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anto-pops · 11 months

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A Torrid Arrangement - Sebastian Sallow x Female! Reader

Summary: You and Sebastian have had a 'friends-with-benefits' dynamic going on for close to a year now, and the more time passes, the harder it is for him to hide his true feelings for you. It's an unbearable kind of torment, but he forces himself to grin and bear it anyway to preserve the integrity of his... situation-ship with you. That is, until the metaphorical floodgates finally open up.

Alternatively summarized as gratuitous FWB smut with lots of playful banter sprinkled in

This came from the depths of my fever-induced brain so if its all over the place, I apologize. But YAY MORE SMUT !!

Word Count: 8.6k

Warnings: 18+, aged up characters, explicit sexual content, lots of hickies

Full fic can be found here on Ao3 with more informative tags, as per usual :))

Sebastian knew it was going to be one of those days before he was even fully conscious.

He jolted awake from an extremely graphic wet dream at the ass crack of dawn, hard and sweaty and tangled in the sheets, already reaching beside himself for the body that had just been pressed against his own. The dream had been so real– so incredibly vivid– that he swore he could still taste the familiar, salty skin on the tip of his tongue. He’d been so fucking close too; buried deep between soft thighs, clinging tight with every fiber of his being when reality had come and butt its ugly, unwelcome head in.

With a ragged, disappointed groan, Sebastian let his head fall back against his pillow and dragged his hands down his flushed face, graciously allowing himself a few minutes to sort himself out.

This was far from the first wet dream he’d had about you, and he was certain it wouldn’t be the last. Hell– you gave Sebastian’s thirsty subconscious plenty of material to work with every time you came around to ‘relieve stress’. Being long-standing fuck buddies with you granted him that lucious priviledge. Sebastian knew damn well how good you felt holding onto him, what you sounded like when you were about to come, what your heated, sweat-slick skin tasted like.

He also knew how fucking cute you could be— especially when you were sprawled across his bed in his dorm with a textbook open beneath you to sneakily segue from studying together to fooling around. He knew how badly he wanted to spread you out across his sheets and make you moan for hours– to worship your perfect body slowly and sweetly with his hands and his mouth.

It was barely past dawn and Sebastian already knew he was going to be tracking you down at some point today to act on his urges. As always, he would be hiding his monstrous crush under a thick layer of casual booty call.

—

Whenever Sebastian woke up like this– nerves stretched paper thin over a desperate craving for intimacy– dueling was one of the few things that helped him clear his head and get his shit together. He wasn’t exactly a morning person, and he was even less of a people person at such a ripe, early hour, but he’d still left the confines of his dorm to make the trek to the Crossed Wands courtyard.

There were no students in this area of the castle at this time, which just meant he would be making do with the practice dummies for a few hours until his blood cooled within his veins. Spell after spell fired from his wand and struck hard and true against the wooden figurines that lined the walls, the sound echoing off the Clock Tower walls and drowning out his incessant, horny thoughts.

Thoughts that revolved too much around how nice your thighs would look with dark imprints of his teeth all over them.

Biting the inside of his cheek, Sebastian unleashed a particularly aggressive Confringo charm in a bid to expel his sinful train of thought. The dummy erupted in an explosion of wooden bits and flaming embers, and as it collapsed to the stone floor in a mangled heap, the brunet realized that there was in fact one other person on school grounds awake– and they just so happened to be walking right towards him.

He could practically hear fate howling with laughter at his expense when he dimly registered that not only did he know this lone survivor, it was against all probability none other than you, because why the fuck not.

You were stomping through the outer courtyard with a few textbooks clutched tight in your white-knuckled grip, looking equal parts distracted and deliciously disheveled from a distance. Your mind had to be as scattered as his was, because you clearly didn’t notice Sebastian or the on fire training dummy as you strode through the open clock tower gate. He did his best to play it cool when you finally made eye contact with him, trying exceptionally hard to not look like he’d just jacked off to the way dream-you squirmed under him not twenty minutes prior.

“Hey, you,” Sebastian called out smoothly when your hurried pace slowed down at the sight of him. You shook your head as though to clear it, squinting at him harder as you evenly stalked up to him, and your frown became more and more apparent the closer you got. Everything about your demeanor screamed ‘wild Graphorn, do not approach’, but Sebastian had never been great at following directions.

You raked one of your hands through your wild hair as you finally came to stop a few feet away, panting slightly as you stared up at him as though you weren’t entirely sure he was real. “Sebastian?”

The man in question cocked a brow at you, giving you a quick once over. Your hair was definitely mussed more than usual, a few stray strands falling over your forehead while others stuck up on one side– as if you’d been combing your fingers through it all night. There was no missing the mildly insane glint in your bloodshot eyes, and you were slightly paler than normal. Sebastian was also pretty sure you’d been wearing the same blouse yesterday, if the tiny stain on the collar was any indication.

If you didn’t look so damned grumpy, Sebastian would swear he’d just caught you in the middle of a walk of shame. The mere idea sent a sharp pang of jealousy straight through his core, and he had to bite his tongue to stifle the snide comment that threatened to fall from his lips. He failed, opting to instead poke the metaphorical bruise and deal with the throbbing ache doing so would bring him.

“Someone didn’t go to her dorm last night,” he snickered, aiming a crooked grin down at you. “Congrats on getting lucky.”

Normally he would expect you to just roll your eyes and punch him in the shoulder before ribbing him back. But as Sebastian watched your eyes widen at the same time your face flushed several different shades of red, he couldn’t help but wonder if poking the metaphorical Graphorn before the sun was even fully up was a good idea.

“I was not getting lucky,” you hissed at him, one eye twitching. Sebastian raised his hands in mock surrender before sticking his wand back in his pocket, awkwardly shifting on his feet for a moment as you huffed out an agitated sigh. “I’ve been getting fucked for the last twelve hours by Professor Sharp’s assignment– fifteen pages on the origin and uses of Wiggenweld. I’m not even sure if most of what I’ve written comes off as real English, so don’t fucking chuckle at me about getting lucky, you ass.”

Sebastian just stared at you silently, watching you fume. He’d pulled plenty of all-nighters with you before, so he knew full well that after a certain amount of sleep deprivation and stress, you had a tendency to lose your shit in addition to your filter. “Ah,” he mumbled as he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, only hesitating for a second.

After all, he just so happened to know exactly how you liked to relieve your stress.

He licked his lips quickly before he said, “You, uh… kinda look like you could stand to get lucky, huh?”

Your nostrils flared slightly as you squinted up at him for a long minute instead of responding. It might have looked like a murderous face to anyone else, but Sebastian knew better, and he could practically hear the gears in your head clanking together as you weighed the offer.

“…I mean, if you’re not doing anything else,” you finally muttered, your tense shoulders dropping a smidge.

He gestured loosely to the demolished pile of wood on the ground. “I’m not anymore,” came his fluid reply, and before you could take note of the smoking remnants of the training dummy, Sebastian’s hand was grasping yours tight as he tugged you along behind him. You blearily blinked the fatigue from your eyes as you fell into step beside him, and the brunet tried his very best not to let on how extremely pleased he was.

—

Halfway to Sebastian’s dorm, you’d interrupted his hurried pace and directed him to the Room of Requirement in an attempt to avoid any awkward run-ins with his roommates. The absolute last thing you wanted to deal with on top of your Potion’s related irritation was prying eyes, and you already knew the Slytherin dorms would be chock full of those.

Upon entering the more private space atop the Astronomy Tower, you threw aside your textbooks on the lone side table next to the double doors and spun around to yank Sebastian into a frantic, needy kiss. Your nails dug into his firm shoulders as you swiftly pulled him down to your level, and he allowed you to grind your hips against his steadily growing erection as his own fingers dug into the small of your back.

“H-Hey, hold on,” Sebastian wheezed out when you pulled away to tug at his belt, and his hands dropped to your waist to hold you at arms length so he could look you over again. As the two of you had trekked up to the Room, you’d begun to look more and more exhausted— too out of it to even gripe about the endless staircase that never failed to draw complaints from you. “Are you sure you’re up for this right now? You look like death.”

You snorted and rolled your tired eyes, pursing your lips in blatant disapproval. “Nagging, Sebastian? Really? I thought we were past this.”

“I’m not nagging,” he grumbled. “I’m just saying, you kinda look like you need a nap more than you need a quick fuck.”

Tutting disdainfully, your hands fell away from his belt as you crossed your arms over your chest. “I was just starting to loosen up. See if I ever relax around your ass again,” you retorted drily, tilting your head back to blink up at the ceiling. “The assignment is due before lunch today. If I sleep now, I’m not waking up until tomorrow. I can’t sleep yet.”

Sebastian tilted his head with a thoughtful frown, mirroring your stance by crossing his arms over his own chest. “What if I wake you up?”

You shook your head dutifully, although you were sorely tempted by the idea. “Trust me, I can feel the impending coma. I can’t risk it.”

“Want me to turn your paper in for you?”

Another mournful shake of your head. “You know Sharp, he’s as stern as they come. I’m positive he wouldn’t take it from you– and I’m sure he’d give you detention for trying. It’s fine, I just need to tough it out for a few more hours. Think you can help with that?”

“Shit, yeah,” he relented, fighting the urge to bury his face in your messy head of hair. Instead he opted for uncrossing his arms to run his hands up your shoulders to gently squeeze at the tense muscles there, and you sighed at the delightful shiver that danced up your spine from the action. “I’m really not trying to kill you, though. Are you sure you’re good for this?”

You snorted again, shaking your head slightly, and the tension in your upper body began seeping away under Sebastian’s warm palms. “Are you always this sweet to your fuck buddies?” The brunet could feel himself flushing at the statement, but before he could respond, you were muttering, “It’s really weird coming from you.”

“Hey–”

“Just shut up and fuck me already,” you barked over Sebastian’s protest, pulling away from him to head further into the massive space towards the modest bedroom in the corner. The adjacent room had never disappeared after your first hook-up here with your longtime companion, and its constant existence since then had served as an odd reminder of your arrangement with the man.

If you weren’t so stiff and weird from exhaustion, Sebastian could honestly convince himself that you were embarrassed or something. For now, though, he simply chalked your jaded nature up to your lack of a filter and stalked after you– totally not obsessing over the fact that you’d just called him sweet.

You’d been undoing the buttons on your shirt as you walked, and as soon as you made it inside the bedroom, you stripped the material off completely and discarded it in the corner of the room. Your skirt quickly followed, and all the while Sebastian was forcing himself not to think about how nice dream-you’s skin had looked tangled in his dream-sheets.

Sebastian stood in the doorway as he began unbuttoning his own shirt, shucking the attire off of his shoulders before moving down to his belt. The metal clink of the buckle was enough to draw your attention, and you fell back onto the mattress and scooted up towards the pillows without taking your eyes off him. The eager look in your fatigued eyes was enough to spur Sebastian onward quicker, and before long he was dressed in only his briefs as he prowled towards the bed with a predatory glint in his eyes.

The way you were sprawled atop the sheets with your arms resting above your head was a sight Sebastian vowed to commit to memory for as long as he lived. You were clearly giving him free reign over your body, and his mouth ran dry at the realization that you were wholly handing control over to him. He swallowed thickly and moved to straddle your hips, leaning over you on his forearms so he could better slot your lips together, and after a few tentative pecks, his boldness started to grow. You sighed and tilted your chin into Sebastian’s kisses, parting your lips invitingly as you melted into the cool, satin sheets beneath you.

With as tired and as boneless as you were, it seemed like you might actually be patient for once, and the thought had Sebastian’s heart fluttering excitedly. More often than not, he was so susceptible to your impatience and intensity that he always found himself getting swept up in your urgency when the two of you did this. Not that he didn’t love it; the dire, rough pace he’d always settle into with you, all gasping moans and tightly-gripped hands and frantic, needy thrusts– he absolutely loved it. It kept him hooked and craving more, even when you were both panting and sated. This, though…

Having you give up the lead and just relax for him was like a literal wet dream come to life.

Tangling your tongues with a low moan, Sebastian leaned into you slightly, his hands shifting to rub slowly up your sides until his deft fingers slipped under your arched back to unhook your bra. It fell away like nothing, and you moaned against his lips when the pads of his thumbs came to graze over your pert nipples. Your sleep-deprived loopiness had to be contagious, because Sebastian pulled away from your lips to mouth hotly against your ear, “I dreamt about you last night.”

He didn’t get the chance to feel weird about admitting it. You chuckled warmly, your kiss-swollen lips curving into a crooked, amused smile. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” he murmured, pausing to suck gently at your earlobe while his thumbs idly traced the outline of your ribs. He brushed his lips down the angle of your jaw, exhaling shakily when you leaned your head aside to freely offer him the wonderfully sensitive expanse of your neck. Sebastian lightly dragged his teeth down the soft, heated skin, then flicked his tongue over the faded imprint of the last hickey he’d left there. It was barely noticeable now.

You shivered at the feeling, your fingers twisting in the sheets above your head before you sighed contentedly. “Was I pulling my hair out about Potions?”

“Fuck no.” He nipped at the faint bruise before pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss to your pulse, sucking just enough to briefly tease you. “I had you under me like this,” he continued softly, pitching his voice low and nuzzling into your ear again, purposely aiming to press your buttons and work you into a needy frenzy. He felt your breath hitch more than he heard it, and as a sly grin broke out across his face, Sebastian slipped his fingers up your chest to pinch at your nipples once again. “I was fucking you nice and slow, making you feel so good…”

Moaning softly, you arched up into Sebastian’s hands, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth as he teased and flicked the sensitive nubs into stiff peaks. Your hips inadvertently rocked up against his as you desperately sought friction in the area you wanted it most. “Sounds like you’ve already got a game plan, huh?”

He sat back on his heels to look down at you as he shrugged. “If you’re up to it,”

“Just don’t let me fall asleep,” you mused, your hooded eyes trailing down Sebastian’s tanned, freckled chest to his dark briefs, halting when you caught sight of his cock straining against the cotton material. The sight had you licking your lips and fidgeting slightly before you blinked back up at him. “This paper is worth a quarter of my grade.”

“I won’t. Merlin– you worry too much.” Sitting upright with an amused shake of his head, Sebastian rolled off of you to sidle down the mattress so he was kneeled comfortably between your outstretched legs. Your hands fell to your thin underwear, ready to peel them away to get a move on with things, but Sebastian swatted away your appendages quickly. With a half-hearted scowl, you relinquished control, allowing your arms to rest above your head again as you once more bared yourself to the larger man.

Sebastian groaned softly at the sight, continuing where you’d left off by slipping his fingers under the waistband of your undergarments before tugging the damp fabric away from your aching center. You lifted your knees to assist him, and in one swift motion he had discarded the soiled attire over his shoulder, taking care to drag his eyes down the supple curve of your waist before settling on your glistening folds.

“Damn, darling,” he moaned earnestly. “You look so fucking perfect like this.” You huffed softly as you hooked your legs around Sebastian’s hips to tug him closer, and he hummed at the same time he looped one of his hands under your thigh to hold you to him as he rocked against your slick core. The friction was tantamount to perfection, but you craved more, and Sebastian knew it too.

Before you could open your mouth to complain, the freckled man ducked to press hot, wet kisses down the line of your throat, sucking and biting as he made his way down your shoulder past your collarbone. As he mouthed down your chest, he paused to tease one of your perked nipples gently between his teeth, and a pang of arousal shot through him when you arched and moaned under him. It was pure bliss– and your eyes rolled shut as your hips pressed up insistently. Sebastian ground his hips into yours for as long as he could manage before he had to scoot back to continue further, but he made up for it by dragging his nails deliciously down your thighs before he’d settled between your outstretched legs.

You made such a pretty picture spread out in the lush, satin sheets this way; with your hands fisted in the covers above your head, your legs spread on either side of him, and the lustful gaze you pinned him with, Sebastian was half convinced he’d fallen back asleep this morning and was still dreaming. He couldn’t pass up the opportunity to watch your body react to his touch, so he smiled as he dipped his head to drag the flat of his tongue up your wet folds, and the way your breath stuttered in your throat was far more enticing than it had any right to be. You attempted to push yourself up onto your elbows to watch– entirely enthralled with how Sebastian looked between your thighs– but then he took your clit between his lips and sucked, and you were pulling the sheets into your clenched fists and falling back against the pillows with a ragged moan.

Sebastian continued to toy with you that way for far too long for comfort– holding you hostage in some combined purgatory of bliss and torment as he sucked and lapped at your center. It was far too easy to reduce you to a pile of brainless mush given your fatigued, overly-sensitive state, and he was all too curious to discover how many new things you would let him get away with before you got impatient and started begging.

With gentle, attentive hands, Sebastian coaxed you into raising one of your knees up so he could throw your leg over his shoulder, instantly coiling his strong arms under your waist to hold you firmly to his unrelenting mouth. His stomach flipped at how easily you relaxed for him, and you proceeded to fight your boneless nature so you could sit up and watch him with lust-dark, hazy eyes. Sebastian loved the attention– thrived on it, really– and he broke away from your overwhelmingly wet heat to pepper chaste kisses along the smooth hollow of your leg. You were already breathing heavier– your fingers twitching around handfuls of fabric– and when Sebastian moaned and slipped his tongue out in-between kisses to lightly run the tip along soft, sensitive skin, your breath caught audibly in your chest before you shuddered out a shaky sigh.

When he first sank his teeth into the heated flesh midway up your inner thigh, he did so gently, but your hips still jerked at the sensation, and you couldn’t stop the wanton moan that slipped through your parted lips. “Fuck, Sebastian–” you groaned, your voice laced with obvious desire. You dug the heel of your foot into the middle of his back, silently imploring him to give you more, because the feeling of him marking you somewhere so sensitive was too fucking good.

Sebastian flashed you a smug grin as he pulled away, but not before planting a lingering kiss along the faint imprints of his teeth. The gesture was warm and promising– as was the way his hand squeezed your waist before letting the leg over his shoulder fall back against the mattress. He moved to splay his hands over your hips, your thighs resting comfortably over his arms, but he let them stay spread open rather than using his grip to pull you around like he usually would.

As his thumbs trailed gently along the curves of your hip bones, Sebastian leaned back down to brush another warm kiss along your inner thigh, humming at the way your muscles tensed slightly. He nuzzled up higher, then parted his lips against the soft skin to bite again, and this time he sucked steadily with the intent of leaving a dark, lasting mark there too. You moaned softly, your hips rocking up at the sensation, and as Sebastian worked yet another brand into your skin, your breath shifted into quiet panting as your hands twisted in the sheets.

Satisfied with the deep purple of the bruise and the light imprint of his teeth around it, Sebastian pulled away and dragged the flat of his tongue over his brand soothingly, breathing a low groan as he did so. He admired it for a moment longer before he mouthed wetly up your leg further, his dark, messy curls brushing against the join of your thigh.

He nuzzled closer to begin working another mark there, and the sharp sting of his lips and his teeth had you gasping– bending your free thigh up to let it fall to the side in a bid to give Sebastian all the room he wanted to keep going. He moaned encouragingly, squeezing your hips once again as you lifted them up for more, and he dragged his tongue up along the soft hollow of your thigh as his brow furrowed in concentration.

“S-Sebastian,” you gasped, trembling under the brunet’s affection. The shaky insistence to your voice caught his attention, so he leaned up enough to look at you as he licked his lips and pet your hips soothingly. Swallowing heavily, you opened your eyes and shivered, meeting his gaze almost shyly before you murmured, “I-I don’t– I don’t usually like slow stuff.”

