#especially because I worked on two stories that I’ve been stuck with for a while. it was soooo nice to have inspiration for those again

[ghosts-and-blue-sweaters]

Dang.

Resurrection day and cc!Tommy’s birthday and a good writing day and getting to spend time with baby cousins?? All on the same day???

[icallhimjoey]

I'm patient but I'm not but I'm patient but I'm not are we going to pee in this elevator and is Joe going to hear us go pssssss I'M PATIENT BUT I'M NOT please pretty please part three soon? 🥺 🥺 🥺 

so, ive learned that apparently peeing in front of a stranger is literal nightmare fuel for some of you and i wasnt aware and im very sorry for exposing you to this fear without having put a proper trigger warning in place... but, um, here's part three :) Wordcount: 3.5K

---

Between Floors and Feelings

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

“They say this station’s haunted, you know?”

It had been forty minutes. Forty-five, maybe, of being stuck in a lift with a stranger, and all you wanted to do was sleep.

Just… have a cheeky little nap. Some good quality shut-eye.

If you would’ve been by yourself, you’d have laid down already, no doubt about it. Would’ve dozed off until firefighters or whoever else knew how to save people from lifts would come to rescue you.

If you’d have been alone you also would’ve definitely pissed yourself, but you thought that maybe the dress would hide it well enough. You could easily pretend the lift already smelled like urine when you stepped inside just before it had gotten stuck. Before you’d gotten trapped inside with a handsome man in an expensive suit who had introduced himself as Joe.

Joe, who was now trying to distract you with some spooky shit you didn’t believe in.

“Actor William Terriss, murdered in 1890-something. There used to be a bakery here,”

You were far too tired to really interact with him, but Joe didn’t mind. He just talked, and you just listened. You also didn’t really care for what he was telling you, but the fact that Joe was trying to make casual conversation in an attempt to distract from the stupid and increasingly annoying static from the intercom was sweet.

“And now they say he stalks the corridors, looking for bread. Tall guy, apparently. I’ve been told some tube workers were so scared of him, they requested to be transferred to a less haunted tube station,”

“Less haunted,” you repeated, “Not not haunted. Just, less.” that tickled you.

“A little haunting is fine, a touch of spook keeps you on your toes. But a tall actor looking for bread?” Joe looked at you, eyes squinted and eyebrows raised, and then jokingly answered his own question, “That’s too much.”

You just smiled, eyes heavy-lidded. A silence fell and your mind wandered a second. If you thought about it, almost every tube station could easily have scary spooky ghost stories. They were all underground with groaning tunnels and echoing passages, if you believed in the paranormal, any noise could be coming from the other side. Especially when a little more deserted, every single tube station could give you the creeps.

But you'd never seen a ghost, and were planning on keeping it that way.

If you could just… slump sideways and rest your head a little. Close your eyes a second. Let the ghost of the bread-actor roam freely and do his thing without bothering him... if you could just sleep. Doze off, just for a little while.

Joe pressed the emergency button for what felt like the three hundred and eighty-third time.

Pressing the emergency button no longer made anyone ask you any questions. It was just static now. Static that would last about 20 seconds before it died again, and every time it did, Joe would just press the button once more.

He’d been assigned the button-pressing task, which was good work, because you felt busy enough focusing on staying awake and working your pelvic floor muscles.

You were uncomfortable, and grew a little more uneasy when you felt eyes on you. You turned your head to see Joe give you a wary once over.

“You all right?”

How deep was this pit of concern this man held within him? You tutted and slumped your head forwards by ways of answering.

“I’m so close to my bed, I can practically hear it call my name,” you whined.

“If you’re an easy sleeper, I don’t mind if you close your eyes a second,”

Too kind.

“I can’t, I’ll piss myself,” you deadpanned and hissed straight after, because mentioning it made you feel it more. You tried to relief the pressure by pressing both hands firmly into the floor and leaning heavily into your stretched arms. It did nothing.

“That’s OK, I’ll pretend I don’t see,”

You gave Joe a stare, one that said, ha ha, very funny, even though you had to work to hide your smile.

The static died.

Joe pressed the button again.

“So, you live close then?”

You nodded. “Bow street, just down the road,”

Joe blinked, then let out an impressed whistle that sliced through the air with a sharp, clear tone.

“My God, I didn’t know I was in the proximity of an actual billionaire.”

You were hardly a billionaire, but you’d be lying if you said you had never used your postal code to impress people.

“It’s a tiny studio above a Pizza Express, it’s not that glamorous,” you argued.

“Oh, so… millionaire, then,”

Had you not been so tired, had you not needed the loo so badly, you’d have reacted more to it. Joe was funny. Sweet. All you could give was a slight smile before a grimace overtook your face once more.

“Should’ve gotten off at Leicester Square,” you muttered.

Because you did all the time. Especially in rush hours. But you hadn’t wanted to walk the extra few minutes. Minutes that, in hindsight, would’ve passed anyway. Minutes that would’ve meant you could’ve been home right now.

“Nah,” Joe reasoned, having a sip of his own water before continuing, “You probably would’ve gotten your dress stuck in the escalator, making the whole system tear it off, and that group of drunk guys likely wouldn’t have gone easy on you,”

Joe had seen and heard those guys too.

“To be honest,” you started, eyes closed and entirely focused on the strength needed to keep every single drop of urine inside your body. “I’d take the humiliation if that meant I would’ve been home right now.”

And you meant it.

Fuck, if you just kept thinking about it, you would only feel it more. You needed something to make you forget about the building pressure in your lower stomach all together, but it wasn’t as if there were ample options of entertainment.

There was just Joe.

“Do you live close? Or do you still have a whole trek home once we get out?” it was the easiest way of asking if you were potentially stuck in a small metal box with a neighbour.

“Quite the footslog for me still, yea,” so not a neighbour then.

You assumed he must have had plans. Maybe Joe was meeting friends in a bar somewhere, or maybe he’d been on his way to meet his girlfriend - you knew nothing about him, and didn’t know what to assume.

“Maybe we can convince the ambulance to drop you off at your place later,” you tried your hand at a joke.

“Ambulance?”

“For my ruptured bladder,” it came out all constrained, and instead of a goofy laugh, you received a concerned glance from Joe that then turned into something more determined.

“Yea, all right, hang on, I’m gonna…” Joe trailed off, and twisted to cap off of his water bottle again before he drank whatever was left inside. Just, chugged it all down.

“No, don’t– there’ll be two full bladders inside this lift, and–”

“One.” Joe said, wiping his mouth with the back of one hand before he got up onto his feet. Then, he held a hand out to you, and without much thinking you took it. Joe helped you stand, and then gave you the empty plastic bottle.

“What?”

“I promise I won’t look… or listen, I won’t, you just– you’re risking a bladder infection, and you’re clearly in pain, so–”

“Oh my God, you think I’m going to pee into this water bottle?”

“I don’t think, I know, I’ll just… here, look, I’ll squeeze myself into the corner with my back turned,” Joe demonstrated, turning with his face pressed into the corner before he covered both ears with his palms.

“You’re joking. We could be in here for hours, I don’t–”

“Exactly.” Joe looked over his shoulder. “So, please, go ahead. If you gotta go, you gotta go. I’ll give you as much privacy as I can.”

He turned back, and you just blinked at his backside.

What the fuck was this guy on?

You looked at the water bottle in your hands and for a split second actually contemplated doing it. But then, how the fuck was this ever going to work?!

“I’ve not got the aim for this,” you said. “I barely got it all into an open handbag earlier, this is never– hey!”

“You what?” Joe turned around, hands lowering from his ears, giving you a sort of panicked, definitely confused look.

“You have remarkably good hearing for someone who was very actively not listening to me peeing,”

Joe's throat stuttered as he quickly turned back, hands back over his ears. To really sell that he wasn’t listening, he started singing, “That’s me in the corner… that’s me in the, spot, light, losing my religion,”

He wiggled his hips a little to the words as he sang way off pace, far too quick, and you thought to yourself that if you were going to have to be stuck in a lift with a stranger, it was good that you’d gotten stuck with this one. This light-hearted, big goof of a man, who seemed to not have a single judgmental bone in his body. Or, a musical one for that matter.

Feeling no judgment was very refreshing after heavily judging every single aspect of yourself from the moment you’d walked out of your office.

“Joe,” you said, clearly not going ahead and even attempting to use the empty water bottle as a toilet. But Joe was definitely going to think twice about turning around after that comment you'd made.

“Joe,” you tried again, louder.

But that just prompted Joe to raise his voice as well, “Oh no I’ve said too much,” Joe dragged out his words to keep the silences in between to a minimum. “I haven’t said enough– I thought that I heard you– ow,”

Joe turned and saw that the bounce he'd felt on the back of his head came from the soft plastic of the water bottle you were now holding by the cap in your fist, like a weapon.

“Thank you, but, I think I'd rather die,” than pee in front of you into a water bottle that would then just be full of your yellow piss. You shudderd at the thought of it.

“Okay, well then,” Joe swiftly took the bottle from your hands and stepped around you. You turned and saw how Joe placed the bottle right side up in the corner furthest away from the intercom.

“It'll be here for when you need it,”

“I won't need it,” you said, sliding down the lift doors opposite to sit back down.

“Hmh, debatable,” Joe scrunched up the side of his face, making him wink as he did so as he moved to go sit down next to you.

“I won't use it,” you rectified.

“Then it'll just be there,” Joe bickered, gesturing towards the plastic bottle with one arm.

“For no reason,” you honestly weren't going to fucking use it. You'd probably end up pissing all over your own hands, and Joe just drank the last bit of water that you could've used to wash them after. Although, working with just the one container, that wouldn't have worked anyway.

“It'll be there because I like to keep my empty water bottles in corners of lifts. Feng Shoe and that.”

Joe had one of those faces where he joked a bunch without showing it much, expression all serious, or all annoyed, but then he'd crack straight after. Would press his lips together to hide the smile that he couldn't escape as his eyes found yours.

“Um, it's Feng Shui,” you corrected, and the giggles Joe was trying to repress came out in a snort.

Sat next to each other now, you felt a lot more comfortable because there weren't constant eyes on you. Both you and Joe had the same view: your own legs, feet, the empty lift, the water bottle in the corner across from you near the opposite doors...

You let your head fall back against the door and closed your eyes a second.

That whole ordeal had woken you up a little, but you were still tired. Resting your eyes was still very welcome.

“So... I have um, I've got some questions,” Joe started after a short silence.

You kept your eyes shut, but stopped breathing for a second.

“If they're about pissing into a bag, no you don't,” you said, and you heard a small disappointed hum escape Joe's throat.

“So, um, I have no questions,”

That made you laugh.

Still didn't feel great. You still had to pee, but you were determined now. Your body was going to have figure out a way to just... reabsorb it all back into your system.

You laugh turned into a frown and an extended groan.

“All right,” you sat up a little, ready to get into it. You were going to tell the full story, whether Joe actually wanted to hear it or not.

“No, please, you don't have to,” Joe laughed as he backtracked.

“I've already said too much,” you sighed.

“I could wonder for the rest of my life,” Joe was sweet. Didn't want to pressure you into sharing anything you didn't originally want to share.

“It'll be like therapy,” but you were already talking yourself into sharing everything that had happened to you that evening, all the things that lead up to you getting onto the tube looking like you did.

It didn't feel right to just let this guy think you were crazy.

Which, maybe you were crazy, but, at least you could make him understand.

Right?

So you told Joe about the annual costume party at the office. This year the theme was the letter B. You went with bride. Your boyfriend - fuck, ex-boyfriend - dressed up as a business man which meant that he could just wear his own office attire. You had joked that you were going to tell people he dressed up as 'boring'. You had given him so many alternative ideas; batman, bra salesman, Bob Ross, a banana, Baby Spice, a blue man group member, Buzz Lightyear... you had more up your sleeve, but he'd insisted on business man. Would just be easier.

Yea.

Easier, and also more boring. But it was whatever. Showing up in a wedding dress with him wearing a suit was kind of cute, you thought.

And the party had been fun! Everyone had looked amazing, really amazing. Most people had gone all out with their outfits and it made you feel less silly for walking around in a big puffy white cupcakey wedding dress. Someone had dressed up as big foot, the full costume, and you'd had to figure out who hiding inside that costume by process of elimination.

But then, when you were hunched over the table that held all the drinks with two of your colleagues, mixing stupid shit together to make awful brown-looking drinks, it all went wrong.

You looked up, searched for him with your eyes, because you had a gross drink to give to him, and saw him across the room, talking to Derek whose desk was three seats over from yours.

You saw how he excused himself. Saw him say he was going to go for a quick toilet break.

But then he walked the opposite way. Derek hadn't even noticed.

And you were dumb.

Thought he just didn't know where the toilets were.

