bills, but after handsome rockstar Obrolb walks into their coffee shop they find that they have to decide whether a chance at love is worth the cost of fame."

Best used for mid to long fic where there's a strong premise and follow through. Especially good for AUs. Can be expanded for more complex plots or used multiple times in one summary for multiple characters or subplots.

Option 4 - The Sitcom One-Liner:

"The one in which [over simplified description of one of the main plotlines]" This is essentially 'boil your plot down to the very simplest statement you can, oversimplify if possible. The more bizarre or unhelpful the better.

Example: "The one in which Blorbo learns to like cake".

Best used for fics with at least a little humour in them.

Option 5 - The Rule of Three:

Three is a magic number. Find three key moments in your fic and just list them. That's it. Often ends with 'not necessarily in that order' if used for comic effect. If it's an AU, establish that quickly (i.e. 'Star NHL player Blorbo…').

Example: "Blorbo makes a friend, falls in love, and almost burns to death, not necessarily in that order."

Best used for anything, really. Three is a magic number. The human brain loves things that come in threes.

Option 6 - The Trope Lure:

Why bother describing the plot? We all know AO3 readers are here for the tropes. Similar to The Sitcom One-Liner just using tropes instead of plot. Often followed by the phrase 'that nobody asked for'.

Example: "The Space western / A/B/O / Mail Order Bride fic that nobody asked for."

Often tacked on to the end of The Hook or The Excerpt as a tl;dr.

Best used for fic that plays its tropes straight with no shame or second guessing.

Option 7 - The Pre-emptive Strike:

(Not recommended) You just wrote this fic, the self doubt is consuming you. You feel the need to apologise profusely for your existence for no apparently reason. You feel cringe, you think the fic is cringe, you want everyone to know that you think the fic is cringe in case they don't like it and judge you for it.

Example: "So I fell in love with this pairing and had to write this. It's weird and terrible. Lol! I suck at summaries! Sorry!"

Best used for no fics ever. I cannot stress this enough.

(Seriously, I am begging you, don't do this. If you're planning to use this option, rethink it and do one of the others. I guarantee you more people will want to read your fic.)

Sometimes added on to any other summary as a strange disclaimer. (srsly. don't.)

Option 8 - The Unapology:

Embrace the mayhem, embrace the deep dark depths of your soul. The opposite of The Pre-emptive Strike. A combination of The No Frills and The Trope Lure that truly gives no fucks.

You have committed crimes and you are proud of them. You know what your USP is and you're going to make sure your target market finds you. Look upon my works, ye readers, and despair!

Example: "There aren't enough tentacle fics in this pairing, so I had to write one myself!"

Best used for fics with controversial/polarising tropes with all relevant details already clearly stated in the tags.

Option 9 - The Interrogation:

What if you wrote a summary entirely in questions? What if your readers had to read the fic to discover the answers? Who knows what will happen if you do this?

Example: "What happens when Blorbo McBlorbo gets his wish and Daisy doesn't make it to the plane on time? What happens when Obrolb finds out? How will this change Daisy and Blorbo's friendship?"

Best used for... I honestly don't know. This style of summary does not vibe with me. Mystery fic maybe? Sorry guys.

Option 10 - The Multipack:

Got a bunch of shorter fics in one work? No way of summarising them all without a wall of text larger than the Great Wall of China? This one is similar to The No Frills in that you're not describing the plots themselves and similar to The Trope Lure in that often broader genres and tropes are mentioned. What links those fics? Are they all in the same fandom? The same pairing? The same challenge? Just slap that right in the summary. A chapter list with 1-2 word trope/pairing summaries can be included or not.

Example: "A collection of Blorbo/Daisy/Obrolb fics based on Tumblr prompts. Chapter 1: Regency AU Chapter 2: Werewolves vs vampires Chapter 3: Ghost!Daisy Chapter 4: Space pirates!"

Best used for (obviously) works that are compilations of fic.

Option ? - The Void:

I said The Excerpt was the quickest and easiest summary to do. I lied, well... I didn't exactly lie. What is quicker and easier than not having a summary at all? After all, that's what the tags are for.

Example:

Best used for... nothing? Write a summary, guys. Please?

[loveindefinitely]

༊*·˚ FOREVER WINTER (IF YOU GO) — task force 141 x reader

10 — I'D KISS YOU AS THE LIGHTS WENT OUT

featuring. simon 'ghost' riley + johnny 'soap' mactavish + kyle 'gaz' garrick + john 'bravo six' price + (non-endgame phillip graves)

warnings. nsfw, fem!reader, fmmmm, enemies to lovers, slow burn, polyamory, ghostsoap, pricegaz, alerudy, heavy angst, requited unrequited love, graphic violence

series masterlist. read on ao3. read on wattpad. fanfic playlist.

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[I HIGHLY RECOMMEND LISTEN TO DANCING WITH OUR HANDS TIED BY TAYLOR SWIFT FOR THIS CHAPTER FOR THE BEST EXPERIENCE!]

The wraps, as promised, taste heavenly.

“Fuck,” you moan around a mouthful, covering your face’s lower half with your hand. As you chew around the food, then swallow, you move your palm to beam at Gaz, whose chin rests on his fist, split between watching you eat and looking through a notebook.

“Glad I can add you to my list of customers, Sweetheart,” he smiles, skimming through his book, the lamp standing in the corner of the room your only source of light. It’s well past midnight, now, curtains drawn and the lights of the hallway turned off.

“Seriously,” you use a napkin to wipe at the corners of your mouth, “That was like. Orgasmic.”

He huffs a laugh, dropping his notebook on his bed, arms outstretched behind him as he leans back against them, legs spread. You sit at his small desk, the wooden chair uncomfortable underneath you, but durable.

“Your shoulder feeling alright?” He asks, lazily looking over your form, dark features soft in the dim light. He looks like sin incarnate, and you feel as helpless as a moth to a flame.

Rotating your shoulder a bit, you shrug. “Hardly feel a thing. Get used to the pain, after a while.”

He hums, before moving to stand, heading to his wardrobe and looking through it. Having changed out of his uniform, he now adorns a faded green shirt and deep grey sweats, not unlike your own. 

“Looking for Narnia?” You taunt, making sure that the desk is free of crumbs as you stand, moving over to stand behind him. “Think pushing you in could help?”

Moving back, you regret your words as you see the instrument in his hands.

“You…” You swallow. “You play guitar?” Looking to him, entranced by the tendons in his hands, the intricate wood of the acoustic in his gentle grip. The pick hanging from the chain around his neck makes sense, now.

If his cheeky grin is breathtaking in the light of day, it’s deathly stunning in the darkness of night.

“Yeah. I play guitar,” he mocks, giving back what you gave. With a jerk of his head, he encourages you to sit beside him on his bed, which you do quickly.

“Playing and being good at are very different things,” you retort, but you find the usual energy in your words is lacking. You don’t entirely believe them, not with the way you’re watching his hands, the way he so carefully holds the instrument. The way he had so carefully held you.

Positioning the guitar to be played, he leans his head back, looking to the roof with a soft hum, contemplating. Folding your legs beneath yourself, you watch him with lidded eyes as he starts to slowly strum unmatched notes. Gathering a feel for his rhythm, the weight of the guitar in his hands, the tempo playing in his head.

“Don’t make fun of me,” he warns, shooting you a knowing look as he starts to hum along to a broken tune. “I’m not known for my singing.”

Your chuckle is a light, airy thing. “If I know the song, maybe I’ll join in,” you shrug, body loose where you sit.

The lighting, the smell of boy in his room, that masculine scent you can’t quite place, and the heat of his body, it’s all a concoction for comfort. You feel oddly safe, protected, like you belong, maybe, if such a thing is possible for someone like you.

Clearing his throat, Gaz gets comfortable, starting to build a rhythm where he strums his calloused fingers against the strings, his other hand moving around the neck with practised ease.

I loved you in secret

First sight, we loved without reason

Oh, twenty-five years old

Oh, how were you to know?

You feel trapped, almost, fully encompassed by the beauty of his skill, the beauty of his voice – the beauty of him. His hair looks suddenly too pullable, like it exists purely for you to grip onto and hold against your aching body.

When was the last time you’d done anything close to romantic? Sexual? 

Being with Graves was like using your own hand. Maybe worse, on a bad day, and it had rarely been a pleasurable experience.

Right here, with Gaz softly playing the guitar, dim light haloed around him, voice velvet against burning hot coal, feels closer to freedom than sex with your Commander ever had.

An angel.

Kyle Garrick looks like an angel.

All smooth skin and dimples, light freckles and saccharine smiles. The light smell of citrus and cleanliness, honey and mildew. With the lamp where it is, it colours the tips of his curls, highlights the depth of his face, the chocolate of his stunning eyes.

Like a punch to your gut, you realise the effect this man has on you.

In a way no one else – not before leaving Graves – ever has.

And darling, you had turned my bed into a sacred oasis

People started talking, putting us through our paces

I knew there was no one in the world that could take it

I had a bad feeling

Focused on his hands, the placement, the speed – Gaz doesn’t notice the way you watch him. How you hang onto his every movement, the indent his teeth leave on his lower lip, the dip of his brow, the slope of  his nose.

If only you could preserve this moment in time forever.

Where nothing mattered, but you and him. There was no impending doom in the form of Phillip Graves, no distrust in the eyes of Ghost, no haunting spectre from your past.

Just you and Gaz and his music.

Your heart aches with the bittersweet of it all. How nothing would be normal, not after the past few days. But maybe now, just for one night, you could pretend to be normal. Pretend that it was just you and a friend spending time together.

Pretend that everything’s okay, and your world as you know it isn’t falling apart at the seams around you.

Pretend that you’re okay.

I’d kiss you as the lights went out

Swaying as the room burned down

I’d hold you as the water rushes in

If I could dance with you again

He feels so close. In every sense of the world. And you yearn and you yearn and you yearn.

For what? For a sense of belonging? Haven’t you always yearned for that – desperate to hide the loneliness in your chest and replace it with bravado? Pretend that your baggage is simply a crate locked and stored away forever?

The beat in your chest, matching the beat of the song, Gaz’s skillful fingers against the strings. Oh, how you suddenly wish to be a poet, just to capture the feeling within you with mere words against paper.