Sebastian shifted up onto his elbows, idly drawing his palms back and forth over your flushed skin. His expression showed nothing but concern as he asked, “Do you want to stop?”

You shook your head quickly, scooting your hips minutely towards him. “N-No, no– this is fine. Good, even, I… I like this.”

Tilting his head to the side, Sebastian tried unsuccessfully to figure out what was happening, then cautiously asked, “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” you answered firmly, leaving no room for doubt. You fidgeted for a few seconds, squirming under the obvious care Sebastian was showing for you until you eventually took a breath and relented. “I like this. A lot.” The freckled man only cocked a brow at you in confusion, but before he could move to crawl over you again, you huffed and flopped back against the mattress. “I like you leaving marks on me, too.”

He mulled that over in his brain for a long moment, squinting slightly. “Okay…?”

“You fucking ass,” you wheezed out, your breath akin to an overwhelmed laugh. “It’s because it’s you, Sebastian, Merlin’s beard– I like you.”

Pressing his lips into a thin line, Sebastian stared up at you again and carefully replied, “Thanks?”

“Nevermind, I hate you,” you grumbled, slinging an arm over your face. “Forget I said anything.”

“No– hold on–” he sputtered before sitting up straight, his arms sliding out from under your thighs. You appeared to be disgruntled by the change, but you didn’t come out from hiding to complain. “I mean– we’ve been fucking for like a year. I’d hope to the Gods you can stand me by now.”

You groaned from beneath the safety of your arm shield, “I cannot believe I have to spell this out for you. I’ve been fucking you for like a year because I like you, you moonmind. Like, romantically. Very much into you, whether we’re fucking or not.”

With an uncomfortably loud click, Sebastian understood.

“Oh!” His eyes damn near popped out of his skull, his heart doing some insane acrobatics in his chest, but all of that took a backseat to the blissful realization that he wasn’t the only one with a big, gross crush. “Oh, shit, okay,” he sputtered, raking his hands through his hair. “Wow, okay. Fuck, sorry– I was totally involved in the hickey thing, my brain wasn’t on. Wow.”

“Merlin’s balls,” you groused, already trying to roll away from Sebastian’s wildly embarrassing presence. “I should not have said anything.”

“No!” Sebastian scrambled up the bed to brace himself on his hands above you, caging you between his arms while his heart hammered away against his sternum. “No, no no, you definitely should have said something, darling– shit.” He paused to try and coax you into coming out of hiding, but when you resisted him firmly, he didn’t push it. Instead, he chewed the inside of his cheek and tried to get his racing thoughts in order so he wouldn’t blurt out something completely idiotic.

“I am like, ridiculously in love with you.”

Completely idiotic.

You froze under him momentarily before peering up at him over your elbow, your wide-eyed stare bordering on horrified. Cursing under his breath, Sebastian buried his hands in his hair and stared right back, almost entirely sure he could feel his life force draining from his body.

“I-I mean– fuck, wait–”

“Are you kidding me!?” You bolted upright– narrowly avoiding cracking your skull against Sebastian’s on the way up. Your fingers clamped down on his shoulders so you could rattle him slightly as you blurted, “What the hell, Sebastian! How long?”

“I don’t know!” He threw his hands up and pointedly stared at the wall before grumbling, “I don’t fucking know, it’s not like it happened all at once. It started towards the end of our fifth-year and it just kinda… grew from there. Like a Horklump.”

Sebastian realized how shitty that euphemism was when your mouth fell open in utter disbelief. “Did you seriously just compare your feelings for me to a fungus?”

“Look, I’m sorry, okay?” He sat back on his heels, crossing his arms stiffly over his bare chest as he returned to staring at anything but you.

“For what, exactly?” You ran a trembling hand through your unruly hair, then dropped your gaze to the sheets. “For returning my feelings? Or for not saying anything before right now?” Sebastian just shrugged unhelpfully with his lips pursed. Groaning loudly, you flopped back onto the bed and stared at the ceiling for a minute, your irritated, murder face back in full swing.

Just as Sebastian was starting to get worried by the awkward silence— doing his best not to fidget— you nodded to yourself and announced, “We should date each other.”

“…Come again?”

“We should date each other,” you repeated firmly, leaning up on your elbows again and exuding a confidence that had seemingly come out of nowhere. “I like you, you love me–” Sebastian did his best to not choke on his own tongue, “–we spend so much time together that we’re basically dating anyways. At least, Imelda seems to think so… it seems like a good enough idea to me, if you’re interested.”

It took Sebastian a few seconds to untangle his tongue enough to reply, but when he did, all he could do was croak, “You want to date me?”

“Yes. I’d like that.”

“…Are you high? Did you smoke Mallowsweet on your way here?”

You groaned and tipped your head back between your shoulders, very clearly searching for some semblance of patience. “I’m high on sleep deprivation, yes, but that doesn’t make my feelings any less real. They’re there whether I’ve slept or not. It’s actually hell.”

Sebastian was still flabbergasted, staring down at you helplessly. “Why are you bringing this up now?”

“I don’t know! I didn’t mean to full-on confess or anything, it just kind of came out that way. You were leaving hickeys on me, and I realized that whenever I wake up tomorrow, I’m gonna feel them and see them and remember how you fucking appeared out of nowhere right when I was wondering if you’d be pissed if I snuck into your dorm at the ass crack of dawn– and then I’ll remember how good you looked leaving them on me and how I totally wanted you to do slow mushy lovey sex stuff to me, and then I’ll probably sleep like shit for weeks fantasizing about that, and–”

“Okay, alright, damn,” Sebastian interjected, his face flushed an impressively dark shade of red.

“You asked,” you mumbled as you half-heartedly picked at the sheets.

“I did, yeah.” Licking his lips quickly, Sebastian reached forward to rest his hand over yours, dragging his thumb along your knuckles soothingly. “I’d really, really like that. A lot, if I’m being honest. I’ve kind of dreamt about it for a while now.”

Your sheepish smile transformed rapidly into something purely elated, and you flipped your hand over to intertwine your fingers with his own as you playfully mused, “Not the only thing you’ve been dreaming about, apparently.”

Sebastian laughed again, and this time it was less nervous and more breathless with relief. He leaned forward to brush his lips against yours, resting his free hand on your warm cheek, and you instantly relaxed for him as you tilted your chin up into the kiss as you gave his fingers a tentative squeeze.

You fell back onto the bed again as you tugged Sebastian over you, loosely hooking your legs around his hips to keep him close. The brunet groaned and leaned into you, and when you threaded your fingers into his hair and pulled him into another kiss, he slipped his tongue between your lips with a shaky sigh– all too eager to put his hands all over you. Luckily you seemed to be of like mind, moaning against his mouth before pulling back just enough to whisper, “Touch me, please.”

Sebastian nodded ardently and nipped at your flushed lips, shifting his weight to free up his hands so he could better run his palms along your sides. He squeezed gently before dragging one hand down to your still-slick heat, expertly seeking out your tiny bundle of nerves in a bid to reduce you to a mewling, gasping mess. Your spine rounded towards him as soon as he found it– an airy moan ripping from your throat as he pressed tight circles around the nub– and Sebastian swallowed your keening noises greedily.

“Why are you still wearing these?” You murmured against his plush lips as your finger slipped beneath the waistband of his briefs, tugging softly to convey your request.

There was no muffling his smug bark of laughter, and a feline smile split his face as he pulled back just enough to plant a featherlight kiss on the tip of your nose. “So impatient,” he teased, intentionally ignoring your hand on his undergarments in favor of sliding one of his skilled fingers through your folds. He replaced the missing finger against your clit with his thumb at the same time he inserted a digit inside of your pulsing walls, and the feeling had your head falling back as your lips parted around a stuttered gasp, your thighs tightening impossibly further around his waist.

Undeterred, you blindly wiggled your hand under the hem of Sebastian’s underwear and tugged his arousal out with a practiced flick of your wrist. You wrapped your fingers around his girth and gave him a long, tight stroke– squeezing the head in the way you knew he liked– which in turn earned you a rough, wavering moan. Matching Sebastian’s pace was easy, and you stroked him steadily as you leaned up to seal your lips over his pulse to begin working a dark hickey of your own into his sweaty, freckled skin.

Resting his weight on his free arm, Sebastian leaned closer as he sighed heavily while his brown eyes fluttered shut from the way your mouth felt on his neck. He rocked his hips into your hand and pumped his fingers a few more times inside of you before he was withdrawing the digits to push his briefs down all the way. You merely chuckled against his throat, pulling off of the fresh, blossoming mark with a satisfied hum before you laved your tongue over it.

Once Sebastian had finally wrestled off his briefs and settled over you again, you tugged him by the neck back into a hungry kiss, and he groaned deeply at the way you moved perfectly against him. As you curled your tongue between his lips, your hands traversed down the broad expanse of his toned back to feel as much of him as you could, pawing encouragingly at his lower back to guide him into a languid, grinding rhythm against you.

Sebastian let himself follow your lead for a few slow thrusts, but the way your skin felt against his– coupled with the way your quiet moans sounded muffled against his lips– was too tempting to overlook for long. Following a brief, bitey kiss, Sebastian dropped his hand between your legs once again to press at your wet, warm entrance. You shivered at the way his fingers felt against you as he coaxed you into relaxing, and your nails dug into his sculpted shoulders when he mercifully worked two of his thick digits inside of you. A string of moans and praises alike fell from your lips as your head lolled back against the pillows, and the remnants of Sebastian’s restraint began to slip away as a result.

“Fuck, darling,” he keened breathlessly, unable to take his eyes off of your face as your expression shifted into one of pure pleasure. His buried his fingers to the knuckles, utterly overwhelmed at how tight you were, and he nudged his nose against your cheek as he murmured, “You look so fucking good right now…”

“Y-You may have mentioned that, yeah,” you laughed against his sweat-slick skin, blinking affectionately up at your now-boyfriend as he took in your pliant body beneath him, and the thought imbued you with a fresh sense of desire that you were desperate to act on. “Come on, I want you inside me already.”

With a wheezy laugh, Sebastian nodded and ducked his head to catch your lips again as he started thrusting his fingers into your pulsing heat. He nibbled gently at your bottom lip when he buried his fingers deep to curl them towards your stomach, which in turn earned him a squeaky little moan that was immediately followed by an impatient wriggle of your hips. Your legs were trembling with barely contained want as you spread them further, and Sebastian took full advantage of the newly acquired space to readjust himself into a more comfortable position.

By the time you were panting against him and rocking back onto his fingers, Sebastian was more than ready to move things along. He slid his fingers out and pulled away with another quick kiss before sitting up to steady his cock at your entrance. You helpfully wrapped your legs around his waist again, angling your hips towards him with a coy smile on your face until you felt the head of his achingly hard member bump against you. Sebastian flashed you a doting smile in return, and with an unhurried roll of his hips, he was sinking into you with a throaty groan that made your hair stand on end.

“F-Fuck, you feel so warm– you’re perfect, darling,” he grit through his clenched teeth, plunging himself deeper inch by inch until he had bottomed out completely inside of you. The way your walls fluttered around him made him dizzy with need, but he noted the tension in your shoulders and forced himself to maintain his slow pace so you could get acclimated to the feeling. Sebastian was practically fluent in your stubborn body language by now, and he was nothing if not determined to get you to relax completely.

Rather than thrusting deeper, Sebastian sighed and licked his lips as he glanced up at your face. You were an incredibly tense person on the best of days, but when you were running on fumes like this, he found it to be even harder to get you to release the mountain of stress you seemingly carried with you at all times. While he was all too used to the frown lines that so frequently cropped up between your brows, seeing them now just made Sebastian want to be even gentler with you– even more careful.

He lightly nudged your head aside and set to dragging hot, wet kisses down the column of your throat, moaning wantonly at the bare salt of your sweat on his tongue. You shivered and gasped, tilting your head to the side with a low sigh to grant the brunet more access, and before long the combined feeling of Sebastian’s tongue and lips on your neck had you melting under him completely with your eyes blissfully closed.

“That feels… really good,” you murmured with a low voice. It was pure rapture to feel Sebastian this way; moving slowly inside of you, his lips dancing down your throat and nipping softly at the skin there. His hands eventually crept up the pillows to tangle in your hair, and the enticing feeling of his nails scraping against your scalp was enough to have you tightening around his cock a fraction.

The praise sent a bolt of confidence through Sebastian, and he moved from your neck back to your lips to slot your mouths together again. He gingerly pulled his hips back before rolling them forward, and when you moved down against him with a shaky breath, it was all the go-ahead he needed to keep going.

The rhythm he fell into was slow and steady, moving inside you with long, easy thrusts while he ground against your ass every time he buried himself deep. His eyes remained trained on your face, your expression clearly showing how pleased you were to be taken care of. You weren’t squirming in blatant pleasure yet, but Sebastian figured this was a good enough first step.

“C’mon, Sebastian– you’re putting me to sleep here,” you mumbled playfully, letting your arms rest above your head in the way Sebastian loved to see. His tempo faltered slightly, but your mischievous grin betrayed the legitimacy of the claim; he should’ve known you were simply teasing him, especially when he knew you always got a kick out of taunting him.

“Oh yeah?” He practically purred, sitting back on his heels to wrap his hands around your hips as he hauled you aggressively into his lap.

You adjusted to him easily, wiggling your hips in Sebastian’s grasp in a bid to spur him onward. “Yeah… jeez, Sallow, you had one job. Tsk tsk.”

“Well, shit.” He grinned wickedly down at you as he rolled his hips back, pulling almost all the way out and relishing in the way your face fell briefly. He hovered there for a long, torturous second before he snapped his hips back into you, using his grip to hold you down on his cock as he ground deeper and harder than before. You were left gasping at the feeling, your head falling back as your fingers twisted in the sheets, and before you could recover, Sebastian rasped, “Guess I should fuck you better then, huh?”

Without giving you room to breathe, Sebastian kept up his agonizingly slow pace, easily pulling you back onto his cock with every firm thrust. He fucked into you evenly– his strong hands controlling the rhythm in the way he knew drove you crazy– and it earned him a cacophony of shaky moans that fell from your flushed, bitten lips.

“Yeah,” you replied finally, your voice tight and shaky. “You have to keep me up all morning, remember?”

It was a simple enough statement, but the way it rolled off of your tongue made it sound absolutely filthy. Your raspy voice was dripping with lust, your hot breath panting out between your parted lips, and that was more than enough to light a fire in Sebastian’s blood.

Groaning roughly, Sebastian paused long enough to hook his arms under your knees to haul them easily over his shoulders. You gasped as the movement lifted you off of your hips– then again when he nipped sharply at the inside of your knee before sucking hard enough to leave another flushed bruise there. The sensation had you squirming in Sebastian’s lap to the best of your ability, moaning breathlessly as he ground into you with a low rumble.

Once he was satisfied with his mark, the freckled man rubbed his hands slowly down your tense thighs, leaning over you on his hands again so you were effectively bent back and pressed against the sheets. Sebastian leaned more of his weight into you– sinking deeper– and just as you were opening your mouth to urge him on, he started moving again.

He picked up his pace from before easily, but now, every slow, hard thrust stuffed you full of him, and it didn’t take him long to find the angle that had you gasping sweet little moans with every shaky breath.

Writhing under him, you arched your back and gasped Sebastian’s name as your hands tightened in the covers above your head and pulled ardently. He was fucking you slowly– but at this angle everything felt so intense– enough so that any teasing pretense you’d previously had was quickly washed away beneath constant, steady waves of pleasure. Your toes curled in the air behind him as your thighs quivered and flexed against his chest, but beyond that, you were entirely at his mercy.

An animalistic sound reverberated from deep within Sebastian’s chest, and his own fingers gripped the sheets on either side of your head. The view he had of you was fucking insane; between the incredible face you were making, the way every thrust sent electric little sparks all throughout the both of you, and the way your cunt tightened around his cock with every deep thrust– he couldn’t help but moan your name, brainless praises falling from his lips whenever he could string the words together.

“S-Sebastian,” you gasped, shakily riding your hips up against the brunet’s to meet his every thrust with keening moans. “Sebastian, fuck– more, more, please–”

He made a soft, broken sound at that, then shrugged your knees off his shoulders to let them fall into the bends of his elbows instead. Surging forward, he captured your lips with his and slipped his tongue between them, and you took full advantage of the closer proximity by burying your fingers in his messy, brown curls and pulling him impossibly closer.

With you bent nearly in half this way, your knees almost touched the sheets and in turn gave Sebastian the room to pull back farther and thrust deeper– managing to maintain his steady rhythm and simultaneously drag his cock hard all along your sweet spot. You were positively shaking under him, gasping pretty, noisy little sounds into your shared kiss as you wound your fingers restlessly through his hair and pulled just to have something to hold onto. Sebastian squeezed his eyes shut and pumped his hips harder, his self-control stretched thin by how perfect you were.

How you looked, how you sounded, how you felt… he wanted more of you– more of the loud, pleading moans that tumbled from your kiss-swollen lips.

“Gods, darling–” Sebastian leaned down and sank his teeth into the crook of your neck, pressing his body against yours as much as he could. You bucked up against him and cried out at the sharp, sweet sting of your lover’s teeth, your head writhing against the pillows frantically as your hands fisted in his hair so you could press his face encouragingly against your flushed throat. It pulled a brutal groan from Sebastian as he bit harder, sucking yet another dark bruise into your skin, and the sound you made in response was enough to send his mind spinning.

Your voice echoed off the walls of the bedroom, your loud moans and cries of his name falling freely from your lips as Sebastian marked you mercilessly. The ragged sounds coming out of him almost sounded like growls muffled against your throat, and the feeling of being so full had you arching your back clean off the mattress. Your nails raked viciously down his neck and shoulders before digging into his strong biceps, but the sting from the welting lines only served to rile him up further.

When you threw your head to the side and began shaking, your voice cracking as you wailed for Sebastian in the way that told him you were close, he pulled his arm out from under your trembling thigh to plant his thumb firmly against your clit and began rubbing tight circles against the overly-sensitive bundle of nerves. As he brought you closer to your climax, gasping filthy praises between stuttered moans, Sebastian sped up his pace until he was pounding his cock into you, doing his best to keep you bent at that perfect angle as he did so. Your entire body seemingly snapped off the bed– arched tight and clinging hard to his larger frame as you clawed your nails down his arms– and your airy voice rose higher and transformed into a desperate, overwhelmed scream that cracked and made Sebastian’s brain go completely blank.

You shook apart entirely in Sebastian’s arms, tight and blindingly hot around his cock, squirming beautifully under him as he fucked you through your orgasm. Your slick coated his shaft as he relentlessly pumped into you, until the thunderous rush of his own climax crashed down around him. Warm, thick ropes of his cum filled you as he emptied himself inside, and Sebastian swore nothing on this Earth could ever hold a candle to how marvelous the feeling was.

He was vaguely aware of himself moaning your name over and over again– stammering out mumbled praises of good, so good darling, fuck. His hands gripped your hips tight as he curled over you and clung to you for dear life while he mouthed brainlessly against your heated skin. It took both of you a few long minutes to come down from your peaks; you with your arm slung over your eyes, and Sebastian slowly wrapping himself tighter and tighter around you to gather you closer. Even once the trembling had subsided, he couldn’t find a good enough reason to move. He twitched his hips back to pull out– mostly for your sake– but that was about all he could manage.