So with two drinks in hand, you rushed after him. Had a sip that spilled down the sides of your mouth because you weren't being careful, and you'd grimaced and laughed at how nasty it was.

Then you saw him step into your boss's office, and you slowed down. Why was he going in there? Surely he knew, could see, that wasn't where the men's room was.

You were about to call out for him, were about to go, “Babe, are you lost?” with a laugh stuck at the back of your throat that was ready to slip out when you'd see him all confused and all alone in your boss's office.

But then, when you stepped into the doorway, he wasn't all confused. And he wasn't all alone.

His face was stuck to your boss's face, and you could see actual tongue. You saw her fingers work to loosen his tie. You saw his fingers pressed into her waist. She was dressed as a bunny, the Playboy kind, because of course she was.

You didn't think they'd even seen you. Not that you spent a very long time looking at them. You'd instantly turned on your heel and marched back to where the party was still in full swing.

Two colleagues saw your ashen complexion, saw the shock and the panic and the hurried shaky steps you were taking and cornered you. Said things like, “I'm sorry you had to find out this way,” and “We would've said something sooner, but, you know, she's our boss,” and “I'm sure you understand, don't you?” because they'd all known. And apparently for fucking ages, too.

Your face had been streaming down with tears once they were done talking to you. Once they'd advised you to go home, you had mascara all the way down your neck and two empty glasses in your hands. The godawful cocktails that held nothing but strong liquors mixed together had been a godsend.

You'd hitched, “Tell her I quit with immediate effect.” without wanting to look anyone in the eye.

Everyone could go and fuck themselves.

And then, just before you walked out, you saw her handbag. You knew it held her planner, her cigarettes, maybe even her phone, and you thought, I've got to pour something in.

The table that held all drinks was too far back into the office. People would notice. Maybe you could go hold it open under a tap. Place it in the sink in the toilets and just.... fill it up.

That's when you had felt your lower stomach pinch.

“Listen,” you said to Joe, regrettably in tears once again.

God, what a pathetic evening.

“I'm not proud of what I've done. But I did exactly what you think I did and I only stopped because I heard footsteps.”

Joe had just listened to you without interrupting besides the hand he'd placed around your wrist when he saw your eyes well up as you spoke.

He very slowly rubbed his thumb back and forth, but didn't say anything. It felt like the most appropriate way to comfort you. He was used to hugging strangers, but that didn't mean that you were, and he had to actively work against the instinct to curl an arm around you.

The hand on your arm felt nice.

The thumb rubbing felt nicer.

“So, I left her bag there, on the floor, and just hauled myself out of there... and, against my better judgement, decided to get the tube home instead of a taxi.”

You rubbed at the underside of your nose, and then at a cheek. Maybe these tears actually cleared your face of all the make-up remnants. There was going to have to be a point where it'd all just... wash off, right?

You were expecting Joe to say something like, I'm sorry, or, that's awful. But then he softly said,

“Should've shat in it,”

And the laugh it erupted from you was embarrassingly loud. Came right from your core. Made Joe laugh too as he bent forward a little to find your eyes with his. Made your tears suddenly become tears of joy once more. Made you grab onto Joe's arm with the one that he wasn't holding onto. Made you suddenly sit up in an attempt to not wet yourself.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Shit. No, fuck.

“Bottle!” you cried, moving your feet underneath you as you tried to stand up. "Quick, bottle, bottle, bottle!" you reached with hands you knew wouldn't reach far enough.

Luckily, Joe shot into action, almost seemed excited to do so. Jumped up, took the bottle, turned back to you as you were still trying to get up.

“I can't– help,” you squirmed, feet and bum on the floor still, both arms outstretched, waiting for Joe to pull you up.

You felt like you would sometimes feel when you really needed the toilet and you were right outside your flat, fumbling with the keys as you tried to hurry which only made things take so much longer.

Joe helped you stand, and the gave you the bottle before he slapped the emergency button. The static would help drown out the noise, you know, besides the loud singing Joe was about to do.

He stepped around you to go hide in his little corner again, hands already moving up to cover his ears, but you said, “Wait,” and used both hands to work you dress up, to get the bottle under the skirt.

Joe did wait, looking at you with big, rounded, expecting eyes. And you couldn't believe what you were about to say, but right now, everything was about survival and survival only.

“You're going to have to hold me.”

---

The Taglisted: 

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(taglist currently full, sorry)

[therhythmafterthesummer]

[23:26] ~Bang Chan

Pairing: Roommate!Chan x G.N!Reader Themes: Roommates to ??????, Fluff Warnings: Nothing much really. Pet Names? The MC is implied to be chubby/fat with not much focus on it. Mentions of anxiety. Mentions of eating. Belly fondling? These two have a Not-Thing going on, if you know what i mean. Barely proofread. Word Count: ~1k Summary: You couldn’t sleep, and desperate times require desperate measures.

Author’s Note: some simple fluff, for a change… been working on bigger pieces and i’ve been a bit overwhelmed with them… so here is a drabble i wrote as a little warm up… figured i’d post it just because~ (also i’d be lying if i said i wasn’t thinking of WereRoomies’ Chris and his girl while writing this… it doesn’t fit anywhere in the story i think, but my mind certainly drifted that way…)

Disclaimer: the story represented in this work does not represent Stray Kids in any way; anything described in this story and all actions performed by the characters are purely fictional, this was created just for good fun.

Sleep wouldn’t come to you. It was just one of those days. One of those where you did so much, where everything was so loud, so bright, your senses were in complete overdrive.

Your eyelids were heavy, your feet ached, and the ringing in your ears seemed to be louder than usual. Even then, sleep wouldn’t come.

You got tired of feeling your heart stammering in your chest, of your thoughts running wild and free within your exhausted mind.

Overthinking… Probably your best ally and your worst enemy at the same time, especially at times like these.

You tried your best to sleep, you really did, but it just wouldn’t come. So, once you accepted that fact, you just picked up your phone and started scrolling. 

And scrolling…

And scrolling…

And scrolling…

And of course, that only made it all worse. So you decided to break the glass on your emergency kit: Christopher. 

Throwing your covers to the side you sat down on your bed, blindly toeing the floor until you found your slippers. The floor was cold, and that had a shiver running up and down your spine as soon as your bare feet touched the tiles. You decided to ignore it, since you finally found what you were looking for. 

With your slippers securely in place, you made your way out of your room, dragging your feet all the way to Chris’ door at the other end of the hall. 

There was a faint, purple light coming from the crack underneath, it stuck out like a sore thumb in the otherwise dark hall.

Knock.

Knock.

There was no answer for a while, maybe a whole minute. It certainly felt like an eternity, to the point you weren’t sure if Chris heard you at all, but it was just as you were about to knock again that his voice came from the other side, signalling you to come in. 

Once you opened the door you were engulfed by the purple light, making you squint after so long in the dark. When your eyes focused, you saw him, hunched over his desk, typing at his laptop. He was shirtless, which made no sense considering how cold it was, but Chris was essentially a living furnace, so you weren’t really surprised at this point. It wouldn’t be the first time you’d be freezing and he’d be completely fine, he’d always tease you about it, but hopefully not tonight.

You stood by the door for a moment too long, just admiring his side profile–the shape of his nose, the curve of his lips, the length of his neck… It wasn’t until he turned his eyes away from the screen to look at you, with a soft, but tired smile on his lips, that you noticed you’d been staring, so you snapped out of it, blinking a bit and finally going into the room, closing the door quietly behind you. 

“What’s up, pup?” Chris brought his arms over his head, linking his fingers together and groaning as he stretched. You must’ve been really tired, since the sight of his defined muscles didn’t seem to affect you like it usually did, which honestly was for the better. He’d clearly been sitting at that desk for way too long–something that was, unfortunately, not uncommon. 

“Can’t sleep”, you yawned, covering your mouth with your fist only to finally bring it to your eye socket after, rubbing sleep from your eye. 

“Mm… I’ll be done in a few minutes”, Chris gave you a small smile, only returning his eyes to his laptop screen once you nodded in acknowledgement. 

The click-clack of his keyboard filled the space again, so you made your way to his bed–stone cold, you noted–and you tucked yourself under the covers, letting the sound of the keys and just the mere presence of your roommate to embrace you, to ground you. 

Because that was what Chris always did. Ground you. 

Whenever you were feeling like this, all anxious and filled with chaotic thoughts, Chris’ existence could simply ground you. 

You didn’t fall asleep, you were a bit more relaxed, though, which was a start. Eventually, you heard Chris moving, closing his laptop and groaning a bit once again as he stretched–or at least, you figured he was stretching, you couldn’t really see him, you were turned away from him, and your eyes were closed.

Chris left the room briefly, only to return a couple of minutes later and go through the motions of switching off every light in his room. 

Darkness enveloped you. You felt the covers being lifted, the bed dipped behind you, and, finally, you felt warmth.

Slinging an arm around your waist, Chris pulled you to his chest, and you all but melted in his hold. You could feel the rise and fall of his chest against your back, his toothpaste-minty breath fanning your neck, and just his entire body heat wrapping around you. 

“You okay?” He asked all of a sudden, voice but a whisper. 

You simply shrugged, taking a hold of his hand and bringing it to your chest to hold it tightly against you. “Just tired”. 

“Mm…" Chris didn’t sound too convinced. He never did in these situations, but he didn’t press any further. Instead, he moved his hand, bringing yours close to him behind you, and you felt how he pressed a soft, lingering kiss on the back of your hand. 

Returning your hand where it was, he hugged you closer, moving instead to press slow, tender kisses on your shoulder, raising goosebumps on his way. 

This wasn’t uncommon, either. Although it should’ve been. 

It only ever happened at this time, when you came to him with this problem in the wee hours of the night. 

Chris was touchy, cuddly, affectionate, he was at any time of the day. But this late, he always let his guard down, as did you, and you both always ended up here, sharing your warmth in ways that could be considered way too intimate for just roommates, just friends.

“Warm…” You mumbled all of a sudden, surprising even yourself. 

“Hm?” Each kiss lingered a bit longer than the other on your skin, each kiss moved a bit further up after the other, and Chris sneaked a hand under your vest top, finding your soft lower belly and slowly, almost absentmindedly kneading your flesh. The gesture always made you flush. 

“You’re warm, Christopher…” You replied simply, letting out the dreamiest–and possibly most pathetic–sigh you’ve ever heard. 

Chris chuckled softly behind you, pressing a kiss to your pulse point. “So are you, love…”

“Mmm…” You were turning to putty in his hands, between his tender kisses and his kneading hands all your worries seemed to be melting away, leaving only Chris and his touch in your mind. 

“You’re so soft, too… How are you this soft, baby, huh?” Chris emphasised his words by lightly squeezing your belly, making you smile.

“I like to eat… This… Renaissance body isn’t gonna… Maintain itself…” Your words were slurring, your mind was suddenly foggy with sleep, and you vaguely registered your ‘good night, baby…’

Just as you vaguely even registered Chris’ ‘sleep well, pup…’ right before you fell asleep.

Tagging: @raspbinniecreme @staaa96 @oiminho @dundullresident @honey-lemon-goose @carefully325 @lavenderxkies @starshine-moon @biribarabiribbaem @meowmeowhoon @100layersofdaddyissues @dearalice @alexis-reads-fics @xcookiemonsteer @knowleeknow @chanlovesme If you want to be removed from the list just PM me. If you want to be added fill in this form~

© therhythmafterthesummer 2023. all rights reserved. do not repost or translate my stories.

Constructive feedback (or even keysmashes, really) is always welcome :)

[jennagrinsoverml]

HI i love your fic recs! This is gonna sound really specific but do you have any good fics about time? I'm thinking Bunnix-involved, time loops, alternate universes... it's been on my mind lately. thank you so much!

I had a lot of fun with this list! I feel like this one has been anxiously awaited since I posted about it a while back haha

Remember That Time When... by @mostlovedgirl

Twenty-two-year-old Marinette Agreste was looking forward to the anniversary trip she would be taking with her husband Adrien that weekend. Those plans are derailed when she wakes up in her old bedroom... and she’s seventeen again.

Multi-chapter. This fic is so fun, and I love the way it plays with both sides of the time travel trope. On the one hand you’ve got Adrien and Marinette suddenly transported to a future where they’re married, while in their time, they’re not together (though Marinette’s crazy in love with him of course). And on the other hand, you’ve got married Adrienette back in the past needing to pretend they’re not even together! It’s sweet and fun, and I loved seeing both how Adrienette got there, as well as what they’re like as an established couple at the same time.

A Hundred Thursdays by Midnight Musume (Peas)

Marinette is stuck repeating the same day over and over. Her friends (and especially Chat Noir) help her cope.

