#also thanks again everyone that's actually stuck with this fic. i still have a hard time believe ppl rly read this with how long it is

[butchcarmy]

ALEXITHYMIA CH 4: piccata, bills, and ghosts

Roommate AU: Carmy Berzatto x Reader (R18)

ao3 link ch 1 ch 2 ch 3 ch 5

Chapter Rating: T (9.1k)

Chapter Summary: Carmy realizes that this is what joy looks like, and when he looks that truth in the eyes, he finds himself blissfully unafraid. Their company is an indulgence he's finally allowing himself to have in its entirety, and it's beautiful. The world is both unfolding and combining, all for him, all because of them.

Tags: carmy being mentally ill, panic attacks, happy carmy, silly carmy, physical touch

A/N: Here's our fluffiest (and longest) chapter yet! But the hurt/comfort is also on full blast this chapter…This one really has it all. You'll see what I mean. Here's the also start of Act 2, in which Carmy is gonna be realizing…and he won't stop realizing…until he realizes it all. Also I am taking creative liberties with how family actually works. Enjoy!

It doesn’t always stay the same. 

When Carmy looks in the bathroom mirror this morning, he feels as tired as he looks. Exhaustion resides in his dark eyebags and temperamental curly flyways. The fire from last night had interrupted the little sleep he was able to snag. Despite all the weariness, though, there’s something different about today. 

He’s used to a blazing fire in his brain, constant in its sweltering heat and pain, but today, the fire lays low. There’s actually room in his head for quiet, for silence to exist. It’s not the dissociative emptiness he’s used to. He thinks he can only describe it as peace. 

The thought almost makes him laugh with how ludicrous it is. Peace and him don’t typically mesh. 

He remembers the fire last night, crackling in the containers of pots and pans before billowing upwards. He imagines a different outcome, instead pondering a future where his apartment burned down. Where their apartment burned down, and in this alternate reality, he stands in the ashes, unsurprised that he’s destroyed yet another good thing in his life. Then the grief of him realizing that it was the only good thing left in his life destroys him. 

But when he looks at their toothbrush next to his, their shared crinkled tube of toothpaste, he comes back down. 

He doesn’t know how he managed to keep them. Somehow, they’re here to stay, and they’re going to be at The Beef for family in half an hour.

“Corner,” he shouts, breezing through the kitchen with a container and shallots and garlic. He still needs to finish mincing them for family this afternoon—lemon chicken piccata. At least he’s prepped the rest of the ingredients already, along with the plates and utensils. 

The peace in the morning was momentary, because of course it was. There’s a tangled yarn ball of anxiety knotting itself over and over inside him at the thought of them having family with him and everyone else. He pondered on his commute this morning if inviting them was the right thing. If it was an overstep, either with them or at The Beef, but then he remembers the way their face lit up when he asked, and the anxiety grows quiet. Well, quieter. 

And as it grows quiet, it opens up the space for his excitement to be the loudest voice in his head. 

“Lemon chicken piccata?” Sydney observes the prepped chicken, lemons, capers. As she looks, her fingers fiddle with the small golden hoops in her ear. 

“Yeah. Thought this’d be a good way to have everyone try it again, get a better feel for it.” He cuts the shallot into thin slices before cutting into them again, mincing it into tiny pieces. He notes a distinctly ugly slice of shallot and tosses it. This dish needs to be perfect. 

“Heard.” Sydney traces a finger over the edges of the stacked plates before stopping. “Uh, chef, I think you got an extra plate here.”

Carmy stops, looks up from the cutting board. Quickly counts the plates again. Looks back down.

“No, I got it,” he reassures her. When she raises an eyebrow at him, he adds, “I, uh, invited someone. My…roommate.”

“Oh.” Sydney doesn’t even try to hide the surprise on her face, or maybe she’s just so shocked she couldn’t. “That’s—that’s great!”

“Sorry I didn’t, um, give a heads up. Or something. Uh…” He pauses, looking at her, trying to search for more words.

“No, it’s fine! I’m just surprised.” She shakes her head, seemingly to herself. “But now that you mention it, yeah, a heads up next time could be cool.”

“Next time,” Carmy promises with a nod. Next time, he thinks wistfully to himself. Maybe there could be a next time.

“So…I’m guessing no one else knows that you invited someone,” Sydney says, harmlessly, just as Tina and Marcus decide to come back into the kitchen. 

“Carmy invited someone?” Marcus makes his way back into the kitchen, a sack of flour in one hand and a tin of cocoa powder in the other. They slam onto the counter at the baking station, resounding with a dull thud. “Lemme guess. Is it the roommate?”

“It's the roommate,” Carmy confirms, before anyone else can get a word in. Now, onto mincing the garlic. 

“Jeff!” Tina exclaims, aghast. “Why didn't you say something earlier?” She’s walking some extra vegetables to her station to prep. “Way to surprise us!”

“Who’s surprising us? With what?” Carmy raises his head, and when he sees who's just come back through the front entrance, he lowers his head with an aggravated sigh. Richie. The last thing he needs right now.

“Carmy's bringing a date to family,” Tina tattles helpfully. Although Carmy begrudgingly acknowledges that he would've had to bring it up eventually.

“Not a date, just my roommate,” he mutters. Not that anyone's listening. 

“Carmen, Carmen, Carmen.” Richie makes a drama production of swinging the door open into the kitchen, stepping through it with arms outstretched. An overpowering scent of pine cologne accompanies him. “So you do listen to your cousin when he talks, huh?”

“I have no idea what he's talking about,” Carmy tells Sydney, who just shrugs. 

“I'm proud of you, cousin. Really proud.” Richie slaps him way too hard on the back, jerking Carmy forward. 

“Don't do that when I'm using a knife, you asshole!” Carmy snaps, elbowing Richie out of the way. “Stupid fuckin’ idiot.”

“Jesus, fine, fine, I'll get out of your way!” Getting cursed at did little to deter Richie's smug demeanor. “Fuckin’ princess. If anyone needs me, I'll be in the back.”

“We won't,” Carmy says, and Richie flips him off as he walks away. 

“Carmy's bringing his roommate, who he is not dating, to family,” Marcus projects to the rest of the kitchen, and Carmy resists a groan. 

“It’s not a big deal.” Carmy slams his knife onto another clove of garlic, crushing it. “I don't see why you guys have to make such a fuss about it.”

“Because it's fun,” Marcus replies with a broad grin. “Sorry, chef.”

“Let us have our fun. We never get to poke fun at you,” Tina says. 

“That is just not true,” Carmy groans, and everyone’s laugh resounds into a mismatched chorus. 

They tease him relentlessly for a couple more minutes until it dissolves into sparse chatter, for which Carmy is grateful. Peaceful lulls in the kitchen are rare, especially in this particular one. He takes it while he can get it, honing in, oiling the pan, pressing the chicken into the bubbling surface until it's golden. The others gradually filter out as he cooks, leaving him to cook on his own. 

Then comes the familiar chime of the front door. 

Carmy turns the stove off, takes the pan off the heat to check to see who it is. Surely enough, it’s the guest of honor. 

“Hey Carmy!” They’re looking cute as ever today, maybe even a bit more dressed up than usual. Part of Carmy thinks that maybe they dressed up for him, and another part of Carmy strangles the other one to death. “Hope I’m not too early.”

“Hey, you’re fine. I’m just about to finish up.” He guides them into the kitchen with him.

“Smells incredible in here,” they comment. “Also, before I forget. Is there somewhere I could put my coat? Break room or somethin?”

“Yeah, we can put it in my office.”

Upon entering, Carmy becomes acutely aware of exactly how messy his office is. It's not like he didn't know. He created the mess, after all, but having someone new bear witness to his stacks of papers and stuffed file folders is…embarrassing, to put it plainly. To Carmy's benefit and luck, though, they're much too polite of a person to comment.

“So this is where you're holed up.” Their head turns to look at all the posters and papers hung up on the wall, still largely unchanged from Michael's time. 

“Yep. It's all bookkeeping, along with more bookkeeping,” he informs dryly. “Here, you can hang that on my chair.”

“Thanks.” They drape their jacket on the back of his chair, and Carmy is suddenly struck with the impression that it feels odd to see it there. “Oh!” They exclaim, looking at something on his desk.

He follows their gaze to the papaya pills and ginger candies sitting in the corner. 

“Ah, yeah.” Why does he feel embarrassed? “I really need to thank you again for that.”

“No need, but I’ll take it. I hope they actually helped.”

“They did. I actually, uh…” He digs around in his apron pocket and fishes out a candy. “I’ve been keeping them on me.”

“I’m so glad to hear that.” They beam at him, visibly brightening. It’s infectious, and he feels himself smiling a little back. 

A period of silence falls between them. This sort of thing keeps happening as recent. It leaves them looking at one another, and it should be awkward. Yet it’s not. It’s strange and peaceful, and then because Carmy is Carmy, his heart starts squeezing and telling him he needs to get out of here.

“Did you sleep alright? After, uh,  last night.” He’s not sure why he’s asking that now. 

“Yeah, I was fine. You?”

“Okay,” he replies instinctually. “Sorta,” he amends. “I’m doin’ better.” 

“That’s good. Better is good.”

“Yeah.” He exhales out his nose, runs a hand through his hair. 

There’s the muffled sound of laughter in the distance, and it reminds Carmy that they’re not quite alone. That he still has dishes he needs to finish cooking.

“I need to finish back in the kitchen. Let me show you where we’re sitting.”

Minus a few faces, everyone’s already seated at the table for family. There’s some idle chatter floating in the air, but it drops to the floor as soon as Carmy enters. Makes him feel like a deer in headlights.

“Everyone, this is my, uh—“ Something in Carmy’s brain buffers. “My friend,” he finally decides. He introduces them to the four that're seated already, those of which being Sydney, Marcus, Tina, and Ebra. There’s a mix of enthusiastic hellos and simple nods in response. He turns back to his roommate—friend—whatever—and they’re waving back. “I'll be back soon. Sit wherever you want.” 

“Sure thing,” they reply easily, and it makes Carmy feel a little less guilty about abandoning them.

To his credit, he does try to finish cooking quickly. All he had left was the sauce, and he already prepped all the ingredients. Between the aromatic browned onions, emulsifying the sauce with wine, and dousing the chicken in it, he couldn't have taken more than 15 minutes. 

He wasn't sure what to expect upon returning. The worst possible scenario would be complete silence. Or screaming, but that was unlikely. On his walk there, though, plates in hand, he hears pleasant chatter. 

“The coffee down the street is overpriced,” Carmy hears his roommate saying. There’s a murmur of  agreement. When he walks in, he sees all the seats at the table are full. “Don’t get me wrong, it's not bad, but you'd get coffee just as good one block down the other way at—”

“At Ironclad?” Marcus guesses hopefully, leaning in.

“At Ironclad,” they confirm, and there's a mix of cheers and boos.

“Grit is better,” Sydney challenges. “More espresso bean options.”

“You make a compelling point,” they reply. “A latte for $4 though? In this economy? Just try and beat that.”

“It's less at 7-Eleven,” Richie chimes in, and everyone boos. “It's one of the pillars of the working class! Admit it!”

They're not like him, Carmy remembers. They're actually socially competent, and they can do well for themself in a group of strangers. Seemingly with little effort, they’ve already assimilated themself. 

“Family's up,” Carmy announces, sliding plates into the table. “Lemon chicken piccata and caramelized rosemary potatoes.”

“Jeff, didn't you show us this last week?” Tina asks. She leans in to waft the savory smell towards her nose, and she hums in approval. 

“Yeah, I did. I just thought it'd be good to make it for you guys.” He finishes getting the rest of the plates from the kitchen, making sure everyone has a plate of food in front of them. He can tell who's started eating by the pleased expressions on their faces. Other than the fact that their food has a dent in it, of course. 

“Carmy. This is on fire,” Ebra praises, nodding in approval towards him. 

“Ebra, it's ‘this is fire’, not ‘this is on fire’,” Gary corrects, amused. “But I agree.”

“Good, good,” Carmy says. He settles into his seat at the front of the table, which is…weird, actually. He doesn't remember the last time he's actually sat and had family with everyone. 

“Actually eating with us for once, Carmen?” Richie points out. He says it like a jab, because that's always how he speaks, but it lacks the fight that it usually does. Carmy can hear what he's really expressing—I'm glad you're joining us.