“Holy shit,” you rasped out after a while, catching Sebastian’s bleary attention. He blinked up at you and watched as you dropped your arm above your head to stare up at the ceiling, and he hungrily took in the steady rise and fall of your bare chest as you caught your breath.

He snorted softly and dragged his palms along your still shaking thighs– still loosely draped around his waist. “You alright?” There was something to be said about how pleased he was by the low, smokey sound of his own voice, and evidently you were too, considering how it sent more shivers up your spine. You nodded though, tugging at his shoulder to silently urge him closer.

Sebastian slithered up until he was close enough to catch your lips, allowing you to pull him into a lazy, sated kiss while your fingers combed through his tangled curls. All too graciously, he melted against you– for once not fighting the desire to affectionately trail his knuckles down the line of your jaw. After a few minutes of languid kissing and mindless touching, Sebastian rolled to the side and let you readjust so you were laying on your side with your back to his chest, giving him the chance to wind his arms around your waist and hold you against him.

He knew he was meant to be keeping you awake leading up to Potions class, but a few minutes of rest wouldn’t hurt. Beyond a herd of Thestrals stampeding through the room, Sebastian sorely doubted that anything could drag him away from this moment with you. He’d waited long enough for it as it was.

—

After turning your assignment in and sitting through a particularly dreadful lesson for an hour, you’d finally been free’d from the shackles of the education system for the weekend, and you’d quickly found yourself sprawled across Sebastian’s bed with the curtains drawn. You were currently dead asleep and likely to stay that way for a while, but the brunet didn’t mind in the slightest. He wasn’t particularly tired, but he was especially interested in lengthy cuddling with his girlfriend, so he had no problem with the current arrangement.

With his fingers tangled idly in your sleep-mussed hair, Sebastian watched as the bright streaks of daylight moved across the ceiling while you used his chest as a pillow, far too content to be bothered by how damn long it took to get to this point.

#sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow x female! reader #sebastian sallow x mc #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fanfic #sebastian sallow smut #sebastian sallow x reader #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #sebastian sallow oneshot #my writing #this was written entirely so that I could get back into the swing of things because I feel so out of practice #if it's a makes no sense in some places I don't care I'm being cooked inside and out with dual temperatures of 100 degrees #now to look at the fucking wip list and actually do something about it KJHFSKJFHSKGH

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soapskneebrace · 2 months

Note

Do you have any recommendations for longer cod fics with plot?

Yeah, plenty!

A few from @391780 (and their ao3) (if you decide to explore their other fics PLEASE read the tags first, early writes some very dark work that may not suit you):

The Arrangement

The ad reads "Looking for a woman (25-45) to enter a discreet and unusual arrangement, with monetary compensation. Must fill out application and send photo.", and for some reason that you can't even fathom yourself, you apply. AKA John Price, who knows better than anyone what a liability having a spouse or partner is, decides that the only way he's going to find a beautiful soft woman to put up with his absurd schedule and dangerous job is to simply hire them.

the space in between

a shortcut through a construction site at night leads you to a run-in with john price, leader of the local crime family. (or, mafia Price romance with a desk jockey who didn't sign up to be a crime boss' obsession or sole confidant)

Into Your Veins

Ghost is a vampire during a zombie apocalypse, sent on a mission from Price to recruit you to join the little gated community of survivors that he's rounding up. You're a survivor who just wants to be left in peace to tend your garden and occasionally clear out your moat and booby traps of the undead. Neither of you gets what you'd planned on.

Then we have milk0 on ao3

Incompetent People

You share a group chat with your team and you sometimes wish you didn’t. (or, a very fun fic that started as a group chat piece and has evolved into a poly 141 romance. Otherwise known as my favorite fucking trope ever. The reader character has such a fun voice, I adore this fic.)

Next of course is @ceilidho (emphemeron on ao3) (same deal as with early—read their tags if you explore more of their fic, they also write darker work)

take me home, country road

You have nothing on your person apart from a hastily packed suitcase and the dress you came into town wearing, on the run from trouble back home. Too bad John's missing a bride that matches your description. Or: the 1800s (mistaken) mail order bride au

Following up with @alittleposhtoad (smoggyfogbottom on ao3)

"it's gonna get me by the end of the night"

A year after the attack on the Urzikstan embassy, Stacy Davidson struggles to move on. Whumptober Prompt: No. 23: “It’s gonna get me by the end of the night.” Shadows | Stalking | “Who’s there?” Note: I picked Gaz x OC because this ship doesn't exist on ao3, and I wasn't sure how to classify it for searching purposes. Stacy has a minor role in the game!

oh bury me not on the lone prairie

You are a doctor on the frontier, recently widowed and left to fend for yourself. You cope by keeping a strict routine, one that is threatened by the arrival of four strangers one hazy summer night. (141 western AU)

a handsome stranger on a cold autumn day

You work at a small-town library doing the same thing day in and day out, until a handsome captain approaches your desk.

rounding out this list is @lunarvicar who is on hiatus but still fully worth reading. (you can find them here on ao3)

exit row

ghost is that hot guy at the airport you wish you could talk to. good thing your seats are next to each other on the plane and you can fantasize alllll you want. (or, you hook up with Ghost in an airport and meet, months later, after you join the 141. he is not happy about it. or is he?)

to the flame

Moth has barely escaped her first captors, but tumbles headfirst into the care of the 141. She has to decide whether to trust them and their prickly leader, Captain Price - who also happens to be the sexiest motherfucker she's ever met.

a stranger at the table

tudor era AU. John Price is an old friend of your new husband's, come to help on the farm for a season. Your vows are tested in ways you could never have imagined.

All of these I've listed are multichapter fics, but every single author's one-shots are just as good. I highly recommend reading those too!

Now I'm just going to list a few writers who you really should just take the time to go through their masterlists, because you can't go wrong with anything they write.

@yeyinde

@peachesofteal

@moondirti

@charliemwrites (dark fiction, be aware)

@ohbo-ohno (also dark fiction)

honorary mention of @guyfieriii who has removed most of her cod fiction from tumblr due to a frankly disgusting amount of harassment, but I'm sure if you ask her very very nicely she'll send you where you need to go. (seriously. be nice. or you'll see me in your bedroom holding a knife at midnight)

P.S. if you're reading this, and i've expressed love for your work in the past, but you are not on this list, it is NOT intentional exclusion. It is my absolutely horrible memory. I love you and please link your own work if you'd like!

#answered #happy reading anon!

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torukmaktoskxawng · 11 months

Text

tsamsiyu ta'em - a butterfly's wings

Masterlist - part eight

Summary: The forest is left behind and a vast ocean takes its place.

Pairing: Ronal/Tonowari/Original Female Character

Tag: #tsamsiyu ta'em fic

posted on ao3

Word Count: 6k+

Taglist (bold indicates “could not tag”): @mooniequeen @shit-i-say-shit-i-think @heart-an0n @amiets2 @slutforsmut4ever @yeosxxx @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @sucker4angstt @inolaphoenix tojisleftarm andyfromku

Warnings: canon-compliant, canon-typical violence, mature language, adult content, slow burn, polyamory, found family, cool aunt agenda, alien/human (technically avatar), jake sully sister agenda, time skips, I'm trying to hurry up and get to the good parts so bear with me, fluff, angst, adopted spider, tags to be added

A/N: Thank you for 400 followers 🙏 ❤️

After quickly grabbing a few essentials, Kayla packed all of it up onto Thena and took off, not bothering to wait for the gunship knowing it was going to catch up to her right away. She flew high over the forest canopy until she was suddenly leaving the forest and gliding over the ocean. Looking over her shoulder, she stared back at the cliff sides leading back to the world she had only begun to know, starstruck and a little heartbroken. She stomps down her sadness and turns back around, stubbornly looking ahead. Norm and Max weren't that far behind her, idly flying at a safe distance between their gunship and Thena. Norm stayed in his avatar the whole flight and would occasionally talk to Kayla through their throat mics and earpieces to entertain each other, warning her of the long flight ahead. Using her new ionar to shield her eyes from the wind, Kayla was easily comfortable for the first few hours of the flight, but the inner, hidden child in her was so very tempted to ask Max 'Are we there yet?' after her back was starting to protest the whole trip.

Flying over the oceans of Pandora was breathtaking. It felt as if there was nothing between her and the water, floating over its vast blanket of dark blue like a dream... a dream that felt all too familiar but when she tried to grasp onto that memory, it slips away from her. Kayla could've sworn that she's been in this predicament before, but fails to remember when and where exactly.

Norm explains that their destination is Awa'atlu, a Metkayina village. It's an eight-hour flight by ikran, including three-hour rest stops for the animal. Norm and Max would've gotten there faster if it weren't for the fact that Thena needed to rest her wings occasionally. Kayla's weight wasn't an issue for her and the banshee could've easily gone all the way if it weren't for all the things Kayla had hurriedly strapped to her ikran's back. There were plenty of tall, rock formations randomly sticking out of the ocean. Rock formations as tall as the trees of the forest, standing alone due to erosion and evolution, with flat surfaces that had plenty of space for an ikran and a gunship to land on. The small group land to rest and stretch their legs for a few hours with the hopes that they'll only need one pit stop, then they continued on their way.

The first thing Kayla sees is a large island, the first she's seen since leaving the forest, surrounded by various smaller ones. As they flew closer, the island only grew larger and more beautiful. Kayla had to tilt her head up just to see where the very top of the island goes through the clouds.

Completely encompassing this island was a wall, but Kayla could only see a small portion of it as it wraps around and disappears behind the island, out of her sight. The wall looked to be made of twisted and turned tree roots, diving and weaving through each root like an overly large bracelet meant to only fit on the wrist of Eywa herself.

Norm was looking out in awe of the wall from the open doors of the gunship. His hair was flying over his face due to the harsh winds whipping around him, but when he looks off to the side to spot Kayla flying at a safe distance beside him, he could see the equal wonder in her eyes. He presses his fingers into his throat mic and tries yelling over the wind and gunship blades, "It's called an atoll wall! It's completely made of coral over thousands of years old. It keeps the Sea Na'vi somewhat protected, but it also helps with their ecosystem. While it protects them from overly large predators, the seawall also provides means of food."

Large ocean waves crash against one side of the wall like an unforgivable beast, while the other side is peaceful and calm, full of serenity and beauty. Kayla could see what Norm had meant as they finally flew over the wall, observing the large tidepools that run up and down the inside of the wall like stairs. Dozens of Metkayina People were occupying these various pools, with nets, baskets, and spears at their disposal. Kayla couldn't get a better look from that high up, but from what she could tell, the Reef People already looked vastly different from what she was used to in the forest.

She continued to look over her shoulder, still amazed at the wall behind her as Norm continues to educate her about it, "The Reef People believe that Eywa created the seawall to promote life and let it thrive inside its safety."

"Guys, we're here," Max announces through the radio.

Kayla turns back around, facing forward on her ikran. After passing the seawall, the vast dark blue ocean is gradually replaced by a soft aquamarine green beneath her, indicating that the depths were becoming more shallow and Kayla quickly realized to her amazement that she was now flying over a beautiful lagoon, flowing with all sorts of marine life.

Looking up, just two miles off the atoll wall was the village of Awa'atlu, which at first glance just looks to be a large gathering of mangrove trees hanging over the edge of the island and dipping its roots into the beaches. Kayla's breath is taken away from the sheer size of the mangrove trees that act as shelter for the hundreds of Metkayina dwellings that hang and weave between the trees' roots. Between each marui, she could see floating walkways, weaving in and around each of the Metkayina homes, connecting them all together as one, vast network.

A horn blows one, long note in greeting to the weary travelers and more than likely warning the village of newcomers. Kayla flies all around the whole border of the village, making several sweeps while the gunship hovers over one spot, patiently waiting for further instruction.

Eventually, Kayla spots two figures running out onto the beach, flailing their arms in the air to get her attention. Her heart squeezes painfully when she recognized the darker blue skin and flexible tails, standing out against the crowd of Metkayina. Kayla presses into her throat mic, "I got eyes on Devil Dog and Pathfinder."

"They're directing us," Max observes, keeping the controls of the gunship steady, "Looks like we're gonna be landing in those shallow sand dunes over there."

Norm nods in acknowledgment and presses into his throat mic, "Kayla, keep flying circles until we land. Then bring Thena in."

"Copy that."

The gunship finally lowers, as slowly and as carefully as possible even as crowds of Metkayina gather around the landing zone. Kayla continues to circle the scene from above, watching as the sand and sprays of water fly everywhere like swirling clouds, forcing all bystanders to turn away and shield their eyes before they are blinded, their hair wildly flying out of proportion.

Norm hops out just as the gunship begins to hover inches from the sand then softly landing. Norm moves over to Jake, extending his arm out to Toruk Makto and then pulling him into a brief embrace. Jake looked relieved as he affectionately slapped the center of Norm's back, both happy to see his old friend and relieved to have help finally arrive after contacting them hours prior.

"Hi."

"It's good to see you," Jake offered before following Norm back to the gunship, "Let's get the gear. Neteyam!"

Neteyam perks up over the roar of the blades and engine, directing his attention to his father as Jake shouts, "Neteyam, keep them back!"

"How is she?" Norm asks loudly as Max finally begins to cut and slowly turn off the engine. Norm had crawled back into the gunship and with the help of a frantic Jake, begins to start unstrapping and unloading the supplies from the ship.

"She's still unconscious!"

With one final, echoing screech, Thena gracefully lands, softly touching down into the sand. The ikran pants aggressively, taking large, violent breaths, exhausted from the journey as Kayla jumps off, disengaging from tsaheylu. The avatar doesn't bother to look around at all the blue eyes staring strangely at her before she's jumping into action and helping the others unload the gunship of its medical supplies. Max hands her a trauma kit before he, too, jumps out of the gunship, mask firmly in place, significantly standing smaller than even Neteyam as the teenager approaches to help. Neteyam takes one, brief moment to widen his eyes at the sight of his aunt before she hands him the trauma kit and flashes an encouraging smile.

They're practically dragged through the village in order to get to the Sully marui. Everything was moving so fast, Kayla felt as though she couldn't catch her breath. The group makes haste through the village, like a freight train. She had only been able to catch glimpses of the Metkayina as she passed by, not close enough to grab any smaller details but it was hard to miss their most prominent features. These Na'vi were clearly strong with their broader shoulders, flat, paddle-like tails, and strake forearms attached to large, wide hands. Their skin was lighter than the Omatikaya's, leaning close to that light, aquatic green that could easily blend into their surrounding reefs and lagoons. Their stripes didn't appear to have a purpose or pattern, but scattered and swirled like gentle ripples of water, as if reflecting sunlight through the ocean surface.

Before she could look further into it, Kayla was brought to the Sullys' new home. It was a large marui meant for a large family, on the edge of the village with a beautiful view of the ocean without any other pod obstructing it. Stepping inside, Kayla marveled as a cascade of glowing blue light fell over her skin. Looking up, she noticed the light coming from one wall of the tent where instead of the usual woven fibers and leather meant to hold a marui together was a thin, transparent membrane of an animal, dyed blue to allow light and color through the home like a suncatcher. Her wonder is broken as fast as it had started when Norm and Max speed past her to get to their patient, shaking Kayla from her admiration and getting to work.

With no time to waste, Kayla helps set Max and Norm up with their gear and can't afford to even look down and inspect Kiri for herself. When she's done, she knows that there's nothing else she can do, her expertise never going as far as scientifically or medicinally. With so many people completely surrounding the unconscious Kiri, Kayla exits the pod, stepping out onto the walkways and only now realizing that every step she takes causes her to bounce.

"Auntie?"

Looking up, Kayla's expression completely lifts when she noticed a small crowd of teenagers anxiously waiting outside the marui, two of which she recognized. Sighing in relief and holding her arms out, Kayla pulls Lo'ak and Neteyam in for a group hug, squeezing them tightly before stepping away to get a better look at them, "Look at you. You look so strong. Both of you."

And they were. Both Neteyam and Lo'ak had noticeably more muscle in their arms, legs, and torsos, their diaphragms shaped around their strong lungs. They were still the same height as before, but their style had slowly oh-so gradually changed from beads and brown twine into small seashells and dark green seaweed. Kayla beamed while looking over Lo'ak, her hand finding a resting place on the top of his head, "I like your hair, Lo'ak."

Neteyam smiles and adds to his little brother's sudden bashfulness by patting the top of his head as well, earning a hiss in response. The younger Sully boy no longer kept his hair loose, but pulled back in a simple hair tie, closer to the style Kayla has noticed among the Metkayina hunters. Lo'ak was cowering under the attention until he looked over his aunt's shoulder and his entire posture stiffens, spine straightening and eyes unable to look away from whatever was approaching. Kayla frowns and turned around just as Neteyam was herding her to stand off to the side. A small sea of Metkayina part two separate ways down the woven path and between them walks a female Metkayina.

Kayla wasn't sure what was the first thing she noticed about this woman. It might've been the sea shell ornament resting against her forehead, or perhaps it was the stone-cold green eyes or the facial tattoos framing them. The woven top shielding her chest was beautiful, fitted with a cascade of mother of pearl. Her skirt was clearly a symbol of her rank considering that Kayla has never seen another Na'vi woman wear that. The skirt was long, flowing, and decorated in dyed seagrass, shells, and flower petals. It only went up as far as her waist, gently hugging the woman's baby bump, her torso tattoos stretching and flowing around said bump like a wave.

She exuded regal confidence, easily earning respect from all she passed by like it was an honor to be in her presence. Her walk alone was intimidating, beelining for the Sully marui with a purpose. Behind her was a young Metkayina girl who was clearly her daughter, a twin in every way except for her height and lack of tattoos. The girl held a basket that was clearly full of healing properties and handed them to her mother when the woman turned around for them. The Na'vi woman didn't spare a glance at anyone, charging into the marui with a task in mind and nothing else. Clearly, the tsahik of the Metkayina.

Within moments of the mysterious woman entering the Sully home, Kayla could hear Neytiri's stern demand for everyone to leave. Frantic scurrying could be heard within the marui and Kayla couldn't help but roll her eyes at the three full-grown men, Na'vi and human alike, who could easily scatter with just one look from Neytiri.

Jake is the last one out of the pod, herding Norm and Max away, "Okay, everyone out. Give Kiri some air."

Norm and Max obey, crouching off to the side and going over what they did or didn't find while inspecting Kiri. Jake gives them a moment to go over everything while he takes the chance to get a better look at his sister. Looking around, he easily found her down the walkway, standing with his sons and anxiously waiting for news about Kiri. She still prefers to wear her red-brown crop top and cargo shorts, as he observed, but there are tiny pieces of Omatikaya culture now embedded into her style. Instead of her usual combat boots, she now goes barefoot and has lovely leather braided anklets on both ankles, her toes and fingers painted a warm, coffee-brown color. Her DMT tags are still dangling from around her neck, but as for her throat mic, Kayla has incorporated that piece of RDA technology into a beautiful red and orange thread-woven choker. The earpiece is still settled comfortably in her ear, but she has since gotten said ear pierced and she had a chain attached to both the piercing and the earpiece in case it dislodged.

He couldn't ignore the clear starting signs of a songcord hanging from the belt loop of her cargo shorts. There wasn't much of the cord itself with only one or two small beads here and there, but at the very end of it, resting against her thigh was a small compass about the size of a thumbnail.