Two-shot. Groundhog day type fic where Marinette’s stuck in a time loop. (In the second chapter, Adrien’s the one who is stuck.) It’s extremely well executed, and I really enjoyed the Marichat dynamic, especially with how it was influenced by the interactions Marinette had (or did not have) with Adrien earlier in the day.

Clairvoyance by @whatarubberchicken

Being hit by an akuma is not usually this delightful. Or bright. Or completely eye-opening.

One-shot. This fic hits me right in the feels, with Chat Noir being transported to a perfect future where he’s married with children and so, so happy, and it’s just so beautiful. Before, of course, the akuma’s power is ended and it’s over.

Eight Years Overnight by @coffeebanana

All Adrien wanted was to finish grading papers and have a relaxing weekend with his family. He most definitely did NOT expect Bunnyx to show up and drag him eight years into the future. When Ladybug followed her husband into the future, she didn't expect to see him playing the part of the villain. She didn't expect fourteen-year-old Emma to follow her through, either. And Chat Noir from the future was wrong to think that saving his kidnapped wife would be a piece of cake the second time around.

OR: Ladynoir July with a time-travelling twist.

Multi-chapter. This fic is exactly the kind of fic I’m usually thinking of when I think of a time travel fic. It’s a little bit confusing in the way that such stories always are, but the confusion is really kept to a minimum. It’s so interesting because the love square get together is not a component of this fic, they’re married in both times! But it works so well, and the trust they have in each other in both times is a recurring theme and it’s beautiful. This is plotty and well constructed. 

Why Are You Like This? by @carpisuns

An older Chat Noir shows up in the middle of a class field trip with a special mission for his younger self.

Two-shot. This is sweet, hilarious, and utterly perfect. Chat Noir meddles in the love square and it cracks me up.

A Sound of Thunder by Tempomental

“Bye-bye, little… actually, that’s your line, isn’t it? Sorry.”

Ladybug stared at the man in front of her. Tall. Shaggy, but not unkempt blond hair. Oh yeah, and he was wearing a Ladybug costume.

“Who - who are you?”

“Oh, right, sorry.” He drew himself up to his full height and proudly announced, “My name is Adrien Agreste, and I’ve come from the future to rescue you!”

Multi-chapter. Adrien also comes back from the future to help out with the ladybug miraculous. It’s extremely intense and well written and every time I thought I had spotted a problem in the writing, it turned out to be a plot element but holy shit I thought I was going to die with how intense this is. If you like plot, you will absolutely LOVE this fic.

when you weren’t mine to lose by @bugsandchatons

Change is a scary thing, especially when it feels like nothing has stayed the same.

It’s been a year since Marinette became the Guardian of the Miracle Box - a year of struggling beneath a burden she never asked for, a weight that has her leaning on her partner more and more as the hours fly by, of letting him come to her, too, when he needs a soft place to land. A year of falling for the boy who takes on the world by her side with a smile made of sunlight, and fighting the growing urge to tell him what he means to her.

After all, they’ll have time enough for that when Paris is safe.

But when the unthinkable happens, Marinette learns the tragedy of loving someone quietly, and the lines she’ll cross to save him.

Multi-chapter. This is what happens when Ladybug loses Chat Noir: she uses Hawkmoth to go back in time to save him. It hurts in all the best ways and the writing is absolutely gorgeous and somehow we still get a happy ending!

[w1ldthoughts]

Do you know what today is?

Synopsis: Jack and Zoey celebrate their first anniversary.

A/n: Some of you asked and I heard your cries, hope it’s everything you wanted and more!

Series Masterlist

“Baby! How do I know when to flip the pancakes?” Jack was running around like a headless chicken, looking for the spatula Zoey had been using. He let out a sigh of relief when he found it, cursing under his breath when he unsuccessfully tried to flip the pancake.

A hand rested over his and helped him quickly flip it over with ease, planting soft kisses to his neck afterwards. “What would you do without me?”

“Well for one,” he starts pointedly, “this food would be burnt to a crisp and two, I don’t even have to worry about all that because you’re stuck with me.”

Jack walks away from her to play a song on his phone, Tony! Toni! Toné! blasts from the speakers. Zoey laughs immediately, hearing the song play as Jack attempts to serenade her. He wraps his arms around her waist and picks her up, placing her on the counter as the song ends. The rapper takes a plate off the counter, stacks two pancakes and three strips of bacon on it and presents it to her. “Happy anniversary Zozo.”

“Happy anniversary Jack Jack. I can’t believe I’ve been putting up with you for a whole year.” She takes a bite of her bacon and feeds him some.

“Shit, I can’t believe it either. You know what else I can’t believe? That we haven’t done any nasty things in this kitchen.” His piercing blue eyes scream that he has a plan. And he usually gets what he wants.

Much to his dismay, his girlfriend stands up and grabs the syrup, dousing her pancakes. “The only thing I’m thinking about right now is breakfast so please, have some class and eat.”

“Oh I was trying to.” He mumbles under his breath, earning him a playful smack on his ass. “Bro, quit playing with me.”

Zoey puts her hands up, turning her attention back to her food and before Jack can respond, the doorbell rings. He had ordered 12 dozen white tulips to commemorate their year together. He did not expect to find someone standing next to the flowers.

“Mom?! What are you doing here?”

“Oh honey, it’s great to see you too.” She laughs, patting him on the back. “Let me help you with these flowers, what’s the special occasion?” She grabs a few dozen and heads inside.

Thank god Zoey had clothes on.

Jack picked up the rest of the flowers so he could hurry inside before things got weird.

His mom and his girlfriend were already laughing in the kitchen when he got there. It had there them all of three minutes. “Glad to see you two are getting along. Mom, this is Zoey. Zoey, this is my mom Maggie.”

“Oh we’ve met.” His mom informs him as Zoey grabs her a plate. “I thanked her for the emergency gala we put on a little over a year ago. Glad you came to your senses and realized what was right in front of you.”

Jack was completely forgotten as the two most important women in his life swapped stories. Not that he minded one bit, he was still the topic of conversation even if he wasn’t directly included in it. He took this time to clean up and give them some time alone.

“So, be honest with me. How is he? Because I know what I’ve heard and what I’ve seen but I want a little bit of your perspective.” Usually Zoey would’ve been super nervous to meet her boyfriend’s mom, especially one who was technically a mama’s boy like Jack. But it felt so natural and since it was a surprise visit, there was no time to freak out.

“Um well, to tell you the truth I didn’t know if this would work. I’m not a celebrity by any means and I have a job that I love so we are still long distance and will probably continue to be for a while. On paper it shouldn’t work, it should be hard and complicated and eventually fizzle out. I’m not naïve I know he has options.” She lets out a deep sigh, smiling to herself.

“But it’s not hard. It’s actually the easiest, most sensible thing I’ve ever done. Being with him, it’s the most consistent and stable thing in my life and it’s important to me. He’s thoughtful and intentional with his words and actions and—he’s kind. Genuinely cares about people and wants to do the right thing. Obviously he’s not perfect, no one is. I just know that in this world where nothing makes sense sometimes? This? Me and him? It makes all the sense in the world. I guess I have you to thank for that. So thank you.”

Maggie’s blinks her tears away, pulling Zoey in for a hug. “I should be the one thank you. I’ve never seen him happier. It’s like he’s been walking on air ever since he met you.”

They said goodbye to his mom an hour later, took a nap and got ready for their private sunset boat ride that Jack had arranged for them. It was all the more special to get to celebrate their anniversary in Louisville. Jack had his home here, his family here and now he’d found his person to share it all with. The thought of that was a little overwhelming so he pushed down the limp forming in his throat.

“Okay question for you…favorite part about year one. And what are you looking forward to in year two?” Zoey asks him, providing the perfect distraction.

The man thinks to himself for a couple seconds, rubbing his chin. “My favorite part was definitely us being more vulnerable with each other. You know I told myself I wasn’t into relationships and convinced myself that there wasn’t any room for it with this lifestyle but I have that and so much more with you. I think the best thing about love is that you give someone the power to hurt you, but trust them not to.”

“Wow. Babe that was deep. I did not think this was heading in that direction.”

He shakes his head, taking a sip of water, “chill, I read it somewhere and it really stuck with me. Because that’s how I feel with you. You and I both know you have my heart and I’m trusting you not to break it.” Clearing his throat, he gestures for her to give her answer.

“Okay. My favorite part about year one was incorporating each other into our worlds. When you are with my friends or when I’m with your friends it’s so seamless and I love that. We just…fit. And year two I want to travel together more, make more unique memories and once in a lifetime experiences.”

Jack checks his watch, stands up and sticks a hand out for her to grab. “Speaking of making unique memories, I want to show you something.”

They walk upstairs to the top balcony and watch the fireworks show, specifically for this date.

“I feel like I’m on the Bachelor right now.” Zoey jokes. She turns around to meet his eyes, the reflection of the lights looks even better when she’s looking at him. “You never told me what you want for year two.”

Jack gives her a kiss on the forehead, taking his jacket off so she stays warm. “I want this. You and me. Over and over again.”

“I love you Jack Jack.”

He rolls his eyes but she can tell he’s blushing. “I love you more Zozo.”

That night, he broke the internet with his post on Instagram.

Liked by urbanwyatt, dk14 and 2,785,314 others

jackharlow Best 365 of my life. Before y’all get on me yes, that damn look has worked on me since day one…and everyday since. I love you with everything in me.

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[writingquestionsanswered]

Hello, so there's a point in my story where one character gets separated from the others for a significant amount of time. He's presumed dead, and my original idea was to make it a surprise to both the characters and audience that he's alive and write a chapter or two from his POV since the separation, however now I'm worried that a flashback could feel interrupting or jarring. So now I'm wondering whether writing his subplot as it happens is better, having the audience know he's alive and what he's up to while the characters aren't

Stuck Between Flashback and Subplot

Well, first, if you wanted to do a chapter or two from this character's POV, I don't think both chapters would be a flashback. We'll come back to that in a second, though.

Whether or not to follow this character's adventure when separated from the others depends on what happens during that time. Stories revolve around conflict--a problem that needs to be solved--and every scene needs to be in service of whatever goal will solve that problem. If this character's "side quest" (we'll call it) is critical in resolving the story's conflict... maybe because they are after some potion they need for the final battle, or because they're in search of a critical piece of information... then you could definitely do some POV chapters from their POV so the reader could be part of this critical journey.

However, if this character just gets involved in their own adventure/shenanigans that have really nothing to do with resolving the main plot conflict, but still adds something to the story in the way of setting things up for later (important character development, or important world building), I actually think your POV chapter flashback might be a better idea. I wouldn't do two flashback chapters... but I think one could work in this scenario, especially if you set it up at the end of the previous chapter so that he reunites with the other characters and they're like, "OMG, WHERE WERE YOU?" That would be a reasonable lead in to a flashback chapter where those events are filled in.

Again, just depends on what works best for the story. :)

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[clambuoyance]

Do u want to talk abt ur ocs..... I actually followed you initially bc they seemed so interesting and silly and I want to know more if you feel like sharing :)

I still can’t believe some ppl follow me for my ocs bc it’s usually for my fanart so this is really nice to hear! I have a couple stories/universes but the main one I’ve been…developing (it’s on and off) since I was like 13/14 is about these two kids named Keiko and Rolin!! Im still doing a lot of world and lore building but the main gist is that Rolin is a teenage boy turning 16 who returns to his hometown to live with his aunt and meets a strange young girl named Keiko (debating on making her 10-12 idk she was originally 10). I won’t go too much into like Lore stuff but she has like..my own version of clairvoyance. They are kind of opposites, with Rolin being introverted and jaded, and Keiko being loud and optimistic but they are both silly.

I think it’s been said before but the whole driving relationship of the story is the two of them going on adventures throughout the city and solving mysteries while simultaneously becoming family and finding a real home within each other and the people they’ve met and learned to love 😚

Now the story is centered around Rolin and Keiko, but a big focus is on the cast of characters that fill mostly Rolins life. Mira and Artie were friends with Rolin when they were kids before Rolin left with his mom, and all three grew up and have been living their own lives, but when Rolin comes back they get a chance to reconnect (with Keiko’s help). Valoryn (Val) is also new in town, and befriends Rolin and Keiko. This is just a messy fast doodle of them I have better art in my oc tags🙏

Some old sketches

The other major cast is Rolin’s family, and Rolin has always been Asian so as I worked on the story his family kept getting more and more relevant especially with a major theme of the story being about the connections you have with people in your life so like I can’t leave them out. And I’ve never settled on an Asian ethnicity until recently where I was like I might as well make him Filipino so I can base his family off my own🫡 Cousins (both blood and not) that are years older than you but treat you like siblings and give u silly nicknames 🫶

Now Diana (or Deedee) is one of those characters I’ve had for a long time, and I made her because I liked those laidback mentor figures in anime (like Qrow from rwby) and wanted a laidback lady one 🤷🏻‍♀️ she also has some Misato from nge influence. She has always been written to be a mentor figure to Rolin and Keiko, and at one point I think I was going to make her his actual aunt but stuck to her being just a cousin so I could write about her relationship with her mom 🫶 Unlike her brother Darius, she does not live with her mom and Rolin has to go out of his way to meet her.