What was it like to be loved?

Honestly and deeply – earnest and true. To be held against a chest for the simple feat of existing, that very truth alone enough to be deserving of such a gesture. The very thought sounds so perfect, now, to be cherished in such a pure way. But who could give that to you?

Gaz?

A fool’s hope. A fool’s dream.

Dancing with our hands tied, hands tied

Yeah, we were dancing

Like it was the first time, first time

Yeah, we were dancing

With the final strum of the final note, you understand what being alive is truly like.

The two of you sit in silence, for a moment, and it’s like a hurricane of emotion and need and want crashes into you all at once, leaving you breathless. 

As he, at last, looks back up to you, expression almost shy, every word evaporates from your brain. Like a drop of water against a barren desert floor. Gone.

“How’d I do?” He asks, voice breathy and tense and oh.

You feel so, so utterly lost. 

Nodding, hand gripping the sheet atop his bed, you wet your bottom lip. “Good. I’m – you’re really good, Kyle.”

His name tastes like dew on your tongue, a blessing to even say the syllables, form the sounds in your mouth. A gift from the gods, a treasure to be varnished and cared for.

Sparkling brown eyes track the movement of your mouth, his own eyes half-lidded and hazy in the low light, and your stomach heats with something you’re not sure you want to place. Something you’re not sure you’re allowed to.

“We should get some sleep,” you find yourself saying, almost on autopilot.

Gaz nods, eyes still transfixed on your mouth, before shaking his head lightly as if to gather his thoughts once more. He gets up, stiff in his movements, carefully putting the guitar away.

“You sure you’re fine sharing a bed?” He asks, ever careful and gentle.

“Yeah,” you say, a breath, “It’s fine. I’m a soldier, I’ve experienced worse.” An attempt of a joke, one that falls flat in the unbreakable tension of the small room. “Do you have a bathroom?” 

He jerks a nod. “The four of us get special treatment ‘round here. Ensuite. Help yourself.”

Getting up on shaky legs, you give him a quick smile, before heading in to brush your teeth and splash your face.

When you look in the mirror, you see a version of yourself that makes you wipe at your eyes.

You look. New. Changed. Different. Any multitude of words to say that you aren’t the same woman that you were days ago. Not the same woman you were under Graves’ leadership, and certainly not the same woman that you were under Shepherd’s training.

If only she could see herself now.

Using the hand towel to wipe off the water, you allow yourself a moment to expel the air from your lungs, and inhale deeply.

Shutting the door behind you with a soft creak, you find the lamp to be turned off, the only light coming from Gaz’s phone as he scrolls through it, laying on his side against the wall.

Awkwardly, you find yourself moving to lay down beside him.

“Sorry,” you whisper when you brush against his arm, the narrow design allowing for next-to-no room for either of you.

Squeezing in closer to the wall, he murmurs back, “It’s alright. Just make sure you’re comfortable.”

Silence falls between the two of you as you get yourself situated, managing to not press against the man again. He’s silent, except for a few breaths, as he looks through his phone. As soon as you’re still, however, he shuts it off, plugging it in and leaving it to sit underneath his pillow.

Sleep clings to your eyelids, a taunting thing, but your body still feels the need to move – to release the energy building up within your limbs.

Minutes pass, like the tick of an analog clock.

It’s about ten minutes of silence, before Gaz breaks it with graceful ignorance.

“You feelin’ alright?” He asks, truly meaning the words – and expecting a proper answer. The ruffle of the singular blanket has you focusing on his movements, but he does nothing more than roll over, facing you now.

“It’s,” you nervously look to the roof, the pitch black of the room doing nothing to aid your internal dilemma. “It’s just a bit cold.”

“It is, innit?” Gaz nervously laughs, and his obvious hesitance, surprisingly, has you more comfortable. You, too, roll over, your faces mere centimetres apart. He seems so warm. Even without the ability to see, you can almost feel his eyes searching your face, desperate for answers to questions he doesn’t want to ask.

What is to live, if not to take risks? The only reason you were here, in this very bed right now was because of a risk, right?

His breath fans against your face, and even that small warmth has you leaning in closer to the Sergeant. As he swallows, it’s an audible sound, the slope of his neck bobbing with the movement.

“Can I hold you?” He asks, a gentle thing, and without a word, you curl up against him.

Bulky, trained, masculine arms wrap around your torso, pulling you in close, sharing the warmth of your body with his own. Your face buries against his shoulder, into his neck, and his scent is so him that it has you burrowing in further. His own hands tighten in the fabric of your borrowed shirt, and what a feeling it is.

You can only wish that you never escape the hold of his arms, if only so you don’t have to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders, without his frame to keep you upright.

“You’re so soft,” he murmurs, lips brushing your ear as he speaks. His hands move in circles, a kind motion, and you melt against him.

His thigh slides between your own, an unexpected motion, and you barely conceal a whimper as it slides against your clothed pussy. The sweats do nothing to conceal the heat, the ache you feel between your legs, and the sudden presence of him has you freezing up.

Without a word, he just lets it rest there, continuing to rub soothing circles on your back.

Your lips fall open, spit-slicken, and your nails bite into his back as he leans in closer, pushing his thigh in closer to your core. 

Your breaths become shared in the small space between you two, harried and genuine in the sudden intensity between you both.

“Sergeant,” you breathe, brows furrowed, mouth open as he leans in closer, hands slowly moving from your back, trailing down to your hips, pulling you forward against his thigh.

It's quiet, for a moment, a gentle pause in the current rushing between you both. His hand smoothes over your cheek, cautious and adoring, a reassurance more than anything.

Your eyes flutter shut.

“Colonel,” he returns, and presses his lips against yours.

His mouth moves against your own, sensual and slow, easing in the way he darts his tongue over your lips, meeting your tongue. He tastes like the sweetest of candies, a forbidden fruit’s nectar. Hand moving from your cheek to your neck, he pulls you in closer, turning his head to devour you against his pillow.

A moan slips from you, drowned out by his being melding with your own as he grinds his thigh higher, a perfect pleasure shooting up your spine at the movement.

Thoughts are a difficult thing, at the moment, a rare commodity. When your brain comes back online, you’re sure to hold some regret – but now? With his soft lips on yours, his grip on your neck, the bulk of his thigh? Regret is the last thing on your mind.

When he breaks away, finally, to breathe, a soft sigh escapes his plush mouth.

“Is this okay?” He asks, the words asked in a whisper against the corner of your mouth as he presses gentle kisses along your cheek, the crease of your eye. “Please, love, tell me.”

Your exhale is shaky, but you nod, meeting his lips with a turn of your head. A quick, reassuring exchange. 

“Yeah,” you chuckle lightly, thighs squeezing around his, tits pressed against his own flat chest, “This is okay, Kyle.”

“You’re so beautiful,” he gasps, a devotion, before moving to straddle you, hands falling into your hair like a lifeline as he ravages your mouth once more. Small nips to your lips, a tongue searching your own, his pelvis pressed tightly against your soaking pussy.

“Fuck,” you whimper, turning your head to breathe as he moves one hand to slowly follow your frame, brushing your collarbones, tugging at the fabric of your shirt. Your nipples feel unbearably tight, achey, and you’re desperate for his touch.

“Can I take this off, love?” He asks – a plea, really. “Let me see your pretty tits.”

You’re nodding, frantic, as he pulls the shirt over your head, helping you sit up a bit to take it off entirely, throwing it to the floor with little care.

His hands are warm against your cold chest, careful as they first graze your tits, both of you letting out tense breaths as he cradles them in his hands, feeling out the weight of them, entranced. The heel of his palm presses against your nipples, and you let out a small cry as he rubs them in those circles he loves so much.

“Shh, Sweetheart,” he whispers, noting your noises. “I’ll take good care of ya. Y’know I will.”

Your eyes shut as he leans in, licking a stripe across the expanse of your breasts, using one hand to squeeze while he uses his mouth to treat your most needy spots.

Hand moving to rest at the nape of his neck, you form a tight fist in his hair, pulling him in closer to your body. He lets out a low hum, the vibration of the sound sending sparks shooting behind your eyelids as he toys with your nipples, meticulous.

“Sergeant,” you whine, breathless, wanting, “Sergeant, please.”

He moves away from worshipping your tits to meet your lips, licking into your mouth with the energy and fervour of a virgin. The brush of your naked chest against his clothed torso has you aching.

“Colonel,” he challenges, tugging at your lower lip with his teeth, drawing a drop of blood, “Let me lick your pussy, love, c’mon. I’ll kiss ‘er real nice.”

You’re helpless to do anything but nod.

With one hand, he undoes the tie of your sweats, pulling down the pants as he goes. Lifting your legs with ease, he takes them off all the way, chucking it over the edge of the bed to join your shirt.

His hands rub soothingly over your bare skin, slowly moving upwards on his knees until he meets your thighs. Leaning down, like a beggar at an altar, he starts to leave open-mouthed kisses on the skin near your pulsing heat, sucking on the unseen area and leaving behind marks. His hands hold onto your hips like they’ll provide him mercy.

Both hands in his hair, lightly pulling, you start to grind against his face when he starts leaving kisses around your folds, fingers leaving imprints with the viciousness of his grasp around your hips. 

Your mind feels numb, no goals, no thoughts, other than that of pleasure. 

The first lick against your pussy has a desperate whimper bubbling out of you, nails scraping against his scalp as he flicks his tongue over your swollen clit. There’s a viciousness to it, one that he embraces, his teeth softly grazing your tender bud as he caresses you.

“Oh,” you moan, head flung back, mouth fallen open as you grind against his giving mouth. “Fuck. Please. Feels so good.”

He pulls away, just far enough back so his lips brush against your core as he whispers, “Gotta stay quiet, love, yeah?” Smoothing his hand over your stomach, pressing you down further into his bed, you clasp one hand over your mouth.

Smirking against your thigh, he praises, “Atta girl.”

Your lower stomach burns with need, and you feel electricity line your veins as he savours your taste, keeping you pinned to the mattress with his calloused hand. He’s passionate about it, laving over your pussy with precise strokes. Your thighs squeeze around his head, and in response, he only lets out a long, drawn-out moan, muffled by your body.

His finger moves to rub at your entrance, rubbing softly around it, before slowly thrusting his index finger in.