It was both strange and uplifting to see, given the circumstances. His sister had clearly progressed in the clan since he left, but it was bittersweet knowing that he had missed it all, only now able to see what she's accomplished in the midst of saving his daughter's life. Jake wished that they had reunited under happier times, "Kayla."

She looks in the direction of his voice and clocks Jake making his way toward her, arms wide open for a hug. Before he takes another step she stops him with a simple, but very distinguished hand gesture, her fingers touching her forehead before she lowered her hand in his direction, bowing her head in respect,

"Ma tsmukan. Oel ngati kameie."

The greeting wasn't very genuine, but it was courteous at best. Jake immediately lowered his arms and cleared his throat, nodding back while offering a fleeting smile, "Good. You sound... good. And I saw your banshee flying in. Congrats."

"Her name is Thena," Kayla crossed her arms, still a little stiff with her words but indulged in the small talk, "I didn't learn as fast as you did, according to Norm, but he's been a big help teaching me when he can."

Neither sibling says another word. He doesn't ask and she doesn't tell. Neither admits to their prior faults or even acknowledges them, so Jake returns to Norm and Max, crouching beside them and starting to list off all the signs that had previously pointed him to Kiri's seizure. Kayla listens, but from a distance, listening about the time Kiri admitted to Jake that she could feel Eywa all around her. When Norm brought up epilepsy, Kayla slowly tuned it out, wishing she hadn't heard it in the first place. She didn't want to think about what this would mean for Kiri, thinking back to that little baby girl she saw on the video log.

A tiny pit of guilt lingered in her gut. She should've mentioned that she had seen the video logs. She should've at least told Jake she watched them all, but she didn't. At the same time, a stubborn part of her reminded Kayla that regardless of whether or not she watched them, she still shouldn't forgive Jake. The amount of apologies he sent her way doesn't justify what he had done, and no amount of apologetic video logs will ever fix that.

There's a cry coming from the marui that erases all troubling thoughts from Kayla's head, and all eyes look up and turn to the pod. Neteyam and Lo'ak don't hesitate to rush in after hearing the relieved sounds of their mother comforting Kiri as the poor girl cried. Jake also rushed in after them, eager to see if his daughter was alright. Kayla stands in the doorway and peeks in. The entire Sully family had joined Neytiri and Tuk in surrounding the distressed Kiri, comforting her and exchanging smiles with one another, grateful for this outcome. The only one that stood out in this picture was the Metkayina woman, leaning over on her knees to catch her breath, looking exhausted compared to before. With Jake's help, the tsahik stood up and moved to the door, only stopping in her tracks when her eyes lock on Kayla hovering just outside the marui. Both women stood completely still, Kayla's eyes widening while the tsahik's narrowed, reverting back to the intimidation Kayla no doubt felt when the woman first showed up. The reef woman's eyes never faltered from suspicion, moving slowly up and down while analyzing Kayla's whole figure, making her squirm underneath her avatar's skin.

Jake briefly looked up from his family and noticed the staredown between the tsahik and his sister before his expression twisted into a wince as if he was in pain. His thoughts internally made him cringe, drastically trying to come up with a good way to explain this to both clan leaders of the Metkayina. Gently placing his hands on both Neytiri's shoulders, Jake quietly announces to his family that he needs to go take care of some things before leaving the marui, passing by the tsahik, who only broke her gaze from Kayla when Jake gently guided his sister away from the pod's entrance. As the adult Sully siblings were moving, so were the Metkayina crowds outside.

The girl Kayla had seen with the tsahik moved passed her and Jake without a second thought and disappeared inside the marui, only returning with the former basket of supplies and her mother. Further down the walkways, Metkayina were crowding around and peering over one another's shoulders to get a good look at the newcomers, to which Kayla equally squirmed under their gaze as well, feeling like fresh meat hanging from a butcher shop window the way Jake was keeping her body in front of him.

When the Metkayina woman moved back around into Kayla's field of view again, Jake finally spoke up from behind her, addressing the tsahik, "This is a discussion meant for the olo'eyktan as well."

Their fathers' voice draws Neteyam and Lo'ak outside, leaving their mother and sisters to relax in each other's comfort. Both Omatikaya boys stood beside their father as pillars of strength when they noticed the way the tsahik was glaring at their aunt's presence, all the while both Norm and Max joined in when noticing the gathering as well. Murmurs fly through the crowds of Metkayina behind the tsahik, who was still weary of Kayla but nods in acknowledgment to Jake. She turns to her daughter and mutters something to her, to which the girl dutifully nods and leaves, disappearing into the crowd. Within minutes, the olo'eyktan was summoned to the Sully marui, and Kayla's eyes only widen further.

He had to be the tallest Na'vi she had ever seen, easily towering over both Jake and Norm. He also had more tattoos out of all the Metkayina People Kayla had seen so far, most of the ink gathered around his face, neck, shoulders, and chest. His hair was tightly braided back and out of his face, much like Kayla's, but unlike hers, his hair was unbraided behind his ears and loosely flowing down his back. On his chest, he wore a special garment that could only be the Metkayina's version of a cummerbund that look like fish scales running up and down one side of his torso and looping around his shoulder. Over that, he bore colorful braided knots and ropes, a ceremonial piece that clearly states his rank in his clan. In one hand, he carried a spear, and with that the weight of responsibilities he held in the village.

He stops in front of Kayla and Jake, glancing between her and the brother behind her with recognition. Despite the height, Kayla felt a little less intimidated by his gaze, one that was only curious and calculating while borderline cautious. His mate, the tsahik, dutifully moved to stand beside him, still staring Kayla down with suspicion and distrust.

Jake moves off to the side so that he could look between the clan leaders and Kayla, before lifting his arm in her direction to present her, "Tonowari, Ronal, this is Makayla Sully. Kayla, this is the olo'eyktan and the tsahik of the Metkayina."

With a closer inspection, Kayla realized that the Metkayina's eyes had two sets of eyelids when they blinked down at her, one moving normally up and down while the other was translucent and blinked sideways. Realizing she was staring, Kayla snapped out of it and moved to pay her respects, lifting her fingers to touch her forehead before lowering down in the clan leaders' direction.

The tsahik known as Ronal barely lets her do so, making a grab at Kayla's fingers when she noticed them and roughly pulled until she brought the hand to her eye level to inspect, nearly making Kayla stumble from her strength. She distastefully scowls at Kayla's four fingers and thumb, "Another one with demon blood."

Kayla turns to Jake, bewildered and slightly worried, "Is that what they call you?"

Lo'ak looks away while Jake is trying to scrounge up an answer. Lo'ak's refusal to look at his aunt is all the answer she needs before a brief wave of anger and the need to protect crashes and retracts in a singular moment, like a wave against the shoreline. Kayla quickly forgets her anger when Ronal walks around her, swarming her like a vulture as she grabs Kayla's tail. Kayla winced quietly to herself at the rough intrusion but otherwise didn't comment. She chalked it up as a tsahik thing. Mo'at always tended to forget personal boundaries as well.

"Her Na'vi tongue is terrible," Ronal continues to berate and insult, "It sounds like a baby still forming its first words."

Jake tried negotiating to the best of his ability without sounding like he was pleading or, Eywa forbid, insulting his hosts, "Tsahik, please. Kayla is my sister. We share the same blood. We were born of the Sky People."

Ronal pauses and looks at Jake, ears flattening as she replays his words in her head, "All Na'vi people know your story, Toruk Makto, and your story never mentions a sister."

Kayla's ears fall flat against her skull as she looked away. Jake solemnly nods to Ronal, "I know. Kayla has only recently arrived in our world. She had only been living among the Omatikaya for a little less than a year now."

A moment passes before her eyes flick back to Kayla, both women inspecting one another in that close distance, roughly standing at the same height. Kayla could see the way Ronal's eyes move to each and every one of her avatar features. The smaller eyes, the hairy brows, and then back down to the extra fingers and toes. Eventually, Ronal pulls away and rejoins her mate, while Kayla finally found herself able to breathe with her personal space now restored.

Tonowari takes one look at his mate before dividing his attention to Kayla, touching his forehead and lowering his hand in her direction, tilting his head down with a small smile, "Welcome, sister of Toruk Makto."

Kayla relaxes ever so slightly and nods back. When she opened her mouth to respond, the words are cut off by a small freight train crashing into her waist and legs. The air is almost knocked out of her as Kayla looks down, her fright instantly melting into a bright smile when Tuk looks back up at her, beaming excitedly, "Auntie!"

"Tuk!" Kayla bent down to her youngest niece's height, the clan leaders forgotten while she inspected the little girl, "Oh, my sweetheart, look at you... did you grow? I think you've grown!"

She tickles Tuk under her chin, the girl quickly retracting with a small giggle. Kayla smiles and places her hands under Tuk's arms and lifts her up, placing her on her hip before returning her attention to the adults surrounding them, bashful when remembering where she was as the Metkayina all stare oddly at her. Kayla summons her manners again and clears her throat, her smile falling as she stares directly at Ronal, leveling her voice to be as clear as she was able in their language, "Tsahik of the Metkayina. I am forever grateful that you took in my brother's family as your own. I don't ask to be sheltered among your people. I only ask that you allow me to stay for a little while so that I can keep an eye on Kiri and make sure she's healthy and no longer in danger."

Jake opens his mouth to speak but cringed and backed down after one brief look from Kayla quickly refusing whatever he wanted to say before he even could say it. The brother retracts and the sister brings her eyes back to Tonowari and Ronal, being sure to retain eye contact between them, "I will go if you ask me to. I will respect your wishes. I just want to make sure my family is safe."

Ronal's eyes narrow again, solely on Kayla. Tuk flinches and hides her face away in Kayla's neck, but otherwise says nothing as her aunt stares down the tsahik. The gaze is only broken when Ronal turns her body away from Kayla to face the olo'eyktan, who in turn, loyally follows her motion until he's engaging in a silent conversation with her using only their eyes and ears. Kayla had to commend them for their nonverbal communication skills. She had no doubt they made an excellent team as the leaders of the clan.

After a few moments of silence and bated breath, Kayla's gaze is met with Tonowari's, who spoke for himself and Ronal as the tsahik looks around at her people instead, "Jakesully and Neytiri have learned our ways from me and my mate. You will do the same as long as you remain here. Learn fast, and do not fall behind. Do not bring us shame for being useless."

Her brows shortly furrow before relaxing. Blink and you would've missed the confusion crossing over her eyes before she forgets herself and quickly bows her head in gratitude, "Irayo."

Tonowari nods back and follows Ronal through the crowd, walking away. Kayla doesn't have a moment to take a breath of relief before she's bombarded by her brother's family. Lo'ak immediately bounds up to Kayla when the tension is broken, excitedly rambling, "We have so much to show you! We've learned a new language so we can communicate underwater. And we can hold our breath longer, too! Wait until you properly meet Tsireya. She's a great teacher!"

"She's super pretty!" Tuk chimes in, resulting in Kayla laughing as Lo'ak's face flushes a darker shade of blue.

Neteyam and Jake round their guests up and bring them back inside the marui. Neytiri looks up from tending to Kiri and blatantly ignores Norm and Max in exchange for her eyes widening at the sight of one other avatar in the room. The Na'vi woman stood at the sight of Kayla in the doorway, holding Tuk on her hip. Neytiri let out a long breath of relief, a smile gracing her lips, "Makayla..."

Kayla beams, immediately moving around to hug Neytiri, who happily accepts the embrace. Kiri had managed to sit up with Neteyam's help and craned her neck up to see for herself, hiccuping while still trying to relax from all her crying, "Auntie?"

Her weak voice broke Kayla's heart, and so the aunt pulls away from Neytiri and hands Tuk to her mother before crouching down beside the teenager. Kayla flashes a soft smile, her hand reaching up to wipe away the tear tracks still fresh on Kiri's face, "Hey, kiddo. How are you feeling?"

"Tired," Kiri mumbled, leaning into her aunt in a form of an attempted side hug.

Kayla gladly takes Kiri's weight and sits down fully, holding the teen close to her as support while running a hand through her soft, short hair, "That's okay. Take all the time to rest. You'll be back to normal by this time tomorrow."

From over Kiri's head, Kayla flashes a warning glare at both Norm and Max, a clear indicator to keep their mouths shut about her niece's condition. Jake feels a small ping of amusement when watching the way both Norm and Max stiffen under her scrutinous glare but otherwise say nothing. Instead, the scientists properly pack up their supplies in their respective places instead of feeling rushed, taking their time and catching up with the Sullys, exchanging stories and recent events. Lo'ak and Kiri pointedly stared at Kayla until she noticed, and one look alone drove the aunt to understand what they were asking. Her expression briefly falls and with a heavy heart, shakes her head in dismissal, further saddening the teenagers' moods. No, she hasn't found him yet.

The day was almost done and Norm and Max needed to head back if they were going to try and get home before night closes in. Kayla offered to see them out since she still needed a few things from the gunship. The Sullys all say goodbye and the kids even hug the scientists as tight as they could, nearly choking the life out of Max. He and Norm promise to check on the Sullys' friends and family for them back home and make Jake and Kayla promise to call if anything happens, then they left for the beach. Making sure all her needed belongings were with her, Kayla helps guide them with arm motions as Max begins to lift the gunship off the sand dune.

The ship rises and rises until Kayla has to crane her neck up to watch it disappear, her hand over her throat mic, "Rogue Two, you're clear! See ya guys later."

"Copy that!"

"Good luck, Desert Fox."

Kayla only returns to the Sully marui when she could no longer hear the rushing sound of the gunship's blades. By the time she returned to her brother's family, they were getting ready to go and join the village at the communal dinner. At first, Kayla was more than happy to hang back and avoid the Metkayina if that meant making them comfortable without her presence, but the Sully kids weren't having it. Tuk desperately tugged on her aunt's arm until the woman followed her to the large, communal marui at the center of the village. Acting as the center of this large network of homes, the tent was supported by the mangrove roots and all the separate marui hanging around it, connecting the entire place together through all the pathways dodging in and out in all directions.

Neteyam and Lo'ak purposely stuck to their aunt's side when they took their tree bark plates and went about grabbing a variety of food shared among the People. Nearly every Metkayina was staring at Kayla, but she stubbornly ignored it, pretending she didn't notice as she made conversation with her nephews. Tuk had run off to join a group of her new friends while Kiri kept close to Neytiri, still weak and tired from the whole ordeal. Plus, if a village person decided to approach her and ask questions about the incident, Kiri could rely on her mother to wrap a protective arm around her and hiss at them, daring the Na'vi to continue overwhelming her baby.

The tent was loud, full of conversation, songs, and storytelling. Everyone shared their food and in return, everyone shared a story, whether it was about their day or some past or fictional event. Children were laughing and playing, running and weaving around the adults as they ate, trying not to step on anyone's tail. The food smelled and tasted delicious. Kayla was delighted by the smoked fish with perfectly seasoned herbs and spices on top. She couldn't remember a time when she had something so savory.

When he caught a break in Kayla's conversation with his sons, Jake nudged her gently to grab her attention. With Neytiri on the other side of him, both parents pointedly stare at Kayla until she realized they wanted to talk to her. And to her surprise, they spoke to her in English, likely so no one else could understand them.

Jake first pointed out the color of her nails with a playful grin, "So how the Hell did you get a hold of nail polish?"

Kayla smirked mischievously, "Promise you won't tell? Jocelyn has a secret stash full of various colors. She's painted almost every avatar's nails and even some Na'vi's when they got curious. She made it clear that when I finish my Iknimaya, I have to let her paint them again before the ceremony."

Neytiri turned to her sister-in-law when she heard that, surprised as her mouth drops in shock and wonder, "Kayla. You completed your Iknimaya?"

Kayla smiled, albeit a little shy, "Well, technically I only made a clean kill and finished my ikran trial."

To her credit, Neytiri appeared remorseful, ears drooping and expression apologetic, "I am sorry I missed it."

"That's alright. I haven't done my Uniltaron yet. Maybe you can accompany me for that?"

Jake snorts, "I can't wait for you to experience that trip. So what else have you been up to?"

"I've been getting to know the locals while you guys have been gone, learning from them and obviously obtaining my own ikran. Tarsem and Norm were with me for that," she hesitates to mention more, looking back at her nephews. Neither of them was listening to her, instead lost in their own conversation with a friend of theirs, Rotxo. When Kayla peered over Neytiri to check on Kiri, she only found a teenager lost in her own, sad thoughts while focusing more on her dinner than the people around her. And with Tuk clearly elsewhere, Kayla turned back to Jake and Neytiri, "In between learning, I've been trying to track down Spider."

Neytiri frowned and looked down to focus more on her meal while Jake perked up, eyes hard in leadership mode when he realized he was discussing business, "Really? What do you got?"

And just like that, they've fallen back into military procedure. Kayla's voice naturally lowered and sounded monotone, "Our sources indicate he's still alive but beyond that, we haven't been able to plan a rescue mission."

"Do your sources know exactly who has him?"

Kayla was suddenly glad they were having this conversation in English while gravely reporting, "We did get confirmation that it is Colonel Miles Quaritch and his 'Déjà Blue Team' as they call themselves."

Jake's face falls in horror while Neytiri's screwed up with disdain. Kayla continues, "Technically, they're called Recoms. Avatars without a separate host. In Project Phoenix, the RDA took the memories of deceased soldiers from your war and put them in the brains of Na'vi vessels. This is not just personal for Quaritch. It's personal for all of them."

"Shit." Jake cursed under his breath, shadows of the past further darkening his eyes as he stared off into space, not looking at anyone or anything in particular. He didn't want to believe that was really Quaritch threatening his kids back there, but with the way Kayla described him, it was almost undeniably true, and it was like a ghost of his past, coming back to haunt Jake again.

"So you guys have a history," Jake turned back at the sound of Kayla's voice, her eyes indifferent while trying to find something in his expression as she knowingly stated, "Norm told me quite a bit. You were Quaritch's pet until you got soft."

"Watch it." Jake snarled darkly under his breath, teeth-baring faintly at her.

"Just saying."

"Then say less." They both fall into silence, staring each other down until Neytiri tapped her husband's arm. The motion brings Jake back to the present, mumbling to the point where Kayla could barely hear him, "Sorry."

Kayla nods, accepting it and returning the sentiment, but in her own, stiff way, "I was trying to make a joke. My bad."

Neytiri decided that it was time to change the subject, leaning over to get a better look at Kayla from the other side of Jake, "My mother. My people. Anything from them?"

Kayla struggled but eventually got past the intense conversation with her brother and forced herself to smile at Neytiri, sympathetic to her question, "The Omatikaya are strong. So far, life as they know it is still steady and as normal as it can be. Quaritch and the others still haven't been able to lead a proper assault on the Hallelujah Mountains. Most of the time, they barely leave a dent. Your mother is still tsahik until Tarsem can finally choose a mate for Mo'at to teach. She is the same as always."

Jake feels an elbow gently nudging him. When he looks in the direction of the offending limb, he finds Kayla trying to smile at him, attempting to lighten his spirit and offer a truce, "You were right. She is a dragon lady."