And Rolin’s parents’ story aren’t the main focus (they aren’t really present themselves in the main story) and it’s mostly just flashback stuff but they r silly and sad and I love drawing them 😼

I could go into more detail but that’s an overview of some of the characters

[wutheringmights]

Has anyone asked for the commentary for the latest Ctb chapter yet? 👀👀👀

Originally, everything from Link’s conversation with Impa to Link finally leaving for Kakariko was going to be at the end of the last chapter; but as you may recall, I ended up punting it over to this one in a waterfall effect from having to deal with a different delayed scene in the last section.

Good news is that on all fronts, the pacing is finally back on schedule. Mostly. There’s a scene in the present day that I’ve kicked off to a later chapter, but we’ll get to that when we get to that. 

Something I wasn’t able to quite talk about last chapter was why exactly I wanted this incident to be Link’s wake-up call; I wanted Link’s turning point to evolve around him realizing that his way of being a hero is messed up, not only for failing to save Kat but by being told that, politically, he saved the wrong person

Which will then tie into HOW Link saved her. I wanted Link to undoubtedly do the right thing, but I wanted his solution to be so extreme that it’s horrifying. Yes, he saved Kat. But he also brutally murdered three men-- and wanted to make them suffer in the process. Link can’t solve anything without taking extremes. These men have nothing redeemable to them, but in the context of Link’s history, I just wanted readers to sit there and go “huh” for at least a minute. Maybe two. 

As previously posted, the men’s names were based off of things that have given me brain worms as of late. 

This chapter made me realize that I really haven’t done enough with Impa; I’ve been relying too heavily on just telling you how Warriors feels as opposed to having her do things. Incredible work on my part. I will rectify that however I can. 

Speaking of which, Impa’s speech about becoming your role was originally going to include some extra information about her history with Lincoln before she became Impa, but I ended up cutting it because it was just an awkward time to go over that info; I hope there will be a time I can include it later, but it’s not super pressing or relevant so don’t get your hopes up. 

As previously mentioned, Kat’s disability is Broca’s Aphasia 

I remember when I was finalizing Kat and Icarius’s characters, I wondered if anyone was going to think there’s a thematic meaning to so many characters losing the ability to communicate; whatever is there is unintentional on my part, but whatever meaning you derive is still valid 

Also, out of everyone, Kat is the character I feel the worst about hurting. 

And for everyone wondering: Kat was knocked out when she was first bludgeoned. She was not awake when the men were killed. I am both touched and somewhat caught in disbelief that so many of you were worried about this.

When writing the introductory imagery for Kakariko-- describing the streets, people, etc--I was really worried that I was just retreading information that I already gave you all; but it’s also been, like, two years since the first Kakariko chapter came out, so I figured it was worth revisiting.

Hello, Jakucho! It’s been so long since she was in the story that I forgot how fun she is to write. She really brings an incredible energy to the mix. 

I’m trying to remember where exactly I got the idea for Link having to build his own house, especially since this is probably among the first ideas I had for the story. I think I came up with the idea of the house first and my brain immediately said, “Fine, but he built it while going through withdrawals.” O.K. Sounds cool. 

When I was writing the chapter, I didn’t like how I introduced Ayane. I got really hung up on the idea that she deserved something grander. Looking back at it now, I think it’s perfect. I’m glad I didn’t change it. 

There’s this through line I’ve been trying to maintain this entire story about Link feeling stuck in his role as a soldier, how inadequate he feels for not knowing a tradeskill (or really any skill outside of war-waging), and how jealous he is that Spirit can build nearly anything-- and this is the chapter where I finally feel the payoff of all those ideas. 

I hadn’t watched Vinland Saga when I finalized this idea, but now that I have watched it, do you know what this chapter is giving? Thorfinn emotionally healing via a farm arc. Go read Vinland Saga. It’s better than anything I can do. 

However, I did mean for that ending to be a little bit more ominous than it turned out. Sure, Link is deciding to move on and be happier, but he is doing so by ignoring all the things he has done. Surely, this isn’t going to bite him in the butt. 

Now that all of the war stuff is over, the story is now shifting towards a Link homesteading plotline, which will hopefully be as interesting, if not more. It’s definitely going to be harder to write, if only because now I have to take Link and show how he becomes Warriors.

Speaking of which.... onto the present day--

That opening scene where they’re escaping from the Sheikah by running across the rope bridge? That was a certified Pain In The Neck to write. I wrote about three different versions before finding one I thought was half-way decent. Why? I kept getting too elaborate with it and the scene kept running away from me. 

A part of the reason why that scene was such a pain is that it originally wasn’t going to happen! The last chapter was supposed to have a little transition scene about having to sneak away from the Sheikah before ending with the scene where Spirit helps Warriors with his arm. 

But with the canoodling scene kicked over to this chapter, I figured it was about time I began paying off the whole We’re Being Hunted Down By the Sheikah thing.

The hard march stuff then effectively ruined my original concept for the chapter: a series of scene where Spirit interacts one on one with each member of the Chain, to varying degrees of success. That got tossed out the window and never returned. 

But I think it was worth it? I like the hard marching stuff, and it helps with the blend the deep dark atmospheric stuff with the reunited Chain being absolute bozos

And I have missed all of the shenanigans. The exchange at the beginning where Warriors gets sarcastic about being told not to let go is very silly, but I like it. It makes me laugh. 

Speaking of which, I have decided that I am a big fan of Spirit’s whip. That’s all. Just wanted to put that into the world. 

Okay, let’s hop back to the canoodling stuff.

So that scene was what was supposed to be at the end of the previous chapter, if only to give you all the two-punch Spirit What The Fuck moments. Pacing-wise, the scene also acts as set-up for the house drama. Putting it at the end of last chapter would have made it seem like that plot point was more established. 

Also, another shout-out to Legend for being the character who is constantly surprising me with how fun he is to write. I’m not a big fan of him normally, so I always end up forgetting this until I get to write him again. Then again, I am also convinced that Legend is at his best when he’s a member of the supporting cast. He’s not main character material. 

And you guys have finally bullied me enough to convince me to make DILF Hunter Hyrule canon. You can’t say I don’t do anything for you guys. 

Four and Spirit not having a good relationship just feels correct. Even if Spirit was capable of not fumbling a social interaction for more than 10 minutes, I still think these two would not like each other very much. We might be able to get them to coworkers status, but that’s if we’re lucky. 

I finally got to do this scene with Warriors and Lana! Thank god! I think Lana scenes are among the first to get cut any time I need to make space, and this one has been getting pushed back for a awhile now. It’s good to finally get them to talk, if only to wrap up that little subplot about Warriors’s shittiness towards her while scratching the surface of my Sad Girl Lana agenda. 

Actually, this chapter did so well with the Lana and Linkle content that I feel bad that Midna got barely anything to do. Granted, her big moment where Twilight is seeking comfort from her is one of my favorites. So actually, Midna stays winning.

The scene where Spirit equates dead monsters to dead people is the spiritual successor to that scene way back in the past when he and Link had their big fight. I mean, that’s obvious.

A lot of readers seemed really surprised when Spirit was ruthless on the battlefield during Twilight’s rescue, and I want this scene to help remind everyone that Spirit kills people as easily as he kills monsters because, to him, they aren’t different. That’s still shocking, but it’s not because Spirit is uniquely cruel. 

The song that Spirit plays is the Song of Birds from his game, which functionally just summons a flock of birds. You need it to solve, like, one puzzle. I have decided that it’s actually an essential part of Lokomo burial rites. 

I regret giving Hyrule the line about understanding Spirit better. On one hand, I do think this would be a reason Hyrule would soften towards him. On the other, Hyrule was not on the battlefield when Spirit was being a ruthless soldier. What is there for him to understand better?

Legend’s game is a silly scene I have been trying to include in this story for so long, if only to give Spirit a moment to explain in-story how his senses work (and to have an allergic reaction towards Legend). I am trying so hard to drive home that Spirit’s abilities are only the senses. This guy does not have any other weird magic about him. He just knows extra information about people. 

Also, Wind robbing Spirit is extra funny when you remember that Spirit probably sensed him nearby and still somehow did not realize he was being pickpocketed. 

I think the things Spirit senses off of the boys are fairly obvious, except for Wild-- that water stuck in the nose feeling refers to Wild being submerged in the Shrine of Resurrection

I feel bad that I keep giving Wind more problems to deal with, but unfortunately, head trauma causes so many lasting conditions. I haven’t even really milked his newfound half-deafness yet. 

Also, thank you once more for everyone who gave me additional information on how signing with one hand works! You’re all the bomb!

The most painful cut this chapter was a scene where Spirit met Kat again. It's still gonna happen somehow, but the logistics didn't quite work (they're supposed to be on the run... what are they doing with meemaw???) and I just needed to focus on other things. It's such a shame, though. We almost had a perfect cohesive past and present chapter combo.

Initially, I was going to leave Toto in the well until the end of the story. He would act as extra motivation for Warriors to basically fix Hyrule-- if he doesn’t, Toto doesn’t go free. Then at least one person asked that he be rescued, and I crumbled. 

Also, if I did my job right, this is the first time in the present day that Anders’s name is said out loud! 

So you can probably guess that if I was willing to take as much time as needed to write the rest of CTB, I would have given saving Toto and burning the house down its own chapter. I’m not great at pacing (see: the fact that I wrote a whole chapter about characters traveling instead of skimming over that shit), but I figured I would take the risk and see if I could get away with having both off screen.

Was it effective? In some ways, yes. I think the shock when Warriors finds out is effective. 

What really makes my cutting corners work is that Warriors got to do something else that was really important instead, which is talking with Icarius. 

(By the way, I know most of you are doing a bit about being hardcore Warriors/Icarius shippers. But the few of you who are genuine, I need you all to wait until I actually show what the relationship is like before committing, if only because this is something I of all people would be writing). 

What isn’t effective is how Cia’s drawing was meant to foreshadow the house burning. I always thought of it as a minor detail akin to Cia’s warnings while she was in the bush, but a lot of you clung to it like it was going to hold the key to final climax of the narrative. That’s probably my fault. Oops. 

But Warriors and Spirit fighting... perfect. Love that scene. Honestly, I missed their violence. 

But my god. Getting to elaborate on the house and how it's filled with his mother's things at the start of the chapter before having it ripped away? Priceless. Perfect. I am patting myself on the back for that one.

I kinda hate that Warriors and Wind moment. It’s good and everything I like until after Wind offers up his earring. I didn’t know where else to take the scene, but I didn’t want to end it there. What I ended up writing is just really cliche, and I really wish I gave myself more time to redo it. 

And finally, that ending scene. Oh boy. Your honor, something is going on. If you guys are this stressed by a little cuddling, I cannot wait to see how next chapter is going to mess you up (pending on whether I chicken out or not)

Once more, I have to point out how insane everyone’s takes are making me. No one, and I mean no one, is on the same page about whatever is going on between Warriors and Spirit. There is no consensus. It’s driving me to insanity. I am still pushing myself to embrace different interpretations and to not view personal takeaways as a failing of the story. 

But the more space I give everyone to draw their own conclusions, the more I get worried about alienating a reader, or writing a story with an ending that one person likes and everyone else hates. 

But, again, this is a practice in ambiguity. Part of this story’s draw is how so many people are reading the same scenes and characters, and walking away with different perspectives. As nervous as it makes me, I love it.

[dreamlessinparis]

The Heart is a Deep Ocean - Last Part

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Summary: The aftermath of the sinking

Warnings for this chapter: Angst, 18+, tender Bucky, fear, catastrophe, flashbacks (in italics), fluff, pain, sadness, happiness, slight open ending, tying up loose ends

A/N:  Beta'd by my dear friend @sparkledfirecracker, thank you my love 😘 I can't believe its over, but I'm very proud of myself for actually completing it. I hope you all like it. There is a flash-forward in this chapter. All mistakes are my own ❤️

Please do not repost, translate or copy my work. Reblogs, likes, and comments are appreciated! 😊

Divider credit to the lovely @firefly-graphics

80 years later

Your hands shook as you flipped to the next page of the scrapbook in your hand, tracing over a photo of Bucky all dressed up. Seeing him like that brought tears to your eyes, blurring the vision of your grandchildren sitting before you. Your daughter stood up from the couch and came to sit next to you, hugging you into her side. 

“You must have been so scared, Mom,” Grant, your firstborn, said from the armchair he was sitting in, his youngest daughter perched on his lap. You nodded, through the tears. 