Swallowing a whine, you pull him in closer, your stomach tightening as he pushes in a second finger. He’s good with it – knows where to touch, how deep, the movements. Practised and skillful in his strokes – a musician, through and through.

“God, Kyle, you’re doing so good,” you mumble, hair splayed on the pillow beneath you as you rut against him, using him for your own gain. It feels perfect, the way he’s putting your pleasure over anything else.

So unlike any other man you’ve been with.

“If I could spend my days with you sitting on my face,” Gaz admires, leaning back, heaving deep breaths, continuing to lazily finger you as your grip loosens in his hair, “I’d do it in a heartbeat, Colonel.”

“Don’t stop calling me that,” you order, tightening your grip once more and pulling him back. He goes without a word, energy increasing tenfold, two fingers turning into three. He goes at it like a man starved, and the noises that leave your lips are nothing but sex-addled.

He tries to reply, but it’s muffled as he continues to eat you out, relentless in his devotion to the act.

Hand softly moving from your stomach, he outstretches it, searching for your own hand with small squeezes. When you shakily meet it with your own, he intertwines them, pushing them to the mattress with strength and determination. With every thrust of his other hand, or lick of his tongue, he tightens his grip.

You find your core tightening, your release coming up quick as he plays you like the instrument now lying in his wardrobe. The pure darkness of the room only aids the sensuality of it all, the air existing between just the two of you.

Any thought of right and wrong feel nothing but unnecessary, now, and utterly pointless. What's the purpose of worrying about the morality of it all, when you're both consenting and wanting and ready? When it feels so fucking good to have him servicing you between your legs?

If only you could see him, the beauty of his pussy-drunk face, the glisten of you on the stubble of his chin.

“I'm close, Sergeant, fuck,” you gasp, gyrating your hips against him, his nose bumping your clit where he licks in your entrance. 

He doubles his efforts, fingering and savouring and worshipping.

Your release comes when he broadly licks over your clit, fingers pressing against just the right spot inside of you, his moan a small vibration against your sensitive bud. Keening, hand coming up to slam over your mouth, a tear drops from your clenched eyes as you ride out the aftershocks.

Allowing you to use him for the last few moments of pleasure, he doesn’t untwine your hands, but he does stop fingering you to rub at your thigh in reassuring circles.

When your hips start stuttering, your keens turning into overstimulated whimpers, he slowly moves away, licking over the essence coating his mouth and lower face. His hand still remains in your own as he leans in, opening your mouth with languid strokes and smooth kisses. You arch into it, breasts pressing against his still clothed chest.

Breaking away from the embrace, thumb stroking over your inner wrist, he brings up his slicken hand.

“Gotta clean up your mess, love,” he gently encourages, opening your jaw with a soft grip of your chin, before slowly dragging his fingers over your waiting tongue. His breath brushes your cheek as he explores your mouth.

“Sergeant,” you mumble around the intrusion, eyes blissfully shut, “Need to make you feel good too.”

He freezes, a moment, a barely noticeable thing. “Makin’ you feel good got me off. Don’t worry, Colonel – next time.”

Now it’s your turn to freeze as he extracts his fingers, wiping them off on his own shirt. “Next time? I,” you swallow, “What is this, even? What are we doing?”

Reality and consequences and everything hit you all at once, your chest tightening even in the afterglow of your orgasm. 

He furrows his brows, untwining his fingers from yours and rubbing soothing patterns over your hand, his other carefully pulling back your messy hair behind your ears. “We can’t tell the guys,” he admonishes, slowing his movements as he realises. “We can’t – they’ll crucify us both, and –”

“And?” You ask as he trails off, your brows matching his, now, as he rolls to his side, pulling your back to his chest. He rubs at your waist, your hips, lips pressed to the back of your neck.

“Nothing,” he’s quick to amend, “Don’t worry about it. Just… focus on the feeling. Gonna be a shit show, the next couple of days. Lay with me, get some rest.”

You hum, non-committal. Relaxing further against him, his head resting in the crook of your neck, your breaths come out slow and calm. “You and Price,” you start, a niggling in the back of your mind that yearns for information causing you to speak the words. “The two of you – you’re different.”

He halts his movements, head slowly moving back from your neck. “What – what do you mean?”

Hand searching behind you, you pull him back in, his head burrowing further against your shoulder, your skin. You try and think of the best way to put it, the comfortable silence helping you gather your thoughts as you do.

“You’re… You like him, don’t you?”

Gaz’s responding laugh is grating, a choked off thing, a sad one. Your heart sinks to your feet, his body suddenly stiff against your own.

“No. I don’t like my Cap,” he huffs, indignant. Like it’s the craziest thing you’ve ever said, and not something based on quiet observation.

“You’re sure? Or is it just that you think he doesn’t like you?”

He pauses. Stilling, but processing your words for what they are. His response is a sceptic, “Like is a juvenile idea, anyways, Sweetheart.”

“I like you,” you admit, words soft as they leave your mouth, kind. Genuine.

“If it was that simple, everyone would be too busy getting with everyone they liked to live,” he admonishes, just as soft, as respectful. He’s so introspective – the most underestimated of the 141, but the most receptive. Understanding and watchful.

“It can be that simple. Sometimes.”

“Didn’t realise you were a dreamer, Colonel.”

“What else combats the nightmares?”

Silence. Your most common enemy and foe, fills in the blanks between you both. He holds you against him tight, now, like you’re an anchor, and he’s a yacht in the stormiest of seas.

“We can’t tell ‘em,” Gaz states after the silence takes hold for minutes on end. “We’re dead if we do – can’t let ‘em figure it out, either.”

“It was just a lapse in judgement,” you say, not believing the words as they fall from your lips. Hate yourself for saying them. “No one has to know. I’ll be out of your hair after this is all done with, anyways.”

He doesn’t respond to that. Not for a long while.

It’s only when you’re a single step away from sleep that he does.

“I really hope that’s another lie, Sweetheart.”

*

“Gaz, Sweetheart – get yer arses up, Laswell got more intel!”

You groan, lazily rolling onto your back, body burning hot from your bedmate’s clinging form. His arms hand around your waist, his entire being pressed against you, snoring softly where his chin rests atop your head.

Wiping at the sleep from your eyes, bleary and tired, you groan when Gaz just squeezes you tighter, pressing his face to your bed-hair.

That same voice calls from outside the door once more, loud knocking following his Scottish lilt.

“Aye swear to god, if either of ye are naked or I see jizz–”

“We’re up! We’re up!” You call out, cheeks heating from how on the nose his joking goad is. “Give us a minute!”

“Hurry up, Sweetheart, or aye will carry ye out over my bloody shoulder.”

Gaz yelps when you scramble out of bed and pull the covers clean off, uncaring of your naked frame as you hop on one leg to tug on the spare sweatpants from last night. 

He shoves a pillow over his eyes as you rip open the window’s curtains, allowing the late morning light to filter in as you tug on your shirt. His sweatpants hang loosely around you, and you tie them off with one hand while the other pulls at his arm.

“Gaz – get up!” You hiss as he tries to hit your arm away, you dodging every half-hearted swing with ease. “Unless you want Soap to come in and –”

“Fuck, woman, I’m up!” He instantly acquiesces, sitting as soon as the name Soap leaves your mouth. 

You try to hide your smirk, but you obviously fail miserably, as a moment later a pillow is flung into your face. Hands on your hips, you raise a brow, glaring at the man rubbing his palms over his eyes.

Moving to the door, you open it, focusing entirely on not looking like the cat who got the cream.

Technically speaking, Gaz fit that description more accurately, but you weren’t about to get into the logistics. Not when Soap looks at you, then over your shoulder, then back at you. You swallow.

“Mornin’, Sleepin’ Beauty,” he winks, and you barely suppress a groan. He pulls you in with an elbow around your neck, rubbing at your bed hair with a chuckle. “Or is Rapunzel more fittin’?”

“If she’s Rapunzel, you’re the bloody chameleon, you twat!” Gaz calls from further in the room, walking over to join the two of you while latching his watch around his wrist. It’s silver – not too over the top, but good quality, too.

Your cheeks ache with the smile stretching your face, following as Soap swings his elbow around yours, and Gaz follows behind with a hand on your lower back.

“What kinda intel?” You ask around a giggle, and you realise your mistake as the mood sours almost immediately.

Soap nervously darts his eyes to the surrounding hallway, as if the metal will provide him answers. They don’t.

“Soap?” Gaz, too, asks, hand moving to between your shoulder blades in a comforting gesture.

His blue eyes meet yours. Guilty, almost, pitiful. As if he knows the next statement will ruin your fantastic mood, the jovial air between the three of you.

When he says it, he does so with a firm expression.

“We got intel on Shadow Company – and where to find the deal Graves made with Shepherd.”

taglist. @lilpothoscuttings @jng-yuan @iruzias @insatiablekittie @1wh4re1nova @kaoyamamegami @supernaturalstilinski @inthemiddle0feverywhere @msecho19 @nogood-boyo @alfa-jor @lalashhyl @letmeapologise @honeybeeznutz @1mawh0re @oreo-cream @someonepleasedateme @letmeapologise @uhhellnogetoffpleasenowty @inarabee @simp-sentral @littlecellist @clear-your-mind-and-dream @browtfyoudoing @oreo-cream @fanngirl19

[wonwoosthetic]

Can you recommend joel miller series?