That earned her a tiny smirk and a small huff of laughter that only grew when Neytiri affectionately smacked Jake upside the back of his head. Hearing their father laugh made all the Sully children turn to their parents and aunt, demanding what was so funny as Tuk comes bounding back, wanting in on the laughter. It became a bit of a scene once Jake plucked his youngest child up off the ground and began tickling her, forgetting his demons for the moment. Tuk's squeals and giggles drew a lot of attention, but either the Sully family didn't appear to notice or didn't care about it in the least. Kayla and Neytiri had begun to laugh along with Jake and the children, their spirits lifted as they try to attempt to save Tuk from her relentless father. At one point, he even held the child upside down by only holding her foot, earning more squealing laughter from the little girl while Jake lifted her above his head without much effort. Neytiri frantically tried to keep her own hands under Tuk's head in case she fell while Kayla tried to get her brother to put the child down and keep things civil as they were beginning to disturb other Na'vi from enjoying their meals.

Little did she know that she was being watched like a hawk, her usual instincts abandoned in exchange for trying to make a grab for her squealing niece, unaware of the two pairs of eyes practically drilling holes into her back from far across the room.

A/N: I don't care if this chapter was short, I'm super damn proud of it. I had been struggling to write it at the beginning of the week and somehow I still did it! You gotta enjoy the little things.

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kittenofdoomage · 8 months

Text

Satisfaction

Summary: This fic is based on the prompt “You choose I love them all and reader; Commenting that he can’t keep up with you in bed and him proving you wrong”. With the prompt in mind, the character is anyone you like, possibly with the exception of Negan as he doesn’t swear or smirk enough 😂 I’ve avoided any descriptive characteristics… except for his 🍆 (I'm posting here because I can't put it on Ao3 without specific fandom tags)

Pairing: Any male character x female!reader

Word Count: 1455

Warnings: PWP with a dash of fluff

The hotel room had been his idea. After a year of barely being able to make time as a couple, both of you needed a break, so he had proposed the weekend away which you had readily accepted. For the first twelve hours, you’d done nothing but sleep, and after that, you had indulged in other appetites, feeling no need to leave your little sanctuary when you’d brought plenty of snacks and there was room service available. Netflix had been the soundtrack, not that either of you were paying attention to what you had put on, too busy indulging in each other.

Eventually, you needed to shower, and even then, you couldn’t keep your hands off of him. The time apart had made you hungrier for him than you thought imaginable, though his stamina seemed to be lacking as he followed you into the ensuite, as unwilling to part from you as you were from him.

“I never thought you of all people would struggle to keep up with me in bed,” you giggled, reaching to put the conditioner back on the shelf.

“Well,” he muttered, cheek resting against your shoulder, “for one, we’re not in a bed right now.” His hands gripped your hips as he ground his erection into your backside. “And two, I’m perfectly capable of keeping up, I just need to eat something.”

“Room service?”

“Depends if you wanna put clothes on.”

You pouted, turning to face him. “Do you?”

He groaned as your fingers slipped around his cock once more, stroking him until he was twitching in your palm. “Not really,” he breathed, pulling you under the spray and into a passionate kiss. “Fuck, you gotta stop, baby -”

“I don’t wanna,” you whispered back with a smirk.

His breathing got heavier, and you kept working your hand over his length, watching his face twist into a mask of pleasure. “I thought you wanted to get cleaned up?” he stuttered, barely able to keep his eyes open.

“Hmmm, yeah.” You tightened your hand at the base, looking down to watch his cock throb in your fingers. “You’re a wonderful distraction.”

Another low moan left him, and he pulled your hand away, pushing you up against the tiled wall to kiss you again, trapping his erection between your bodies. You whined into his mouth, attempting to grab his shoulders but failing when his hands instantly pinned yours to the wall by the wrist.

“You’re insatiable,” he chuckled, drawing back to look at you. You squirmed in his hold, biting your lip as desire made your core clench. “Look at you, you’re inches from begging.”

“You want me to beg?” you teased.

He shrugged lightly. “Tempting, but not necessary.” Closing the distance between you, he moved your hands so he could pin them both above your head, allowing him to press his free hand between your thighs, making you moan low in your throat. “How ‘bout you scream instead?”

Long fingers spread your folds, opening you up slowly, almost agonizingly. You mewled, still squirming, though you spread your feet a little more, giving him better access. He grinned, sinking a single digit into you, rocking it back and forth as your body reacted with a deep shudder. His name left you in a breathy moan, and he grinned, adding a second finger just to watch you squirm some more.

“I thought it was me that couldn’t keep up,” he admonished playfully. “C’mon, baby, you can cum again for me.”

Your breaths became pants, and you writhed in his hold, hips jerking as you tried to seek out more friction. His thumb pressed against your clit, making your whole body jerk, and you cried out before biting your lip, practically fucking yourself onto his hand.

“That’s it,” he praised, and you forced your eyes open, looking down to see him achingly hard, precum weeping from the tip of his cock as he brought you off. “Na-uh,” he chided. “You’re not getting any more of this until you give me what I want.”

You scowled in frustration, but the emotion quickly slipped away, replaced by ecstasy as his fingers kept working inside you. Hours of lovemaking had left you sensitive, almost overstimulated, and he knew it, though he didn’t stop, dragging you to the edge and holding you there just to watch you crumble as you fell apart in pleasure.

The shower spray grew a touch colder, and he caught you in his arms as your shaking knees gave way, chuckling at your lax expression. “Back to bed?” he asked.

“Mmhmm,” you agreed.

He stopped short of carrying you, helping you out of the shower so you could grab a towel. You didn’t care much for your damp skin as you landed on the bed, rolling onto your side to watch him approach. “What?” he asked, toweling his hair dry.

With a grin, you pointed at his continued erection. “Need me to take care of that?”

“Insatiable,” he repeated, discarding the towel and crawling onto the bed, apparently as unconcerned with the sheets getting wet as you were. “At some point, we should do something outside this room though. It’s supposed to be a vacation.”

You shrugged, leaning in to kiss him. “Maybe,” you agreed softly, “but right now, I owe you one.” Pushing at his shoulders, you waited until he was on his back before straddling him, rubbing your pussy against his thick shaft. “Or two, I haven’t decided.” His answer was a choked moan as you lifted enough for the tip of his cock to catch on your entrance. It took very little maneuvering for him to penetrate you fully, and you sank down with a whine, straightening your back to feel him pressing deep. “Fuck,” you exhaled, letting your hands rest on his stomach.

“Yeah,” he agreed breathlessly, running his fingers along your thighs until his thumbs were almost framing your sex. His gaze locked on where you were joined, and when you looked at him, his pupils were so blown they almost obliterated the color. “Don’t move,” he ordered, using the pad of his right thumb to coax your clit from under its hood. You arched instinctively, and the point of pressure where he was buried made your eyes fall closed. He grinned, rubbing at the sensitive nub until you were almost quivering on top of him.

“S-stop,” you whimpered, shaking your head. “I can’t -”

“Sure you can,” he dismissed, applying just enough pressure to make you squeak.

You couldn’t stop the slow rock of your hips as he got you close again, and the pressure in your throat matched the pressure in your belly, a burgeoning scream that bubbled out of you with a pitch high enough that the neighboring room would surely have heard. Underneath you, your lover smirked his satisfaction, finally withdrawing his fingers and watching as you swayed on top of him. You could feel the wetness that had accompanied your orgasm, mingling with the remaining water from your shower, drenching his thighs and the sheets below.

With revenge in mind, you fixed a determined glare on him. “You’re gonna pay for that,” you seethed, grabbing for his wrists and pinning them either side of his head. He didn’t fight back, though he laughed at your movements, and you scowled, lifting enough to sink back down, cutting off his amusement with a well-timed clench of your pelvic muscles. His laughter dissolved into a low groan, and you smiled in triumph, shifting to repeat the movement.

The bed creaked as you started to ride him, protesting the vigorous actions, but both of you ignored it, suddenly engrossed in each other. You released his hands and he instantly pulled you down, framing your face with his fingers as he tugged you into a passionate kiss, and your bodies moved in sync, each of you chasing the same high. Every pant and moan increased until you could feel him thickening, and when the first spurt of warmth filled you, you slowed and sank down onto him completely, burying him deep as he came with his face pressed to your shoulder.

It took a few minutes for you to both stop, clinging to each other as your heart rate slowed to a normal level. Now you’d stopped, you could feel the ache in your thighs and lower back, and you laughed under your breath when he groaned at the stiffness in his own muscles.

“Okay,” he breathed quietly, “I think we’ve proved we can keep up with each other.”

“Had enough?” you teased, only to wince as you lifted off of him, landing beside him with a squeak of discomfort.

“Have you?”

“Yeah,” you confessed with a giggle. “Maybe I have.”

Tell me who you were thinking of when reading this 😉

#fanfiction #reader x ???#reader insert #any male character #smut #pwp #fanfic #pick your main

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suzyq31 · 3 months

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WIP Tag

Thanks for the tag @nodirectionhome-ao3! I almost feel unworthy as I really am not writing much now and feeling a lot of conflict about how to move forward in fandom, but it's still fun to have a chance to chat about what I am writing (even if it's slow).

List the titles your top five priorities for WIP updates (link your fics for new readers!)

An upcoming scene, event, or detail in each fic that you're looking forward to writing

Bonus: make a poll for your followers to vote on which top 5 WIP they are most excited to see an update on!

Then tag 10 writer friends

Titles

Maybe Tomorrow: The epilogue is all that's left! This is a hard story to categorize, but essentially Harry and Hermione are fixing up Potter Manor the first Christmas after the war, on Christmas Eve they wake up to find themselves seemingly in the future, or some possible alternate reality. Friends to lovers, time travel, domestic fluff and plenty of angst thrown in.

Untitled James and Lily. A one shot sitting in my drafts. Mischief and games, and a first kiss. Possibly going to connect it to At The Beginning.

Found. I've actually pulled this from Ao3 and it's become a personal project instead. It's a spin off from my Seasons Series. Second generation, original character, coming back from the dead and other fun stuff. Harry/Hermione.

Iris. Another project I'm unsure of. It's still online, but may take it down in future to also write for myself instead of an audience. It's the first long story I ever attempted, and was a tad ambitious with it. Harry and Hermione. Hidden child, post war, angsty as hell. And a mystery plot that is slowly driving me insane as I try to weave in the appropriate clues.

Don't really know at this point. @bettertoflee and I have lost steam on In Between which is supposed to be a steamy, fake dating, 8th year Harmony. Life is just hectic and neither of us are feeling overly motivated. I have several vague James and Lily ideas floating in my brain, as well as a few original short stories I'd like to experiment with...but lately writing has been a chore and my creative muse feels depleted!

As you can see the theme is that I have all these Harry and Hermione WIPS, yet no will to work on them, or at least continue posting (sigh). And I would like to write more James and Lily, yet keep freezing. So fun times all around!

Upcoming Scenes, Events, Details

So it's just the epilogue left. One detail is that so far it's only one scene and not very long, but still, I am so excited to finally wrap this up and reveal some stuff. It's probably the story that has meant the most to me on a personal level, and it feels so good to have finished something that I worked hard on and am proud of.

There is a kiss that I am very eager to write. Plus some group dynamics that I'm having fun experimenting with.

Now that I'm not writing this for an audience there has been some freedom with being able to let go of certain details and it feels great to just jump around and have fun with it. I'm working on a scene of a cute "first" date that makes me all fluttery ❤️ Also Ron will be making another appearance soon, and I do love writing him.

There are some cute scenes I'm excited to write, but they are a ways away and I don't want to say too much. I will say there is a kiss that I am also very excited to write in this one to! Let's just see if I ever get through all the "mystery" bits.

Well, if we could summon the energy/ability, there is a smut scene in In Between that I know I'm eager to write, or read, who knows which of us will make it happen 👀 I would also very much like it if my desire to write would come back as I keep getting snippets of Jily banter in my head that would be good to get down.

Not sure if anyone will be interested in reading any of this, but yes a glimpse at the chaos of my writing life (at least fandom wise).

Anyone who wants to participate, consider yourself tagged! But will also add a few that I am curious about! @glitterwitch1 @myst867 @annonymouslyblonde

#harry potter fanfic #harry x hermione #harmony fanfic #jily #james/lily #writing woes #my wips

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broomsticks · 1 year

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HP fic rec list: underrated gems of 2022

AO3 collection here. mostly ultra rare pairs, gen fic, character studies, and G/T rated fic. all are short <10k-ish reads (plenty of <1k ficlets) - do give them a read if any look interesting!

transports of delight by @swoontodeath (1.7k, G). The Knight Bus meets the Catbus. Sometimes destiny looks a lot like driving in the same direction.

pairing: Knight Bus (Harry Potter)/Catbus (My Neighbor Totoro). come for the crack ship, stay for the autistic stan shunpike. i’m a sucker for outsider POV and this is why — such great opportunity for some unique characterization, which this author took full advantage of here!

-#-

Life of Pye by @houseofhebrideanblacks (9k, E). Augustus Pye sees patients at St. Mungo's.

SUCH a creative unique fic - love it when authors take their deep IRL expertise and weave it into the canon HP verse. as the author put it, for anyone curious about what a nonmagical doctor sounds like writing about what they imagine magical medicine is like, day in and day out.

“It’s Puddlemere versus the Cannons tonight. The cup final.” Pye stopped mid-stride and mid-thought, shoulders seeming to weep under the weight of realisation. “Oh no,” he almost whispered. “Oh yes,” Marge glowered, “and you’re alone tonight, Rupert is off sick.” “Good heavens,” Pye whimpered, his coffee seeming to shrink in his hand, both in potency and relevance. In the waiting room behind him, three blokes hurricaned in chanting “CANNONS, CANNONS, CANNONS,” their unconscious friend slumped and dragged between them. “You know how it is, Pye,” Marge turned and shuffled back to validate the young witch’s national insurance card. Speaking over her shoulder, she finished, “never a dull moment at Mungo’s.”

-#-

Strangers In A Strange Land by @sleepstxtic (7.5k words, T). Helga, Salazar, and Godric dock in a strange land looking for the elusive fourth member of their team.

helga/rowena, founders friendship with POC Rowena Ravenclaw and Viking Helga Hufflepuff. CANON NODS and POC REP and FEMSLASH and a wonderful fascinating setting — ticks every single one of my AU boxes. another incredibly inventive and criminally underrated story.

-#-

A Different Truth by @paulamcg (2.8k, G). A week before Halloween 1993, when a colleague appreciates his company, Cuthbert may feel alive, even though he's dead and it's Saturday.

ok this is the last time i will say criminally underrated. canon-compliant POA first person cuthbert binns & remus lupin. this could’ve been slash and i would’ve been sold on it. i love their friendship, bonding over literature (of course) and a walk in the woods (so unexpected, but works so well.)

-#-

Meagre Pieces by @vdoshu (1k words, T). The Muggle-born Registration Commission is announced, and Andromeda feels sick.

The fact that the first Muggle-born Minister for Magic was a great victory for equality . . . one which was never again repeated.

@thistlecatfics’s trans teddy tonks x andromeda is taking over the world and i’m here for it. the political commentary in this. doshu you absolute wizard — you’ve got such range and you nail it every. single. time.

-#-

O let the world come at you, love (currently anonymous) (5k, T). Twelve-year-old Harry tries to figure out his parents' polyamorous relationship with Peter Pettigrew.

the first fic for the peter/lily/james tag on AO3, gifted to me for this year’s rare pairs exchange, and it’s all the wholesome fluff i i could’ve wanted from this ship and more!!! so much poly rep!! background wolfstar+tonks (ish), dorlene+implied others, and just the perfect epilogue 🥰

"Does it bother you that your parents are with Pete?" Sirius asked. "No! I know they're polymers."

-#-

Nirmal by @crazybutgood (2.8k, G).

postwar cho/padma. i ADORE this fic. there are literally LINKS to all the places and foods and songs mentioned, it’s an ENTIRE immersive multimedia experience in 3k words - a beautiful and horrendously underappreciated fic, imo.

hawa paani ka badlaav hona chahiye—A change in atmosphere is often needed to improve one's health or state of mind. Literally, a change in the winds, and the water. Parvati quoted that saying to us one evening last month, suggesting that it would be good for Cho and me. My parents knew that I had been with Cho for just over a year then, and welcomed her to stay with us after the Battle … Cho actually looked interested at the idea and suggested our home countries for a month each. And so, we’re currently visiting Mumbai first, staying in a Muggle area at my Muggle maushi’s place, in July—during the monsoon season.

-#-

a heart the size of jupiter (a smile like the sun) by gghostish (300 words, G, no archive warnings).

linny, epileptic luna lovegood. such a lovely achy hurty little thing ❤️

-#-

métamorphoses by @venom0usbarbie (5k, M). The blood curse took her grandmother. And now, she has to pay the piper if she doesn't want it to take her too.

astoria greengrass-centric, astoria & hermione (gen/possible pre-relationship). this fic wow. where do i begin!! the descriptive writing. the angsty family feels. the way barbie writes the blurring of thoughts and feelings and emotions into physical sensations is harrowingly good. check out everything else by her if you liked this, her style is inimitable.

-#-

wood-rush and wildflowers by @nanneramma (500 words, G). Lily has a secret, and it's time to tell Petunia.

wonderful little canon compliant alternate character POV vignette, gorgeous writing. also reccing this horrorific pansy/tom (ad te omnis caro veniet, 1.3k, M), this gorgeously sad canon-compliant alice & neville (gaps, 300, G), and every single one of nan’s summer femslash double drabbles!

-#-

covered in your ivy by @girl-with-goats (1.5k, M).

smutty BDSM remus/lily with planty metaphors that just work so well for this pairing!

-#-

I Always Underestimate You by @patriceavril (10k, M).

sirius & lily friendship! multi-era, canon compliant, sirius/mary and jily. i love the way patrice characterizes this friendship -- it’s not always easy, and that’s why it feels so earned!

-#-

Madam Smith by @lumosatnight (200 words, G). HOKEY/WINKY! SO charming and sweet and lovely and fluffy.

A Bleak Midwinter by @bluesundaycake (500, T). A Fenrir Greyback character study. feel sorry for baby fenrir thank you bye <3

Pray by @krethes (300, T). A Hope Lupin character study. yes hello hi read and CRY WITH ME

The Prince's Poems by @inmyownlittlecorner5. seven poems, misc formats. this author writes the most enthralling snape, and making it poetry is just !!! unfair. such powerful writing in so few words.

#my fic recs #harry potter fanfiction #hp fics #fic rec list #hp rare pairs

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altraviolet · 2 months

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I was tagged by @viol3lite in this post here for a little chain answer thingy thing. Thanks for the tag :) The original post is super long so I'm answering here instead of reblogging the whole thing.

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

654,175

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Transformers. I used to write for other fandoms many years ago.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

LOL this is how all my stats look. The Echo Garden has a jillion more stats than everything else.

5. Do you respond to comments?

Yes :)

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I don't have any fics with angsty endings, per se. But horrific or sad or horrifically sad... probably "Lightning Rod."

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Plenty of them have happy endings! Probably Echo Garden wins here. I literally wrote the sappiest ending I could, then wrote the whole fic, wondering if I could get to a place where the sappiness was in character, and it was. bahaha

8. Do you get hate on fics?

never got a flame on ff.net and I've never gotten hate on AO3 =)

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

lol. uhhhhh. the roboty kind

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

The craziest one was a character from TFP going onto a vessel from MTMTE. It's a crossover from different parts of the TF franchise, but not a crossover between entirely unrelated franchises.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

not to my knowledge

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

yes! there are 2 Russian translations and 1 Chinese translation for Echo Garden, and there is a Russian translation for the Rodimus/Megatron fic The Field Ballad.