“I am,” Carmy responds evenly. He feels his roommate's curious gaze to his right, but they don't say anything. That's when he notices that they haven't started eating yet. His mind supplies a million different reasons at once. None of them sound sane, so they'll go unspoken. “Not hungry?” he asks instead.  

“No, I just wanted to wait until you were here.” They say it like it's not a big deal. “I always did it with my family growing up. Just a habit, I guess.” Now that they're saying it, some of Carmy's memories start to make more sense. He suddenly remembers sitting with them at home, and he had to take a call right before they were about to start their dinner. When he came back, their food was still untouched. He didn't think much of it then, but now…

“Oh, cool. That's…” In the time he's searching for a word, they've taken a bite. “How is it?” He asks instead. 

“Fuck.” They're shaking their head like something's wrong, but it's obvious from the gigantic smile on their face that it's anything but. “Carmy. Carmy. You're crazy.”

“Am I, now?” He knows he's probably got a stupid expression on his face. 

“So crazy. This is incredible.” They slice themself another piece of chicken. “These capers too, man. You actually made me like capers.”

“The capers made you like capers,” Carmy jokes, and they snort. 

“No, that's severely underplaying your part in all this. Seriously, this is delicious.” They always get this glowing smile when they're eating good food. He's witnessed it in their shared kitchen, whether it's food from their mutually favorite joint or their own two hands. He's never seen them smile like this, though. It's a joy that's possibly unique to Carmy's own cooking. 

Carmy doesn't know how to handle that. Not even a little bit.

“Glad to hear it,” he says instead, ignoring the fullness in his heart, and he starts eating.

“I’mma start this week,” Marcus begins. “I'm grateful for the fact that my roommate Chester actually managed not to spoil the episode I missed of this show we’re watching this past week. He’s still a jackass, though.”

“You can say it’s The Bachelor, we all already know,” Sydney teases. Marcus huffs, but he’s smiling.

“Just for that, you’re goin’ now,” he replies, motioning towards her with a fork. 

“Sure, sure. Yeah, um, I’m grateful for my dad’s good health.” Sydney shrugs, nonchalant when there’s a group of “aww”s. “I am! He had this, ugh, awful case of bronchitis, but he's good now. It was scary. Tina?”

“Hm…” Tina chews thoughtfully as she thinks. “Oh! My dumbass son actually passed his finals. Even with some A’s!” She claps her hands excitedly and clasps them to rest under her chin. That gets a variety of cheers. “If he actually tries, he can be so smart. But not without stressing me the fuck out first. What about you, Rich?”

“Easy. I found that pine cologne that Marcus hates,” Richie says, smug. 

“I noticed,” Marcus replies mildly. “Everyone hates it, by the way.”

“I smell like the fuckin’ forest! It's majestic as shit.” Richie makes a show of sniffing his shirt amongst all the booing mixed with laughter. That's when he looks to Carmy’s roommate, who's been politely listening and eating. “You wanna have a go of it, guest of honor?”

“Oh, sure. Something I'm grateful for, right?” They put down their utensils and thoughtfully rub their index finger across their chin. “Well…I’m feeling pretty grateful to be eating this delicious food. It's not often I get to eat food this good.” It's not that good, Carmy wants to say to combat the fluttering in his stomach, but it's far too contradictory. He made sure to make it good since they were going to be eating it. “How about you, Carmy?”

“Huh?” Carmy's been on autopilot, comfortable to watch everyone else. He's not much of a participant. Now everyone's got their eyes on him. “I'm grateful for, uh…”

I'm grateful for that smile you get when you eat my cooking, he wants to say. I'm grateful to have someone like you.

“I'm grateful to be in good company,” Carmy says. That receives a round of hearty reactions, including a look from his roommate that he can only describe as affectionate. He pointedly looks back down at his half-eaten plate when he feels his ears getting warm. 

“Aw, you softie,” Richie snickers. “What, are we embarrassin’ you?”

“Shut it,” he mutters, but there's barely any heat behind it. His reaction only creates more laughter around the table. “Ebra, you go next.”

Little does Richie know what he's really embarrassed about. Everyone's teasing isn't helping, sure, but it's not his fellow chefs, it's them. It's their stupid smile that he keeps looking back at. It's that he knows it's from the food he made for them, it's that he doesn't know what to do with all these feelings taking up residence in his heart. 

Between the energetic chatter and the cleaned off plates, Carmy realizes that a part of what he's feeling is happiness. It's an odd sensation, which says a lot about the type of person that he is. It's the truth, though. He's just cooked a good meal for people he cares a lot about, and the happiness that has come with that is weird. 

Not bad weird, though. Good weird. 

If anyone noticed how strange he looked smiling with a fork in his mouth, they didn't mention it. 

Family goes by faster than Carmy is used to. That's what happens when you actually join in for once, he supposes. He just wasn't expecting it to wrap up so quickly. Or, it's more accurate to say he didn't want to see them go already.

“Guess you guys have to get ready for service now, right?” They've returned to his office to grab their jacket, giving the two of them a brief moment of privacy. 

“Yeah. Service starts at 3.” He sighs, and they sympathetically return his sigh. 

“Right. Well, I really enjoyed eating with everyone. And the food? Seriously, it was so good. You knocked it out of the park. I’m sure you get this all the time, but you’re seriously incredible at what you do.”

“I don’t hear that so much anymore,” he admits. “Not like I used to. Um…” He clears his throat, shakes his head. “I’m just glad you enjoyed it. I should really cook more outside of this place. Maybe cook for us in our kitchen for once.”

“You know I’m here for that. I could have your cooking any time,” they gush, like it doesn’t make Carmy’s heart palpitate. “I get it, through. You spend all day cooking here, I get that you don’t wanna come home and cook.”

“Yeah, but…it's different.” It's different because it’s for you, he wants to say, but as expected, he doesn’t. 

“W-What?” Suddenly, their cheeks go pink. “Well, if you put it like that…”

“...” The realization buffers in his head before fully forming. He actually said that aloud after all. Too late to take it back. “Uh, yeah, I mean, I just think, I should give you a break from making leftovers for the week,” he stutters in a weak attempt to cover his accidental affection. “And, um, I just want to, because I…”

“Because…?” He’s taking way too fucking long to finish this sentence. Their face doesn’t betray any impatience, though. It never does, and seeing that makes him relax. 

“Because I—like that you like my cooking.” 

“I love your cooking,” they correct, their smile teasing. 

“Um, right—you love—” he tries to fix his words again, but this one’s far too much to say. The butterflies in his stomach feel similar to nausea. The conflict must show on his face in an insane way, because their smile turns into a wide grin full of amusement. 

“It was a good attempt.” That makes him laugh a little. “Hey, if you’re saying I get to bring your cooking to work this next week, I’m not objecting.”

“I’ll try my best.” His eyes catch the clock on the wall. He needs to wrap this up. “I’m not trying to kick you out, but I really gotta get back now.”

“It’s cool. I should be heading out anyway. I’ll see you at home?”

“Yeah,” he says, poorly hiding the affection in it, “I’ll see you at home. And, uh—thanks. For coming.”

“Of course. I had fun,” they say with a smile. “See ya.” 

He watches them leave through the entrance, hearing that familiar sound of the ringing bell, and they're gone.  

Carmy is left standing there with an odd warmth in his chest. It doesn't overwhelm him, doesn't suffocate him, just sits there. It's a strange, but nice feeling. 

This is what happiness feels like, he realizes, and in this moment, fear is nowhere to be found. 

. . . . .

The dinner rush is fine. It's just fine. It's just another thing for Carmy to get through, and he does. Just another obstacle between him and getting home. 

A wishful part of him always hopes that they'll be able to close before 10, but it is a very lofty wish to make, especially on a Saturday. With great regret, he puts his car into park at 10:44 pm. The night air is frigid and awful against his brittle dry skin and cracked lips. He can't get to his front door fast enough. 

Opening the front door sends warm gusts of heated air across his face. He can't help his relieved sigh, especially not when he sees them sitting on the couch. They’re dressed in a loose t-shirt and bike shorts, a combo that makes his heart pulse.

“Hey, welcome back.” They give him a little wave. He finds it surprisingly easy to smile and wave back. This strange joy keeps finding new ways to pop up. “How was the rest of your day?”

“Fine,” he says, because it was. It was fine. “Busy, but normal. You know how it is. Weekends.” They hum in agreement. He kicks his shoes off by the door, walks over to where they're seated. This is when he notices the laundry basket on the floor with stacks of folded clothes. They grab a sweater from the pile of clothes on the coffee table and lay it out on their lap. “Doin’ laundry?”

“Yeah. I'm trying to be responsible.” They smooth out the sweater, working out the creases in the collar with their fingers. “I think some of your socks ended up in the wash with my stuff.” They motion to a neat stack of miscellaneous white socks sitting on the coffee table.

“Oh, yeah. These are mine.” He picks them up, turns them around in his hand. “Sorry, guess I missed them when I was last doing laundry.”

“It's fine. They're just extra clean now.” 

“And folded.” He does his best to put his socks down just as they were even though he’ll have to move them anyway. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” They pull up another piece of clothing from their basket. Carmy immediately recognizes it as they throw it over to him. It’s his boxers.

“Shit, sorry,” he apologizes on reflex, heating up with embarrassment. He crumples it up in his hand. 

“It’s chill. Besides, didn’t you get one of my bras once?”

“Ah, yeah. I forgot,” he says, like he needed a moment to remember it. It’s all a facade. He couldn’t get that moment out of his memories he tried. It was very lacy, and it made him more nervous than someone his age should’ve been. 

“Oh, I forgot to mention when I saw you earlier. I paid the water bill today. It was 48 something.” They lean forward to grab a white envelope. The monthly payment from the water company. They flip it open and scan the paper again. “It was—48 dollars and 19 cents, to be exact.”

“Lower than last month.” He is grateful to be discussing the water bill instead of their underwear. “Much lower, actually.”

“I’ve been trying to cut back on my 30 minute showers, and I’d like to think that’s why.”

“Good job,” he says jokingly, and they pretend to bow like they’ve won an award. “I still think 30 minutes is just a little too long,” he teases after. This is a familiar conversation.

“Maybe to you, Mr. 5 minute showers,” they scoff. They kindly don’t mention how little he actually showers. “I have a lot of serious business to attend to in there! Lots of meetings, lots of calls…” They snicker, and he makes a dismissive noise, but he’s smiling. He's never been good at hiding his amusement around them. “So, yeah. Just venmo me when you get the chance.”

“Already on it,” he says. As soon as he sends it, their phone dings with the notification. 

“Thank you, thank you. And, ah, not to bombard you with more housekeeping, but I'm gonna try and go grocery shopping this monday. Wanted to ask if you need me to pick up anything.”

“Uh…” Detergent, coffee, soap, peanut butter, bread, chips, he notes in his head, rattling off a list. “I need a lot of stuff, so don't worry about it. Actually—” He turns to look at them, and they look up from their laundry with a curious look. “When were you thinking about going?”

“It's my day off, so anytime. What, wanna join me?”

“If you don't mind going in the morning, then yeah.” It feels weird, asking for accommodations like this. When you're running a business that keeps you until 10 pm everyday, though, you don't have a choice. “Like, 9 am?”

“Not earlier?” They smile knowingly. “I don't mind. We can do 8 am, if you want.”

“I wouldn't wanna make you wake up any earlier than you already have to on your day off.”

“It's no different to me, really. Besides, I'm offering.”

“Right. Uh…” I shouldn't push it, he thinks to himself with near certainty, but he stops. Takes a moment. They're offering. “Sure, then. 8 am.”

“8 am,” they reply easily. A wistful smile appears on their face. “When's the last time we've gone grocery shopping together?”

“I can't remember, so at least over a month.” That's also the last time I properly went grocery shopping, he remembers, but he doesn't want to share that. 

“Way too long.” They shake their head. “It's just hard to line our schedules up. You think it'd be easier since we live together.”

“Y'think,” he echoes tiredly. “Not like I’m makin’ it any easier, being at The Beef everyday and all.”

“Well…yeah, I suppose not. It is a little scary how long you go without a day off.” They make a face. “When's the last day you've had a day off?”

“Dunno. Just got a lot to do…all the time.”

“All the time.” They sigh. “Is that really how it's supposed to be? Being a business owner?”

“When your business is fucked, yeah.” The growing distress on their face makes the corners of his mouth twitch in an amused smile. “Scraping by from week to week.”

“Damn.” They raise their eyebrows, shake their head. “I don't know how you do it.”