Hii, of course!😊

I’m sure some of them have been recommended many many times before but that’s just bc they’re actually THAT good, so here are the ones that I’ve read multiple times by now ˙ᵕ˙

You want feels? You want emotions? You want drama and love? Overprotective hot Joel Miller?Read this:

i know who you are by @punkshort

What about a good slow-burn playing in Jackson where you just can’t help but want more from Joel than just a one night stand but it will take time? Here you go:

a stranger’s heart without a home by @morning-star-joy

As if these weren’t already enough emotional, get ready for this two-parter that will absolutely WRECK you in the best way possible😭 I never knew hurt/no comfort could ever be so beautiful:

“You’re the loss of my life” by @stylesispunk (warning: I cried ever time I’ve read this and it’s been about like five times 😭😭) also: another INCREDIBLE writer, you can honestly just read through her entire masterlist, you will NOT regret it!!!!!👏🏼🫶🏼

THIS is THE hurt/comfort series! I absolutely love the structure of this story so much, I’ve read it like four times already haha😬 Joel is just so irresistible that even after 20 years, this man has the audacity to captivate you again. Get ready for a wild ride of emotions with this:

Woman by @dancingtotuyo

But these aren’t enough? You want even more angst? You want to see Joel truly REGRET things? This one’s for you:

invisible string by @toomanystoriessolittletime

Okay, we’ve cried and screamed enough, time for something a little bit more gentle. Something that will pull you in and just not let you go? With just a bit of angst but the wonderful rom-com vibes that we all love? With the perfect neighbour!Joel storyline? This is the one:

Nicest Things by @schnarfer

Now what about a perfectly outlined AU with a fresh start and leaving the past behind only to find a hot Joel Miller as a sheriff?? If you’re interested:

somewhere to run by @punkshort (a second mention, so honestly, you can read absolutely everything she wrote, she’s an absolute genius and I’m in AWE of her talent)

Okay, now this one has become a Joel Miller classic but how dare I not mention it. It’s complicated, it’s unsure, but literally both are in love with each other and it’s perfect earning and UGH just incredible:

texas sun by @from-the-clouds

What about sneaking around with hot Jackson!Joel who cares all too much about Ellie but is also just so enthralled by you? Too jealous to let anyone else touch you but too much of an idiot to put a label on it? Here we go:

But I Would Die For You In Secret by @wheresarizona (I have to put a quick extra note right here: PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE read everything by her!!!! Learning to Live (Javier Peña x Reader) is literally one of my all time favourite series across all of the fandoms I’m in and September is also just INSANE, the writing talent this woman has is out of this world!!!!)

What do we want? THE SWEETEST JOEL? Where can we find him? RIGHT HERE! Get ready for just the most comfortable fic you’ll probably ever find and just UGH the cutest fucking Joel Miller:

Elks by @whocaresstillthelouvre

Loner Joel that makes you feel less lonely after you find your place in Jackson? Ooooh, that sounds good, right? Well, this story was perfectly written and you can read all about it here:

Yearling by @justagalwhowrites (edit: I realised way too late that this incredible writer also writes Lavender, which I read through on AO3 and I seriously couldn’t put my phone down and talked to my bestie who doesn’t even know about tlou and got her to read it!)

OKAY NOW LISTEN. This writer right here is one of my all time faves and I’ve read this series too many times to count and I just can’t get enough of it. SO, a perfectly written relationship with Joel Miller that gets you through the day of the Outbreak, all through those 20 years and even during your adventure with Ellie. This right here. You NEED to read this:

A Future Together by @kteague (note: if you want the best Frankie Morales fic ever, read Because Of You, istg the amount of times I’ve read it is insane and I still go back to it and re-read bc I just- it’s just- I can’t even put it into words)

I think we need some humour. We’ve had hurt, we’ve had comfort, romance, but what about a good collection of one shots that you can laugh to? Who would’ve thought going through a pregnancy can look this fun? Well, with someone like Joel Miller by your side, of course:

Joel Dealing with his Preggo Wife by @pedge-page

Most of the stories above have some smut in them (some more, some less), BUT, I know you guys. And I know myself. And I know that sometimes all you need is a good hoey story (Yes, I may have just made that word up). What do you do when you have a shitty boyfriend who lives with his hot fucking hunk of a single dad? Exactly, you fuck the dad:

boyfriend’s dad!joel by @joelscruff

Buuuuuuuut, what if you want to be live in a bit more delulu world where you can be a hot singer with a hot bodyguard that has to try to keep his hands off of you as hard as possibly can but just snaps? Warning: Hot hot HOT! Hehe, well, then I think you might enjoy this:

Her Bodyguard, His Shining Star by @mermaidgirl30

I also have to add: there’s one series where you match with Joel on Bumble (I think… maybe it was Tinder…) where Ellie and Sarah created a profile for him and I remember reading and absolutely LOVING it, but I can’t find it😭😭 so, if anyone else knows what I’m talking about, pls let me know! In the meantime, I’m keeping a placeholder for it here:

single dad!Joel Miller with daughters that just want what’s best for him by a fucking genius writer

I hope there’s something on here for everyone to enjoy! ˙ᵕ˙

If anyone has more recs that they think deserve a mention, please let me know or just mention them in the comments!!☺️ There’s so many amazing authors, I just went down my likes and saw what I had saved and what I remembered really enjoying, but I know there’s a lot more!!🫶🏼🤍

[morownic]

of fever dreams and jamais vu

And, of course, like all fever dreams, he had to wake himself up from it. (But this one? This one was real.)

warnings/tags: NSFW MDNI (non-graphic smut), non-ultraman AU, afab + fem pronouns

next — series masterlist · my other works · ao3

a/n: there were a lot of songs that i listened to while writing this (animals) and i do have a playlist of them but i would recommend color tv to listen while reading the flashback part bcs i did write this part with that song on repeat lol. enjoy!

All the world and his wife was scrutinizing Ken Sato the moment he stepped out of the airport and took his first deep breath in his homeland after twenty years. Of course, he welcomed and basked in the attention even if it suffocated him—quite literally, he must add, what with how the reporters and photographers were almost wrestling each other to get a scoop on him. What came after that only gave him a headache after a headache. He had to settle in his new residence, a mansion he bought just 15 minutes away from where his father lived, one that felt way too big for just one person and his supercomputer assistant. He finalized his contract with the Yomiuri Giants, followed by a meeting with all the staff members and a less-than-formal outing with his new teammates to some club in Shibuya he didn’t bother to remember the name of, where he was just constantly reminded that he was alone. The day after that, he had to deal with a hangover, a press conference, and an interview that ticked him off—Ami Wakita, was it?—before ending the night with a bar fight that left his shoulder aching.

Ken was sure he wouldn’t even have considered moving back to Japan nor would he have let his father somehow slip back into his life if it wasn’t for his mother.

With his injury, your father needs you, kiddo.

And so, Ken Sato began his baseball career in Japan with the Yomiuri Giants. He brought the team to their first victory of the season despite a lot of things: how the media was still on his ass about why he would leave his career with the Los Angeles Dodgers behind, how Coach Shimura seemed to have a chip on his shoulder when it came to him, how the pain in his own shoulder would stab and dull with every movement he made. The way his shoulder ached left him wondering if he should have treated it more seriously rather than seeing it as an inconvenience, perhaps put his pride aside to admit that yes, that drunken brawl was fucking stupid, and my shoulder fucking hurts. That was why he didn’t think much of it when Coach Shimura was talking about bringing in some new guy—something about a new performance analyst or whatever—as a matter of fact, he couldn’t care less.

So, imagine his surprise when he showed up to practice and saw a face he hadn’t seen since graduating college in the States. A face that made his breath hitch because one, she was just that beautiful, and two, he had no idea why she would be here. A face that was so familiar he almost threw up from shock, anger, guilt, longing. A face that contorted into contempt at the mere sight of him.

Ken Sato was sure of one thing at that moment.

He was completely, utterly, thoroughly fucked.

Ken Sato wasn’t always the famed world-class baseball star he turned out to be, and she wasn’t always the blunt and tight-lipped new analyst for the Yomiuri Giants she turned out to be.

He was a doe-eyed, lanky Japanese kid who had above average grades in his classes and showed promising results as a slugger for the baseball team. He spent most of his freshman year being stereotyped and made fun of for how he looked and talked, and it only changed because he had his growth spurt in sophomore year. Not only did he become a cleanup hitter by the end of the year, girls were suddenly giving him bedroom eyes in the hallway and guys tried to make up for their borderline bullying by letting him into their cliques. His friendships with them were shallow, really, because they would still poke fun at this old accent even after he had nearly perfected his American accent. Ken took it in stride only because he knew everyone would never make fun of him in baseball, not when he had practically put his school on the map by winning tens of titles and playing in the Senior League. And so, by the end of high school, Ken had baseball to thank for almost everything in his teenagehood.

She, on the other hand, came to high school smart and pretty. Where Ken stood out like a sore thumb, she stood out like a broken finger. Someone being academically gifted and socially relevant was practically unheard of at that time. She was among the top 10 students in freshman year, earned her spot as the leadoff hitter for the softball team in sophomore year, won a national debate championship in junior year, and passed 4 AP classes with flying colors in senior year. She, too, had put the school on the map, perhaps even more contributively than Ken did, so the teachers only kept their grievances for when she skipped class to smoke. Even so, everyone seemed to like her regardless of their cliques; she was always greeted in the hallways, was almost always invited to every party, and had gone out with all the popular students. She could have had it all, and whatever her secrets were, Ken and the other students in their school only knew her as the high school sweetheart, the kind you would see printed next to the definition of high school sweetheart itself.

Ken had seen her in passing during freshman year, but he never really talked to her until they shared three classes together in sophomore year. He remembered that she had approached him first during PE, suddenly speaking to him in fluent Japanese that he nearly had a whiplash. She told him that yes, I know you’re also Japanese and sorry I didn’t talk to you sooner, then babbled something about how she felt guilty that she had just been watching while others made fun of him. He didn’t think much of it at first, still surprised that one of the popular girls—if not the popular girl—in his year was actually talking to him. But then, he found himself understanding every word she said whenever she talked in Japanese and replying to whatever she was saying in English; he found himself exchanging notes and numbers with her in math class; he found himself going to the baseball field with her during lunch breaks and seeing who could hit the farthest. He was somehow roped into bringing her home after he offhandedly mentioned her to his mother, and then, they somehow became best friends. He would cover for her whenever she skipped class to smoke, much to his dismay, and she would introduce him to other social circles outside his baseball team, where he found his first girlfriend—who, admittedly, broke up with him because the way he spoke about his “best friend” was laced with more adoration than the first kiss he had with her. He would wait until their practice sessions were over and drive her home, where they would spend at least three hours talking on her porch before he went home, and she would show up to his games with an obnoxious handmade banner that read “KEN SATO THE G.O.A.T,” cheering the loudest whenever he hit a home run. He would pick her up from anywhere almost every time she asked, even if he had to get himself out of bed at two in the morning, and she would hang out at his place every other weekend, bringing fruit baskets and takeouts for his mother. It was somewhat domestic, how she settled in his apartment (and his life) whenever she came over. Ken almost always had to ground himself because his brain would feed him thoughts of a future with her, and his heart would beat so hard it threatened to break out of his ribcage.