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

not in TF fandom

14. What's your all time favorite ship?

Mirage/Skywarp :)

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

sequel to Face The Past. I have a bunch of stuff written but will probably never get it together.

16. What are your writing strengths?

worldbuilding, characterization (keeping characters in character even through an arc), flow

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

plot, ugh

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

is this a contentious subject? o_O oh maybe for anime, putting random Japanese in?

in Transformers fics the "other languages" aren't real the way non-English languages are real, so I can't put them in without inventing them and then translating them anyway. I put those parts in italics and make it known to the reader what's happening. I think it's good for showing character or culture

19. First fandom you wrote for?

I made my own Star Trek ship and crew xD

20. Favorite fic you've written?

oh nuuuuu how am I supposed to piiiiiiick...

*sigh* I guess Echo Garden? it was extremely long and extremely indulgent. I held back a little, but overall I did almost everything I wanted to do. the length came from the indulgence.

If you'd like to consider yourself tagged and join in, feel free =)

#writing meme #writing questions #what do you call this thing?#tagged thingy #long post #if you ask “which story has highest stat X?” the answer is always Echo Garden #just... it always is #and probably always will be xD

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bigskydreaming · 10 months

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Totally random thought, but you know how no fandom has such a thing as completely normalized tags, BUT many fandoms or parts of a fandom have popular tags for finding fics on Ao3 with specific tropes?

Like for instance, I remember a few years back that a lot of the fic writers in the pro-Scott corner of Teen Wolf fandom tried to idk, kinda start a trend of using tags like ‘Scott-centric’ or ‘Scott McCall as Primary Character’ when posting fics on Ao3, because we wanted to make it easier for Scott fans to find fics that were specifically ABOUT him, given that there’s usually no way to differentiate between those kinds of fics and fics that have him tagged as being in it.....but he’s just a completely background character in a S/tydia or S/terek fic who has maybe a few lines....which of course is just....not what most Scott fans are looking for when they use Scott McCall in the search filters to try and find something about him to read.

And so anyone who follows us on tumblr, where we talked about this, know to search for ‘Scott-centric’ or ‘Scott McCall as Primary Character’ and they’ll definitely find any fics written by various pro-Scott mutuals....but tumblr isn’t the entirety of any fandom, lol, and there’s plenty of other fics on Ao3 that do fit that tag but wouldn’t necessarily think to use that tag in specific for people to search for.....and even if they DID try to make a distinct tag to advertise that Scott is the main character of their fic, there’s no guarantee that what they come up with would be similar enough phrasing to get sorted into the an common parent tag.

Because something I was thinking about recently is the fact that like......I SUCK at coming up with tags when posting a fic on Ao3. Its easily my least favorite part of the posting process because uh....as any longtime follower knows, I may be creative but ORGANIZED? Not a strength of mine, lol. I can write a 5K one shot no problem, but then tell me now I have to come up with tags that are actually helpful in guiding people who might be interested in it to find it, and I’m like.....Kalen.exe has stopped working.

And I do know I’m not the only one who struggles with tags....both coming up with ones to help people find their fic, or coming up with tags to search for to narrow down their options when looking to read a fic that falls within specific parameters.

The problem of course is getting specific tags to catch on in a way that’s actually opt-in and helpful to both writers and readers.

For example.....fics where Dick Grayson is depicted as being an asshole to Jason Todd when they were younger? Obviously on my no-fly list. Not what I’m ever looking to read, and not something I’d ever write. So of course I always filter out ‘Dick Grayson is a bad brother’ the same way I filter out ‘Scott McCall is a Bad Friend’....but its not like this is guaranteed to catch all or even most fics that contain these tropes. Because while there are writers who dislike these characters enough to highlight that they think they’re jerks, there’s plenty who also write the characters that way but almost as an afterthought or due to popular fanon trends.....while they themselves don’t actually think about the character in question enough that it even occurs to them to include tags that are specific to their depiction of characters who are just....not priorities for them, personally.

But at the same time, as a writer.....whenever I tag fics where I want fans of these characters to know that I am definitely not writing these specific tropes, so fans who are frankly exhausted by the prevalence can easily find my fic among the thousands and thousands of fics that pop up when you just search out their character tags.....

Like, I don’t actually think oh just use the exact opposite tag, even though I wrote the fic to BE the exact opposite of a Dick hates Jason or a Scott is a bad friend fic.

And THAT is because of how many fics get tagged something like Dick Grayson is a Good Brother.....by writers who view ‘being a good brother’ as Dick only ever appearing in that fic to support or prop up one of his siblings. Just like many Scott fans never go searching the ‘Scott McCall is a Good Friend’ tag because of how damn MANY fics tagged that only consider him a good friend when writing him as just.....existing to affirm or validate Stiles and only do what he says at any given opportunity, lol.

Obviously this is a generalization and there ARE fics tagged Dick Grayson is a Good Brother that I would like due to him having a positive relationship with various siblings but WITHOUT being sidelined and still getting to have a sizable role in the fic or a plot of his own....but unless they’re written or recommended by a mutual, I’m not necessarily likely to ever find that fic because in large fandoms like Batfam or Teen Wolf, even specific character tags can be tiring to wade through.

Like I don’t filter OUT these tags in the same way I do specifically negative tags, but I don’t search them out and I certainly don’t tag my stuff with these tags, because as an example....Scott McCall is a Good Friend pulls up 1,800 fics when I search just that tag in specific on Ao3.

And I think most Scott fans would agree that there are NOT 1,800 fics where Scott is portrayed as a good friend....but in a way that still lets him be the kind of nuanced or spotlighted kind of character Scott fans are looking for when they search for something to read. But its still a hell of an undertaking to search through even ‘just’ 1,800 fics in search of the relative few where he is a good friend BUT in a way that actually respects his character and doesn’t just make him a prop for the actual focal characters in a fic.

So when tagging fics I want LIKE-MINDED Dick Grayson or Scott McCall fans to find easily, I’m more likely to tag a fic with something like ‘Dick and Jason don’t hate each other’ or ‘Dick didn’t fire Tim.’

I don’t want to tag fics ‘Bruce Wayne Is A Bad Parent’ because so many of those fics exaggerate him into a one-dimensional abusive monster and that’s never what I’m trying to write and I don’t want people automatically filtering out my fic if I use that tag when THEY’RE just trying to avoid over-the-top abusive Bruce fics.....but at the same time, I DO like to focus on specific canon instances where Bruce has been problematic as hell, like NTT #55.

And I know and respect that there are many Bruce fans who consider a lot of these instances OOC and are just not what they’re looking to read when they look for fics about his dynamic with his kids.....so I’m not about to go tagging a Bruce-critical fic with ‘Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent’ just because I’m not writing that fic to smear Bruce’s character or paint him as an irredeemable monster. Because I get that 90% of the people who go searching the Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent tag aren’t looking to read a fic that highlights one of his more fucked up character moments while still trying to reconcile that within his larger characterization overall....realistically, most fans who search out the Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent tag usually prefer fics that don’t treat his worst parenting instances as canon.

So I think tags that are more nuanced or specific than ‘Bruce Wayne is a Good/Bad Parent’ or ‘Dick Grayson is a Good Brother’ or Scott McCall is a Good Friend absolutely WOULD be helpful for a lot of writers and readers alike....but only if they’re tagged with a phrasing that people actually search out, or that the writer thinks to specify as a tag.

The problem of course being....how do you make more specific tags popular or common enough that they actually catch on in a way that makes it easier to search for fics because these tags become a go-to search option for fans rather than just being a matter of one getting lucky enough to search with a phrasing that a writer thought to specifically tag for?

All of which led me to this thought:

What if instead of trying to make various tags commonplace among specific fandom circles of writers/readers.....any interested writers make use of just ONE specific tag. Something like including “open to tagging suggestions” - not unlike how many writers tag their fics ‘ask to tag’ when open to readers suggesting they include a specific trigger warning that they the writer might have overlooked or not thought to include in the first place?

It has to be acknowledged that you are occasionally going to run into the problem of some readers being presumptive or overbearing about this, framing their suggestions not as suggestions but as ‘you should have tagged your fic with this’......BUT I think the potential benefits mitigate or outweigh this likelihood.

A) Obviously no writer HAS to use any tags suggested by readers, but all the suggestions readers might make for tags an author hasn’t already included.....are going to be tags that reader would have searched for specifically TO find a fic like the one they’re commenting on.

And while it depends on how many suggestions a writer gets, its not necessarily realistic that a writer is going to end up adding EVERY tag suggested by readers.....but there’s definitely likely to be SOME suggestions that are useful and help guide more interested readers to that fic. Especially if you’re a writer who struggles with tagging and never finds it easy to decide what tags might be relevant or helpful for finding your fic.

B) Volunteering that you’re open to hearing about tagging suggestions makes it more likely that any readers who were put-off by your fic would be polite and helpful when suggesting there’s a tag that could help warn off fans who aren’t looking for the kind of takes you’re offering. The entire reason that tags like “Dick Grayson is a Bad Brother” ARE helpful as search filters is because a writer who uses that tag gets that fans of the character are not likely to enjoy their take on the character. They’re not the intended audience for that fic. Not everything appeals to every reader.

So there is a precedent for tags intended to warn off fans of various characters that this fic includes characterizations they’re not going to like.....and advertising that you as a writer are receptive to hearing about tags that could warn other readers they might not be the target audience for your fic - especially with longer fics - could in the longrun help you weed out readers who are most likely to be bothered by your characterization of their fave.

C) It could lead to more reader engagement with your fic in general. Readers who might otherwise just leave a kudo, not because they don’t WANT to comment on your fic but because many readers don’t know have a clear idea of what they want to say about a fic or what they liked about it......might be more inclined to think about what about that fic specifically appealed to them, and mention this with a suggestion for a tag.

Fans who like specific takes on a fave character WANT to see more of these specific takes. The more popular fics that use that take are, the more commonplace that take is likely to become, inspiring others in turn. The more fans are able to regularly seek out fics with this specific take, the more that take becomes known as something fans WANT to seek out, which in turn lets authors know hey, there’s an audience for this take.

So even if you’re a reader who doesn’t frequently comment because you don’t have any idea what to say other than ‘great fic, I really loved it’ and you worry that’s a lame comment or writers don’t want to hear that (its not, btw, I love any and all comments I get).....like, writers using a tag like ‘open to tagging suggestion’ provides both a focus for a potential comment and a REASON to leave a comment when you might not otherwise.

Because if there is a specific aspect of a fic that you really loved, or it resonated with you because of the author’s specific take on a fave character, letting that author know that this is something that you would’ve sought out their fic for specifically, if they knew from your tags that your fic contained this element or take.....that means there’s likely other readers who would be interested in this fic if they knew that specific appealing element was present.

And you’d not only be helping that author potentially find more readers who are the intended or ideal audience for that specific fic, but having that reason to focus on what about the fic made you love it so much makes it that much easier to come up with something specific to say about it, ie ‘and btw, I really loved this aspect of your fic in particular, or for this specific reason.’

Both of which - more readers and specifics about what readers liked - are things I think most writers would agree we all love.

Anyway, just a musing I was pondering. Thoughts?

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chickenfics · 2 years

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Scars

Relationship: Bucky Barnes x Fem!reader Western AU

Summary: Running from a past that haunts you and a future that is unsure, the last thing you wanted was to take up with a stranger. Strangers, you'd learned, are almost always more trouble than they're worth. But when dangers from the life you're trying to leave behind get too close for comfort, drastic times call for drastic measures, and the stranger you'd once feared becomes the only person you can trust -- and perhaps the only person you'd call your friend. Now you both just have to make it out alive...

Or: the western AU that nobody asked for

Word Count: 8k

A/N: This is a mature fic and is going to contain graphic depictions of violence and abuse, both physical and emotional. Reader has a brother (original character) and a backstory, but is still intended to be a self-insert rather than an OC. Content warnings will be given in the notes of every chapter, but expect most of the violence that comes with westerns (excluding any graphic depictions of sexual violence).

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged for future chapters!

Content Warning: mentioned domestic abuse, alcohol, guns, assault

Also on Ao3

Next Chapter Masterlist

Chapter 1

The saloon was half empty, giving the dusty rays of morning light plenty of room to cast themselves onto the floor. A plank or two was crooked, pulled out of the rest of the floorboards in one bar fight or another, never fixed, even after all this time; left to meld into the landscape of the place. Dirty windows, swinging doors, a bar situated to the left of them, and tables -- rickety, the kind that make you wonder how they’re still standing, let alone supporting the average lost soul’s weight as their choice of poison mixed with the sweat on their brow and the grime on their hands.

And busted floorboards, ripped out to expose slender nails like teeth. A tripping hazard for sure, but the least a person had to worry about when entering a place like this.

Even so, at barely the crack of dawn, all the drunkards, the cowboys, and the scum of the earth -- who stumbled in to get drunk after a long day’s work and stumbled out with bourbon in their bellies and fire in their fists, an unfortunate combination for the wives or children they had waiting for them at home -- were gone; fast asleep in their beds or passed out somewhere they weren’t supposed to be.

In the early morning hours, the only people to be found in the saloon -- one you couldn’t remember the name of on account of it being too much like all the others you’d visited over the years -- were the occasional laborer stopping to get a quick, desperate pint before a long day in the sun, or a fur trapper or traveling businessman mustering the courage and strength to head out on their next journey through the wilderness.

You fell somewhere in between and outside of the two -- a wandering soul passing through towns like a ghost or a curse; not many noticed you were there, and the ones that did weren’t sure enough of what they’d seen to remember you for long.

Good. That was how you liked it. How you needed it.

Blending into the scenery had been the skill to keep you alive. Not your talent with a gun, nor the experience you'd gained over the years -- two things that he would have scoffed at had he heard you make any sort of claim on them. But you knew they were true, no matter how long he and the others had spent trying to bend you towards thinking otherwise.

You knew who you were, and you knew what you could do.

You also knew what you couldn’t do, which made you more powerful than any one of them -- them and their drunken nights fueled by wild ideas and dangerous plans breathed beneath the crackle of the fire. Them and their heavy hands, reaching further, pushing harder than you’d ever thought they….

The door to the saloon swung open and closed in a swift movement, squeaking on its old, rickety hinges. You didn’t look up from where you sat, shoulders hunched and elbowed pressed into the rough wood of the countertop. A shot glass sat unattended between your arms, and your ill-fitting goatskin coat fell past the stool you sat on. In a way, it offered its own protection; another measure to blend into the dreary brown walls.

Barely a minute passed before a hand fell onto your shoulder. You just managed to repress your flinch, redirecting it into the clench of your fists against the counter.

“What’s a pretty thing like you doin’ dressed like that? Hm, darlin’?”

Clenching your firsts wasn’t enough. You added your jaw to the mix, grinding your teeth together before lifting your arm, shouldering his hand off and downing your shot of rye in one fluid motion. It burned going down, but it felt better than his hand trying to paw its way back onto you.

“Piss off,” you threw through gritted teeth, your voice coming out harsher than usual thanks to both disuse and your disquiet.

Fear had always made you rough, just in all the wrong ways. It made your throat clog up until you couldn’t speak, your muscles clench until you couldn’t move. Fear had always been the thing to hold you in place for whatever you were scared of to have its way with you.

You were trying to fix that.

Swinging the flap of your coat aside, you thumbed the heel of your revolver, fingers grazing the grip. A threat, but one that you did not intend to act on, not because you couldn’t -- you knew damn well that you could -- but because you knew you wouldn’t need to. There were plenty of “pretty things” for a man to spend his morning with that wouldn’t threaten to shoot him where the sun didn’t shine. He wouldn’t waste his time on you, especially when you were already on your way out the door, swinging your hat onto your head and tilting it low.

The weathered rim blocked the sunrise from your face as you stepped down off the porch of the saloon. Glancing down the road of the small town -- so small it was barely worth its mark on the map -- you were greeted with sand, dusty wood, and nothing more. You were a ghost in a ghost town.

The thought could have almost made you smile. It didn’t.

Instead, you unwound your reins from the hitching post and threw them over your Palamino’s head -- a piece of stolen goods from your old life that you’d stolen again when you decided to leave that life behind.

His head jerked with a start as you woke him from his early morning dozing, but he quickly calmed himself and stood at attention, ready for another day of work. He was a level-headed thing, but with more of an attitude than even you.

“Well, Horse,” you muttered, tightening the girth before kicking your foot up into the stirrup. “Think we’ve overstayed our welcome. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

Swinging your leg around and settling easily into the saddle with a toss of your worn, faded coat, you checked that everything was cinched to the saddle and tapped your heels. Horse took off at a brisk trot, and you spun him in a circle before urging him towards the edge of town, a line just below the glowing, bright horizon.

________________________________________________________________

You’d spent the last three months moving from town to town, picking your way along the map. The longest you’d gone without seeing civilization was three weeks, and it had been both the most content and the most uneasy you'd ever felt. On one hand, you had never liked being in town -- any town -- and preferred to keep a safe distance from strangers, especially when they came in herds.

On the other hand, the only time you’d ever been alone in the wilderness was with them, back when you had been traveling with your own herd, so to speak. There had only been one time prior that you’d been alone besides now, and you didn’t think about that. Ever.

If you did, it only made you push yourself harder, traveling faster and with fewer stops, less rest, more paranoia. That’s how you had spent the first month, and Horse was still recovering from it. Hell, you were too, but you were more worried about Horse. If he fell ill or injured, you would be abandoned out on the plains with nothing but a dead horse and a rapidly closing distance between you and the past you were trying to leave behind.

So, when four weeks passed and nothing happened, you finally forced yourself to slow down. And, for the first time, you’d allowed yourself to stop at the nearest town. It had been small and meaningless, and you’d decided to stay the night. Then a faulty door lock and a drunk man had reminded you why you never trusted places like those.

You were more careful, after that, whenever you stopped for supplies. You found yourself hearing his voice in your head, all the things he’d taught you since you were children, hiding under the bed as glasses were smashed and shattered outside your shared room. Its presence never failed to fill you with a roil of nausea, as potent as it was vile, but the advice it offered was sound.

You’d always hated that about him; he knew what he was talking about, and he knew how to say it. It was all the things he did in between the words that made you run -- that had been the reason Horse was picking his way through the underbrush of a scarred, depressing forest. The plains had begun to change after two days of riding. You noticed more plant life, more shrubs and bushes, and then even a few trees. After two more days, those few trees turned into the beginnings of a forest.

In a sense, it was a relief. The canopy offered you shade from the unforgiving sun that had been pressing against the top of your head and shoulders for the last several days. The trees would offer you more protection during the nights, too; a place to make decent camp -- a welcome change from simply rolling your bedroll onto the desert floor and propping your hat over your face.

But the forest meant unforeseen dangers. Out on the plains, you could see the approach of a stranger from miles away. Sure, you couldn’t hide, but you could spot them first. But in the canopy of the forest, woven between the trees and bushes, anyone could be lurking. The chances of you seeing them before they saw you were just as likely as the alternative. You didn’t like that. It put you on edge -- or more on edge than usual.

You’d spent life on the edge since you were but fourteen. The edge was a familiar friend and a lifelong companion.