“I'm used to it.” It's the truth. The longer he thinks about it, though, the festering dread starts to creep out from the hole he's kicked it in. So he changes the subject before it can come out and choke him to death. “Mind if I crack open the window for a smoke?”

“Only if you don't let me join you,” they reply with a wide grin, and he laughs. 

After changing out of his work clothes into a tank top and gray sweatpants, he sits himself at their designated window. He cracks it open just a smidge—it's too cold tonight. The cars are quiet, at least. He pulls his pack from his pocket and places a cigarette into his mouth.

“You want a cig?” Carmy asks when they take the empty seat across from him. Their smoking device of choice today is their water pipe. It looks like a juicebox from the packaging, shape, and the plastic straw arching out of it.  

“Can I just take a hit off yours instead? Not really in the mood for a whole cig right now.” He wordlessly passes his lit cig to them. They take a slow hit, the orange glow creeping up it. They look down at it and frown. “Sorry, I got a little lip gloss on it. I didn't realize I still had some on.”

“It's fine.” He takes it back and inspects it. Little oily pink smudges lay in a messy circle on the filter. “As long as it's not like that other lipstick.”

“God, no.” They drag a hand over their face. “I know I keep saying it, but I'm so sorry about that. That was mortifying.”

“Don't worry about it. Dust under the rug.” When he brings his mouth back around his cig, a faint stickiness clings to his lips. He bulldozes through the jittery feeling it brings with it. 

They sit there smoking side by side for a minute. His gaze flickers between the moving city scenery out the window and the sight of them smoking from their bubbler. Clearly one is more captivating than the other. He watches the translucent smoke fill the glass, go up the straw, and out of their lips. 

They catch him staring. His only saving grace is that he doesn't flinch. 

“You want some?” They ask, turning the bubbler towards him. So that's what they thought he was doing. He can live with that. 

“Sure, if you're offering.”

“Yeah, I am. This one's real sleepy shit, just so you know.”

“Good. I need that tonight.” The taste of the weed is strangely floral as it goes down, but he can't place what it is. “Did you mix this with something?”

“Not this time. Tastes weird though, right? It's kinda…detergent-y. One of my friends says it tastes like dryer sheets.”

“So am I smoking laundromat weed? Tide pod weed?” It's a stupid joke, but Carmy finds that the dumber the joke, the harder it makes them laugh. 

“Laundromat weed,” they wheeze. “No, it's not tide pod weed. I can't afford name brand.”

“Equate weed, then?”

“Kroger brand, actually,” they say, “but I hear Up & Up is pretty good, too.”

“I'm sure it's just as good as name-brand shit.”

“Most of the time.” 

Carmy clears the rest of the chamber of the excess smoke before sliding it back across the table to them. 

“Thanks.” The buzz is setting in. The mix of cannabis and nicotine always feels a little weird, but in a thrilling way. “I really just need to get my own shit, stop mooching off you.”

“I steal enough of your cigs, so don't worry about it.” This is when he notices that their eyes have gone a little pink from the weed. He also notes to himself that he shouldn't be looking so closely. “So, did something good happen today?”

“Good?”

“Yeah. You just seem to be in a particularly good mood, is all.”

“Oh.” He immediately knows why. Surely he can't just be honest with them, but the high's lowered his barriers, and he decides to just let himself say it. “Yeah, something good did happen, now that you mention it.”

“That's good,” they say, like it has nothing to do with them. “It's nice to see you with a little less stress on you. What happened?” 

“You don't already know?” He asks, because there's no way they don't know. From the look on their face, though, they really don't. “It was you.”

“...” Their face colors. “Oh,” they say, just like he did a second ago. He likes seeing them smile with a blush to match. “I mean, I thought, maybe, I just didn't wanna assume…”

“It was nice. Having you there with everyone, I mean.” 

“They're really cool. You've got some great coworkers.”

“I do,” he replies quietly, faintly. It's true, even when he wants to let The Beef catch on fire. “Everyone really liked you.”

“Really?” The surprise is clear on their face.

“Yeah, really.” Throughout the rest of the day, the others had come up to him expressing some sort of approval. Not that he needed their approval. It felt nice, though. How'd you find someone so…nice? Marcus had asked, entirely genuine, and all Carmy could do was shrug. It was a good question.

How was a person like him allowed to have anything good in his life?

“Am I allowed to ask what they said?”

“You're allowed,” he says, amused. “Marcus said you were really nice. So did Syd. Seems you hit it off with them.”

“I think I did, too.” They sit with his reply for a moment, staring out the window and idly tapping their fingers on the bubbler. “Feels weird.”

“Weird?”

“A good weird,” they clarify. “You ever get weirded out by the fact that people talk about you when you're not there? And it's like, good things they're saying, too?”

“Constantly,” he admits. “I don't know if I'll ever get used to it.”

“Yeah.” Their hands are fiddling with the ends of their hair. “I guess I just have a hard time believing that people will think the best of me when I'm not around. Like…like, I don't know, just…”

“No, I understand.” Carmy's feels acutely more alert now. “It's like, uh, object permanence, kinda. But with—with people.”

“That's exactly it!” They exclaim, and then they deflate again. “It's stupid, but I just…”

“It's not stupid,” he assures them, and their lips quirk in a tiny smile. “If it helps, I…I don't think the worst of you when you're not around.”

“Hearing you say it aloud makes me realize how crazy it is for me to think like that,” they murmur, “but thank you. That does…that does make me feel better, actually.”

“Sure.” It's better if you don't know the details, he thinks to himself, reminiscing on naked dreams and daydreams around their bright smile. 

He really shouldn’t sit on the couch with them. It’s late, and he needs to be in his own bed at this time of night. Unfortunately, logic isn’t at the forefront when he sees them. He’s high and wants to stick to them like glue, so he does. They’ve turned on these HD videos of people making drinks. It’s like sensory videos for babies, except for adults, they told him, and that got the two of them giggling. 

It’s nice. Far too nice than what Carmy’s used to. But this time, he doesn’t want to let it go, and he’s not afraid of that, either. 

I want this to last, he thinks, unafraid, and he falls asleep listening to their voice.

. . . . .

Carmy wakes up by jolting up from the couch. He’s hunched and heaving for air, and all he can think about is that he needs to see Michael.

“Mike,” he calls out. His voice is raspy and shaken. His body feels like a piece of stretched twine. He’s about to call out for Mike again until he lifts his head to see his roommate who is definitely not Michael. 

Fuck.

“Hey. Are you okay?” Their expression is alert, but gentle. He doesn’t trust himself to speak, so he just keeps his mouth shut and breathes heavily through his nose. He manages a nod. He imagines it doesn’t look very convincing.

“Just need a second,” he gets out. God, he sounds awful.

“You’re fine. You don’t need to explain anything, just…take your time.”

“I thought today was going to be a good day,” he gets out between gritted teeth. “Stupid. Fuckin’ stupid of me. Fuck. Mi—” He cuts himself off. That indescribable fear he thought was far has resurfaced, pushing in between the cracks in his ribs, desperate in the space it’s vying for. 

Why the fuck are his eyes hot? He shouldn’t cry. Not over this. Not over anything.

“Who’s—?” They stop themself, mouth closing in a thin line. “Sorry. I don’t need to ask.” The question starts and ends there, but he knows what they’re asking. 

Who’s Mike?

It feels like two knives sharpening each other, the tinny sound of steel against steel. It pierces him once, twisting, turning into a dull, painful ache. Like an old wound that hasn’t had enough time to heal, an old throbbing scar.

Michael.

“He...” Carmy starts, but it’s too much. It’s too much, and his hands are trembling, shaking terribly. It’s gonna happen again. He can’t do this. 

Softer hands hold his, thumbs rubbing soft circles on the back of his dry hands. With each rotation on his skin, with each lap, Carmy slows down. He returns. 

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” they whisper. Their hands are so gentle. “I didn’t mean to ask, it just sorta popped out.”

“No, it’s okay,” he responds without thinking, surprising even himself. Even though it’s not really okay, even though he doesn’t really wanna talk about it, maybe he does, because he hasn’t gone completely silent yet. “He was my brother.”

“Ah...” Realization sets in their voice. “I see.”

“He was a drug addict,” he explains, pretending like saying it doesn’t feel like crumbling dough, like sugar dissolving into boiling water. “Killed himself.”

The grip on his hands tighten. He appreciates the feeling. 

This is the mark you’ve left, Carmy thinks suddenly. How fucked up is that, Mike? The first thing I tell people is the last thing you ever did. When did you stop being my best friend and start being my older brother who killed himself?

“I’m sorry,” they say quietly, because of course they do. That’s all anyone can think to say. Carmy’s too tired to feel angry about that anymore. “When did he pass away?”

“Last February,” he answers like it’s a quiz question, like it doesn’t mean anything. “It’ll be a year in a couple months.”

“I see.” Their hands are holding his gently again. Carmy finds he prefers this. “That must’ve been really hard. Still is, I’m sure.”

“...Still is, yeah. Especially with the restaurant. It was his,” he explains, when he sees the confusion beginning in their eyes. “He was the previous owner, and he left it. To me.”

“So that’s why you’re here and not in New York?” They ask. He nods. 

“I’m trying to fix it.” He doesn’t say I’m fixing it, because that would mean he’s made progress. 

“I don’t know how it was before, but it seems like you are fixing it. I know I’ve barely been there, you know it a million times better than I do, it just...it seems like people are happy there.”

“Happy,” he muses. “Yeah. I guess so.”

“Everyone seems to really like you,” they go on. “That’s something, isn’t it?” 

“It is. Doesn’t fix the debt, but...” He shrugs half-heartedly. No, not even half. Quarter-heartedly. “It’s somethin’.”

“I had no clue.” There’s something regretful, rueful in their words. “This whole time, you’ve just been...”

“Don’t,” he interrupts. 

“...I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“No, I’m sorry,” he backtracks. “I just mean...don’t give me your pity,” he mutters. It’s a bitter thing to say. Luckily, he’s so drained it comes out without any of the venom. It’s better that way. They don’t deserve his poison. 

“It’s not pity,” they argue, their reply so instant it sobers him. “It’s...respect, I guess.”

“Respect?”

“Yeah. You’ve got a lot on your plate. I couldn’t handle all the stuff you do, but you’re doing great.”

“I barely sleep most nights,” he says suddenly. He’s unsure why. It’s like he has to prove something. “When I do, there’s nightmares. You saw that tonight and yesterday. I almost burned down the house. My stomach’s still fucked. I’m not...” His eyes feel hot again. Breathing suddenly feels different. There’s ringing, static clogging his ears. “I’m not doing great,” he realizes with stunning, raw clarity, and the pain of it knocks the wind out of him. 

“You’re doing great,” they say again. “Look at me, Carmy.”

He looks at them. Their eyes are warm. 

"I,” he starts, but he’s having an awful time trying to breathe. When he inhales, he feels like he’s splintering, a unified whole breaking into jagged, drifting parts. 

Dread overtakes him in the blink of an eye. He doesn’t want them to see him like this. Hasn’t he already done enough?

“Breathe in with me.” They inhale, slowly, counting to 8. He counts with them like a lifeline, which it partially is. His breaths come out staggered, but he claws forward. Tries his best to keep his eyes interlocked with theirs. “And exhale...”

He clings onto every beat in their voice, every circle their thumbs make. Their words wrap around him, bringing the broken pieces back together, clicking them into place again. They restore his sense of gravity, returning his feet to solid ground with every breath. 

“You’re okay,” they say softly. One of their hands moves up to brush back hair from his face. The feeling of their fingers tucking hair behind his ear makes his eyes flutter briefly shut.

“I’m okay,” he whispers back. It doesn’t sound very convincing. Fake it until you make it, he reminds himself. 

“You’re okay.” They take one last deep breath with him, and when he exhales, his head feels clear again. 

“Sorry. That was...” He shakes his head. “I don’t usually...”

“Never gotten one of those before?”

“No, it’s not that. I’ve had tons of panic attacks before, just...not in front of anyone else,” he finishes awkwardly. 

“Yeah?” Carmy finds himself looking down at their conjoined hands instead of their eyes. “Well, you certainly don’t have to apologize. I get them too, from time to time.”

“Thank you. For...calming me down.” He takes another deep breath to steady himself. “It helped a lot.”

“No problem.” There’s that glowing smile he can’t get enough of. “How’re you feeling now?”

“I…” He tries to pinpoint something in all the noise. It’s proving difficult. “I’m calmer,” he notices. 

“That’s good.”