But they were just best friends, he thought and said to his friends whenever they asked him about her. Best friends who happened to suck off, eat out, and eat each other’s faces pretty regularly. He found it funny at first, really; one time, their classmates told her that she just wasn’t human, what with how she juggled school and being popular. She only laughed it off, but he thought of how right they were when she came over while he was home alone at the end of sophomore year. There was no way the girl kneeling between his legs was fucking human. Not with that tongue of hers. Not with the way she looked up and batted her eyelashes at him. Not with how she literally gulped down his load in one go and played Tekken on his console as if she hadn’t just given him the best head of his life. She quite literally sucked the soul out of him that day, and he never had another head like that ever since. Even as they started hooking up—strictly platonic, she said, and he just went along with whatever she wanted as long as it was with her—that was still the stuff of his wet dreams, and it remained that way even long after they never saw each other again.

“Do you think we’ll be friends forever?”

The question caught Ken off-guard not only because it broke the comfortable silence between them, but also the feelings it evoked. Where is she going with this? he thought. A frown was etched on his face as he turned to look at her. Under the soft glow of the star projector in her room, she laid on her back, eyes tracing the constellations that danced across the ceiling. Her breathing was far more steady than his, chest rising and falling slowly behind the thin fabric of his shirt. Her hair fanned out around her on the pillow, framing her face as if it was her halo. At that time, her expression was probably the most serene and somber he had ever seen. She’s beautiful, he said to himself, and he thought it wouldn’t be so bad to keep a picture of this moment in his head for his selfish reminiscing should they ever stop being friends. (He hardly thought she meant that they could be more than friends, and he didn’t want to entertain the thought of not having her in his life.)

“Yeah?” He answered and mentally cursed himself for sounding so unsure. After clearing his throat, he corrected himself: “I mean, yeah, why not?”

There was no way she hadn’t seen the way he was staring at her from the corner of her eye. Even if she did, she didn’t turn her head to face him and only hummed in response to his answer. A look of contemplation appeared on her face as she kept quiet for nearly another minute. Ken swore it felt like an eternity.

“What if–” She sighed. “What if we fuck up and hurt each other? What then?”

Ken somehow knew that she already knew that there was no way she could ever fuck him up. (She already did, anyway, literally and figuratively.) Not with how he looked at her, not with how he reached out to hold her hand, not with how he promptly turned his head to face the ceiling once she was turning to look at him. Perhaps, what she was looking for was the reassurance that he wouldn’t fuck her up. He squeezed her hand when the thought crossed his mind.

“I’ll still be your friend anyways,” he said, softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

A chuckle left her lips then. She didn’t let go of his hand as she moved to hover over him, replacing the twinkling manmade constellations in his sight. (He thought she was brighter than any star in the sky, anyway.) He raised his brow when he saw the mischievous glint in her eyes as she leaned down, her lips nearly closing in on his.

The grin she had on her face was enough to tell him she was up to no good. “Are you a masochist?”

“You–seriously?”

He might’ve groaned from annoyance, but the way her body shook with laughter on top of him was enough to make that godawful warmth bloom in his chest. He pulled her in for a kiss, though he wasn’t sure if it was to shut her up or if he just wanted to, and he thought that if anyone were to see them like this, no one would ever believe him if he told them that they were just best friends. Hell, everyone had enough of his answer whenever they asked him about it at school, and he was even picked on again at some point—but not for how he looked or talked. No, he was picked on for being her “best friend” because no matter how many people had tried to make her theirs, she kept coming back to him. But then they would find Ken making out with one of the cheerleaders under the bleachers and her sucking off some guy from the football team at some senior’s house party. It was confusing for everyone, but even more so for Ken, because every time she asked him to pick her up from God-knows-where, he would see red when she saw her huffing out a smoke, disheveled because of someone who was not him.

And, of course, like all fever dreams, he had to wake himself up from it.

“–Sato.”

Two things snapped Ken out of his trance then. First, it was the voice that called out to him, then it was the pain in his shoulder. Ken found himself standing on the batter box in Tokyo Dome, a bat in his hand, and his breath was ragged. The seats were empty, the sky was turning dark, and then he remembered that he was at practice. He was at practice, not on the porch at her old house in Los Angeles holding her close as she cried over that one guy who supposedly broke her heart. He was at practice, not at the frat party where he met her again for the first time after months of no contact and saw her giggling on the lap of some jock. He was at practice, not in front of the diner they used to go to almost every other day where he said awful things he didn’t mean and maybe, just maybe, that was the reason why she had left for Japan the next day. (She had waited for him to come to the airport, to at least apologize, but he never came. He had turned off his phone during practice.)

Ken sighed and lowered his bat, hissing when he rolled his left shoulder. He steadied his breathing and regained his composure before his eyes flickered to the field. His teammates were waiting for him to hit another ball so they could continue their fielding practice. Then, he turned to the one in front of him—Yoshida, right?—whose voice pulled him out of his train of thought. Yoshida raised his brow when he locked eyes with Ken.

“Are you distracted or something?”

It was his turn to frown. “What?”

“Are you distracted by the new girl or something? You kept looking back at the dugout earlier.”

Ken almost dropped his bat when he heard that, his neck turning so quickly that he was surprised he didn’t give himself a whiplash. “What?”

Yoshida nodded in the direction of the dugout, and Ken turned to look. His grip around the bat tightened as his eyes darted towards the dugout. Her back was facing the field, leaning against the metal fence that divided the field and the dugout. Her arms held a clipboard to her chest, and he could only see her side profile from where he was standing as she spoke with Coach Shimura. The two of them looked familiar already—he really didn’t know how she did it, given that he was still at odds with the coach, but it was so her, he thought, the way she could get along with all the people he couldn’t—as Coach Shimura was talking more expressively with her than he had ever seen him. She was nodding to whatever Coach Shimura was talking about with a smile on her face, one that didn’t reach her eyes, and he berated himself because why and how the fuck could you tell from this distance? Ken’s lips parted as Coach Shimura’s expression changed and nodded in his direction, and his breath hitched as he saw her turning slightly towards him.

Ken’s heart dropped as the smile on her face faltered, replaced by an unimpressed look and an air of disdain that made him shiver. The world seemed to stop right then and there; even when she looked at him as if he was the reason behind her suffering—which was probably true, to an extent—he couldn’t help but think of how beautiful she was. Even with the hint of blood between her slightly cracked lips and the dark circles under her eyes that she didn’t bother to hide with some concealer. Even with how she looked even paler than she was when they were still in Los Angeles and how her cheekbones seemed to protrude and her cheeks seemed more hollow. She was beautiful, yet she contrasted her old self, which bothered him so much that dread started to pool in his stomach. Ken knew her and would even say he knew too much of her. But, right at that moment, it was as if he was looking straight into a stranger’s eyes and not the pair he had fallen in love with, as if he was looking at the stuff of his nightmares and not the girl of his dreams, as if he had never known her at all.

(What if it was true?)

Ken pinched his arm, hard, and winced when the pain seared through his body and kickstarted another throbbing ache in his shoulder. None of the stuff of his fever dreams, the dread and peculiarity of it, should have been real. This was real. So, if this was real, then God must not only be fucking joking, but He must’ve been thoroughly fucking evil to be putting him through this.

“Oh, fuck.”

[dclovesdanny]

Dcxdp fanfic recs w/ specific tropes

Also, all of these are on AO3 unless specified otherwise.

First off: Deaged Ellie\Teen Dad Danny

Since this got first place, here are three fics for this trope

My first submission for this is How To Become a Step-dad in 5 Easy Steps by CallMeStrega. It’s dead on main, with a ton of misunderstandings and pining Jason. Ellie is 6 in this fic, and it is so adorable

My second recommendation for this trope is Issues Regarding One Daniel Jonas by SIRDUCK_07. It has some dead serious, but that hasn’t shown up much in the fic yet. It delves more into how creepy Vlad is, and has twins Ellie and Dan.

My third submission is Brothers Ever After by Music_Feeds_My_Soul. It is somewhat centered around Damian and Danny being twins, but Danny being ‘pregnant’ with Ellie is a huge part of it, and it is a really good fic.

Next trope: Dimension Travel

My first recommendation for this one is Ghostly Delivery by WeirdNCrazy. It is very funny, and goes through Danny meeting all the main heroes, not just the Batfam.

My second recommendation for this trope is Danny's Accidentally Super-Inducing Adoption Chaos Filled Extravaganza! By Conartist170. Two of the tags are ‘This fic is not to be taken seriously’ and ‘Take everything with several ounces of salt’ which describes its vibes perfectly.

Next trope: Dead on Main

My first recommendation for fics of this ship is When You Accidentally Kill A Clown by SchlalensitzBucket. It’s only visible to those with AO3 accounts, but it is 100% worth it, with tons of shenanigans and shipping.

My next recommendation is Arctic Siren by Magpie_Crow. It is so cute and Danny is both androgynous and flirty as hell. Plus, something really cool happens in chapter one, leading to a smitten Jason.

Next up: Undead Dad Jason

My first rec for this type of fic is The Boy King and the Dark Knights by smallgaything. It is not only funny, but it hits you in the feels while incorporating several different tropes. Also, it’s one of the first Dcxdp fics I ever read, so it has a special place in my heart.

My second rec is Don’t Leave Me in the Dark by Astra_Nova_Kat. It has Good parents Fentons and Undead Dad, which isn’t really common, but works so well in this fic. It also has a bunch of misunderstandings, which everyone knows I adore.

And that’s all (for now). Let me know in the comments if you want more!