“It was terrifying,” you responded, falling back into the story. 

There were so few survivors around you and that tugged at your already broken heart. With a blanket atop Bucky’s jacket, you sat watching families reconnect, while others sat distraught at their losses. Some were in shellshock, unable to collect themselves, just staring off into the distance. 

The cold air bit at your face, tears freezing halfway down. Even though you couldn’t put thoughts together, you couldn’t stop crying. You never knew if you’d stop. Everything you owned, including your heart, was on that ship and you had nothing. Going back to your family was not an option you wanted, especially because you knew they’d want you to marry. And the idea of loving anyone else was impossible to fathom. 

Bucky wanted you to survive, and you had to live, finding that will was going to take time. You could do it, even if it seemed hard now, but you could. You owed him that much, to keep his memory alive. 

As you were thinking about what your next steps would be, someone sat beside you. Closer than a stranger should. There wasn’t much energy left in you to scoot away, the plunge into the icy water was draining but you still turned your head to tell the man to back off.

But the words got stuck in your throat.

“Told you I’d find you again, Angel,” Bucky said, smirking playfully down at you. His hair was slicked back from the water, and he had two blankets draped over his shoulders. Yet he looked like he had just come from a photoshoot. Handsome as ever. So handsome and so not real. 

He couldn’t be. You were dreaming, you had to be. Your mind was too far gone, you were hallucinating. There was a yearning to reach out and touch him, your fingers fidgeting in your lap but you were scared. If you touched him, he might disappear. That’s how mirages worked, right? 

You shook your head, “you can’t be real. I’m dreaming. Fuck, I’ve lost it.” 

He chuckled, letting you ramble on with your debate on whether or not he was real. 

Before you could make up your mind, he reached out, cupping your cheek in his warm hand. You leaned into it, shutting your eyes. Everything in you prayed that he would still be there when you opened them. Warm lips touched yours and you fell into the kiss. Your body immediately reacting to him, wrapping your hands around his neck and pressing yourself to his body. 

He used his free hand to wrap around your waist and pull you onto his lap, never breaking the kiss. You broke apart with a gasp but didn’t separate too far, feeling each other’s breath fanning against your faces. Bucky grabbed the blanket that had fallen off your shoulders, wrapping it tightly around the two of you. 

“I’m real, doll. I promise,” Bucky whispered, not wanting to break the spell. Tears fell freely down your face, and he did his best to wipe them all away, “don’t cry, Angel, please. You’re breaking my heart.”

“I thought I lost you,” you admitted, letting out a small sobbing hiccup. “I didn’t know what I was going to do. I’d never felt hurt like this before, Bucky.”

“Oh baby, I know. I felt it too, from the moment your hand slipped from mine to the moment I resurfaced and wasn’t able to find you.”

“Where’d you go?”

“I got pulled into the suction of the boat sinking, yanking me away from you. And when I surfaced, I was on the far side of the wreckage. I could faintly hear you calling but I couldn’t get to you.”

“I was so scared. But I knew you’d want me to fight and so I did.”

Bucky kissed you softly, “my little fighter, I knew you would. I had faith you’d make it and I knew I had to survive for you. So I made myself heard when the boats finally came back around,” Bucky paused, his breath hitching. “When I got to this ship and I couldn’t find you,” he shook his head, “it was like nothing I’d ever felt before.”

You nodded, knowing exactly how he felt. 

“With you back in my arms, I feel whole again.” 

A hand fell on your shoulder, and you looked up to see Bucky smiling down at you, wrinkles accenting his handsome face, “and I never stopped feeling whole, not with you in my arms.”

He leaned down and gave you a passionate kiss. Just as full of love as that first kiss. You could hear the grandkids groaning about cooties, and your kids shushing them, mentioning something about true love. 

Bucky settled in beside you, taking the scrapbook off your lap, “I married her the day after we landed in New York. I couldn’t spend another day with her as my wife,” he told the kids. “She looked like an angel. Just as beautiful then as she is now.”

“Oh hush,” you chastised him, hiding your face. He still managed to make you feel butterflies after all these years and the life the two of you led had been a wonderful one. Four children, seven grandchildren, countless pets and so many memories. 

It was a life you never thought you’d have when you stepped on that boat, all those years ago. A full life, with everything you could have asked for. 

“Once we got married, we told our families,” you started.

“Who turned out to be more excited for us than we thought they’d be,” Bucky chuckled.

“His family was not a fan of Catherine either.”

“And her family just wanted her wed, no matter who the man was. They thought she was too much of a free spirit.”

This brought a laugh to the whole room, knowing just how much of a free spirit you were. 

“From there we had Grant, and you all know the rest,” you said, and Bucky shut the scrapbook with a smile. 

“I think it’s time for bed,” Grant stated. The rest of your kids agreed as they gathered up the little ones. Each chimed a good night as they headed up the stairs. Your youngest daughter Winnie planted a kiss on each of your cheeks as she left. She had always been a daddy’s girl, making sure to give him an extra hug. 

Bucky stood up, reaching out his hand to help you up. Together you began to head to your bedroom upstairs, on the third floor. 

“I think we did good, don’t you?” Bucky asked as you passed the plethora of photographs and drawings that littered the walls leading up. 

“We got lucky, finding each other when we did,” you smiled. Your hand never left his as you reached the top floor, stopping at a single photo. 

“Lucky, yes,” he agreed. “But life owned us too, with everything we went through. Everything we lost.”

His face was haunted, as he looked at the photo of him and Steve, smiling wide for the camera. You tucked yourself under his arm, snuggling closer to him. “He gave up everything for us, and I think we did a good job repaying him.”

Bucky nodded, eyes full of emotion for his lost friend. “I miss him every day, and I thank him just as often.”

“Maybe we’ll see him soon, Buck.”

Silently he turned to you, and gave you a sweet kiss. One you felt all the way to your toes. He cupped your face, gazing into your eyes. Everything he felt, everything he left unsaid, you could read clearly in them. Love filled every part of your part and it was all because of him. A long life with him was blissfully perfect, despite all the hardships. 

“Maybe you’re right, Angel.”

With that, the two of you headed to bed, falling into a deep slumber in each other’s arms. Like you had every night for the past 80 years. A calm blanket of love and peace enveloped you both.

Taglist:

@caffiend-queen

@jobean12-blog

@winterrfalconn

@flordeamatista

@sweeterthanthis

@thefallenbibliophilequote

@kitkatd7

@christywantspizza

@hallecarey1

@potatothots

@late-to-the-party-81

@Deepdreamerbouquet-world

@silentkiller23744

@krissy25

@iamtheonewhocares

@doll1917

@emmabarnes

[precious-little-scoundrel]

I’m scrolling through Tumblr trynna catch up on all your wonderful asks since yesterday and I’m not up to date on your POW fic yet but so far it all realllyyy hurts and I’ve got my own idea or two to share Mommy based on what I’ve read here :

1.) Bucky enters the camp and Buck is still clinging to the no fraternizing rule like it’s his lifeline. Every night it seems Maureen sleeps closer to him but still in her own bunk and Buck tells himself that’s enough. Well it’s Bucky’s first night and he missed his friend and he can hear Buck shivering so he slides into Buck’s bunk and cuddles him and tells him where he can shove those rules. Cue Maureen entering and being very upset that Buck has allowed Bucky entry to his bunk when she’s been begging and it’s a load of childish back and forth as she then tries to force herself onto Buck’s other side.

2.) ida’s pregnancy. Before she manages to get rid of it, Bucky is the only one who can get her to acknowledge it and how in any other circumstance it wouldn’t be something she thought of getting rid of. Even if she escaped and returned to base, she wouldn’t get rid of it, she just can’t risk herself or the baby in the camp. And she can’t tell John about it because he’s worried enough and that’s her baby brother and it’s only now that Bucky’s in the camp that John is finally allowing himself a few hours of sleep. Because he trusts Bucky with Ida. Maybe they talk about how if they escaped Bucky would step up for the baby and do anything to make it easier for Ida. They can talk possible names or the reactions people would have and how they could create stories on how Bucky is the father (jokingly) and the story changes every time. Sometimes Ida says the baby can have no father too, except God. And those late nights in her bunk with Bucky are the only moments of weakness she allows herself with her baby.

Bucky centric ideas because if it isn’t obvious by now I love him but also he’s such a faithful, loyal friend, a leader, and still brings laughter and youth to the group so it fits.

Baby I love these and that first sentence took me out, this is what I’m going to enjoy most about writing him in this world despite a lack of “love interest” because he’s so deserving of exploration in all of it.

I’ve already screamed at you in private but I do feel like you’ve been in my drafts, haha, especially about the baby. Bucky makes her think of it that way which is both terribly hard and also a little healing, and you know it -those plans to run off into the German sunset with her and the baby haunt them both for the rest of their lives.

He meant it, he was gonna be there for them.

One day I may have to explore an Au of that, there’s so much to unpack with that between her own thoughts towards her child and his care and love of it and considering himself it’s father in all but biology and then their own dynamic that’s not romantic but neither is it lacking love. They could make it work in the Swedish countryside for years, stuck in a cabin and eating what Bucky catches from the ocean. 😭 -at least, those are the daydreams he tells her in their bunk.

Also, while it’s gonna make me cry my eyes out, this man is 100% going to bury this baby, premature and nearly shapeless though it is, he owes ida and himself and their dreams that, this little innocent, too. 😭

[whiskey-tango-matcha]

Go Home

I’m back with more snide restaurant coworker bullshit. No plot, just vibes - I used 3 different prompt posts in this, this one, this one, and this one, which are all just *chefs kiss*. Unbetad, unedited, just a big pile of garbage I threw together and shamelessly present unto you all. Hope you guys enjoy :)

In case you didn’t read my first story posted here, Elijah is a restaurant owner/General Manager and Greyson is a chef. That’s all you really need to follow along lmao. 

Go Home

“Greyson. Go home.”

Greyson’s head snapped up and his eyes locked with his boss’s as Elijah breezed out of the office and into the kitchen. “Why would I go home?”

“You’re sick. You have a cold.”

Greyson let his jaw fall open in mock aghast, put down his knife and placed a hand on his chest as if he needs to center himself after such an indoctrination. “I do not. How dare you. Why would you say that?”

Elijah rolled his eyes at the chef’s theatrics and placed his phone and laptop on the prep table where Greyson was working. “I say it because I’ve been here not even three minutes and the only things I’ve heard out of your mouth are sneezes and coughs.” He picked his things back up and poked the chef in the chest. “Go home.”

“That’s not even true, we just had a full conversa- HFTSHH-uhh!” Greyson caught the sneeze in an elbow, hastily brought to his face at the last moment. Elijah bleated out a laugh as he pushed through the kitchen doors and into the server’s station. “Bad timing!” Greyson called behind him.

“Go home!”

***

Greyson wasn’t about to just go home.

It was January, which meant it was painfully slow in the restaurant, but that didn’t mean he had nothing to do. They had a few big events coming up, and his team was only just recovering from some nasty bug that had taken them down one by one through the busy holidays. The guys needed the support of their chef, and Greyson certainly wasn’t one to take a sick day when his team needed him – especially when he wasn’t even sick.

“Huhh...huhETSHH-ue! Fuck me,” Greyson said, turning away from his prep station to sneeze into his shoulder for what felt like the millionth time that day. He walked to the sink nearest to him, pulled out a paper towel, and wiped his nose before washing his hands. He definitely wasn’t sick, but whatever was making him sneeze like it was his job was really starting to piss him off.

There were still several hours til service began, so Greyson decided to work on some new menu recon while he had a few moments of down time. The mushroom risotto dish he’d spent some time on still wasn’t quite there yet, but he’d tasted it so many times it had turned to mush in his mouth. Greyson scooped the less-than-perfect dish into a deli container and went out in search of his boss.

He knocked on the open office door at the front of the kitchen, where Elijah was seated and working on a schedule. Greyson scooped a bit of risotto onto a spoon and held it out. “Hey, boss, can you give this a taste?”

“I most certainly cannot,” Elijah said, not looking away from his work. Greyson couldn’t help but laugh.

“Uh...any particular reason why?”

Elijah raised his eyebrows and lolled his head to the side to look at the chef. “Two reasons, actually. One, you aren’t supposed to be here, so I’m ignoring you. And two -”

“Onesec – HGSTHH-ue! HRSHH-uh! Shit, sorry, ’scuse me, go on,” Greyson rubbed his nose on his shoulder and Elijah gave him a look of revulsion.

“Two,” he continued, pointedly placing a box of tissues at the end of the desk, facing Greyson, “I’m not eating off of your spoon because, as I have said, you are sick.”

Greyson rolled his eyes and held the spoon closer to Elijah’s face. “C’mon, man, I need some feedback.” He sniffled, trying not to sound pathetic. “Please?”