“Yeah, uh, I don’t know what to, how to, explain my…feelings.” The words are so haphazardly put together that he stammers as they tumble on the way out of his mouth. 

“Don’t worry, you’re doing great.” From anyone, the sentiment would make him shut down even more, turn his head the other way. From them, though…

“I’m okay,” he says, and it’s the truth. “I think, um, just a lot hit me all at once.”

“I get it. It often happens like that, doesn’t it?”

“It does. I just...” He briefly shuts his eyes, and there’s a flash of Michael. “It’s hard. Doing all this without him.” They nod. “I never wanted to. Not on my own.”

“He must’ve been a great guy.”

“He was,” he starts, and his throat closes up. They seem to understand, because they don’t say anything else. He doesn’t say it, but he’s glad for it. This is all he can bear. 

It’s hard to put into words, the way Carmy feels right now. He’s never been great at describing how he feels, even when he was a kid. Sometimes he’d cry about the wrong things, and he wouldn’t cry at the right things. But there wasn’t quite any right or wrong way to feel. It just was. It just is. 

The grief comes in waves. It always has, and it always will. Each wave is a natural disaster on its own, a tsunami that fills his lungs with water, leaving nothing in its wake. But something about this one just washed slowly over him, leaving just droplets of water in his hair. If anything, he just feels...lighter. 

He supposes this is what really trusting someone feels like.

The moment of peace is eventually ruined by his stomach growling. Loudly.

“Hungry?” They say first with an amused grin.

“I guess.” He hadn’t realized. “I didn’t eat much today.”

“Hm, I do suppose you had a late lunch, too, if that matters.”

“Sure. That’s also all I had to eat today.” He doesn’t know why he lets that slip, but he does. 

“Oh no!” That makes them jump up, detaching their hands from his. He tries not to mourn the loss for too long. “No wonder you’re hungry.”

“It’s fine. It’s like this sometimes,” he says, like it’s a normal and healthy thing to be doing. “Just one of those days.” They frown. 

“What do you do when your stomach gets like this? What do you eat?”

“I don’t eat,” he answers honestly, and they gasp. 

“Carmy! That is not the answer. I mean, like, don’t force it down, but is there really nothing you can stomach?”

“If I start chewing, I just feel worse. I’ll usually just have some water and a cigarette. If I have time, coffee.”

“You can’t be having that French girl breakfast. You just can’t.” That gets a laugh out of him. “You’re becoming a French girl, and you’re laughing. Carmy! This is serious.” That only makes him laugh harder. 

“Do all French girls also have stomach issues?” He wheezes out. That sets off their laughter. 

“I don’t know. You tell me, Ms. France.”

“Wait, stop, I don’t wanna be in a beauty pageant.”

“Then stop following their diet! Look—” They try to speak again, and they cut themself off with more laughter. “Okay. No. I’m fine. I’m not laughing. You, you need to eat. No skipping meals.”

“I usually end up having lunch,” he argues.  

“Y’know, as someone whose whole life is food, I would expect you to know the importance of breakfast more.”

“Just because I know it’s important doesn’t mean I’m gonna have it.”

“Hm. I don’t love your reasoning. Stop laughing! I’m mad at you. I’m so mad I’m gonna give you homework.”

“Homework? Just so you know, I wasn’t a good student.”

“It’s okay, I grade on a curve. Here’s your homework—you are going to use my protein powder that is sitting in the cabinet to the right of the fridge, and you’re going to put it in some milk. And then you’re gonna drink that shit. That’s what I have when I wake up nauseous.”

“I think I can try that.” His cheeks hurt from smiling. “Do you accept late work?” That makes them sigh dramatically, making a show of it.

“I suppose. Just don’t make it a habit! I won’t be this lenient every time.”

“Yeah, you will,” Carmy says without thinking. They gasp.

“No, I won’t! I can be mean.”

“I don’t think you have a mean bone in your body.”

“That’s actually a really nice thing to say, but keep this up and you’ll see my mean side!”

He doesn’t mean to laugh, but he does. That just ruffles them up further. 

“You just don’t seem real, sometimes,” he admits. “It scares me.”

“It does?” He has to commend them for their calm reaction. 

“Good things scare me, I think. I know that's…fucked up, but…”

“No, it makes sense. It shouldn't, but…it does to me.” He can't place their expression. It's some mixture of nostalgic and haunted. Or maybe just plain haunted. 

“Yeah?” They nod. “That's not good,” he mumbles, and the beauty of their shared, awful truth makes them both smile. 

“Well.” Their cheeks are less flushed, but there's still a dusting of color, like faint cocoa powder on cake. “I promise that I am, in fact, very real.”

“Pinky promise?” Carmy doesn't know where that comes from. They have a habit of bringing a strange silliness out of him. 

“Pinky promise. I'll even prove it to you.”

“How do you plan on doing that, exactly?” 

“Easy.” They outstretch their arms, and it clicks in his head with a rush. “Unless you're the sort of person that's not into hugging.”

“No, I am.” The words rush out, as if they're desperate to keep the offer on the table. “I mean, I hug my family when I see ‘em.”

“I'll admit, I'm a hugger. I give my friends hugs all the time. I just didn't know if you minded that sort of thing.”

“I don't mind. I like them, um…just don't usually initiate ‘em, I guess.” The anticipation is speeding up the beat of his heart like a coach on the sidelines. 

“Then bring it in, big guy,” they say, and he leans in.

The last time they hugged each other, Carmy was sleep-deprived and they were half-lucid from alcohol. This time is different. It's purposeful, tight, and all-encompassing. Their arms go over his shoulders and link around his neck to bring him in close. His arms naturally slot underneath theirs, meeting in the middle of their back. 

He can feel their hair tickling his neck. His heartbeat is in his ears, and he prays they can't hear it. They squeeze him, light, and his eyes flutter shut. 

“This is better,” Carmy whispers. He doesn't know why he's whispering. He supposes his mouth being so close to their ear makes him quiet. 

“Better than what?” Their voice has gone soft to match his. The vibrations next to his ear send a slim shiver up his spine. 

“Than the first time we hugged.” He pauses. “Unless you don't remember.”

“I remember.” They laugh, breathy and shy. “God. Sorry if that made you uncomfortable.”

“It didn't.” He tightens his hold on them. He doesn't know if they meant for the hug to last this long, but they're warm and perfect to hold. They smell like smoke and a flower he can't place. 

“Good.” He feels them turning their head, shifting their face into his hair, and he thinks his heart is going to explode, turning into a red jam inside of him. “So, am I real or what?”

“Mm, you're real. You've convinced me.” He thinks he could fall asleep like this. Sadly, as soon as he says that, they take it as the cue to unlink their bodies. 

Their hair's messy from where it was pressed up against the side of his head. He notices how cold he feels without them.

“If you need reminding, just let me know.” Their cheeks are rosy again. Cute. “Like I said, I'm a hugger, so…”

“I wouldn't be opposed.” I think I need that, actually, he thinks to himself. 

“Okay. Good to know.” 

“Um.” Awkwardness is suddenly his primary emotion. “Shit, I didn't even think to check the time. What time is it?”

“Lemme check.” They pull out their phone from their pocket. “12:40 am.”

Carmy sighs. 

“Better than I thought.” When he stands up off the couch, he feels every aching muscle protesting in disapproval. “I should sleep in my actual bed. But, um…” He fidgets with his hands, anxious. “Thank you. For staying with me. And talking to me about stuff.”

“You don't have to thank me. Thank you for trusting me with all that.” They cock their head to the side as they look up at him. Cute, he thinks again, unbearably. “I feel like I know you a lot better.” 

“Mm.” Carmy feels his face getting hot, meaning he has to change the topic as quickly as possible. “It feels nice. Being known by you. I…” He thinks about that night he held their hair behind them as they cried into the toilet. I want to know you, Carmy, they whispered, beautifully genuine even in their drunken stupor. “I want to know you, too,” he finally allows himself to say, and he knows by the full feeling in his chest that it's the truth. 

They get that shy smile he's seen so much of today. Carmy realizes he likes that he's the one that keeps making them smile like that. 

“Okay, then. I wouldn't mind that.” They stand up from the couch next, and they stretch their arms far above their head. “Maybe another night, though. It's late.”

“Right. I didn't mean…”

“Hey, if we didn't both have work tomorrow, I'd love to keep talking.” There goes their uncanny ability to wash his anxieties away so easily, a washcloth dissolving dirt. They start walking down the hallway to their bedrooms, and he trails behind them on instinct. “But I think we've kept each other up late too many nights recently.” 

“I think so, yeah.” Without context, that'd make his stomach squirm with the implications. Their bedroom's first down the hall, so they move to hover in their doorway. “Um,” he starts, a sudden unspeakable urge gripping him, “just one more thing.”

“What is it?”

Fuck it, Carmy thinks. Fuck it. 

With only minimal hesitation, he leans down and pulls them into a hug. They make a small noise of surprise, but they reciprocate almost instantly.

“Just wanted to double check,” he mumbles. He keeps the hug short this time, because he knows if he doesn't, he won't be able to let go. 

“Still real, right?” 

“Still real.”

“Good idea, to double check.” They step backwards, one hand on their door. “G'night, Carmy. I'll see you tomorrow.”

“G'night,” he murmurs back. “See you.”

I'm fucked, Carmy realizes once the door shuts. The hallway is dark, and there is an unusual amount of good in his life. I'm so fucked. 

~

@zorrasucia @carmenberzattosgf @carmenbrzatto

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

So wooo it's been a while since I stepped foot in here, started posting around May (and then took down the first fic because I didn't like it) and I'm really glad I did because writing is the one thing that has really resonated with me my whole life. 

I reached 200 followers at the beginning of November and now I'm 6 from 300, which, again, is crazy! And I have a tag list now, it's unbelievable. Thank you so much to each one of you, I love you.

So I definitely want to give something back to this amazing community.

Starting today I'm going to try to do a monthly post dedicated to all the amazing stories I've read. 

This month will be a list of all the works that have stuck with me since I have been here, unfortunately I will never remember them all because my memory sucks, but I hope I have included most of them.

I am so looking forward to discovering many more authors (my tbr list is so long, so many fics so little time, I really hope to read more over the Christmas holidays) in the coming months and I hope to grow this little space more and more into something safe, friendly and nice for everyone.

(Feel free to add me on discord if you like and you haven't already, I'm always happy to chat and make friends, you can find it in my bio).

Anyway, let's cut to the chase, it's a long list of outstanding work below the cut: 

• The Wolf You Feed - @arcanefox207 Joel Miller x f!reader

Look, I'm so in love with her Joel. He’s hot, he's grumpy but also comforting, he plays guitar, he feels true to character. So precious.

• BDSMaid - @mountainsandmayhem

Basically, my Roman Empire. Everything about this is so damn good and this Joel? Hello? Please marry me? I will never stop screaming about him. Also, yes, it’s an AU but he feels so Joel, you know.

• Do your worst, Little Dove from Little Dove series - @mountainsandmayhem Joel Miller x f!reader

This changed my entire brain, okay. Probably the hottest thing I've ever read and if you're into sub!Joel this is something you should read immediately.

• Never made it as a wise man and following chapters - @almostempty Joel Miller x f!reader

Never laughed so hard for a fic and honestly, after this I learned that Wed could write whatever and I'll worship that.

• He knows - @almostempty

Lucien x f!reader

The way it’s written it’s out of this world, I loved it so much♥️

• Self esteem series - @almostempty

She managed to make me fall in love with fuckboy!Joel, which is remarkable because there’s nothing I hate more in this world than fuckboys, like I despise them with all my heart but I’m still here wanting to kneel in front of him. Damn, Wed, stop doing this to me. (Jk)

• Paris, Texas - @almostempty

Joel Miller x f!reader x Javier Peña

*laugh hysterically* I want to live in this fic. I want to be reader. No, actually I want to be the fourth.

• Unscripted desires - @gothcsz Javier Peña x f!reader

The way Kat writes Javi is something unique, I don't even know how she managed to write so much about him doing a fucking banger every single time. This one was probably the first thing I read written by Kat and I'm not going to forget my first love anytime soon.

• Blackmail - @milla-frenchy Joel Miller x f!reader x Javier Peña

I read this series in one day and I was so needy when I finished, jeez! Milla is so damn good and she’s an absolute queen at writing dirty talk, it's honestly unbelievable the way she delivers every single time and leave me speechless.