But in the pleasantly cool atmosphere of the woods, you found yourself relaxing ever so slightly. Enough that you let your feet fall from the stirrups, giving Horse a loose rein so he could comfortably navigate the rough terrain. Twisting around in your saddle, you took quick stock of your supplies; it had been almost a week since you’d passed any sign of occupied civilization, and the only evidence of life had been a run-down ranch and a few abandoned cabins.

You were almost out of grain, and though there would now be some grazing options with the sudden foliage, you estimated you had about three days before running out entirely. Slipping the map from your breast pocket, you shook it out and located the last town you’d visited. Trailing your eyes along the path you’d taken, you quickly found the clump of woods.

Reigning Horse to a halt, you let him dip his head and graze as you squinted at the frayed paper. The forest stretched on for about fifty miles, and the nearest town lay fifteen miles East beyond its edge. If you kept a brisk pace until nightfall, you suspected you could arrive by midday tomorrow.

Scanning ahead on the map, you noticed that there would be a long stretch between this town and the next. You’d need to stock up on enough supplies to last you a few weeks. Fingering the coin purse in your pocket, the ever-present knot of anxiety twisted your stomach up in knots. You had more than enough money to get you to where you were going and then some; that wasn’t why the thought of it made your chest feel heavy or your lungs feel full of cotton and sand. Shivering, you tried to shrug off the memories swarming around the inside of your head like black flies. It would do you no good to think about any of that now. It was too late -- you’d made your choice, and if you didn’t keep moving, that choice was going to kill you.

No amount of thinking would change that, so you pulled Horse’s head up and urged him forward. You wondered if he could sense it too, the need to keep moving. He probably could. Despite what the flashiest and most skilled cowboys tried to tell you, you’d always known that horses were sensitive. They were more sensitive than people sometimes, and you had seen many a horse broken by an iron rod and a ruthless fist, measures justified by the claim that it was “just an animal.”

Humans were animals, too. You wondered if that was the excuse people used when they beat people down; raped, killed, maimed. You wondered if they told themselves that they were “just animals” in order to sleep at night. You wondered if they even needed the excuse.

At the squeeze of your legs, Horse picked up his pace. You weren’t looking forward to another trip into town. The knowledge that it was necessary -- that it was coming -- sank into your gut like a river stone; smooth and cold and heavy. It melded with the lining of your stomach until everything inside you felt frigid and abiotic. But as much as you were dreading the trip, you wanted to get it done and over with. The quicker you got in and resupplied, the quicker you could be on your way -- an assured few weeks of wilderness descending like a promise of relief on the stormy churn of your future. If you told yourself you needed only to do this -- this one last thing and then you could rest -- the weight of it became a little more bearable.

So you focused on the steady footfalls of Horse and you listened carefully to the soft hum of the forest as the coolness of it soaked into your skin. The day passed almost peacefully this way, and if you were another person, perhaps you could have let yourself surrender to that peace. Perhaps you could have taken a breath.

But you weren’t. You were… you, and you just couldn’t find it in yourself to relax.

By the time the sun began to set, the filters of golden light disappearing from between the branches, replaced instead by an indigo glow, you were exhausted. You hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in a long time -- longer than just your recent journeys -- and you suspected that tonight would be no different.

Still, you were looking forward to finding a nice bit of shelter. As the darkness of the growing night spread around you like ink, you began to search for accommodations. You found them in a fallen tree, its wizened, bare branches creating half of a shelter already. All you’d need to do was drape your rain slicker across the opening and you’d be hidden from the rest of the world.

The reality of not being able to see your surroundings as clearly as out on the plains hit you square in the face, and you felt your panic rise a little from its place deep in your gut. But you shrugged it off, trying to convince yourself that if you couldn't see them, they couldn’t see you. Trying to convince yourself that they weren’t here -- they were far behind you. You had enough time; you could get one restful night of sleep without punishment.

As the last of the sun’s lingering rays dipped below the horizon, leaving the sky to blacken with the night, you dismounted, giving Horse a pat on his clammy, sweat-streaked neck. As the first stars began to blink into the sky, you pulled out your slicker and draped it along the opening. You suspected that it was going to be a cold night, despite how hot the day had been, and welcomed the extra protection from the elements.

You had just untied your bedroll when you heard the snap of a twig.

You spotted the horse first, so white that it almost glowed against the backdrop of the forest, looking so much like something out of the ghost stories you’d been told as a child that, for a moment, you almost had yourself convinced it wasn’t real.

Then you saw the man.

You scrambled for your gun, freeing it from the holster at your hip and taking a stumbling step backward -- eyes flashing down as you almost tripped over a root. In the few seconds that your gaze had been off of him, the man had pulled his own gun from beneath the clay-green poncho that covered his left side, stopping just below his hip.

He held it out, barrel pointed at you with a steady hand that seemed to mock the tremor you could feel shooting through your own body. But when you glanced down at your hand, it was just as steady as his. You swallowed hard and the man tilted his head at you.

It was hard to make him out in the dim light, and when you realized he was close enough for you to see the dark brown, almost curly hair that reached his shoulders, or the way his angular face was held in a passive stare, you felt yourself take another step back.

He was massive.

You’d crossed paths with your fair share of large men -- and women, for that matter -- but there was something about this one that had your heart clenching. His bicep looked bigger than your head, and his towering height -- paired with the fact that he was on an incline -- made him appear even bigger.

“Easy now,” he spoke, voice almost as dark as the night, but soft. You’d learned long ago not to take a soft voice and equate it with kindness. The arm pointing your revolver at him tightened, the muscles flexing, and he noticed.

“C’mon, take it easy. Wouldn’t want anyone getting hurt now…”

You felt the first tremor break through your hand. Your damn hands always gave you away. The man noticed -- you could see it clearly on his face, in the twitch of his brow.

“I’m just passin’ through,” he said, lowering his weapon almost nonchalantly, but the eyes trained on you were so piercing that they felt just as dangerous as any gun.

They were dangerous not because they were hostile or threatening, but because they were smart.

Your hands were certainly shaking now. You balled your free hand into a fist against your thigh and grit your teeth, willing the sign of weakness to stop. It would get you killed if you couldn’t stop it.

The man’s lips tugged into a small frown, and you tried not to let your breath sound ragged in your chest. He held up his hands in surrender, pistol hanging from his finger.

“Look, if you just lower your weapon, I’ll be on my way. I have no quarrel with you.”

Your vision flashed white as you heard his voice.

“C’mon, just lower the gun, Kitty. Be a good girl…”

You screwed your eyes shut for just a second to will the tears away -- you could absolutely not cry -- and tore them open, leveling the gun at the stranger with renewed vigor. He sighed.

“Goddammit -- fine,” his voice raised in volume to meet you, and there was something in it that made whatever he would say next final. “Now I’m gonna turn around and continue on my way. I get the idea you know what you’re doin’ with that thing, so if you plan on shooting me your aim best strike true the first time because I assure you, you will not get a second.”

With that, he was moving again. You retreated another frantic step and your back hit the rough edge of the tree with a hollow thump. The man halted, tilting his head at you again. You couldn’t be sure, but you thought there was curiosity there. You felt your chest constrict, fear numbing your veins, but with a click of his tongue, he led his horse forward and disappeared into the underbrush.

You watched him go, only relaxing when you could no longer hear the rustling of his feet. All at once, you felt the adrenaline flee your body. Your knees buckled and you slumped heavily against the tree, ignoring the future bruises painted on by the branches digging into your back.

You drew in a shuddering breath, letting it out in a sigh -- repeating the process a few times with the mantra you now lived by running through your head; it hadn’t been him. It hadn’t been them. That was the most important thing. You could deal with a strange, terrifying man, but you wouldn’t survive if it was them. You lifted a subconscious hand to the side of your throat, thumbing the bandana that covered it.

Knowing that you had come so close to a stranger -- and a man of that size and, if you were guessing right, skill, no less -- sent panic bubbling up into your throat. It was obvious you were making camp; what if he came back while you were sleeping? What if he had been lying and intended to return to rob you, or kill you, or worse?

The decision was made with that single thought -- that single potential threat -- and you were hastily rolling your rain slicker up and strapping it back onto your saddle bag. You’d just have to travel through the night. No matter how slow or dangerous the travel was, it was clear you couldn’t stop, just in case the man with the apparent good intentions had been lying.

And they usually were.

“Sorry bud,” you managed to whisper an apology to Horse as you swung yourself into the saddle, legs still a bit shaky. It was one of the few reactions you hadn’t been able to fix, no matter how hard you’d tried.

“No sleep tonight.”

With a barely muffled sigh, you guided your horse forward, heading in the direction that, you hoped, was opposite of the stranger, trying to forget the way his eyes had bored into you or the way his pistol had aimed so steadily at your own.

________________________________________________________________

The town wasn’t hard to find. It was bigger than the last you’d been to, containing more than just a few rows of buildings, outposts, and a church. This one had well-worn roads, a cluster of homes along the edge, and an array of shops clearly intended to sell anything a traveler might need while passing through.

You kept your hat low, bandana pulled up and over the lower half of your face. You’d removed your goat skin jacket, securing it to the back of your saddle to try and find relief from the blistering noonday heat. Buildings sat on either side of you; a bank, a schoolhouse, an inn -- your eyes scanned the porches and doorways of each of them. People passed on either side of you as well -- women in dusty, sun-bleached skirts, their hair tied up in braids or wrapped in scarves. Men on horseback rode by you in the street, some tipping their hats in disinterested greeting, others ignoring you altogether. Your face remained passive, a blank and somewhat unpleasant mask to discourage anyone from talking to you.

To your right, you caught sight of a corral, filled with what looked to be a group of fine wild horseflesh tearing about and wheeling in circles, challenging the wooden planks that held them inside. Horse pricked his ears, watching them intently. You urged him forward past the corral, stopping just outside the attached stable.

A bearded man greeted you, wiping his hands on a handkerchief before tucking it into his waistband. You dismounted, tying Horse to the nearest post, and tipped your hat in hesitant greeting. The man's eyes were warm brown and looked kind. As if sensing the discomfort you carried with you, he tucked his hands into his pockets and hunched his shoulders slightly, almost timidly.

“What can I do for you, Miss?”

“I need grain. Enough for a few weeks,” you replied, pulling your bandana down around your neck but still staying a good distance from him.

He nodded slowly and whistled in thought, eyeing up Horse.

“This the fellow you’ll be feedin’?”

“Yes sir."

“Right then,” the man replied, tilting his head. “Feed ‘im anything else? Foliage or alfalfa, anything of the sorts?”

“He grazes when he can,” you answered, shrugging. “He doesn’t need much, just enough to get him by.”

The man nodded knowingly, then gestured for you to follow him into the barn. You went as far as the double doors before stopping, but he didn’t say a word about it and reappeared a few minutes later with two burlap sacks no bigger than your saddlebag tied together securely with twine.

“This should do. You can mix it with water to stretch it a little further, make it expand so it fills ‘em up.”

You took the bags from him, nodding your thanks and inquiring as to his price. He told you, and you handed over the payment.

“Is there a… general store around here?” You reluctantly asked, your back already half turned to him with your eagerness to be on your way. Still, you figured getting directions would be quicker and less risky than wandering around town until you found what you needed.

“Yes’m there is, three buildings down that way, on your left,” he pointed in the direction you’d been heading, and you nodded.

“Thank you.”

“Yes’m. Ride safe,” he tipped an imaginary hat, and a thin smile worked its way onto your lips. His kind eyes shone a bit brighter before he turned away, heading back to the work you’d interrupted him from.

It was moments like these that reminded you not all people were a threat. It was moments like these that were dangerous because they had you aching to let your guard down, to believe that not everyone would hurt you the first chance they got. You had believed that, once -- a long time ago, when you were still a child in your father's home. Not anymore, and it was the only reason you were alive.

Shaking your head, you readjusted the cloth around your neck and tried not to let your fingers linger. You needed a clear head, and you needed to get moving so you could get the hell out of here. Grabbing Horse’s reins, you gave his neck a few soothing pats and led him forward, deciding that you’d walk to give him a break from carrying you.

The general store proved to not be far, and you made it there without eliciting a glance from any of the wandering souls that passed you by. The store was a squat, brown building situated between a tailor and what looked to be the town hall. You secured Horse to the hitching post outside and stiffly climbed the stairs, feeling the old familiar ache in your knees from hours in the saddle.

A woman, her skirts a pale blue, was standing just outside, folded umbrella in hand. She gave you a kind smile as you passed, and you managed a nod before slipping inside. The man at the desk watched you enter, eyeing you up in the way that all shopkeepers and merchants did; like he was trying to decide if you would pay or if he’d have to chase you out with a broom.

You had a dire need to resupply, so you removed your hat, running a hand over your sweat-slicked forehead before stepping up to the counter.

“What can I get for you?” The shopkeeper, a greasy-looking short man asked. He sounded like he had a cold, and he pushed his glasses up on his nose as he studied you with something like barely restrained disgust.

“A… few things,” you began, then gave him a list of supplies you were short on.

You had your stock committed to memory, going through it every night and planning out your use of it. You suspected it was a way for you to feel in control of your situation -- a desperate attempt at warding off the panic that was always threatening to consume you whole. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t -- but regardless, it at least meant you weren’t likely to miss or run out of anything.

The clerk raised an eyebrow at your requests, but he adjusted his glasses and began scratching things onto a yellow notepad beneath the counter. When you finished, he tore the page off and handed it to you, then turned to begin packing things away.

You scanned over the receipt with disinterest until something caught your eye.

“When did the price of cornmeal rise?” you asked. The man scoffed.

“I beg your pardon, missy?”

“You charge six cents for a pound of cornmeal,” you replied. “The last town I passed through sold it for three.”

“Well then, you had better return to the last town you passed through because here we sell it for six cents a pound,” he turned and dropped a bag onto the counter. A bag that was, apparently, worth six cents. “And you have been the first to complain about such a price.”

There was a challenge in every aspect of his demeanor, and you felt anger swell through your chest. He was cheating you and he knew there was nothing you could do to stop him besides not purchasing the items. Which he likely knew you also couldn’t do.

“Will there be a problem, or shall I continue wrapping your orders?”

You clenched your jaw, shoving your anger down, and gave a short jerk of your head.

“No problem here,” you added, voice lowering to a hum, matching his challenge in the only way you could.

Fake politeness got on your nerves. It wasn’t long ago that you would have pointed your gun at his head and taken whatever goods you wanted, but those days were behind you -- and for the better; even if you did have to pay six cents for cornmeal.

The clerk finished gathering your order, but not without several unfriendly looks in your direction. It was only when you’d gathered everything into a canvas sack that he spoke again.

“You know,” he leaned over the counter, as if the two of you were sharing some secret gossip about the lady two doors down. “You should visit the River Dog Saloon. I think you’d find it… interesting.”

There was something in his voice, in the smirk on his chapped, red lips, that made your stomach sink through the floorboards. You gave him a scowl, and unease followed you as you retreated back onto the porch.

The woman from earlier was gone, and for some reason that only made your dread grow. You were being irrational -- the vague words of some slimy store owner shouldn't have you worked up like it did. Should have you feeling that old familiar tremble of fear trying to push its way past your defenses. It shouldn’t.

Slinging your bag over the saddle, ensuring that everything was secure, you untied the reins. Giving Horse a little tug, you began your steady trek down the dust-covered road. Splotches of mud were caked along the edges, and you hopped over them, causing Horse to follow you and give a little buck of excitement. Even in your anxiety, you smiled at the animal before settling him with a firm rein and a pat.

The center of the road was drier, and you steered clear of puddles. Your boots should have been replaced months ago, and at this point, it wouldn't be long before holes were worn into the leather. You spotted the sign towards the edge of the town, swinging lazily in the stagnant afternoon breeze. A cobbler.

Slowing to a stop, you gently pushed Horse away as he tried to itch his forehead on your shoulder and stared at the building. It looked near deserted, and the distant view of shoes through the window was the only sign that it was even still in business. Glancing around, you found no one on that side of the street. A few school children, led by their teacher, walked hurriedly from one building to the next, but no one else was in sight. The saloon sat a door over, attached to the same building as the cobbler, and a bathhouse on the opposite side. Several horses were tethered to the hitching post outside, their riders presumably inside quenching their thirst or getting up to any number of other unsavory activities.

Swallowing thickly, you made up your mind; if this was going to be your last taste of civilization for a while, you should probably err on the side of caution and buy a new pair of boots now while you had the chance to.

Slinking over to the hitching post, you tied Horse loosely to it, ready to go with a quick tug in case of an emergency. Ruffling his mane absentmindedly, you headed for the nearest stairs to the porch. Your footfalls sounded too loud in your ears, but you tried to ignore it. You also tried to ignore how the town had suddenly gone quiet. That was fine, it was lunchtime for some people, anyway.

The stairs let you onto the porch directly between the saloon and the cobbler. You had just turned left, ducking to look through the grimy window, when someone grabbed you around the waist, yanking you backwards as they clamped a harsh hand over your mouth. Your scream was muffled against their palm, which covered your nose, too, cutting off your oxygen. You slammed an elbow into their gut and they winced, giving you a cruel shake before spinning around and throwing you forwards and through a doorway.

Your arms flew out to catch yourself, but they were met with a hard surface as you slammed into something. Stumbling back a step, you managed to right yourself, and there he was.

“M… Mickey?” you breathed, eyes widening as you retreated another step. You whipped around, spinning on your heels and making for the door, but you were stopped by another chest.

That’s when you recognized the person who had grabbed you.

“Red,” you flinched as the name left your mouth, a raspy whisper, and the tall, lanky man gave you one of his signature grins -- the kind that meant he was about to hurt someone. Hurt you.

“Bernie’s here, too.” You spun around at the smug voice, a smirk plastered on his face as he nodded to the woman at his right lounging against a supporting beam. Even though she wore her hat low, you would have recognized her anywhere.

“The whole gang’s here, baby sister,” Mickey drawled, taking a step towards you. You flinched but stood your ground, knowing Red was still behind you. “Well,” he tilted his head, a mocking pout twisting his lips. “Everybody ‘cept for the Twins. But you already knew that, didn't you?”

You opened your mouth, jaw working not for an answer but for air. You couldn’t breathe.

“Oh?” Mickey's voice was soft, high, and he raised a scruffy eyebrow. “What’s this now? You don’t know?”

His voice dripped malice, and in a sudden, swift motion you reached for your holster -- but before your fingers could even touch the weapon, Red was slamming into you from behind, grabbing your arm and twisting it painfully behind your back. You muffled a yelp by biting your tongue and held still as he shook you a little, just to make sure you felt the twist of your shoulders as he pinned your arms.

“You see,” Mickey continued, stepping closer. Your eyes flickered frantically around the saloon, but besides Bernie watching with a greedy, pleased expression, the rest of the customers -- of which there were only a few -- didn’t spare you a glance. Your heart sank as you realized that they were going to let him do whatever he wanted to you.

For the first time, there would be people to hear your screams and it wouldn’t even matter. Your head began to buzz, and you were barely able to hear Mickey’s words as he continued.

“When you pulled your little stunt back in Carlisle,” he grabbed your throat and, despite your efforts, you gasped. “You gave Potter and his officers a big fat chance to catch up with us. The Twins got nabbed, you see… tossed in a jail to rot,” he gave your throat a squeeze and you watched in horror as a knife appeared in his hand.