[turtletaubwrites]

Turtletaub Fic Recs ~ Part 2

I continue to get floored by the amazing and delectable One Piece fics I encounter here, so here's another batch! I hope you enjoy this list as much as I have, and that you go show these incredible writers some love! ~ NSFW Fics will be marked with a 🔥 | Other Fic Rec Lists ~ | Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4 |

Ace

Ready? 🔥 ~ by @maddddstuff  ~ Here's some oh so fucking good smutty smut. Ace easing you through it 🍑 because he's the perfect, scrumptious guy. I should have waited for a better time to read it, but I couldn't help myself 😅

Barto

Dance Inside 🔥 ~ by @bartosbabymama ~ I love when you have a crush, and now you're sitting in their lap 🥰 He is way too fine, and this is smutty and cute. Barto and his fangs need more love! 💚

Buggy

Please don't say you're gone forever, 'cause I can't hurt no more ~ by @lostfirefly ~ Chapter 1 hit me right in the feels! Such a well written couple's argument that made me want to shake them both, and teach Buggy some communication skills 😭 Chapter 2 was the perfect, sweet conclusion 🥰🤡

I’m full of surprises ~ by @hey-august ~ This is so lovely, and cute, and magical 🥰✨ Feels like letting yourself be free, letting the adventure start. Buggy is so sweet, and I wish his ship had shown up when I needed it.

Crocodile

The Sand Dragon and I 🔥 ~ by @discordantwritings ~ I'm OBSESSED. If you ever read Dealing with Dragons as a kid, get ready for the tastiest adult version of that. 🐲🥵 I would gladly serve Sir Crocodile, I don't even care.

Kid

Calm Down ~ by @sheerxfiction ~ This is fucking adorable, and brought me back to growing up in a hippie stoner town. He's a grump, but all he needed was weed and smooches 🍃🥰 So stinkin' cute, go check it out!

Law

Law Helping You Study 🔥 ~ by @nina-ya ~ Just the sexiest lil study session ever. Law is such a nerd, and has no right being this hot 🥵 Well written smut that I'll definitely read again!

Down the Alley 🔥 ~ by @quinloki ~ VERY inappropriate use of devil fruit powers 🤭 This is so hot! Where is Law when I need him? I need to try this out asap 😭🥵

Mihawk

The Hat Stays ON 🔥 ~ by @sordidmusings ~ Desperate Mihawk desperate Mihawk DESPERATE MIHAWK! This is so flipping hot, go have a read. It is TOO GOOD! 🥵

Multi and/or Character x Character

The Crow's Nest | Zoro x Sanji | ~ by @shewrites02 ~ Such a beautiful, sweet, angsty Zosan fic that made my heart melt! 😭 It’s got Whole Cake Island spoilers, but if you’re caught up, then do yourself a favor and read this! I love them so much, and this wonderfully written fic gave me all the feels 💛💚

Nami

One For Me ~ by @maplekzh ~ This is lovely, and fluffy, and hot! Just the sweetest little moment with Nami x GN!Reader in an established relationship, and I adore how Nami is written here 🍊

Robin

drowning ~ by @oxittocin ~ I love Robin so much, and this is so goood 😭😭 Angsty and sweet, from Robin's POV. It makes me want to wrap her up in a blanket, and make sure she never has another bad day for the rest of her life!

Sanji

Just For One Dance ~ by @gingernut1314 ~ I adored this sweet yearning goodness! It captures one of those rare, magical moments between two people that might not have long together, but will never forget each other. I loved it 🥰

Shanks

Two More Times 🔥 ~ by @fanaticsnail ~ This is insanely good brat taming smut with Daddy Shanks. (Also sweet and lovely because that's our Shanks 🥰) Seriously 🥵🥵🥵 HIGHLY recommend!!!

Zoro

Mean-Mugging ~ by @indydonuts ~ I can't describe how fucking cute this fluffy fic is. I snorted at the Straw Hats antics, then had to immediately go tell my partner about it because it's just so CUTE!! 😭💚 Zoro is so sweet, even if he's scary looking 😅

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 |

[thegoldencontracts]

Rec-list!

This is a little compilation of all the twisted wonderland works I personally recommend. Feel free to DM me, or comment anything you think should be added. If you're on this list and I haven't commented on your fic, I'm so sorry! I hope my words of praise here can somewhat make up for it.

Bold Fics/Creators are/make X Reader!

Italicized ones are ones I find underrated, so I highly recommend checking them out!

Tumblr:

Kisses - by @thehollowwriter, a fluffy OC X Azul fic that made me sqeee aghhh it's so cute <3

Azul, Idia, and Riddle With A Flirty Reader - by @etheries1015, tooth-rottingly fluffy tsundere!twst xreader, I love it sm. Ft. Azul, Riddle, Idia

Ashes - by @thehollowwriter, Azul angst and it BROKE my heart, trust me it's painful in the best way.

Untitled Azujami Drabble - by @poisoned-pearls, and though they're popular probably I still think this awesome little fluffy masterpiece is criminally underrated aghhhhh

Ace, Leona, Azul, and Jamil With A Talented Baker - by @atierrorian, super fluffy and I absolutely adored it.

Group Hug - by @whats-it-mean, Ace, Floyd, Jade, and Azul all in a group hug with the reader, it's such a funny premise and yet so well done.

Arms Tonite - by @thesunshineriptide, I honestly believe it is the gold standard for hurt/comfort fics, it's absolutely amazing and honestly one of the best twst fics I've ever read.

Please Don't Leave - by @just-patchy; octatrio poly (no twincest) hurt/comfort, it is so good, don't listen to the a/n saying the writing's bad trust mee.

Azul + Anniversary - @cloudcountry; azul x reader and it's so cute ashdhfdhsfkdlj I'm dyinggg

Coin-Flip - @pomefioredove; this one was so cuteeee azul x reader, it was so fun seeing him get all flusteredd fhjdfkjh

Ao3:

and who'll love me if i'm not the top of my school - by @idia-shroud-is-tmasc/shatteredcoll on ao3; heart-wrenching riddle angst fic in the absolutely best way. If you're a riddle fan, seriously I recommend checking it out.

Of Rosy Snapshots and Deep Dives - by bedtime_at_four_am on ao3; I may be biased but honestly I love all their works, seriously recommend reading it's such a good azurido fic and even if you don't like the pairing you'll find it hilarious.

Rock and a Hard Place - by @thateldribitch/ThatEldriBitch on ao3, it's such a short but sweet fic and honestly I've reread it so many times I've probably ended up skewing the stats HELP-

Fungi Makes A Fun Guy - by Foxyexy on ao3. Azul x Jade and It's sooo cute aghjfdjdk I'm dying I'm deadd-

Business Soulmates - by Mell(MelMystery) on ao3. Platonic octatrio; It's so perfect imo, and one of the few twins meeting azul fics i like.

Indebted - by Midnight_Archives on ao3. So cute, and it's SO underrated, especially compared to other Jamiazu longfics.

Misc. (Follow Recommendations):

@malletsum - hilarious tweets and banger malleus + twst takes imo

@dailytwsttweets - Absolutely fucking hilarious every tweet of theirs is a banger imo, never forgetting "yaoi pills"

@thehollowwriter - banger takes and a bunch of good fics!

@poisoned-pearls - SO MUCH GOOD JAMIAZU STUFF it's actually insanee

@skyephobic - Banger art absolutely EDIBLE imo

@traumxrei-archive - Everyone probably knows them but they write SO MUCH good flustered Azul content it's insaneeee

@luciferzstar - Underrated Azul artist imo, lots of great memes <3

@pomefioredove - Great fic writer imo SHJFDJHKFKJFDS

@jovieinramshackle - Great artist for Azul content, I love their ocs <3

[wordstome]

Last night I did what I always do when I can’t fall asleep: think about fictional men. Here’s a list of wonderful stories written by incredibly talented people who have helped me think about fictional men by providing the most delicious playgrounds.

In the interest of keeping my recommendations brief, I'm going to talk about what I liked about the fic instead of summarizing what it's about. To know what it's actually about you're just gonna have to click through and read the fic <3

(and just in case anybody's gotten lost, this is all COD, mostly modern MW)

✦ complete ║ ➠ ongoing

König

✦Just Friends by @kneelingshadowsalome Salome is so good at capturing a very unique interplay between König’s social awkwardness and his deep, dark, nasty inclinations. He’s so feral and enjoyable to read, and the sheer force of his desire for Engel is downright intoxicating. I find it difficult to describe how much of an impact Just Friends has had on me and my portrayal of König, to be honest. There's a reason why three of Salome's fics are on this rec list.

✦Fatum Nos Iungebit by kneelingshadowsalome Five words. König with his cock out. That's it. Okay, but in all seriousness, I love his character applied to this setting. All the raw visceral violence a König could ever want, a pretty little lady in his bed—he's so boyish and happy in this au it brings me such joy. The way their relationship between him and Fee develops is so natural and so sweet. Please for the love of God read this.

➠Cat/Mouse/Den by @papaver-decervicatus The chase. The pursuit. The adrenaline when Mouse dances out of König's reach once more. I'm a little biased because I adore Julius and Jenny (I could call her Lucretia but the double J names make me giggle) as ocs already, but CMD is so, so well written. The tension, the flirting, the scene where he catches her falling out of the tree?! As I said in a reblog, I shrieked. You know when you're reading something that's so good you want to bite down on it and shake like a dog with a toy? (No? Just me?) That's how I feel about CMD.

➠Anything by @darklordofthesimp Anything, in only 7 chapters (they are hefty, don’t get me wrong), has turned König and Birdy’s dynamic from “THIS MOTHERFUCKER HAS IRREVERSIBLY SCARRED MY BODY AND MY BRAIN, AND I CANNOT TRUST HIM” to “these two are going to get married someday”. (author if you’re reading this, I say that not as an expectation or prediction, but as a vibe reading.) This one is for the hurt/comfort girlies. Also, shoutout to all the other stories set in the Anything-verse. Sunshine and Ghost are just soooo *grips my hand in a fist so hard it shakes*

➠If you need to be mean by @gremlingottoosilly This mostly serves as a blanket recommendation for all of Gremlin’s fics. I found If you need to be mean, and then visiting Gremlin’s author page was like opening a treasure chest. Want to be König’s pampered, (unwilling) little housewife? That’s If you need to be mean. Want a harem fic with almost all of the COD MW men? Gremlin has two, both with their own little spin to keep it fun. Do you want König to keep you in his basement or hunt you down as a serial killer? Gremlin's got it. Monsterfucker? Gremlin has that too. Special shoutout goes to 1295 kilometers. I think about fucking König on a train a lot now.