• Her - from 5 days collection - @milla-frenchy Joel Miller x f!reader

It’s so dear to my heart (odd to say this about a pegging fic? Probably, but I still stand by what I just said). It was so good that inspired me to write a pegging fic myself and she was so kind about it 🥹 And she was probably the first person engaging with me here and I’m so fucking grateful that she did. Milla, if I have people reading me it’s because you reblogged me and gave me a chance in the first place, I will never forget this.

• Table for Three - Who's your daddy - @aurorawritestoescape Joel Miller x f!reader x Dave York

I read those in my early days here and wow Kate definitely sets a bar in terms of hotness for me. So good. And she’s another person that I cherish so much, thanks for being so supportive and encouraging.

• Keep on your mean side - @aurorawritestoescape and @milla-frenchy Joel Miller x f!reader

These two are dead dove queens and this one is simply amazing 10/10 no notes.

• Cherry, Cherry - @baronessvonglitter Joel Miller x f!reader

You have to know something about Adriana, she’s one of the nicest people I’ve ever met, just a beautiful soul. I’m still in awe of how she managed to write this series with so many characters and such a rich plot, it’s so sweet and comforting but also angsty and so good, I teared up a little bit at the end 🥲

• Daddy can fix it - @baronessvonglitter Joel Miller x f!reader

Handyman Joel lives in my mind rent free and the fact that this one feature a plus size!reader is the cherry on top ♥️ All bodies are beautiful and should be considered worthy of Joel’s love.

• Like a good girl should - @baronessvonglitter Joel Miller x f!reader

WELL. I mean. This one gave me an inexhaustible desire to be spanked sooo yeah. So hot.

• Flesh for fantasy - @syd-djarin Joel Miller x f!reader

I thought about that for days after reading it and it’s still one of my fav things ever, like my brain just exploded, I remember having a conversation with @almostempty about this. The fuck Syd, you just broke my mind.

• Pink - @netherfeildren

Joel Miller x f!reader

One of the first thing ever that I read in this fandom and honestly sets a bar so high I was afraid to start writing anything. The urge, the need that drips from every word, the way the shaving scene is still stuck in my brain. Wow. Just wow.

• Touch Tank - @thundermartini

Javier Peña x f!reader

So beautifully written and soft!Javi made my heart melt ♥️

• Spiaggia, amore e limone - @thundermartini

Javier Peña x f!reader

It sets in Italy, of course I am the biggest fan of this. And not only that, Javi is so cute, smut is so hot, everything in this fic feels like a warm hug.

• Trēs series - @whocaresstillthelouvre

Marcus Acacius x f!reader x Lucius Verus

This is the first time I've ever popped into an author's notes and I'm so fucking proud 🤣 Thank you Mallory, you made my day, my week and my whole month 🥹

Plus, this is so good, think about your fav indulging dessert… it’s this series.

• Fifteen - @whocaresstillthelouvre

Din Djarin x f!reader

So comforting and endearing, I love it so much. Like, she made me read Din. I rarely read Din, enough said.

• Do I move you? - @lemon-nomel

Joel Miller x f!reader

I’m so damn proud of her for finding the courage to finally publish this and I’m also honored that she sent me her draft to read 🥹 She’s the sweetest person ever and stood by my side all these months through hard and happy times. Thank you love, for everything and your writing is amazing♥️

• ma’am - @mssalo

Joel Miller x f!reader

Another sub!Joel I won’t forget anytime soon, wow, so damn beautiful, so hot, perfectly executed. I’m so weak for sub!Joel it’s honestly ridiculous.

• So Cal to North Cal - @lotusbxtch

Frankie Morales x f!reader x Joel Miller

It features two of my fav Pedro boys and it’s honestly so good. Would love to take a trip with them and not only that.

• Guilty pleasure - @for-a-longlongtime

Joel Miller x f!reader

Typical DBF!Joel? No, it’s not! And I loved that, no spoiler but my jaw literally dropped to the floor lol

• To Dig a Grave - @softpascalito

Joel Miller x f!reader

I love this series so much, angsty and sad but also comforting in so many ways.

• Wherever you stray, I’ll follow - @cavillscurls

Joel Miller x f!reader

I think this was my first omegaverse fic and it was incredible, so beautifully written.

• Big fat tally - @toxicanonymity

Joel Miller x f!reader

I will probably never forget Joel in a harness, it’s carved in my brain, thanks Toxi for providing this delicious image to me.

• In the woods - @tonysopranosrobe

Frankie Morales x f!reader x Santiago Garcia x Benny Miller

First sex pollen fic I read and I loved it so much. So desperate, so good.

• How do you sleep? - @thriftedtchotchkes

Joel Miller x f!reader

Honestly so good. Wow.

• each man mad’s desire - @pascalispretty

Marcus Acacius x f!reader

This is so beautiful, it’s like a poem, I still have no words.

• The Real Deal - @strang3lov3

Frankie Morales x f!reader

Oh this one was so damn good, please, this Frankie is perfect. I still yearn to have him.

• Bedridden - @strang3lov3

Joel Miller x f!reader

I’m still laughing, it’s so damn good, well written, funny, sick Joel is unbearable but still the hottest ever.

• Doctor’s pet - @evolnoomym

Dave York x f!reader

Oh this one. I mean I’m a secretary in a clinic, it’s clear I need to work for Doctor Dave.

• Ptolemaea - @lovely-vamp-princess

Joel Miller x f!reader

She just started this and it already feels so original to me, like something I never read before and I’m so curious to see how it unfolds.

• Smooth operator - @penascigarette

Joel Miller x f!reader

Joel calls a sex line and OMG. They’re softer than I thought, so good and funny. Lovely, just lovely.

Happy reading ♥️

[navybrat817]

Like There's No Tomorrow

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: When you make a rash decision after you're passed over for a promotion again, Bucky encourages you to follow your dream. It's the start of an unforgettable journey. Word Count: Over 3.4k Warnings: Insecurities, impulsivity, reflecting, slight angst, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning and the best, okay?). A/N: Writing this was very personal and therapeutic after my recent work experience. While I can't actually live this life, I know Firecracker and Daredevil will have many adventures together. Also for @the-slumberparty's Eight Types of Love Challenge (Ludus - Road Trip / Surprise)❤️ Thanks to the beautiful @whisperlullaby for the encouragement and @buckyownsmylife for giving this intro a look and assuring me it wasn't garbage, but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @saradika. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You quit your job on a Friday afternoon.

On paper, it appeared to be an ordinary day. Nothing different from your usual routine. You got up, brushed your teeth, showered, dressed yourself, gave your boyfriend a kiss, selected a caffeinated beverage, and got to work. While you wouldn't call your job your dream job and some of the tasks were monotonous, you were good at it and you cared about your teammates.

In fact, they were one of the reasons you stuck around for as long as you did.

“Just wanted to say you've done a lot for us and we wouldn't be where we are without you.”

“I’m so sorry. I hope this doesn’t get you down.”

“I wish there was something I could say to make you feel better.”

“For what it’s worth, they made a mistake.”

Tears filled your eyes as you looked through the messages a few of your teammates sent after the promotion announcement was made minutes ago. There was an overall mixture of surprise and confusion when they heard you didn’t get it. They knew how hard you worked to move up and how badly you wanted it. You wished you hadn’t gotten your hopes up since that usually led to disappointment.

Of course, you were happy for the candidate who got the job. It wasn’t their fault you didn’t advance. Their success called for celebration. It didn’t make it any easier for you though and it didn’t lessen the hurt that you were passed over once again for something you were more than qualified for.

You somehow held it together though, not wanting everyone around you to see you break. Crying was reserved for the bathroom, your car, and home. Plus, you had shown enough vulnerability to management during the lengthy process and aftermath. They didn’t deserve an ounce more.

Especially after you were told that the value you provided wasn’t enough.

“I know this outcome is disappointing, but this isn’t a setback. You still have a lot to be proud of,” your manager told you the day before when you received the email entailing that you didn't receive the promotion and why. “Take the feedback we’ve given you and use that to get to the next level next time.”

He was only trying to help, but who would want to try again when they’re told they aren’t enough more than once? If the intention was to fuel your fire, they snuffed it out. Then again, your feelings were so raw because you hadn’t given yourself enough time to digest the news. Being told you were just out of reach was salt in the open wound, stinging much more than it should have as you tried to figure out what you did wrong.

Because you had to have done something wrong, right? Were the words you wrote in your application not eloquent enough? Did you not display the right amount of confidence in your interview? Why were you always on the cusp of greatness, but never quite there?

Blinking the moisture from your eyes, you straightened up and began to type again. Personal feelings aside, you had a job to do. You needed the income. You also had to prove that they were wrong in overlooking you. Again.

But as the sound of your fingers flying across the keyboard became white noise in your head, Bucky’s words from earlier in the morning shimmered into your mind.

“Just quit, Firecracker. They don’t deserve you and you deserve better.”

Bucky Barnes, your boyfriend. The kind of man you didn’t think was real until he came into your life. Gorgeous, faithful, doting, protective - you thought men like that only existed in books. He supported and hyped you up every time you went for a promotion and wiped away every tear when you didn’t get it. Your crying and self-doubt broke his heart and this morning may have been the last straw for him.

Maybe it was the last straw for you, too.

Glancing around the office as you saw everyone else typing with minimal conversation, the room had never looked more lifeless to you. There was nothing about the place or the job that inspired you, so why continue to give yourself over to a place that didn’t give back to you in return? Why stay in a place that dulled your shine?

The sudden realization hit you square in your chest that you didn’t want to be there anymore.

“Have a great weekend, team. Good luck and thanks for everything.” You sent in a message before you could stop yourself.

You had never had an out-of-body experience before, but it was as if your spirit was beside you as you began to close the programs on your computer. Glancing at your desk after you set your phone to voicemail, you realized you had hardly any personal touches in your space. Except for the photo of you and Bucky.

He was your one bright spot in the building.

With the utmost care, you put the photo in your bag once you shut everything down. Your heart sank as your gaze swept over your team, an uncomfortable pit settling in your stomach as you went to see your boss. Disappointing anyone always brought you a sense of dread and you didn’t want to let him or anyone else down, but you were thinking of yourself for once.

You owed yourself that.

“Hey,” your boss smiled as he glanced up from his desk before he noticed you had your bag. You shifted on your feet when his cheerfulness shifted to concern. “What’s up? Are you clocking out early?”

“Not exactly,” you answered, gripping your bag so hard your hand began to ache.

“Is everything okay?” He asked, leaning forward in his seat.

You didn’t know how to respond because it wasn’t okay and nothing he could say or do would change how you felt. You didn't want him to try and sway you to stay. The heartbreaking part was that he was, overall, a good boss. He taught you a lot and helped you better yourself. So did the team as a whole. They were rock stars. Each and every one of them.

But now they weren’t enough to make you stay and maybe it was a blessing in disguise that you didn’t go anywhere with your job.

So with a bittersweet smile, you uttered, “I quit. I’m sorry.”

You tossed your building key onto his desk and turned away before he could reply. Your mind raced as you put one foot in front of the other and ignored the stares of your coworkers who caught on to what had just transpired. It was hard to breathe, but your steps for once felt light instead of heavy. Your boss may have called out for you, but you didn’t dare look back. Not when you couldn’t stay in there another minute.

What you didn’t expect was for Bucky to be waiting outside as you went out of the door.

Your boyfriend managed to take your breath away every time you saw him and today was no exception. All 6’4” of him, he decided to cover his beefy frame with one of his favorite leather jackets, a fitting shirt, and tight jeans. His stormy eyes zeroed in on you as he pushed away from his old pickup truck and ran a hand through his chestnut hair. He was stunning.

He was yours.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” you blurted out as you raced toward him. “Get me out of here. Please.”

But why was he there? You didn’t plan to meet up with him until after work and your shift was only a little over halfway over. Did he want to surprise you?

He caught you easily with his large hands before you could stumble into him. “Whoa, easy. Get in,” he said, opening the passenger door and helping you in. Your hands trembled as you buckled yourself in, your body in flight mode because you had to get away from the office. He wasted no time getting in and peeling out of the parking lot, the building becoming smaller and smaller in the distance.

You weren’t even sure how far away he drove before he pulled over and stopped the car since you didn’t look behind you. Resting your shaking hands on your thighs, the high of walking out dissipated until it left you cold. Reality sank in. Would it pull you under?

“Talk to me,” Bucky urged, his voice calm and gentle instead of demanding. “Please?”

“I quit my job,” you whispered, your gaze set in front of you, but not seeing anything in focus. “I couldn't do it anymore.”