“But that’s not the point, now is it?” He asked. "The Twins, they're expendable. A useless lot. We all knew that, didn't we?" He raised his eyebrows as he looked over your shoulder to Red and then back to Bernie. She grinned wickedly at you, and you felt Red’s hips press against yours.

Suddenly, Mickey grabbed your face, jerking it up to meet his as he leaned into your ear.

“What did I tell you about running, Kitty Cat?” he whispered, low on his breath. The smell of stale tobacco and whiskey filled your nose -- so familiar you felt sick.

As he tilted his knife into your cheek, you kicked your heel back into Red’s groin. The man gave a howl, hunching forward, and you used the opportunity to throw the back of your head directly into his nose. It broke with a sickening crunch, and he stumbled aside.

Whipping around, you scrambled for the exit, but Mickey grabbed your arm and pulled you backward, throwing you into the bar. Your back hit the edge of the tabletop with a thud, pulling a pained grunt from your lungs, but none of that mattered; the things they'd do to you would hurt a lot worse.

Mickey’s hand was at your throat again, slamming your shoulders back and pinning you to the table. The impact knocked the air out of your lungs and your hat from your head. Reaching behind you, your fingers closed around the brim and you swung it forward, shoving it into his face and blinding him for a precious moment. He growled and slashed out wildly with his knife. It caught you on the shoulder, slicing deep into your collarbone. Crying out, you grit your teeth against the sting of the blade and tried to push him off of you, but he was bigger; stronger. He had always been.

Suddenly your arm was forced down onto the counter. Bernie was there, fingers digging into your skin as she held you still.

“Mickey don’t,” you cried, wincing as his fist crashed down onto the counter next to you, hard enough that you weren’t sure how he hadn’t broken bones.

“What did I tell you about beggin’? Huh?” he barked, sliding the knife up to your throat, pressing hard enough that blood began to pool along the blade. You tried to kick out at him, but he smashed his hips against your legs, holding you still.

“It seems there’s a lot you’ve forgotten, little sister,” he muttered between heaving breaths. “Suppose I’ll just have to remind you then, won’t--”

His threats were cut off as Mickey was suddenly jerked backwards by the scruff of his collar. You saw Bernie’s eyes flash wide a moment before her face twisted into a scowl, a low growl tearing up her throat as she reached forward and grabbed you by the neck, slamming your head into the table. Your head crashed once, twice, and a third time before you were able to finally free your gun from its holster.

Lifting it, you leveled your aim and fired. Bernie fell back with a hoarse yell as her hand flew to clutch at the bloom of blood spreading across her shoulder in a pattern that almost matched your own.

You kicked out hard, sending her backwards and crashing into the nearest table before spinning around and frantically searching for the boys. You found Mickey quickly. He was dragging himself up off the floor, fists raised in a fighting stance to face…

The man’s back was turned to you, but you’d recognize the poncho anywhere. A portion of his dark hair was tied back with a strip of leather, strands pulling loose in the fray and laying against his temple. A dozen thoughts flashed through your mind. Was he following you? What were the chances that he wasn’t -- that he just so happened to be here at the same time? Why was he helping you when no one else would?

But these questions would go unanswered as you watched him land another punch, catching Mickey on the side of the head and sending him crashing back to his knees. Mickey pulled a revolver from his waistband, one that was the twin to your very own weapon, and pointed it at the man. He fired it just as the stranger’s left hand shot out from beneath his poncho. You heard the sound of bullets sparking against something and then the stranger was throwing his foot into Mickey’s chest, sending him careening to the floor once more.

A surprised shout was ripped from your lungs as fingers grabbed the back of your collar. They flung you around to face Red, who you’d lost in the fight. Big mistake.

He kneed you in the gut -- payback for earlier, you supposed -- and you fell to your knees with a painful thud, doubling over as you tried not to choke on your own breath. His fingers, long and bony, grabbed you by the chin, forcing your head up to meet his eyes. They were just as cold and serpentine as you remembered them.

“Oh, we’re gonna make you pay for it this time, bitch,” he hissed, squeezing your neck until you were gasping for a breath that would never come. You grabbed his wrist with both hands, trying to pull it away, but to no avail.

It was just as your eyelids began to flutter that Red suddenly dropped like a sack of rocks, struck on the head by the butt of the stranger’s pistol.

“Come on,” he said, reaching a hand down to you. You took it without hesitation, knowing that if you didn’t leave now, they were going to kill you. Or worse. Probably worse.

The stranger hauled you to your feet -- perhaps with a little too much strength, as he had to catch you by the shoulders to prevent you from face-planting into him. You flinched -- how could you not? -- but if he noticed, he didn’t say anything, just ushered you towards the door. Walking backwards, keeping his gun trained on the room, he waited until you’d stumbled down the stairs before whipping around.

“They won’t be long,” he warned, and you didn’t need to be told twice. Grabbing Horse’s reins, you swung them over his head and pulled yourself onto his back in the same easy motion, thanking whatever gods may be that your legs hadn’t given out yet.

Blood dripped down your chest from the wound in your shoulder, but you barely noticed it as you spurred Horse forward. He leaped into a canter, stride quickly lengthening as he raced out into the road. Throwing a look over your shoulder, you squinted past the dust kicked up in your wake and watched as the first of them appeared on the porch of the saloon. Mickey -- and he was looking right at you, yelling something you were thankful you couldn’t hear. You felt your limbs begin to shake but willed the adrenaline to stay with you a little longer.

Whipping back around, reaching up to shove your hat more securely onto your head, you caught sight of a flash of white off to your left. The stranger, poncho furling out behind him, shot you a look. He brought his horse up next to yours and shouted, “Follow me,” before giving his mount a firm kick.

You weren’t thinking, you were driven only by fear as you slammed your heels into Horse, urging him to go faster. He lengthened his stride, neck stretching out as he raced after the streak of white mane and green fabric.

You hadn't been expecting them to find you so soon. How had they found you so soon?

Your chest tightened with panic, and you flicked a rein against Horse’s haunches. In a matter of seconds, you caught up with the stranger. When he noticed you in his peripheral, he pointed forward, then left; you were going to be making a sharp turn, it seemed. You nodded and he replied with a curt one of his own. Chancing another glance over your shoulder, you held your hat on as three horses swam into view through the haze of the sand and desert heat. You definitely couldn’t breathe now.

They were gaining on you steadily. You just hoped that they didn’t start shooting.

The stranger threw up a hand, signaling the preparation for the turn, and you braced yourself in the saddle, jamming your heels down and maintaining your balance.

Even though he’d prepared you, somehow you were still caught off guard when he pulled up on his horse, wheeling it in a tight spin before taking off again with a leap. You weren’t sure Horse could do that -- but he sure as hell tried. Tugging your reins back, you squeezed with your legs and pushed him in the direction of the white horse. He reared up, hind end sliding under him, and for a horrible moment you thought he might fall on top of you, but after a breath, he launched himself forward, got his front legs under him, and galloped to catch up to the stranger.

That was when you noticed why he’d led you in such a turn. Up ahead was a forest along the edge of a wide ravine. You followed the flash of white as the two horses burst into the tree line, throwing an arm in front of your face as you dodged branches. You’d hardly made it a few meters in before he pulled up, slowing his horse to an abrupt trot. Horse was quick to do the same without you even having to ask him. Your hands had begun to shake.

“Come on,” the man said again, as if you hadn’t been following him already, and turned his horse towards the cavern.

Trotting a little ways along the edge, he pulled up short and spun his horse around, then began to descend a steep, rocky slope. You felt your stomach lurch with a new anxiety now, and you anchored your legs and sat deep in the saddle as Horse picked his way downward.

The stranger's horse slid the last few feet, then picked up a brisk trot as it finally reached the ground of the cavern. The man tugged on the reins, letting his mount sidestep for a moment and allowing you to catch up before urging it forward. You followed behind, and he led you down the path until he spotted a cave and reined his horse in. With a nod and a grunt, he swung his leg behind him and dismounted.

Leaning onto Horse’s neck, you did the same. The moment your feet hit solid ground, your knees buckled and you fell. Your hands hit the stone and you yelped as pain shot through your collarbone. Horse sidestepped, jerking his head up as he snorted.

“Woah, woah,” the stranger’s voice floated into your ears. He had grabbed Horse by the bridle and was steering him away from your crumpled form. “No use trampling her after all that, buddy.” He gave Horse a gentle, surprisingly fond pat on the neck.

You took a deep breath and shakily pulled yourself to your feet.

“How ya doin’ over there?”

It took you a minute to realize the man was talking to you.

“I--” you cleared your throat. It was clogged with dust and fear. “I’m fine.”

It was a lie. You knew it, and you knew the man knew it, too.

“Uh-huh,” he replied, a wrinkle interrupting the skin between his brow as he studied you.

His eyes were blue, you realized. You hadn’t been able to see it before, in the darkness, but they were a cerulean blue.

“Let’s get these horses hidden,” he muttered, and it was almost a command.

Almost, but not quite.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #ao3 link #western au #bucky barnes western au

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greentrickster · 8 months

Note

When looking for fanfics on AO3, specifically ones catered to your taste in a fandom/interest, how do you go about? Any tips on how to scout “good” stories from than “mediocre”?

First off, make sure you know what you want and what you're looking for! Choose your fandom, what characters you want to see, what relationships (romantic are A/J, platonic are A&J for formatting), rating, length, any of those that you have a specific preference for, make it known! When searching AO3 on PC, there's a whole bar of drop-down menus so you can choose all of these things you want to include AND anything you want to exclude:

If a tag you want to see or avoid isn't there, there's a place to search for and then add it as well. You also have a few options for how the fics you get are sorted as well - update date, word count, kudos count, comments, bookmarks, etc. There are also a few more options, but the image is already big enough - seriously, AO3 lets you customize your search so much, even if you don't add AO3dr to use their blacklisting function.

Myself, I usually put in my relationship preferences, exclude a few warnings, then organize by number of bookmarks or comments. I'll do a quick scan of the first three to four pages, clicking the 'mark for later' button inside the fics on anything that seems promising until I have anywhere between eight and a couple dozen fics.

After that? The reading begins, but the process isn't over! Because if one of the fics I read turns out to be really good, the next step isn't to go back to my 'marked for later' list, it's to go to the writer's dashboard, see if they've written anything else for this fandom that sounds good, read anything of theirs that sounds good, and when I'm finished that check their bookmarks page for anything they've read and bookmarked for this fandom, marking things for later until I've gone through the whole thing, then choosing a new fic from my now (hopefully) expanded marked for later list and repeating the whole process all over again. This generally keeps me, at least, well fed and well read when it comes to fics!

Sometimes I also add my preferences in the AO3 search and just take a peek at what's come out recently, even if it's incomplete - yes, you'll be left wanting at times if the story's unfinished, but it's worth it to get to accompany other writers and readers on the journey of a really good ongoing fic and getting a delightful update notification in you inbox from time to time. :D

(I should note, what makes a fic 'good' or 'mediocre' is at least partially subjective. I've seen loads of fics that have obviously been widely read and well loved by many, but they weren't to my taste.)

Also, keep in mind the age of the fan base a piece of media is aimed towards - The Owl House is generally going to have a lower overall quality of writing than, say, Ace Attorney, not because one is objectively superior to the other (they're both fantastic and I would pay money to see Phoenix defend Eda in court), but because one's aimed at kids and young teens and the other's aimed at older teens and adults. And one of these demographics is going to have had more practice with writing than the other. It's worth going through both still, they both have plenty of great fics, but it helps to enter a younger-aimed fandom with a more lenient frame of mind.

Anyway, that's all the advice that I've got, and I hope it helps! Thanks for the ask!

#fandom #ao3 #fanfiction #ask #anon #I specifically only cover AO3 because I have abandoned fanfiction.net #and I have no idea how to make any other website spit out what I want on command including this one <3

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espilver-week · 7 months

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Fanfics...

Last month we had 💜🤍Espilver Week 2023🤍💜, and we set up some polls to ask Espilver fans about their favorite everything for this ship ✨

"What tags do you like to see when looking for an Espilver/Silvespio fic?"

Over half of the votes went to fluff 💕 Many people seem to prefer something sweet and comforting for Silver and Espio. Mod as well, loves to read fluff as well! But since we are talking about fanfics, there are a few that I would like to share!

Us (by Midnight Mischief, 2014-2015; Words: 17,753; Rate T)

One of the earliest fics mod has read, and this is a re-imagined story for Rivals 2 with romance subtext. For people first starting to look into the two characters' chemistry, what's better than looking at something similar to the games? There are a bunch of interesting character dynamics between the cast, and events are mainly significant moments in both Silver's and Espio's story. People will need to know the Rivals 2 plotline to recognize certain setting re-use or changes in this fanfic.

No Evidence (by Cubicrot, 2018; Words: 23,519, Rate T)

This is a fic with plenty adventure and a bit of romance, with Espio and Silver first encountering each other in an alternate event which is irrelevant to Rivals 2. Silver was in desperate need of chaos drives, while Espio was on a case investigating a case of missing chaos drives. They ran into each other by chance, and went on their joint journey to achieve what they want. Despite not following the games 100%, it can still be counted as "canon deviation". Being one of the earlier fanfics you can find on the internet, mod absolutely enjoyed reading through it!

Time Together, How Sweet (by mousewritings, 2020; Words: 2,374. Rate G)

A silly story about Espio and Silver going to a store to buy presents for Charmy, but ended up getting kicked out of the store for certain reasons. A purely fluff fic, great for people that wants a quick but pleasant time to read an Espilver fanfic. Genuinely light hearted, this is one of the cute fics mod likes a lot. 💛

New Beginnings (by TrueBlueSonic, 2020-2022; Words: 195,768, Rate T)

Mod believes many people have already read this, in fact, with how there is over 13k hits on AO3, many might have taken a like to Espilver because of this fanfic! Congrats~! 🎉 This story is an aftermath of Rivals 2, "canon deviation" fanfic that involves Silver getting to experience life in the present time, choosing between going back to the future or staying in the present. Many fluffy moments and tear-jerking chapters, those who want a few novel-lengths of fanfic to immerse will have a good time reading this!

Sharp eyes would realize these fanfics here are from years ago! Mod wants to share them for newcomers, so everyone can experience how people perceive Espilver/Silvespio during earlier days when content for this ship were less frequent. Hope you enjoy reading them!

Many fanfics involve not only fluff, but with conflicts and heart-wrenching moments as well. Mod is glad to see people willing to try out all kinds of content despite our main preference!

I noticed many people tend to enjoy stories with Silver feeling conflicted about going back to the future or staying in the past. Indeed, fiddling with timelines are a huge topic that could go on forever, and the decision of staying became very important to Silver. Espio himself then became one of the biggest reasons Silver travels back in time, and even stay in the present forever in some stories.

Letting Silver enjoy life with Espio in the present is also one of the most popular scenarios. Some fanfics with more than a chapter or two would sure to have them hangout in a chill manner, maybe explore their feelings with each other in the meantime.

Besides the main focus on fluff or happy endings, quite a lot of fanfics also go with #slow burn, #friends to lovers, #established relationship, etc. For people that want something other than these settings, now it's the time for you to shine!

There are lots of content for Espilver/Silvespio on the internet, with all kinds of preference and ratings to take note of. Remember to keep an open-minded mentality and enjoy your time within the fandom!

#espilver #silvespio #2023 #post #espilver fanfic

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oakgreenoak · 2 years

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The Hitchhiker’s Guide to AO3

I’ve noticed lately there’s more and more people out there who come into ArchiveOfOurOwn from somewhere like Wattpad and don’t know how to work it. I’m taking it upon myself to make a sort of user guide to show people that nicely explain all the little fiddly bits. I’m sure plenty have made their own guides, but this one is mine.

I’m going to have headings for different features and screenshots, so I’ll stick it all under a readmore. I’m not going to go SUPER in depth on everything, but I intend on giving a basic rundown on stuff relevant to looking for and filtering fic. So! Onward!

Finding Your Fandom

Let’s start simple- the fandom. If you don’t have an account or don’t have any saved tags, the different categories will show up on the front page. In any case, they’ll appear when you hover over the Fandoms tab in the top right.

All Fandoms pulls up a page that shows each of these categories in their own boxes, with the five most common fandoms in each listed. For our guide, we’re going to be looking for Hitchhiker’s Guide. So, let’s start with books.

This pulls up a page which lists every single fandom in this category organised by first character. Articles like A or The are ignored, so we’ll go to H.

Uh oh! There are two tags here! Why are there two? (You may notice that there are two tags for The Hobbit, too.)

This is because Ao3 fandom tags are nested. The left tag- the one that simply says “Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy”- is called a metatag. The right one- the one that includes “- Douglas Adams”- is a subtag. Not every fandom has a separate metatag with subtags- they exist for a particular reason, which I’ll come back to in a moment.

For now, let’s click on the metatag.

Here we have our main fandom tag in all its glory. Congratulations, you’ve successfully navigated your way to your first fandom page! It’s from here that we can start to narrow down our search.

There’s a lot of fandoms there and that’s scary. Is there an alternative?

I’m not going to go in depth on the search function in this guide- you can apply pretty much of the information I give you later on to this page as well, and I’ll touch on it towards the end. I’m just going to direct your attention down to the Work Tags section.

As you can see, as long as you know a fandom’s name, you can find it.

Now, let’s go back to that fandom sort page.

Fandom Tags

You’ll notice that the fandom tag at the top of the page is a link. Click on that.

Holy information overload, batman!

This is a tag information page. It tells us that this is a fandom tag under the Books & Literature category, gives us a list of synonyms, a list of subtags, and a list of child tags in 3 categories - Characters, Relationships, and Additional Tags.

On a subtag’s page, in place of the subtags category, it tells us what metatag the given tag is attached to. In a fandom that only has one tag, this category is skipped altogether.

Metatags & Subtags

Remember how I said I would come back to these in a moment? That moment is now.

Some pieces of media appear in multiple formats. There are often differences in canon, continuity, or even simply appearance/descriptions between versions. This is where subtags come in- they correspond to different formats.

Conversely, a fandom’s metatag is basically a catch-all. It aggregates every fic tagged with any of the subtags, as well as being taggable in itself.

This is what the subtags look like in our Hitchhiker’s Guide example. If you, for instance, only wanted to read fanfiction based on the 1981 TV show’s continuity, you could click that tag and then click on the filter works link.

If you don’t care which continuity a fic is based on, you can filter works by the metatag. If you want to see fic from some continuities, but not others, this is also possible through the metatag- keep this in mind when we get to filtering.

Child Tags

This category holds all your fandom-specific tags. Fandom metatags and subtags may have different child tags, a tag being attached to one doesn’t necessarily mean it will appear in the other. These tags are also all listed individually; synonyms aren’t grouped together under one tag. This can make them a little difficult to navigate, especially in bigger fandoms. That said, it can be helpful for finding specific tags you may be interested in.

Child tags are grouped in 3 categories, which are also how most tags are categorised sitewide. So, we’ll use this as a segue into talking generally about...

Fic Metadata- Information and You!

Let’s navigate back to the main fandom sort page and find a fanfic. Here’s one, by yours truly:

(In light mode now, because it’s in a private window- you may have noticed I have a browser extension that shows additional stats lmao. Unlike tumblr, however, ao3 is pretty functional even without addons, though they’re worth looking into for some uses.)

There’s a lot going on here, so we’ll break it down piece by piece. Let’s start with the...