➠Break my mind by @kaiasdevotion (kaiasown on ao3) There’s no way around this. This fic has the most unhinged, kinky, downright dangerous smut I’ve read in the cod fandom so far (positive). Just Friends König is the metric by which I judge all other Königs’ nastiness, and Break my mind König is tipping so hard on the “unhinged horny violent freak (affectionate)” end of the scale he’s about to fall off. I don't know if you guys have noticed, but I've developed a taste for writing/reading from König's perspective, and he's so chillingly deranged in the most controlled way possible during the chapters from his pov. Incredible writing. Chefs kiss.

✦Experimental by @uhohdad (surgeoninspace on ao3) Alright, enough of just König being nasty. He is still nasty in this one, but he’s not the only one who gets to have a little fun and be a total creep. Our little scientist here is a grade A pervert, and I was delighted the whole way through. The most important thing I need in a fic is suspension of disbelief, and Experimental takes an unrealistic, maybe a little bit silly situation and makes it so believable. Everybody reacts the way you would expect them to, even if the scenario they're in is A Lot.

➠Little Mouse and Rotes Madchen by @sprout-fics I'm combining the recommendation for these two because while they are both very much distinct, unique fics, I love them the same way. Sprout is such an engaging writer, and the internal dialogue of her characters is so well done. It reveals their personality, motivations, and internal conflicts without being overly expository. Do you guys remember that post I put on the König bible about instant obsession? It's this inexorable attraction borne from obsession that sticks me to Little Mouse like a glue trap. (Is that too morbid?)

✦Hot in Sarajevo by @50cal-fullauto Rags' König characterization post is on my Königcore bible, for very good reason. They get it. König is a feral dog forced to live as a man and loves like a total maniac, emotionally and sexually. I marked Hot in Sarajevo as complete but I don't know how many parts there are going to be, and frankly, I do want more. However, if you're going to only read one part (which. why would you do that??? read both.) I recommend the second part. I want to write love like that. Goddamn.

Ghost

Yeah, this list is a little bare bones right now. I'm gonna get back to it, I promise.

✦Anhedonia by kneelingshadowsalome The way. Salome takes the "I would take a bullet for him but he's so cold to me" premise and then flips it entirely on its head for the second part is so important to me. The way Simon craves the reader is like human catnip. I reread this fic all the time.

Keegan

✦For the Weak and Weary by @halcyone-of-the-sea Read this if you want to believe in true love. That's all. Go on now.

Multiple

✦Easy by @danibee33 When people say "I wish this were a book!" about fanfiction, they usually mean it in a "this is good enough to be published by the traditional publishing industry" way. When I say I want Easy (and Diablesa) to be a book, I mean it in a "I want to get this story bound in a beautiful ass cover and keep it on a shelf so I can take it down and reread it whenever I want" way. I don't want the traditional publishing industry to get their claws in this, because it's perfect as it is. This fic is so wild and fun, and the character moments are so special and well done. Do yourself a favor and savor this one.

➠@ghouljams's entire blog [masterlist] "What do you mean someone's entire blog" YOU HEARD ME. Those aus are some good shit. Good characterization, delicious premises, love the group effort of it all. To absolutely nobody's surprise, my favorite couple is König and Bee from the cowboy au (ditzy but well-meaning and competent in her own way woman x big strong man who is obsessed with her and maybe also creeping on her, my beloved), but I also have a fondness for Ghost and Die from demon darlings au. Trust me on this one. Dig into those masterlists babey.

[gnomewithalaptop]

I'm still too distracted to write so here have a list of YJ-cast centric fics that make me froth at the mouth

Kon-centric recs:

I Want It That Way (1990s Tim/Kon) by WynterSky / @wynterstars -- A revamped, 90s-style Superboy origin story with added Lex Luthor AND a lil bit of 90s Robin for spice and flavor. Honestly, this whole series is so elite -- goes hard with the Superboy mythos + angst PLUS the third fic leans hard into the secret identity shenanigans in a way that'd make Miraculous Ladybug jealous. The first fic splits its attention between Tim and Kon, but the latter two are solidly Kon-centric

one plus one (easy math) by connerdrakewayne / @comphetkoncass -- Cassandra Cain and Kon go to a gala together. I'm always a sucker for a good Cass + Kon friendship. This one's very short and sweet, and it gets the job done -- 10/10 would read again

a timeline can be a haunted house by connerdrakewayne -- post-universal reset Kon angst + terrible coping mechanisms! This one goes so hard I read it three times. Tbh this author has an excellent handle on Kon as a character in general, so I honestly recommend just checking out their whole fic stash

Tim-centric recs:

Top 10 Secret Identity Fails by @havendance -- Tim's new English teacher is his on-again-off-again superhero teamup Helena Bertinelli (aka the Huntress). This one's just fun, okay -- the whole thing reads like it could be straight out of Tim's 1993 solo run, plus I love the dynamic between him and Helena. Overall just a very cool vibe

only the dead stay 17 forever by Sky_Dust (couldn't find their tumblr sorry) -- Listen, I've really been restraining myself here, because I realize my love for time-travel bullshit is not universal, but I genuinely couldn't not include this one. This bad boy is a Tim-centric time-loop featuring a seriously unhinged Tim -- definitely a darker tone, but I can't stop rereading it

Bart-centric recs:

reflections on respawning: a gamer's uncertainty by merils / @mamawasatesttube -- Bart has a hard conversation about his death and subsequent resurrection (feat. Kon) man, I just vibe with this one so hard. It's such a thoughtful take on Bart's more contemplative side, while still managing to keep his personality intact

the backlash to the backlash to the thing that's just begun by @kermit-coded -- trans/gnc impulse my beloved <3 also we get some funky Max & Bart bonding, made much rawer and more real by the fact that it's the 90s and nobody knows what they're doing. Again, feels like it's straight out of Bart's solo series

Cassie-centric recs:

you and I, we are more than just this armor by @suzukiblu -- KonCassie bonding + gender feels. They're both so trans in this, and the author does a great job of really digging deep into their complicated feelings (both about gender and about each other)

(also PLEASE somebody give me more Cassie-centric fic recs I'm literally begging you)

Team recs

I'm all yours but you're all mine by suzukiblu -- Poly Core 4 Soulmates AU! Essentially, everybody gets their 'soulmark'/soulmate-identifier (not really, but the best word) right when Kon wakes up in his pod, and because Superboy hasn't really made his big splash yet, they misidentify their soulmate as Superman; this is an issue mainly because 1) they're all 14-15 and Superman is roughly 30-ish, and 2) by the time this fic takes place, Superman is pretty verifiably dead. Currently in-progress, but this is such an interesting and fun take on the usual soulmates trope. I pinky promise you won't regret reading it

Love, Not Loved series by @popsunner -- hoooomygod this series makes me cry literally every time I read it, it's genuinely one of the most realistic representations of grief I've seen on AO3. Basically explores the general fucked-up-edness of pretty much the whole YJ Core 4 Squad dying one by one, with each fic focusing on a different funeral (complete with survivor's guilt, regular guilt, and just plain old complicated feelings). We get Cassie feels, we get Tim feels, we get Bart + Kon feels -- it's the whole shebang. Don't worry -- there's a happy ending eventually, but you def gotta work for it. This series beat me up and stole my lunch money and I'd happily do it all over again

Lost the Last Piece of Me by InsaneTrollLogic / @last01standing -- YJ Core 4 Animorphs AU! I'm sad to say I've never read the original Animorphs series, but every single Animorphs AU I've ever read has been such high quality. Unsurprisingly (I love this author, okay), this fic is no exception to that rule. Solid alien-invasion plot, character driven, and the world-building is explained well enough that even a newbie like me can understand (feat. some TimKon, but it's not the main focus)

Ikonoclast by anantipodean (couldn't find a tumblr) -- Tim and Kon get sent to an alternate reality that's almost (but not quite) like their own. This one's just fun for me -- I love the TimBart buildup and the worldbuilding on the other Earth is a funky time. Also, the other universe's Tim is goth and absolutely cannot stand mainstream-reality Tim, and I find that extremely funny for some reason

[marofdawn]

IOL is literally the best levi fanfiction i’ve ever read by far and im always searching for others that are as well written. was wondering, what are your favourites?

Thank you so much! It means so much to hear that, seriously :’). I never thought people would like my fic this much. It has really helped me become more confident with my writing.

I’ll name a few of my fav Levi fics; although, I’m sure most of these have been recommended thousands of times already 😅. They’re just that good. Also, I actually haven’t read too many Levi x reader fanfics, so this list might be small. I’d love to hear suggestions from others too :).

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Content Warning: all of these fics include 18+ content

To Sing a Song Of Steel by CaptainDegenerate - I absolutely love the plot and worldbuilding in this story. I was not expecting the plot twist either. You can tell everything was planned out so meticulously. Also, the ending may or may not have made me ball my eyes out 😃. Very heartbreaking story, but I love the angst 💔. I’m currently reading Of Tea and High Buildings from this author too and I like it so far!

As the Spark Dies by wellitcouldbeworse3 - gosh this one absolutely broke me LMAO, like I was genuinely inconsolable for a whole week… it was so gut wrenching. I’m a sucker for zombie stories though, what can I say? I honestly thought the way this story was planned out was genius. The foreshadowing was done so well and the reader’s nickname was so cute and fitting. I don’t think a fanfic ever made me cry this hard before lmaooo. I just love angst, as you can see. Other fics I love from this author are The Feeling’s Mutual and Spite.

Death’s Door by SongsOfApollo - this is a fanfic I will wait patiently for. I don’t care if I’m old and in my 70s - as soon as I see that AO3 email notification, I’m jumping right in. Seriously though, this was my first Levi fanfic and probably my favorite characterization of him in any story I’ve read. I feel like this author’s Levi is the most accurate one I’ve read and that’s what made me obsessed with it. Also, the reader is a medic and you can just TELL the author has some experience in that field or has done a ton of research on it because it is just so well written.