Bucky leaned over to turn your face toward him, sympathy and understanding filling his eyes. “Oh, baby, I knew today would be the tipping point. Waited most of the morning for you to walk out,” he said. You were about to question how he could possibly know that, but he could read you better than anyone. “Just a feeling I had.”

“I quit my job. I quit,” you said again, your breathing more shallow than before he engulfed you in a warm and grounding embrace. Your fingers twisted in his jacket as you breathed him in. Sandalwood and citrus were scents you now associated with love because of him. “What did I do?! I didn’t even give notice. I just tossed my card down and left. Fuck, I just burned my bridges with everyone there.”

You stifled a sob as you hid your face in his neck. You swore to yourself that you would never be that person who walks out on a job, but you did just that and screwed over your entire team. Would any of them understand why you did it or accept an apology? How long would it take for that guilt to go away since you essentially gave up after the words of kindness and encouragement they gave you?

“Breathe, baby. I’ve got you” he whispered, rubbing your back as you steadied yourself. “Yeah, you quit today. And maybe you burned a bridge, maybe not. But I couldn’t be fucking prouder of you.”

“You’re proud that I walked out on my team?” You asked, whipping your head up so fast you were lucky you didn’t get whiplash. “They don’t deserve to deal with that. Not to mention, I have nothing lined up.”

The thought of starting over again made your stomach drop again. The job market could be a terrifying and hopeless place. What if you couldn’t find anything? Or what if you burned through your savings by the time you did?

“I’m proud that you walked away from something keeping you down. After everything you’ve done for them, I’m sure most of them will get why you couldn’t do it anymore,” he assured you, the corners of his lips turning down when you sniffled. “And don't worry about not having something lined up. We'll figure it out.”

“We?” You questioned. Bucky was your boyfriend, but this wasn’t his problem.

“Yeah, we,” he said, pointing between the two of you with his forefinger. “You and me. I'm in this with you.”

Your heart melted before logic tried to take back over. “I should just go back there and apologize. I can say that I-”

He framed your face and pressed his warm lips to yours before you could say another word. He coaxed you to return the kiss with ease and you responded with parted lips and a sigh. His kisses left you lightheaded as sparks ignited, threatening to explode if you went much further. Which was why he stopped to let you catch your breath.

“No. You’re not doing that,” he said, his scruff tickling your forehead as he pressed a kiss there. He knew that was a weakness of yours and it instantly stopped you from arguing. “We're going on an adventure and we can’t do that if you’re chained to a desk.”

“An adventure?” You repeated with uncertainty.

“Yeah. We’re going to drive and see where it takes us,” he said, his lips touching your forehead once more before he started up the car again. “Just need to grab a couple of things before we go.”

“What about work for you?”

“It’s taken care of,” he assured you. He wasn’t the type of guy to lie, but when did he have time to plan this? Neither one of you had mentioned going anywhere.

Leave it to Bucky to do something impulsive to make you happy.

“Okay,” you said, trusting him and deciding to play along with his endeavor. “You said we need a couple of things. What do we need? Besides the essentials.”

“Your laptop. And a journal if you don't feel like typing.”

You refrained from rolling your eyes. “Yeah, yeah. I know. My laptop so I can apply for new jobs and pray that they don’t reach out to my now previous boss as a reference, right?”

“Oh, no,” he chuckled, a playful smirk on his face when you swung your head toward him. “The laptop is so you can write like you've always wanted to. And the journal if you prefer to write some of your thoughts and ideas down by hand.”

“Wait. You want me to write on this trip?” You asked, making sure you heard him correctly.

“Yeah, I do.”

Your eyes nearly bulged out of your head. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Your boyfriend was certifiably crazy, but you loved that about him. “Bucky, no. I can't just write,” you said.

“Why not?” He shrugged.

“Because it doesn't pay the bills or provide security,” you replied.

Writing was a silly hobby that you did from time to time to help you channel your emotions or escape from the real world. At best, it was a dream. Nothing more. He knew that. At least, you thought he knew that.

At the end of the day, it wouldn’t put a roof over your head or food in your stomach. How were you expected to hold onto dreams that wouldn’t take you anywhere? And at what point did you stop believing in them and yourself?

When did you start thinking so cynically?

“But working a job you're not passionate about just to provide safety is the better option? There’s a difference between doing something you love and doing something you’re good at when your heart isn’t in it. You’ve done the latter for years now,” He said with a huff as you inhaled. “That isn't living and you’re lying to yourself if you think it is.”

Your eyes narrowed as his words sank in, your shackles raising. “No, it isn’t living, but it’s the most practical thing I can do! And, yeah, I am good at my job because I worked my ass off!” You argued, taking a breath. You didn’t want to start crying or snap at him when he was right. “Or at least I was good at my job. And I would’ve done my best had I advanced, but I couldn’t even accomplish that.”

Which begged the question of why you applied. The higher title and pay would’ve been nice for recognition and comfortability. You believed you earned it. But was it what you wanted to do for the rest of your life? Was that your path when you looked toward your future?

You hadn’t taken into account your own desires and values.

“Hey,” he said softer than before. “I wasn’t trying to-”

“And say I do try and write for real. How can I even enjoy this adventure knowing I'm probably just going to fail again?” You asked in a small voice.

How many hits could you take before your armor cracked?

Bucky's jaw clenched. “And that's exactly why I'm glad you finally quit. You've had so many people over your head telling you that what you do isn't enough to achieve what you want. And now you believe it,” he said, his hands gripping the steering wheel hard enough that you feared he’d bend it with his strength. “Fuck that and fuck them for making you feel that way.”

Your mouth fell open as you stared, his fury for and defense of you making your chest tighten. “I…”

“Why can’t you be a writer, huh? Why not try? You’re talented and I’m not just saying that to make you feel better. That’s where your heart is and it shows with every word,” He pressed, knowing you put your whole self into your creative outlet. “And, listen, we have money set aside for the time being and more than enough for this excursion. So I don’t care if writing doesn’t pay the bills for a while as long as you’re happy and doing what you’re passionate about. We’ll have each other and that’s enough in my eyes.”

Contemplating his words, you had to give him credit. The job wasn’t something you did because you were passionate about it. You did it because it was safe and expected of you when in many ways it held you back. Besides, what did you have to lose at this point? If you didn’t try, you’d never know. You’d look back one day and regret it if you let the chance pass you by.

Why not do something impulsive?

Why not make the most out of the moment you were in?

“Okay. You’re right. I should try to write and we should go,” you nodded, taking a deep breath. “Let’s grab a few things and see where this trip takes us.”

“There she is,” he smiled over at you, making your heart swell. “There’s my Firecracker.”

The nickname would always warm your heart. “You know, this actually sounds a bit like that book idea I had the other day,” you said, excitement seeping through your veins. Your fingers twitched a bit, too, with the urge to write. “Do you remember? I told you about it while we were eating pizza.”

Bucky took one hand from the steering wheel to grab yours. “I remember everything you've ever said.”

“Flattery will get you everything, Daredevil,” you said, biting your lip to keep from smiling too wide. “So, we're really doing this. We're just leaving?”

“Not just leaving. We're taking a long overdue road trip," he says, bringing your hand to his mouth to kiss it. “You deserve it.”

“We both do,” you said, the uncertainty leaving your body more with each passing second. You even turned off your phone so you wouldn’t be tempted to look at any emails or messages. “We deserve to live today like there’s no tomorrow.”

“‘Like there’s no tomorrow’,” Bucky quoted back to you with a hum. “Sounds like a good book title.’

“I’ll have to write it down so I don’t forget,” you smiled, linking your fingers together. “And don’t forget your journal, too. I don’t want you to miss a thing.”

“I won’t forget it,” he promised.

“Bucky?” You asked, swallowing as he gazed over at you. “Thank you. Really.”

It felt like you could breathe again without a weight in your chest. You didn't feel perfect, but you felt good. All thanks to him. You didn’t know what you’d do without him.

“You don’t need to thank me, baby, but I should thank you for letting me take you away,” he winked, keeping your hand in his as he faced forward again. “Makes me feel like a real hero, even though you wouldn't let me storm the castle.”

Oh, he wanted so badly to go off on your manager, but there was no need. “You are a hero,” you said. He saved you without knowing. “But try not to speed, Daredevil. I don’t want us to get pulled over before we get started.”

He groaned, but nodded as he let off the gas. “I’ll try not to speed. Need to make sure I get you to where we’re going safely.”

“I trust you.”

You would find out soon enough that Bucky had a list of things written in his journal that he planned to do with you on this trip. Everything you had ever said in passing that you wanted to do or try, but never could because of work. Because he paid attention to you. And you were right.

You deserved to live today like there’s no tomorrow.

And he wanted to be by your side while you lived your best life.

So, lovelies, where are they doing on their trip first? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[thehighladywrites]

𝖠𝖢𝖮𝖳𝖠𝖱 𝗆𝖾𝗇 𝗑 𝗁𝗒𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖿𝖾𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗂𝗇𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋, 𝖧𝖢’𝖲

summary: being girly in a world full of haters can be hard sometimes! I mean, people hate all the time. but these males don’t let any disrespect towards you slide. They protect you through and through 👀

warnings: fluff, tw:beron😒

amara’s note: this went from being an azriel fic, to rhys and azriel, to batboys, to batboys+lucien and finally all of them. Honestly idc bc i love all of them🤭🤭

Rhysand

Fashion bf x barbie doll gf

I can’t think of anything more cuter than being his doll.

The man does everything for you,

Picking out materials for dresses, designing them for you, working with a private seamstress to bring his visions to life

He knows you best and always supplies the cutest, girliest outfits ever

This man is so attentive and caring, he doesn’t even have to ask what you want to wear, he just knows. It’s like you share a brain

Rhys absolutely loves it when you ask for his advice on hairstyles and fashion choices. He literally goes into designer mode and fixes you up reaaaal nice

When you guys are in the Hewn City, you don’t care, you still wear your pink girly clothes bc who’s gonna say anything to the high lady?

Sparkly accessories, high heels, pretty makeup and cute hairstyles is your trademark.

Rhys loves that you are super girly, he likes the dynamic of him being dark and mysterious and you being bright and bubbly

He protects you like crazy, no one is even managing to say something insulting to you bc rhys takes care or it before the sentence even forms in their mind

Cassian

brooding bf x sunshine gf

This combo is top tier

At first, Cassian might've thought you were a bit too cheery and too involved in yourself. I mean, who else has a massive stash of fragrances, lotions, sparkly jewels, clothes, tons of bags, and enough shoes to fill a closet?

Also, who in the world is that insanely cheerful? There are a million things to focus on, and you're there pondering over matching shades of pink and which bag to wear for the day.

He tries to keep his distance, but you're so inviting and warm that he just melts and falls head over heels in love.

Cassian also falls in love with how much you care for yourself and how adorable you look every single day.

You notice how you’re always seeing him always in plain, simple athleisure or leather. So, you take matters into your own hands and whisk him away for a shopping spree, upgrading his entire wardrobe. Despite his potential, he's been stuck in a rut of black, plain, and boring clothes, and you're determined to change that.

After just a few weeks of being together, this guy has a full-on skincare routine, knows how to coordinate outfits flawlessly so he looks very put together and handsome

He has even mastered the art of silky-smooth hair thanks to you. You've truly leveled him up in every way.

Everyone can't help but notice how much more refreshed and attractive Cassian looks, and it's making you second-guess your decision to help him level up because now, people are hitting on him even more.

Azriel

Scary bf x shy gf

Top tier combo again

No one really knows how such polar opposites ended up together, but suppose they do say opposites attract.

Azriel is stoic around everyone who isn’t the direct inner circle. He lets loose around his found family but even more so around you

Really, he is super comfortable and funny when you’re alone

Azriel notices how soft spoken and kind hearted you are very early on

He is very attentive and your style is actually first thing he notices

The frilly skirts, cute tops, styled hair, cutesy nails and an aura that screamed femininity

He considers his daggers as accessories while you wear cute headbands and ribbons in your hair

Azriel’s fav activity is watching you get ready for anything, whether it be for bed, an event, in the mornings or date nights

He just adores watching your moves, how much effort you put in, the different techniques you use and how you pamper yourself

Pride fills him when he sees how relaxed and put together you feel and look. There is nothing he likes more than seeing you happy with yourself

I also believe az can be traditional and likes the dynamic of having a girly girl mate, or you being all feminine and sweet while he is more masculine and protective

Bro let’s actually talk about protection

No one, I mean absolutely no one, insults you and gets away with it. No matter how snarky the comment, Azriel deals with it.