“If I try it, will you go home?”

“Probably not.”

Huffing exasperatedly, Elijah grabbed a fork off of the plate that had held his lunch earlier and stuck it pointedly into the deli container Greyson was holding. He took a bite while looking into Greyson’s red-rimmed eyes. “More parmesan,” he said, putting the fork back on the used plate beside him. “And too much truffle oil. Now go home.”

Greyson smiled and grabbed a tissue from the box Elijah had placed before him. “Thanks, boss,” he said, shoving the tissue in his pants pocket. “Can always count on y-yuhh...HGTSHH-uhh! Snf. Coundt ond you,” he finished, stuffily. Elijah glanced at the chef, eyebrows raised as if to say, you ready to admit defeat yet? Greyson just shrugged.

“I’ll take sombe claritin,” Greyson said lamely, pulling the tissue back out of his pocket and wiping his nose. “I’mb ndot sick.”

Elijah looked back at his computer. “Whatever you say, Grey.”

***

Whoever the fuck had given him this shit was about to feel his wrath.

...not that he was sick or anything.

It was four pm and the cooks were all sitting at the back of the kitchen eating staff meal before the restaurant opened. Alternatively, Greyson was crouched on hands and knees in his office, cursing under his breath while he searched for the ibuprofen he and Elijah kept in one of these drawers.

He figured it was most likely his sous chef, Matt who was the culprit. Kid couldn’t cover his mouth if you forced him with a gun to his head, and he’d been so sick on New Year’s that Greyson forced him to go to urgent care at the end of the night. Fucking Matt. Didn’t he know better than to come to work si -

“HuhETSHHue! GTSHH-uh! HRRSTCHH-oo! Fuck.”

Greyson abandoned his search for ibuprofen in lieu of the rapidly depleting tissue box on the desk. He pulled himself back into his desk chair and reached for the box -

Only to see Elijah holding it hostage at the entrance to their office.

“You’re not going to eat?” Elijah asked. Greyson, whose nose had begun running in earnest post-sneezing, gave a lame eye roll from behind his hand.

“Ndot hungry. Give mbe the tissues, please.”

“Oh, these?” Elijah asked, holding up the box theatrically. “Why ever would you need these? I mean, you’re so clearly well and spry. Healthy as a horse as they say.”

“Dude, just give them to mbe. Shouldn’t you be in pre-shift?”

“I was coming to get you for pre-shift, you bozo,” Elijah said, tossing the tissues at Greyson. “But now I’m beginning to question if the servers would even be able to understand what you’re saying.”

Greyson gratefully blew his nose facing away from Elijah and tossed the tissues in the trash. “Fuck directly off, Lij,” he said, the words punctuated with a hoarse cough. “I’m coming. Give me two minutes.”

“I’ll give you two days, how about that?” Elijah said, turning to leave the kitchen. “Go. Home.”

Greyson stood, reinvigorated by fury. “Fuck. Off,” he said in the same cadence as his boss. “I’m fine.”

Elijah threw his arms up in defeat and held the swinging door open for the chef. “C’mon, then,” he said, gesturing Greyson towards the dining room. “Let’s go infect my entire staff.”

***

An hour into service, Greyson felt his phone buzz. Twice.

It wasn’t a busy service – people were out of money post-holiday it seemed – so Greyson was working on menu ideas and scheduling in the office while Matt held down the line and his cooks did some deep cleaning. Or, he was attempting to do scheduling between bouts of -

“Huhhh...HGTSSHH-ue! HRRSHH! HPTSSH-oo!”

“Bless, Chef,” Matt called to him from the line. Greyson flipped him the bird and pulled his once-again-vibrating phone from his pocket. Who the fuck was blowing him up? Everyone he knew was here.

Greyson wiped under his nose with a tissue and unlocked his phone. Eight new messages – all from Elijah. Jesus Christ. Was his boss really that lazy that he couldn’t walk the twenty steps from the dining room to the kitchen?

Greyson opened their text thread and immediately rolled his eyes.

5:21PM

Bless you.

Bless you.

5:46PM

Bless you.

You know everyone out here can hear you.

5:59PM

Bless you.

Bless you.

6:12PM

Bless.

Ok, seriously you sound like fuckin shit.

Greyson felt his face go hot as he typed out and sent his response.

6:15PM

Fuck off, Lij.

“HTSHHH-uhhh. Godammit.”

Greyson pulled the last tissue out of the box and blew his nose. So maybe he was kind of sick. A little bit. Nothing he couldn’t handle. He was a grown man for God’s sake, he couldn’t deal with a little cold at work?

The chef rubbed a hand down his face and used all his willpower not to groan. A little cold. A few hours left of work. A slow evening. If anyone could handle it, it was him.

***

Greyson was fairly sure he’d never been more miserable in his entire life.

It was ten pm, and the last table had finally cleared the building; not that Greyson would’ve known it. The chef was holed up in the employee bathroom, finally taking a minute to himself to blow his nose and wash his hands. What was supposed to have been a quiet night had suddenly picked up around seven – and with it, so did his cold.

He wasn’t sure how it worked out this way, but the moment five tickets printed at the same time on the line, Greyson felt the first whisper of a fever slither up his neck and make itself home behind both of his eyes. The tickets had continued to print, much to his chagrin, and after a few moments Matt had turned to his boss with panic in his eyes and frantically called, “Chef?!”

Greyson did what he was trained to; he pulled it together and hopped on the line to help his guys. He cooked and shouted orders and garnished and sent food out. He remade steaks when they came back overcooked, and he apologized when he yelled at his grill cook, who was new and clearly petrified. He ignored the massive headache blooming in his temples, and his cooks ignored the near-constant volley of sneezes he smothered into the inside collar of his chef coat. It was a rough one. Ticket times weren’t what they should’ve been, and he definitely screamed at his cooks more times than they deserved.

But it was over. And now, hours later, he stumbled out of the employee bathroom and into the office and slammed his ass into the chair, fully and completely spent. To his left, he felt Elijah’s hand firmly place itself on his shoulder.

“You killed it tonight. Truly,” Elijah said, his voice low. “We’re lucky to have you.”

Greyson looked at his boss, defeated. “I was an ass,” he said, his voice congested and hoarse. “I’m a dick. I yelled at Juan, and it wasn’t even his fault. Ticket times were trash. I wasn’t on top of it the way I should’ve been and I – huh…HUGTSSH-uhh! HUHESHHHOO!” Greyson swiped angrily under his nose and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. “And I have a fuckigg cold.”

Elijah sat silently for a moment, and Greyson figured he was getting ready to gloat or make some sort of snide comment about how he knew Greyson was sick, and Greyson was an idiot for being there at all, but instead he heard his boss get up and leave the office. Greyson looked up from his hands after a few minutes of silence to see Elijah standing over him with a new box of tissues and a bottle of whiskey.

“I know,” he said, sitting down and pushing both of his peace offerings towards Greyson. “But you did it anyway. And that’s badass.”

Greyson had to swallow the lump in his throat before he could look his boss in the eye again. “You’re a kndow-it-all prick,” he said, taking a tissue and unscrewing the whiskey cap. He took a swig, and blew his nose, unsure what else to say.

“I’m aware,” Elijah replied. “But I’m right.”

Greyson looked at his boss and managed a smile. “I thindk…I mbay have to call out tomorrow.”

Elijah couldn’t help but laugh. “Grey,” he said, “if I see your ass in this building anytime before the weekend, I’ll send you home in a bodybag.”

This time, it was Greyson’s turn to laugh. “Honestly...body bag doesn’t sound too bad at this poindt.”

Elijah smiled and pushed the whiskey towards the chef once more. “Get yourself nice and drunk, chef. I’ll drive you home.”

[whoredmode]

oook here’s some more official stuff for my sriv rewrite. i’ll link a general plot overview here, but i’ll touch on some stuff as i explain these lol

so part of the story involves the revival of three major gangs from previous games: the rollerz, the emperors, and los carnales. these three are “back” in both stilwater and coming into steelport. i put “back” in quotes because technically none of these gangs ever left; the underlying themes of my rewrite is the larger criminal underworld, and while they may have lost some footing in stilwater, they still operated just fine outside of the city. 

so we’ll start with the rollerz. it would perhaps be more fitting to say they’re technically the ronin, with their more direct yakuza connections, but their new leader, jamie, uses the rollerz name as a tribute to her brother, joseph price. jamie and joseph were twins, and while jamie herself was initially not interested in dealing with the shadier parts of the family trade (instead she opted for working on her own jewelry business), she ended up being roped into it later on after the death of her brother and uncle. she also was able to get donnie to return to his roots and rejoin the rollerz, despite his hesitations. 

if you don’t feel like clicking on that link about jewelry, i’ll just say now that in sr1 there is a jewelry store called jamie price jewelry, and with that surname being so important, it seems like more than just a coincidence imo, so i’ve made her into an actual character. she’s out for revenge. their specific ventures are things like money laundering, drug and parts smuggling, and protection rackets. 

next is lady ranja and her lieutenant king, in charge of the emperors. lady ranja is based on the character of the same name from undercover, as well as partially influenced by another cancelled game character. lady ranja has roots in stilwater, having been a part of the VK back in the 70s alongside ben and jules. things ended terribly between them all, especially with the death of angela, so ranja left stilwater and didn’t return for years.

however during the 70s she ended up getting involved w the sons of samedi and their drug racket, and it’s how that gang ended up being able to get such a strong foothold in stilwater during sr2. ranja is a capable fighter, but her silver tongue is perhaps her strongest weapon of all. she has connections all over, and grudges spanning decades, so she and the emperors are not to be taken lightly. kings only rule a kingdom, emperors rule an empire.

finally there’s the carnales. they never actually went away, as they have a large presence out of state.

so while i don’t rewrite the first two games like i do srtt and sriv, i still have some adjustments to their stories because it like it better and it flows much nicer into my rewrites. specifically, i don’t think manuel ditched luz. i think the two are actually married, but luz is stuck in stilwater to manage the drug trade through there while manuel is in colombia. luz is fine with it, but she gets lonely—thankfully she and anteros have become pretty decent friends over the years. as such, as the carnales presence steadily grows in stilwater again, they and the saints don’t really have as many problems because their leaders are on good terms. however, during my sriv rewrite, luz goes missing along with a string of other disappearances. in the meantime, one of her lieutenants, torque (another character from total control lol) is the interim leader. he’s a longtime carnales member turned brotherhood then back to carnales. he works as a bouncer in his spare time (based on the cooler, another cancelled sr project), and he wants to find luz but isn’t so trusting of the saints, suspecting they may have a hand in whatever happened to her. thus, this ends up turning the carnales fully against the saints once again. 

anyway it’s almost 2:00 in the morning. i have many more thoughts but i need to sleep. i’m sorry ahead of time if there’s one billion grammatical errors in this😭😭

[doggernaut]

Fic Author Self-Rec Meme

@anyawen tagged me to do this weeks ago and I’ve only just now had the time to sit down and work on it (and also only just discovered that while I can’t load Tumblr on my phone or laptop in the hotel I’ve been in for the past two weeks, it somehow works on my iPad?!). Anyway, reccing five of my own fics is hard because I don’t always feel worthy enough to rec. But I think this is a me-problem because I feel this way about most things in my life and I’m trying to be better. In any case, five fics ( in no particular order, and possibly not what I would choose if making this list tomorrow) I wrote that I enjoy and hope you will too.

And you may ask yourself, well, how did I get here?

The idea for this fic came to me while reaching for the almond milk pumpkin spice coffee creamer in the fridge and I sat down and immediately wrote the first two chapters. I am obsessed with Year 1 Bitty and Jack not knowing yet that they’re in a love story. I loved the idea of Bitty somehow moving forward in time and finding out that his stern, grumpy captain is apparently the love of his life. I wanted to write about how this Bitty who is “stuck” in the future could fall in love with Jack and the life they’ve built.

Home Like Apple Pie

This my my first stab at a “The Kiss Never Happened” AU. It took a lot of mental gymnastics to figure out how Jack would fall out of Bitty’s life and the NHL and resurface as a chef but I loved writing about them slowly finding their way back to each other.

Merry Christmas, I'm Yours

This is not my most popular fic, maybe because it’s got too much angst? But that’s okay because I wrote it mostly for myself. I wanted to write something inspired by but not a direct beat-for-beat recreation of When Harry Met Sally. There’s no road trip or one night stand here, just years of best friendship and pining. I really enjoy rereading this, especially the California chapter.

Happily Ever After, After All 

This is also not my most popular fic, maybe because it’s more interesting to read about getting together than happily ever afters? I think this is one of my funniest fics and a lot of that humor comes from Jack and Bitty’s home life as parents of teenagers. Of all of my fics I’ve written, it’s my personal comfort read.