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Honorable Mentions (aka, fics I haven’t started yet but would like to when I have more time):

- Dust, Diamonds by maokitty

- we all bleed red by littlerequiem

- Percolate by heichoe

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If anyone else has recommendations, please let me know! :)

[nana-71926]

Gonna be putting these screenshots here as a basic lesson on how NOT to be an ASSHOLE READER/COMMENTER

Tip #1: This author ABSOLUTELY WILL NOT engage with anyone who goes around giving "DON'T READ THIS FIC" recommendations to others. That kind of asshole behavior is VILE and CRUEL and this author does not take kindly to assholes

Tip #2: That Hit-to-Kudos ratio is a HIDEOUS example of a BADLY DESIGNED AND UNRELIABLE measuring tool to gauge the "success" or "popularity" of a fic and anyone fool enough to use it as the standard to read/recommend/evaluate fics is seriously missing out on a lot of good stuff out there

Tip #3: If you gonna be thinking this author thinks "everything I do in a good story is awesome and even the tiny stuff that means nothing to the story... and turns people off accidentally must be kept!" simply means you DO NOT HAVE A CLUE as to why the author chose to use that crucial scenario as a catalyst to finally bring the two lead characters together. You failed to get the point when everyone else did? That's on you. If you don't get it, you don't get it, but don't foist your idiocy on to the writer

Tip #4: Thank you, but no. All those backhanded compliments are NOT compliments at all

Tip #5: As a commenter, you are judged by a set of standards as you would a writer, beginning with whether you have a valid point, which you clearly do not have. The second thing we look out for is, is the commenter an IDIOT? Yes, in this case.

Furthermore, there is an unspoken rule of etiquette observed by conscientious readers at AO3 that-- ignoramus that you are-- you've trampled all over: if you don't know the author, your best bet is you DO NOT leave unsolicited criticism that exposes you as the over-privileged, entitled idiot that you are. That obvious need for attention and validation behind the putdowns, the FIC GRADING (seriously??) just to make oneself look bigger and somehow relevant? Not a good look

Tip #6: Spare us the ESSAYS. They're just gonna be DELETED faster than you can write them and you will be BLOCKED

Tip #7: Oh, so you're a writer as well, with just one WIP to your name? It's omegaverse, too, with a very limited view of a/b/o dynamics yet you somehow think you're some sort of expert? Tsk tsk. Starting to get the full picture now. Remember, what goes around comes around.

[gffa]

Over the last week, I decided to go ahead with bookmarking all the fics I've recommended over the years on AO3 since I abide by tumblr poll results always (and man pour one out for all the fic that never made it to AO3 or has since been deleted, sooooo many gems lost to time!) and it was a bit more than the ~3,000 I was expecting:

Hopefully, this will be easier than browsing the hundreds of recs posts I've made, since you can filter for any of the author's tags now! These are mostly focused on Star Wars and DC fandom, but I did my time in the anime mines and occasional tours through some TV fandoms or movies. You can dig into everything unfiltered and start your own filtering, or the bigger fandoms you'll find:

MAJOR FANDOMS: Each of these should have 100+ at minimum and, in the case of Star Wars, literally almost half of them are in that fandom. Look, Star Wars fandom might be a trash fire in a lot of ways, but it is ON FIRE with some good fic. (Older bookmarks not guaranteed to match my current sentiments, especially re: the Jedi, but they did catch my fancy at that point in time!)

STAR WARS: - All Star Wars -OR- All Star Wars minus the Obi-Wan/Anakin ship - OR- Nothing BUT Obi-Wan/Anakin

BATMAN/DC: - DC can sometimes be tricky, but you can do a Batman* search and get most of them (though, sometimes Nightwing* or Young Justice* or Superman* will catch some of the others). Honestly, though, you might want to just do a search for what character or dynamic you like and have fun from there, because otherwise you're getting a face full of my Dick Grayson Is The Center Of The Universe And I'm Making That Everyone Else's Problem agenda. ;)

MARVEL/MCU: - Marvel* will probably get most of the various properties, though you may want to filter for Defenders* or Guardians of the Galaxy* if you're interested -OR- Marvel* without the Thor/Loki - These focus a lot on the Thor* fandom if you want to witness the results of like 8 years of constant voracious reading in that fandom (Minus the ship), because, seriously, I read a LOT of Odinson family fic. - Bonus, just do a search for Maximoff* to find some really good X-Men: First Class-verse because, listen, I have been ALL ABOUT the Maximoff twins since long before the movies or MCU brought them over and I will DIE ON THE HILL of "Marvel, make Magneto their bio-dad again or I'm never reading another comic of yours ever".

TOLKIEN/LORD OF THE RINGS/SILMARILLION/HOBBIT: - Tolkien* -OR- Hobbit* -OR- Lord of the Rings* searches will turn up most of my Elf-hunting, I primarily focus on the Sindar Elves, but look I can't resist my problematic Feanorian faves or that I will die on the hill that Fingolfin is the best ever. (You have NO IDEA how sad I am that so much fic on Stories of Arda or FFNET is not easily bookmarked on AO3, sob. I externally bookmarked a few of the bigger ones, but sooo many shorter faves are missing from my recs tag.)

CLAMP: - X/Tokyo Babylon legitimately bums me out because it's not a huge fandom and yet so much of what was written was pre-AO3 and lost when CLAMPesque went down or was never brought over from Livejournal, yet this fandom (well, the Seishirou/Subaru pairing) still burns brightly in my heart.

MINOR FANDOMS: Ones that probably only have under 100 bookmarks (often around the 20-30 bookmarks range), but will at least give you a place to start! ANIME/MANGA: Bleach | Cardcaptor Sakura | Dragonball | Finder no Hyouteki/Viewfinder | Katekyou Hitman Reborn! | Kuroko no Basuke | One Piece | Sailor Moon | Madoka Magica | Naruto | Princess Tutu | Trigun | Weiss Kreuz | Yuri!!! on Ice

BOOKS: Chrestomanci | Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint

DRAMAS: Nirvana in Fire | The Untamed -OR- Modao Zu Shi

TV SHOWS/MOVIES: Community | Game of Thrones -OR- ASOIAF | Good Omens | Hannibal | Highlander | The Old Guard | Our Flag Means Death | Stranger Things

VIDEO GAMES: Dragon Age: Inquisition | Final Fantasy 8 | Genshin Impact | Okami

BANDS: Arashi

All right, whew, that was actually a fun project, despite how much work it was to hunt down a lot of older faves to see if they were on AO3, hopefully you'll find this useful!

[norristri]

landoscar fic recommendation

this wld be a full ao3 fic recos :D anw message me if u want your fic to be removed here thnx

that one from work can come over on monday night by higgsbosonblues 

tags: Alternate Universe - No Girlfriends/No Wives, Slow Burn, Canon Compliant, Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, Miscommunication, Coming Out

mclaren 2023 season canon compliant ; i really really love the getting to know part even though you know each other all through out the years hahaha this fic gives me the "all along there was some invisible string tying you to me?" :DD this was such a fan read to me as a new landoscar shipper that time <33

purring in my lap ('cause he loves me) by nyoomfruits

tags: cat!oscar, as in he shapeshifts into a cat lmao, Crack Treated Seriously, Mutual Pining, Idiots in Love, Miscommunication

oscat !! OSCAT !! OSCAT !! lando's "Over me? When the fuck were you even under me?" he's so so so funny and oblivious lmao and them being each other's comfort after a bad race :(( this was so adorable

#814 | Communication? The Kardigans | Long Gone | 4:18 by Anonymous

tags: Social Media, Implied/Referenced Sex, Lando I Don't Drink Norris Can't Hold His Alcohol Smh, Layout Is Entirely Social Media, Getting Together

i love LOVE social media format aus!!! so soo refreshing and creative the use of spotify playlist was GOLD and idk if it's a reference of gen z's and their spotify playlist for every situation but but!!!! i get it!! the name changes in every convo hahahaha they r so chaotic but at the same time so landoscar

from the start by tiredwishes

tags: modern setting, fluff, love confessions, getting together

this had me hooked so easily??? like i was just scrolling through the landoscar tag then i refreshed the page boom there's a new fic posted :DD the awkwardness, the ODDS!!!!!! i love how it has the dynamics of canon!landoscar :>> of them having the same people around them then boom they collided and the ending was perfect aaaaaa <33

for keeps by ipleadbritney

tags: spy au, fluff, light...angst? happy ending

read this after death and other lies bcos i can't move on LMAO took me a while to digest and it was honestly so good!! the humor was fantastic I DID NOT EXPECT EVERYTHING ABT LANDO landoscar

no proof, not much (but you saw enough) by ipleadbritney

tags: magical realism, pre-relationship, qatar GP '23

LOL THIS WAS SO FUN TO READ ??? lando's dramatic ass and him comparing themselves to BROCEDES ++ i like that it's magical realism but at the same time canon hehe :DD "He spent the majority of his junior years chasing after Lando Norris, a dream blisteringly quick and blinding in its brilliance." this line reminds me of, "Loving you is synonymous to breathing" :)

Death and Other Lies by finifugue

tags: spies & secret agents, mature, angst, hurt, comfort, happy ending

i love LOVE the world-building & everything!! prolly in my top 3 landoscar fics <33 the lando-charles siblings relationship had me SOBBING ;-;; “The things that we have lost were wonderful when we had them, do you not think? And that means they are not properly gone. And even if they are gone forever, that means that I can spend more time being sad in here, with you. And that is nice in its own way. We have not had a reason to go here for a long time, and it is more cramped than it was, but it is still good.” :) the twists, the turns, everything !!!!!! my friends were probably annoyed at me because i talked abt this fic ALOT lol i usually don't like spy aus bcos i don't like actions that much lmao but this??? THIS IS A MASTERPIECE sorry i cannot put how much i love this fic into words hashjdhasdjhsa BUT YOU GUYS SHLD READ THIS!!!!

scenes from a social media admin by ipleadbritney tags: social media admin!lando, driver!oscar, social media au, getting together

ipleadbritney your existence in this fandom is EVERYTHING !!!! lando's list of things.... lando's list of things he finds hot :>> this fic made me smile the whole day, hehehe :))

sink your teeth into me by nyoomfruits tags: vampire!oscar, werewolf!lando, soulmates, racing drivers

LANDO was so fcking oblivious *face palms* the travel coffin was my fave part hehe ok oscar is so vampire coded dhsjadhajshdas “Lando’s own driver’s room is right across the hall, stocked with his own hoodies and sweatpants, but those don’t smell like lemon and home, so he wisely keeps quiet and accepts the ones Oscar gives him.” :)) :)) I LOVE THEM maxiel tolerating lando's dumb ass HWJHAJS SO ENTERTAINING

note: will be updated !!!!!