You’re not as confrontational as him and often hide behind his wings and that makes him even more protective if possible

You always calm him down when someone says something, and he listens to you. If you don't want him to deal with it then and there, he won't ever confront someone in front of you.

Azriel just handles it later, putting fear into people for even daring to approach you.

He wouldn’t do anything remotely scary or frightening in fromt of you. Azriel keeps his work and personal life separate, especially from you

Az couldn’t dream of accidentally putting you in danger, so he never, EVER drags you into his work

You’re not stupid, you know the toll his work takes on him so you are there for him without being too involved, you know how to cheer him up from whatever he is doing behind closed doors

Eris

Arrogant bf x dark feminine gf

Power couple through and through

Eris is canonically extremely well dressed and that makes this dynamic so special

Eris adores splurging on his seamstresses to create matching outfits for both of you.

Best dressed couple in Prythian, hands down

You two are fashion icons, inspiring countless people. People look up to you as their inspiration. Established luxury brands pay you handsomely to flaunt their designs at balls, where all eyes are on you.

Speaking of matching, y’all have matching smirks and cunning mind, and since you’re mates, you have a way of communicating and plotting without anyone knowing

Before, while B*ron🤢 was alive, Eris was ridiculed for having soft hands, clean nails, and good hygiene, which always disgusted him. Why was being clean looked down upon? It disgusted him, knowing that people purposely rather be dirty than clean

Everything got better when you came around and his father passed away. Finally, he had someone who didn't judge him, someone who actually encouraged him to look his best.

You often sit in his lap, plucking his eyebrows as he wears a face mask, his hair pushed back by a cute alien headband.

You often also get manicures, and at first, Eris was like, "This is where I draw the line." But when you suggested just a clear coat and cleaning the nails, he went along with it.

No one knows though. That's the only compromise; I mean, he's still the High Lord, and people can't know he gets manicures. He'd be ridiculed for some stupid macho reason.

Anyways, when it comes to protecting you, no one does it better than him. Not only will he destroy the person with his words but he will blackmail and psychologically torture them. It might seem mean but that’s the price of people not properly respecting their High Lady

Lucien

calm bf x hyper and outspoken gf

you are an absolute sweetheart, there is no one that hates you in the slightest.

In this scenario, I think you're known for rescuing stray animals. It's not like collecting Pokémon cards; instead, you're the person who steps up when there's a stray kitten in need of care.

You definitely live in a cute cottage in the woods with him, not worrying about anything with him there

Your house is an explosion of adorable decor, with pink accents everywhere you look. It's filled with super cute and girly decorations in every corner.

When you start dating Lucien, he notices how hyper you are and how you juggle multiple tasks at once.

Lucien is like your calming anchor, keeping your energy balanced and the vibes serene.

One of your biggest hyperfixations is clothes. Whether it's dresses, coats, pants, shoes, fabrics, or makeup, anything feminine is right up your alley.

And Lucien makes sure you don't overexert yourself, always looking out for your well-being.

Since you're so hyper, you're sometimes loud in certain moments. It really hurts when people tell you to shut up and calm down.

lucien doesn’t let it slide tho

This man defends you however he deems necessary, whether it's with his words or hands.

Just know, he always has your back, no matter what.

No one is suffocating your light and energy if he has anything to do with it.

[yoonia]

— Dia’s tumblr wrapped 2024 

I know it’s super late for me to share this, but just as many would say, it’s better late than never. Thank you so much for the lovely people who tagged me to do this: @beomcoups, @shadowkoo, @kingofbodyrolls ♡

2024 started off smoothly…until it didn’t. The final quarter of the year has always been a hard time for me and it wasn’t that much different this year. As you can probably notice that I’ve been mostly absent ever since the end of October and I deeply apologise for that. I also regret not planning things properly and for not keeping up with my goals this year but that only means that I'll be dragging my WIP list towards the next year.

Thank you so much for everyone who has been there for me this year, and those of you who have stuck by me despite my inconsistencies. I really appreciate your presence on my blog, whether it’s through your likes and kudos, your reblogs, your comments and replies on my contents, and the kind words you sent me through my ask box. You guys have made it worthwhile for me to be here even after all these years, and I don’t think I can thank you enough for that. Here’s to mark the end of our wild journey through 2024 and enter the new year of 2025. 

OVERALL FIC STATS 2024

Number of fics posted: 4 (four) one-shots, 2 (two) ongoing series, 3 (three) ficlets

Number of fics revamped: 2 (two) completed fics, 2 (two) ongoing series

Number of words written: 448,057 words (dang, no wonder I felt so burned out lol)

Number of fics in progress: 32 (oh, boy…) 

FIRST FIC OF 2024

❥ A Christmas Fix 01 & 02 —  posted Jan 31st & Feb 1st | 1,926 & 1,226 notes

My thoughts: This was…quite a journey. It’s been a while since I wrote a rom-com story and I was pleased to have been given the chance to write this idea through a collab. The final outcome wasn’t too disappointing either, since I enjoyed writing it and reading it afterwards. I’m glad everyone loved this story as well.

MOST POPULAR FIC OF 2024

❥ The Stand-In (Revamped version) — posted Aug 13th | 4,267 notes

My thoughts: Okay, yeah…I cheated a little. But to be fair, this fic did get a lot of notes this year before and after the revamping process. I loved this story so much that I felt like it deserved a major makeover and I’m glad I managed to do it this year.

LONGEST FIC OF 2024

❥ The Bedroom Hymns — series, ongoing, last updated Sept 9th | 50k++ words | I’m too lazy to open each chapter to count the notes I’m so sorry lol

My thoughts: I know…I know, I need to update this one again. I had to take a break from this series because this fic literally became my main focus this year that a lot of my WIPs kept getting pushed back just so I could finish more of this. I had to stop at some point to finally set free my WIPs. I have to admit that I also lost my motivation to write this due to the lack of notes and responses that I got with each update no matter how much time I spent working on it (tacky, I know…but it is what it is). I still love and enjoy writing this, so more chapters are coming. I can see this fic becoming my main focus again in 2025 until I’m done with it.

LAST FIC OF 2024

❥ The Forsaken II: Tears of the Sea — posted Oct 24th | 712 notes

My thoughts: Holy hell…this fic. Who would’ve thought that I’d be revisiting siren!Taehyung this year after…3 years?? Thank you, whoever it was that sent this during my birthday event. I never expected to write a full fic for this to continue the original story and to answer a lot of your questions, but I’m glad I did! 

Honorable mention: 

❥ Our Imperfections — posted Oct 30th | 92 notes

My thoughts: This was the last thing I actually released before I dipped into the void but I couldn’t count this as a fic as this was considered a ficlet or, in a more common term, a drabble.

PERSONAL FAVOURITE FIC OF 2024

❥ Blooming Wallflowers — posted Sept 25th | 927 notes

My thoughts: I had one of those rare moments where I found myself enjoying the writing process of a story so much that things simply kept flowing until it became a full story. This one went twice the size planned (and commissioned) but I have no regrets. At all.

Honorable mention: 

❥ Maps (revamped version) — series, completed, posted Sept 6th, 7th, & 11th | 1,4k++ notes (again, I’m too lazy to open each chapter lol)

My thoughts: I initially planned to release something else for DPR Ian’s birthday this year. But then I started revamping the graphics for his old fics instead and decided to revamp the whole series while I had the chance. This one has always been my fave work that I wrote for Christian, so diving back into this to do a makeover and give it a major upgrade felt absolutely fulfilling. 

2024 SPECIAL EVENT

❥ 𝖙𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙 𝖋𝖆𝖑𝖑 𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖆𝖉𝖊: yoonia’s 2024 birthday bash

My thoughts: Once again, I can’t thank you guys enough for joining this small event of mine. I promise that I’ll have another event in 2025 so please stay tuned! (see you in March!) 

Fave reads of 2024

I have to admit that I haven’t been doing a lot of fic reading this year. But I’m happy that I got to dive back into reading some fanfics during my birthday event and found some lovely gems that I truly enjoyed

The Taste of Sin by @shadowkoo

Vignette: Duty by @cybrsan

The Athlete by @beomcoups

A Lover's Redemption by @writtenwhalien

Dandelion by @shina913

The Wood by @sailoryooons

Minted by @kithtaehyung

Mr. & Mrs. Yoon by @monamipencil

On The Ropes by @raplinesmoon

Top Ten Tracks of 2024

Loved — B.I

People — Agust D

Make You Mine — Black Violet

Gemini — Cheyenne 

Close To Me — Mamie, Eloy, Trippy Bass

HUH?! — Agust D feat. J-hope

Love — Lana Del Rey 

Reasons — COTIS 

Watch Me Burn — Michelle Morrone 

Die First — Nessa Barrett  

GOALS FOR 2025

Write more. Tackle more WIPs each month. 

Finally finish my old abandoned WIPs (About Time, Blood Moon Rising and the Shifters Series, Chance Encounter) 

Finish writing and officially release my original stories/novel as a web-series

Try to do better with planning and scheduling and keeping up with them

Finish revamping Carousel and release the novel version on Ream

Read more. Both published books and released fics

Focus more on my personal health, mental and physical 

Start job hunting again

I know I’m late for this, so I’m passing this over to the writers who are tagged on the list above (if you haven’t done this yet) and also tagging a few who come across my mind right now (only if you want to!): @ressjeon @lo1k-diamonds @pars-ley @minisugakoobies @inkedtae

And also tagging randomly anyone who feels inspired to create their own tumblr wrapped! 

[revehae]

two days ago, this blog turned two years old. well, that’s if you ignore the fact that i accidentally deleted my blogs this january. in spite of that, so many of you are still here with me and have been supportive even when i was quite literally losing my marbles. you guys have been patient through my periods of inactivity and reread my fics with the same amount of appreciation for them as you had the first read - if not more. and for that, i say thank you.

but i’m also saying goodbye.

just kidding! i was being serious for too long and so i felt the need to potentially strike some fear into someone’s heart for fun. anywho, no, i’m not actually leaving. not yet, anyway. there is so much more i want to do with this blog and so many ideas i want to share that will most likely carry on to the following year. so yeah, you guys are still stuck with me.

am i taking the two-year anniversary of a mostly k-pop tumblr blog teeming with dark, degenerate fantasies that ought to get me stoned by stubby, hairy ogres way too seriously? perhaps. but i’ll never forget what this blog means to me. i’m in a place now where my trauma is no longer something i feel suffocated by or bound to, but when i created this blog, i admit that there were still large parts of me that felt like i was “broken.” this was only possible because i found safe places where i could acknowledge it without fear of being judged, blamed, or attacked.

i realize not everyone has those places. one of the greatest delights i have is being able to own a blog where people with similar experiences as me are able to confront their pain in a way that makes them feel safe, comfortable, and most importantly, in control.

i went through periods of time where i wouldn’t even leave my room because i was so terrified of being subjected to the same nightmare again. i couldn’t go out in public, because when i did, i was constantly worried that someone was out to give me. this affected my relationships with my friends, family, myself, sex, the world - everything. it is a hell i wouldn’t even wish on Trumpington McDonaldton. or would i? just kidding. not really, considering his track record. but, back to the point, i know what it’s like to live in the dark. i know how unfair it is that someone can swoop in, ruin your life, and never, ever face consequences. meanwhile, you are staring at the consequences of what someone else did every single day. i know what it’s like to blame yourself. i know what it’s like to wish that things were different.

but i also know that as unfair as it is, as painful as it is, and as hard as it may be to accept, no one is going to single-handedly fix you. you have to be your own healer. you have to put the work in to build yourself back up and bounce back stronger than ever. i know firsthand how intimidating that can be, however, in my experience, the first step was not hiding from what i’d gone through. in a way that i originally never thought would be possible, writing and reading noncon fics was one of the most helpful ways of doing that. everything about this blog has been extremely cathartic for me. and the best part about it is that many of you have told me it’s cathartic for you as well, which fills me with a glee words cannot describe.

now, of course, my blog is not limited to Traumatized Individuals who had their brains rewired in the worst way possible via some negative experience - although i doubt you’re not still somehow traumatized if you religiously read my content. if you aren’t a victim of SA, you aren’t going to be crucified for reading noncon. it’s okay. don’t worry. but still, i will always support and stand up for those that are, even if they don’t cope in the same way as me. because not reading is also okay. there are so many different ways to cope with SA; i’m just happy to provide one of them to those that seek it out.

again, thank you all! thank you to those that have been here since the beginning. thank you to those that followed me this week. thank you to those who leave nice messages in my inbox, and reblog, and leave comments. thank you to my dearest sweet mutuals. thank you to those who followed me here from lisired and didn’t unfollow me when you realized i’m a little bit insane. thank you to those that read my fics over and over and never get bored! let’s heal together everyone. but let’s also be depraved and Scare The Hoes. and if you read all of this, i love you and i hope you get everything you ever wanted in life.