All I Want is You

This fic—one of the first things I wrote for this fandom—is old, but I still really love it. Tonally it’s different from most of what I’ve written in fandom but I think it stands up as a unique take on the typical soulmate setup.

I am supposed to tag five people in this so in no particular order I tag: @wrathofthestag, @mapleleafcameo, @mcbangle, @sweatersinthesummer, and @parvuls

[djarinbarnes]

me recordarás - one

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

Pairings: Javier Peña x female reader

Rating: Mature

Word count: 4k

Summary: summer has come to an end. you find yourself thrown into a whirlwind of emotions, difficult choices and more adversity, like you’d never believed possible. someone is there to pull you out of it - but it’s not someone you’d ever imagined.

a/n: god I feel like it’s been so long since I've posted. I'm finally back, somehow, and I'm so excited to share everything with you. I’ve enjoyed coming back into this little universe I've created. I hope you'll like it, and please, don’t hesitate to let me know what you think! I’m not ready for this...

SERIES MASTERLIST

Read it on ao3 here

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

A missed period was one thing. It happened to many, without there being a reason for it. Though, a missed period after weeks of unprotected sex with a handsome stranger was giving you an uneasy feeling. After waiting a whole week, you decided that a test was the only thing that could ease your mind.

Even though you didn’t want to believe it at first, the surge of emotions that coursed through your body when the two lines stared back at you from the little stick between your fingers had you convinced.

You were pregnant.

And not by a man you had been seeing for a while, a boyfriend, a husband, no, a man you had a summer fling with, a man you had given your all, a damn womanizer, if his reputation was true. A man who fucked whores for information.

You turned right around on the toilet and fell to your knees, just in time for the contents of your stomach to fall into the toilet. Somehow it was sickening to you. You regretted the whole summer just like that – even though it had been the most amazing weeks of your life.

You hid the test rolled up in some toilet paper, truly not wanting your mother to find it and bug you even more about Javi. You had to figure out what you had to do first, and you already knew it wasn’t going to be easy.

You had literally given him your all. Your first kiss. Your virginity. Your very first I love you. You had opened yourself up to him like you hadn’t ever done with anyone before. Told him secrets that he now was the only other person than you who knew. And now it had all culminated into a situation you’d rather not be in.

You felt betrayed. Especially since he was so hard to get into contact with. You knew it would be a challenge because of his work, but you had expected to talk with him more frequently than once a week for five short minutes. You wanted nothing more than to live out your imagination and expectations, to lie in your bed and talk with him for hours on end, into the early hours of the morning.

“You know how men are. They only want one thing, and that’s to sleep with young, unsuspecting girls like you. He’s no good, and I don’t want you seeing him anymore. He’s going to leave you hanging anyways.”

Your mothers’ words kept resonating in your head. While her words had been a surprise those weeks ago, you were now starting to think that maybe she was right, and that it wasn’t just said in spite to hurt you momentarily. Maybe he was going to leave you hanging, now it was more than a stab to your chest, and it was starting to hurt more than you wanted to admit.

Maybe you should’ve just forgotten him – had an abortion already, so you wouldn’t be stuck with… the little wonderful secret blossoming inside of you, that probably would be the splitting image of their father. You could somehow feel it – that resemblance your baby would have to the tan, beautiful man you’d fallen in love with.

But you were tired. Tired of being let down every time you tried getting in contact with him – you’d gotten Steve on the phone more than once, actually up to ten times, and he told you the same story every time. Javi is busy right now. Is there something I can help you with? I’ll have him call you back when he’s got the time.

His absence brought only one thing. Loneliness.

A feeling somewhat hard to describe… Because loneliness comes in so many different shapes and sizes. Well… Somehow there’s a certain loneliness to every situation there is, and yet nothing feels more all-consuming than the loneliness surrounding you at that exact moment.

Along with the constant twinge in your gut, you had no idea how to keep your emotions in check. Maybe it was just hormones coursing through your body. You just had a feeling there was something more multiplying the emotions.

Leaving your parents’ house after the summer break and going back to your small studio apartment in Center Court was truly an improvement for you – your mother was constantly getting more nosy and was bugging you about Javi. It certainly wasn’t helping your situation, when all you wanted to do was bury yourself six feet under.

You dreaded going back to uni after the summer break. Mainly because your whole mindset was corrupted by the thought of him and your current situation, and you just knew you had no chance of following the syllabus before it was taken care of. You had to talk to Javi somehow, to tell him about your situation and find out what you were going to do about it.

The best spot in your small apartment was currently your bed – it felt like the safest spot for you to be and scrutinize your situation. It was warm and cozy, and your thick duvet comforted you in ways you couldn’t explain. The comforts of your bed brought along another unforeseen consequence – the nagging of your own thoughts.

The spot on the wall where your eyes had been glued to for the past three days had been glared into so intensely, you were afraid the paint was going to chip off under your hardened gaze. It was tough - you knew you had to eat something, but your appetite was little to none.

So, that’s one thing love does. Makes your head spin and your appetite diminish.

You knew you had to do something. If there was something you had done over the last three days, it was think about what to do with the whole situation before the semester started.

With the baby. Your baby. Javi’s baby.

Your heart ached for someone to actually love, and for someone to love you back the same way. A love that came easily, naturally. Just like your love for Javi. He was easy to love and admire, no matter how hard he tried to deny his feelings and apparently fuck his way through and around every obstacle.

“If you want to know things about them… I figured you have to hang around the same people they do. The same women they do.” Javi’s words still nagged in your mind. You knew he had probably had sex with enough women to last a man a decade, and yet he never seemed fully sated. Could you be enough for him?No, shut up. Stupid mind.

You knew you had to tell him. You had to give him a say in the matter, because you respected him that much. No matter how much or how little you wanted to keep it, you didn’t feel like it was your choice to make on your own. And with every day passing, your love and want grew.

Most of the things you were considering was talking against having the baby, with the first being where the father was located. He was so far from you, both location and expectation wise. Maybe even development wise. You reached out your hand and grabbed the crackers from your nightstand, along with the phone.

You needed to try and call him again. He needed to know, and you had to get through to him somehow.

You dialed one of the numbers he had given you and waited patiently while it rung, while pushing a cracker past your lips. It was the only thing you could manage to keep down. Even though the crackers managed to dry out your entire mouth just by looking at them, they were still the most inviting food you could think of.

You felt your heart pick up the pace as the tones kept going off, until you got to the automated voicemail in Spanish, probably asking you to leave a message after the tone.

It seemed like starting to pick apart the problem was even more overwhelming than you had expected, since you started bawling the minute you hung up.

You had no idea what to feel - all the emotions were overwhelming and settling on one out of them all seemed like an impossible task. You decide on trying to get hold of Javi again. You bite your lip before you hold out the phone in front of you yet again, and dialing the other number Javi gave you.

The fucking Embassy. You felt like a childish stalker as you patiently waited for someone, anyone, to pick up the damn phone. A click sounded, before his voice filled your ears, for the first time in… what felt like a very long time.

“Peña.” It felt like all the air had left your lungs, and the whole speech you had prepared to get into touch with him had disintegrated into thin air the second you had heard his voice. You were instantly thrown back into your fantasies, the recollection of his hands on your skin - your hips, your waist, your neck, his lips against yours.

“¿Quién es?” You could hear the impatience in his tone, and you knew you had to speak up sooner or later, or he would hang up on you. He was an impatient man after all, and he was probably busy.

“Javi,” Your voice was shaky when you finally managed to mutter out his name. “It’s… me.” You breathe in, closing your eyes at the relaxing feeling of the air being let back into your lungs. You could feel your body missing him, the presence of him already. You shut your eyes tightly at the sound of him sucking in a breath on the other end.

You didn’t know what kind of breath it was. Was it an I miss you, I’m sorry I haven’t gotten properly in touch with you since you left Colombia? Or was it an in all just a Fuck, not you again, stop trying to get in touch with me, I’ve got other, more important things to do?

At this point you didn’t even know which of those two you wished for it to be at this point. It would be easier if he just ignored the fact that you even existed. Well, easier for him, that is. This wasn’t ever just going to be easy for you anymore. You were bound to him one way or another. You weren’t ever going to forget this point in your life.

“Hermosa.” And then everything disintegrated yet again. The wall you had been building along with the fake scenarios you had been making up in your head simply vanished in that moment, and the whole slate was wiped clean. You hated he had such power over you, with just one simple word. It was like you could feel his gaze on you. His breath fanning over your face and his hands hovering over your skin.

“I’ve been thinking about you. A lot.” You open your eyes at his voice telling you just what you needed to hear. “I’m sorry hermosa. For not getting in touch sooner.” You lift the hand not holding the phone to your heart, somehow trying to keep it from beating out of your chest. “We really need to talk.”

“It’s alright.” It’s barely a whisper, but you know he hears you nonetheless, from the way he starts going on about how much of an asshole he’s been, and how sorry he is, and you can hear the sincerity in his voice. You don’t know how long he spends apologizing, if it’s just a few seconds or a minute, but you cut him off.

“I need to talk to you about something.” Your voice is shaky as you hear his flood of words come to a halt. The silence between the two of you in those short seconds is deafening. An awful number of thoughts manages to run through your head in the span of barely any time. You feel like he knows already, yet he isn’t telling you if he does.

“I really don’t wanna do it over the phone.” You lean back against your pillow, looking up into the ceiling as you mentally prepare yourself for what’s to come next. “I really need to see you, Javi. It’s been almost two months.”

You hear papers being ruffled on the other end of the phone, and you bite your lip as you await his answer. What if he didn’t want to see you again? You really had no idea what you were going to do, no matter what the two of you ended up agreeing on.

“I need to see you. It might be possible for me to get some additional leave within the next week.” You hear him lighting a cigarette on the other end, and you close your eyes, imagining him as the cigarette hangs between his lips while he talks. “I’ll come see you.”

You hear him inhale, followed by a deep exhale, and you find yourself dreaming back to the few times he’d blow the smoke into your mouth ever so sinfully. You let out a silent whimper, your thoughts already taking you further and further away from reality. If you could just daydream for the rest of your life, everything would be so much easier.

“Hermosa?” his voice pulls you out of your trance, and you breathe out a sigh. “I got your postcard.” You smile softly. Your heart was pounding heavily behind your ribcage at the thought of him holding it, looking at it, thinking of you.

“Yeah?” You manage to breathe out, before you let your hand travel down to rest on your stomach. That meant he now knew where you lived. “I’m in Miami now. Back for the start of the semester.”

You hear Javi ruffle some papers again. “I’ll talk to the director today. Let her know what the plan is. Then I’ll call you back, alright? I promise.” You close your eyes as the feeling of tears welling up comes back for another moment. Don’t make promises you can’t keep. You wanted to tell him that, but somehow you couldn’t allow yourself to say it.

“Okay Javi.” You bite the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from crying. You have so many suppressed feelings coming to the surface right at that moment, and your whole body desperately wanting to give in and let out all of the emotions you’ve been containing, but you really didn’t want to flood Javi with it, giving he’s at work. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“I’ll see you soon, hermosa. I miss your beautiful face.” You can hear the smile playing on his lips, and you stifle a giggle. You hear his name being called on the other end, and you know you must let the moment pass for now. He’d already given you a lot of his time. “I love you. Talk soon.”

You barely manage to say the words back to him before he’s hung up the phone, and you once again throw your head back against your pillow. Now there was a possibility that you could see Javi the following week. God, you wish it would happen. You needed to see him. You didn’t know what part of you longed for him most – your heart, your mind, your lust, or your conscience.

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

“Peña.” His voice sounded nothing like she had expected. It was definitely a mature voice - a voice that had been strained from many years of usage. She could also hear the roughness that had probably come from smoking countless cigarettes. No good sign, so far.

“I’m calling on behalf of my daughter.” She stated into the phone, and she heard the man hold his breath on the other end of the line. “I don’t know what you have told her or what the two of you have been doing, but I know one thing. You’re going to leave my daughter alone and pay for what you have caused.” There was no tremble in her voice as she spoke to him.

“Ma’am, I have no idea wha-“ Javi started, but was cut off by the pitched voice of the woman on the other end.

“You have no id- oh my lord. How can you be so selfish? Or was she just an easy target for you to sink your predatory fingers into?” She spat back, feeling the heat of her flash of anger spread from her cheeks and into the skin of her chest.

“My sweet girl has been defiled by a man who won’t even take responsibility for his actions. I don’t know how you sleep at night, knowing a young woman is now on a crash course because you decided you needed some young meat to settle your urges with! I am disgusted beyond words!” The words resonated within his mind, and Javi felt his mouth run dry.

“Ma’am…” his fingers rubbed over his forehead, trying to relieve the tension drawing in his eyebrows. “If this is about this summer with your daughter, I reassure you that every intention I had was good. I would never, and didn’t force anything upon your daughter.” He heard the woman huff on the other line and decided to speak up again before she could start.

“Those weeks I spent with your daughter were some of the best in my life, and believe me when I say I would let nothing bad happen to her. With all due respect ma’am, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Javi heard her sputtering again before retracting the phone from his ear - her voice still clear as day as she screamed into the phone. Javi felt his attention slowly dissolving into nothing.

“You son of a! She’s barely entered her twenties and you… oh my. Are you a complete imbecile?” Javi halfway agreed with her, barely listening. His eyes landed on what his pen was scribbling on, and he muttered out a ‘shit’, noticing what he had been doodling on. He held the phone between his head and shoulder, removing the important information he had just ruined… a little.

“She is pregnant! You do know what happens when two people take the Lord’s name in vain before marriage?! You are dishonoring our beliefs!” Javi sighed and, against his good will, barely continued listening with half an ear to your mother’s spew of profanities. “You have sinned! You have taken the innocence of an unsuspecting young woman!”

If Javi hadn’t been listening before, he certainly was trying to recall what your mother had just said. It couldn’t be. Your mother continued talking, and Javi could hear her voice going through many different emotions while she switched between weeping and screaming.

“Ma’am I’m gonna have to call you back…” Javi slowly ended the call before drawing out a cigarette and lighting it with no emotion. Steve looked up at Javi from his paperwork, having listened in on a bit of their conversation, calling out his name.

Javi’s eyes met Steve’s over the table between them, and it felt like a drum was being pounded upon inside his head. It couldn’t be. It wasn’t possible. He hoped to God it wasn’t true. It sounded harsh, but it was definitely a situation he didn’t want to find himself in.

Javi didn’t know how to feel. Or rather, he didn’t want to. He reached into the cabinet below the desk and pulled out the bottle he’d been storing in the darkness of the confined space, silently wishing he magically would fit in there as well.

Steve was watching him from behind some paperwork, having gained a little insight into the phone call Javi had just received. Somehow, Steve already knew. You could call it a gut feeling, or just the fact that Steve truly knew his partner. He just hadn’t expected this situation to become a reality.

Steve felt sorry for the man on the opposite side of the desk as he watched him screw off the lid and gulp down some of the brown liquid. Then he followed the tan hand as it reached into the pocket of the jacket slung over the armrest of the chair Javi was seated in, and watched as a cigarette appeared between the long fingers.

He watched in silence as the tip of the cigarette disappeared under the curtain of the brown mustache, eyes flickering to where nimble fingers flipped open a zippo and lighting the bared, encapsulated leaves of the tobacco. Silently, Steve wished for Javi to open up to him. He was tired of the way his colleague always shut himself up like a clam when something happened.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” The smoke left Javi’s lips along with the words, and Steve couldn’t help but laugh. Javi’s eyes darted to Steve’s face, taking in the way the skin around his eyes drew up into crinkles, as he smiled at the older man.

“I have to go see her.” Javi breathed, cigarette smoke twisting its way around his words as he spoke. Steve nodded, understanding with the little context given. It was routine by now. He knew Steve knew him like the back of his hand, no matter how reluctant Javi was to admit it.

“You can stay with us. No rush. I’m sure Con would be delighted to have you staying.” Steve was transferring back to Miami, and the two colleagues were wrapping up some last minute ties in Medellín before Steve’s departure the following week.

Connie had moved back to Florida the year before, leaving with their adopted daughter to ensure their safety, and Steve had decided to stay. It had taken a lot of convincing on Connie’s end, but Steve had finally given in and was moving back to the states after two years in Colombia.

Javi, on the other hand, had no intentions on moving back to the states in the near future. Maybe because all he had was his father and some broken relationships to people from his past, or because, no matter where he was, he never felt like he properly fit in.

He never felt like he could do his job right, meet the right people or even spend his time right. That was, until he met you. In the short period of time you were in Colombia, you managed to give him a feeling of belonging - something very foreign to him.

He loved the few days when he got to go home to you. He loved the feeling of coming home to someone, and having someone who actually admired him, talked with him, laughed with him, and didn’t judge him for his line of work.

Javi had to admit it - dating, as a federal agent, was hard. There was the unforgiving hours of work, there were unforgiving people wanting to hurt him and the people around him, and then there was the way of getting information in the god-forsaken country of Colombia.

Sometimes, Javi wishes he could get lost. Lost, and having no responsibility. Maybe just disappear? It would definitely be easier that way. Especially right now. Javi secretly wished he would just melt into a puddle and be dried off the floor by the cleaning lady.

What the hell was he supposed to do with a baby? Was he supposed to bring you into this life? Was he supposed to bring a baby into this life? He never knew if he was safe, if the people around him were safe. He could already see you kidnapped, beaten up, what was worse. He couldn’t lose you that way.

He felt a hand land on his shoulder, and it pulled him out of the spiraling of his own thoughts. He looked up at Steve, who offered him a warm smile. “It’ll be alright, man.” Javi leaned forward and rested his head in his hands, letting out a deep sigh.

He needed to figure this situation out. And quickly.

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

next chapter

[fizzyfizu]

Accursed in the Lake’s Depths

Chapter 2.2 : Thanks & Introductions

Harry J. Potter / reader

MASTERLIST : The Archives.. ⊲ previous ༄.˚₊ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 ₊˚.༄ next ⊳

    For a moment, neither party uttered a word–needless to say embarrassment was very potent in the air.  “Er—..hi.” Harry winced slightly at how awkward he sounded, you replied with a hello of your own.  “Sorry, let me uh–put you down, not in that way—” a loud sigh “Merlin, you know what I mean..” defeat was evident in his voice as he spoke, didn't take a genius to notice it. 

      Considering all the heroic and brave stories you have heard about this boy, the nervous and awkward tone he used when he spoke wasn't at all expected; but then again he is just a regular teenage boy, not some kid with a mind that lived a thousand years.  He helped you get on your feet again, keeping a gentle grip on your shoulder.  You were thankful for that though, standing upright on your own two feet felt awkward and unfamiliar after all those years (you lost count, keeping track of time wasn't exactly your priority), your hands flew to his shoulder when you stumbled slightly.  

    Finding the situation a tad bit awkward, you attempted to make some much needed conversation “Thanks for saving me..uhm, what's your name?” your voice sounded like you just woke up, which in a way you did; you knew damn well what his name was, but if you immediately referred to him by his first name or his name in general it might’ve come off as a tad bit creepy…maybe you could’ve played it off as just knowing him because he was so popular? 

      “My name?  Right, sorry—it's Harry.  Harry Potter.  Uh..you?” the two of you were slowly making progress, walking slowly along the lakeside.  Your legs felt like jelly, and it took everything in you to not fall to your knees—damn you Dumbledore for charming me to be unable to move for all those years..interrupting your own thoughts, you mustered a reply. “I'm Y/N Fawley.  Sorry for the trouble, I’ve been there a while and I’m a bit disorientated..” ‘A while’ wasn’t accurate in the slightest bit, but I dont think he'd like to know that firstly, he didn't do the task right after all that work, and secondly, you have been stuck there since the times where Professor Dippet was still headmaster.  

    “Oh no worries, I don't mind.  Been through worse n’ all..” His tone was quiet in the last sentence–but you heard it anyway, and you knew very well what he meant by that, so you took his tone as a sign to not reply.  After a while of you two walking, the sight of the stands could be seen once more, much to Harry’s relief. 

      “You're way over the time limit Harry, most the judges are very worried right now..especially Professor Dumbledore.” You’ve been hearing the panicked voices of everyone ever since Harry struggled to pull you up to the surface, if you told that detail to Harry he might’ve found you suspicious though.  “Is that right?" For some reason he didn't question how I knew that.  "Godric, sorry I know you can't walk that well right now, but can we please hurry.” His tone is urgent and despite him sounding nice about it you knew that deep inside he wanted to just start dragging you to the stands.  “Yeah, let's go, I can manage to run.”

      And off they ran.  Finally, after decades, you ran–and it felt amazing.  If you were to cast the patronus charm right now, it would be the most brilliant patronus you will ever cast in your life.  You and Harry had reached the stands, the sound of heavy steps being taken against the mud turned heads, and after that Harry was immediately surrounded by two of his closest friends: Ron and Hermione. 

      “Blimey Harry!  Where'd you go?  The teachers were all so worried, especially Professor McGonagall, you won't believe how panicked she looked when you went 15 minutes over-” Ron was cut off. “15 minutes?  What D'you mean?  How long was I overtime?” Harry immediately questioned him about that detail, seems he's more focused on how well he did on the task rather than how worried others got huh. 

      “Must’ve been around 30 minu–” “Ron!  Stop stressing Harry!  He just got back, you absolute git!  Have some sympathy-” “Oh come on ‘mione, I’m sure Harry wants to know what happened!” “Actually I do–” Harry was cut off by Hermione shoving a towel over his head,  clearly they were close: the spontaneous bickering and constant interruptions between the three of them was enough proof. 

      Professor Dumbledore had made his way to Harry amidst the squabble, making his way through the crowd with ease.  His face was calm and serene, as if nothing that was happening right now was bothering him, and that was probably the truth too.  Glancing at you and Harry, he only asked that you (you alone) visit him in his office as soon as possible.  And frankly you wanted to attend that meeting right now, but his words clearly implied whenever the both of you were free.

A/N: hope this was ok ^^ not sure if I like it, and hopefully I can explain some of the odd things soon, most likely during the meeting between u & dumble :-)

[saintsenara]

I always love hearing about people’s fandom and reading/writer journeys especially since they usually involve some very cursed content and fun navigating ‘90’s and ‘00’s tech. Where did you start, what got you hooked, how have your tastes changed over the years, what made you decide to go from reader to writer? 💖

thank you for the ask, anon - and you’re correct that my experience was one of cursed 2000s technology, given that i started reading harry potter fanfiction via the twin madhouses of livejournal and fictionalley, nothing ever tagged beyond ‘lemon!!!’, on the family computer using dial-up internet [god bless the fact that the parents of my generation had no inclination to care about what we were consuming online - one of my brothers was a huge fan of rotten.com, and he's perfectly well-adjusted...]

my reading tastes were, initially, lord of the rings focused - i still think* about a particular elrohir/námo mandos fic which had me in chokehold when i was about fourteen - but i was as big a harry potter fan as anyone of my generation [shoutout in particular to one of my pals, who spent the entirety of a geography trip in 2006 speculating what the unknown horcruxes could be with me while we froze our bollocks off in some godforsaken bog in county antrim]. so it wasn’t a surprise, i suppose, that i was clicking on any fan-fiction links i could find for that series too…

[the fic which has stayed with me most profoundly from those days was called something along the lines of murder at malfoy manor which was on fictionalley and was this exceptional combination of the rules of cluedo and the ron-is-time-travelling dumbledore theory. it was incredible.]

but i wasn’t a writer. i was one of those science-y, not-like-other-girls teenagers who was performatively really cunty about other girls who liked to write little stories or draw little pictures, which i thought was fundamentally unserious. the fact that i was an avid consumer of these stories didn’t make me question what the fuck i was being such an arsehole about…

because i loved a bit of fan-fic, and not only did i love fan-fic but i demonstrably had a fandom presence and was clued up on fandom lore - i could quote my immortal, i knew what a snape-wife was, i was on a forum or two - although i went to great lengths to avoid anyone in my real life discovering that. and i do feel extremely proud of myself that i have a reputation among people i know for not having been particularly cringe as a teen [how little they know… i’ve just got a good poker face.]

i lost interest in harry potter when i went to university - i started uni in 2010, when it was still socially acceptable to be really into it, and i definitely went to my fair share of themed parties in the first couple of years, but by the time i graduated in 2016 (i did medicine, so it’s a six-year slog…) i’d not opened the books, watched the films, or thought about the fandom in years. i remember rolling my eyes at the number of people i know who went to see cursed child when it first opened. bit cringe to be in your twenties and into harry potter, isn’t it?

[lol. lmao.]

but a global crisis changes things, i suppose.

like so many people, i got back into fandom during the coronavirus pandemic - although, regrettably, not because i was stuck at home. i don’t think i’ll ever be able to accurately describe what it was like to work in a hospital in 2020, except to say that by the time i got home each day the only thing i could do other than stare blankly at a wall was lose myself in the comfort of media i knew well and its memories of a simpler time. and once i’d re-read the books a few times… well, it was only a matter of time before i was scrolling ao3 at 3am.

and, because my ego hasn’t changed even if my relationship with my own gender has, it did not take a lot to convince me that i could write stories which were just as good as the ones i was reading.

you can be the judge of whether i succeeded.

[*i’m being coy. i have it bookmarked on ao3]