- with all of the love in the world, revehae!

[loquarocoeur]

question as charles says in chapter 2 of yours "h but they’re constantly fucking, I swear. In his bedroom in our mother’s house, can you believe it? We share a wall. He knows that.”

and if i remember correctly they ( as in charles and max) do eventully fuck in charles mother house

Will there a: ever be a fic of that?? and b: do these guys like the chancec of being caugth? have they ever been caught by someone? like family? and what were their reaction?? did it turn one of them on that someone (Max) cant keep his mouth shut due to charles and his dick? SOrry for all the ask i am just in love with your writing and i am trying to find fics that are as good as yours(hahah lol) are when it comes to both the balance of smut and fluff and lestappen in general❤️❤️❤️❤️

Mm idk if there will be a fic..

But I think they definitely have a thing for that someone might catch them, but as for actually being caught? Ummm no...

Like I think that time they did end up doing it in Charles' mom's just started out as them both genuinely thinking it'll be fine and they won't be that loud and then Max just cannot shut up, and I mean for Charles it's hard, but he can keep quiet, but Max is just not managing to and Charles keeps teasing him about how if he can't keep quiet, someone might come to check who's dying and catch them (they wouldn't, the door is locked)

But then Max like seriously cannot keep quiet to the point that Charles actually needs to put a hand over his mouth and it's still noisy, but he keeps teasing Max about it and Max keeps being turned on about it and yes Charles absolutely loves how much Max cannot shut up, it's very good for his ego so they just kind of keep going

And then Arthur is banging very pointedly on that wall that they share

And Max absolutely murders Charles.

Arthur obviously tells everyone immediately and I think Charles thought that he doesn't really care what other people think about his sex life, but I do think he is a little weirded out by his mother knowing they had sex in her house and if it's anyone else he gets a bit possessive thinking of them thinking about Max getting fucked (which they literally never are, they think Max is the top and Charles just never corrects them)

Meanwhile Max is actually just dying the whole time avoiding any conversation about it whatsoever (contemplating strangling charles)

But I definitely think they have been caught once or twice in each other's driver rooms or by housekeeping on holiday and such or just by Daniel coming in with his spare keys unannounced shortly after Charles moves in, which never happens again because there is lots of screeching and pillow throwing involved.

But just to clarify, I honestly don't think Max is embarrassed to be caught like not being the top or anything, I think he's just very private about actual sex just over all even though he makes a lot of jokes around the topic, just never about his actual sex life which is between him, Charles, and his google search history (and maybe a doctor when charles inevitably gets his dick stuck in plaster trying to make a diy silicone replica of his dick)

(and maybe Max is also just a little possessive of who gets to see Charles naked and hot and sweaty with his hair messy from Max's fingers because that's his Charles)

But honestly I think whenever somebody is to blame for them being caught, it is in fact Charles' fault, every single time, and he apologises profusely in between Max smacking him on the head with a pillow and plies him with kinder chocolates and kebabs, offers to lose at any video game Max chooses, tickets to football games etc.

And don't be sorry!!🥰❤️❤️ Thank you so much🥹❤️

[claraxbarton]

2024 (hrpf writing) in Review

So, looking back on 2024 and the things I wrote, I just wanted to take a moment to be kind to myself I guess and shout-out my 10 favorite fics I wrote this last year.

The list also has a few of my thoughts about the fics, just because like, I want to.

All below the cut - but first! Thank you so so so SO much to everyone who took the time to leave a comment on any of my fics. I can't say enough how much it means to know folx are out there reading and thinking and feeling about my words.

In no particular order, my favorite 10 fics I either started or finished in 2024:

Gold Rush MattDrai, E, 47k. The fic where Leon is very grumpy and very bitchy and very dumb, and also outed against his will and also against his will falls for Matthew Tkachuk. This took more research than I anticipated, because for some reason I am SO fixated on trying to make my fake things fit into canonical timelines. I think I did a good job developing Leon's voice - both in dialogue and internally. It's so difficult for me to write text message things and yet this fic is SO MUCH OF THAT. I think one of my all time favorite comments was on this fic, someone saying that they actually confused my Leon-press dialogue with real Leon-press and that... made me so happy.

Playing Favorites LarsDunn, E, 15k. Adam has a favorite camboy and then that camboy turns out to be a real person who gets a real job with the Kraken. (oh wow, this fic is like the NY Rangers worst nightmare, eh??) Anyway. Probably my first longer hrpf fic??? Technically started in December of 23, I feel so bad that it took 8 months to finish. Thanks everyone who stuck with that one. This fic let me indulge in my favorite thing - previous Adam/Leon, which will always be so so so close to my heart. I think this fic, like most Kraken centric fic (and like not even mine, how many of us get all heart eyes when we think about her?, was written because of the amazing support of @dwisp.

Each Night MattPoMo, E, 3k. Technically I'm listed the entire series, currently at 3 parts and currently the third is still a WIP. Matthew as a sex worker, Paul still comes to Florida to coach the Panthers. I'm enjoying getting to have Paul work through human feelings, Matthew being a brat, and, of course, all the miscommunication. Seriously am I capable of writing a fic that DOESN'T involve miscommunication? Unlikely.

As It Began WyJoMiro (and WyJoRoope in the series and of course WyJoMiroRoope), 4, 2.5k. Okay, of the 4 fics I'm listing, three involve sexwork. Huh. Moving along. Miro mistakes/assumes Wyatt is a sex worker and that, of course, leads to a four year relationship between Wyatt and Miro and Roope (yes again this is really listing the series and not just the one fic). Really enjoyed getting to write the different POVs with each installation, exploring how all three of these freaks evolve and, oh wow, MORE miscommunication??? In MY fic??

Say Yes (To Heaven)NateJo, E, 55k+ - the first WIP to make the list (which, for those of you wondering, WILL get updated this next week). Okay it's been five months of writing this one, a biological BDSM inspired by the amazing and foundational works of @angry-geno-is-score and @droumack. There's just something about Jo and Nate that is SO compelling, no matter the setting, but like, getting to play in this kind of world setting is fun and painful. I think the things I've enjoyed the most are bringing in outside perspectives - like Sid, and even Nate to an extent, and just trying to unwrap all of the mess.

Heavy Focus McMattDrai, M, 2.7k. Space-opera with space brats Matthew and Brady. This was silly and fun and like, I won't say it's the BEST thing I wrote in 2024, but it WAS one of the fics I had the most fun writing. And I know I skew angst like, maybe TOO hard, but, sometimes it IS fun to write the fun things.

Soft Rock WyJoRoope, RoopeMiro, E, 5.6k. Speaking of fun4fun. This WAS just silly. I'm so lucky that @coffeehound91 lets me shout about things, and we'd been shouting about a LuckyNumberSlevin WyJo thing and she had the great line about WyJo killing Bettman with a butterknife and well, it just unspooled into this fic. And like, let's be real, ALL of my fics that feature Wyatt, Roope and Miro in any combination are entirely the fault of CH and like, I am SO so grateful.

French Exit MattOthers, T, 5k. Another bio-BDSM fic. Another series. I just really love to write BratKing Matthew who is actually a total pushover and this series was really fun to write, because who doesn't want to write feral Panthers things and Matthew finding peace and success there lol.

Deep End NateJo, E, 3k. An a/b/o fic and it is... I still maintain, really, really filthy. I don't think I've ever written something that makes me yikes myself as much as this one does, so it's not a favorite for like, reasons that make sense. But still, this was a sharp turn for my usual and I did it. So. Good job me?

Greatest Hits LarsDunn, LarsLeon, DunnLeon, E, 1.7k. Okay, actually, why have I not further explored these three? I know I wrote several fics when them when I first started in hrpf at the end of '23, but I have move away from them and I just really think THIS fic was so much fun and the dynamics to explore between these three are... a lot.

OKAY that's my 10 favorite fics I wrote for 2024. Again, comments and the kudos and bookmarks mean so much. AND the asks!! Thanks to everyone who sends in asks -UTD anon and others, looking at you <3.

For 2025 I want to finish up the current 14?15? WIPs I've got going, and of course along the way write a lot more.

<3

(seems wild to solicit feedback but like, if you have opinions on my 2024 work I certainly won't NOT want to hear them. Or read them.)

[sobx9]

My five favourites Jiara fan fiction stories (because why not)

I would like to give the biggest kudos to fan fiction writers, especially in the Jiara fandom. Seriously, some of the works in this fandom are sooo good and we, fans, really appreciate you! Especially now, when the ship has basically ended in the show, it’s comforting to go back and read works where Jiara is happy/has a happy ending.

I envy you for being able to write that well. I have so many ideas, story lines, even dialogues for JJ and Kiara in my head but I am really struggling to write it all down. I am trying to write my first fic right now but it’s not going well at all.

Here’s my top five:

around the world - RaeOfFrickingSunshine - @rae-of-fricking-sunshine

This one is a no brainer in my head. I read so it many times. The way it portrays them falling in love over the course of their “surf” trip, there’s something so real in this about how falling in love with your best friend can look like. I also love the other topics, JJ’s strained relationship with his father, Kiara’s issue with food and body image, the bond between the Pogues. Honestly a master piece that I could talk about for hours. Only issue? There’s not more of it. Yes, there’s a part 2 which is as good as the first one, but I would honestly die to have the first part told by JJ’s perspective with more scenes from their trip.

This “rant” from Kiara is still stuck in my head, because it’s so heartbreaking and true.

“You don’t know why I’m mad? I’m mad because Pope gets concerned when I walk alone at night in Berlin – one of the safest cities in the world. I’m mad because some guy feels entitled to my body when all I’ve done is dance with him. I’m mad because whenever I say I’ve got male best friends everyone assumes I’ve fucked you all. I’m mad because everyone says be careful and oh are you wearing that out as if it’s going to be my fault that something happens to me, even if it’s someone else doing that thing. I’m mad because me changing what I wear doesn’t stop that bad thing happening, it just makes it happen to someone else. I’m mad because I’m thinking what if I did do something, did I ask for it.”

baby i'm not even in a gown (the way you want me make me want you now) - RoseofWinterfell - @whitetrashjj

Honestly, I had a hard time picking out my favourite work from this author, they are all pure gold. But at the end I decided to go with this one. It’s shorter, light hearted, smutty and so much fun. This author writes the characters so well in all of their pieces, better than the show itself in my opinion.

Firsts- piglemousse - @piglemousse

Another great one and with much better story line for them after season 3 than what we actually got. I am a sucker for stories with them travelling the world.

the benefits of being under the influence(r) - noos - @kiekiecarrera

AU one, but JJ and Kiara are so in character in this. It has the enemies to friends with benefits to lovers trope which is always fun and is just beautifully written.

Enemies with Benefits and Beach Houses - Lis4 - @lis4ux

Another enemies to lovers one that’s currently being written. Big kudos to the author for keeping up with it during the season 4 fiasco. It’s something I look forwards to reading every weekend.

There’s so many more out there and it was very hard to pick only five. Thank you again to you authors for creating beautiful works to read!

If anyone wants to share their favourites, please do not hesitate. Or come scream at me about Jiara and OBX (well maybe not scream, I am a sensitive one)

[minty-mumbles]

Linked Universe Survey 2023

The long awaited results of the survey. Sorry it took me forever, making graphs is hard.

There were 452 responses to the survey as a whole, which is almost double what we got last year, so thank you to everyone who participated!

If you want to see the raw data, you can find that here. I had thoughts about the data, but compiling that into another post would be too much of a hassle. Feel free to send me asks about it though!

The rest of the post will be under a read more as it it large

Demographics

Other: Demigirl (4), Transmasc (3), Grey genderfluid, Unlabeled, Demiboy, Demiagender

Other: Omnisexual (4), Poly (2), Trixic, Abroromantic or Bellusromantic, Demisexual

General Questions

Other: Quotev, Discord, their own google docs

Other: Discord, Variations of "I haven't posted yet, but I pan to" and "I haven't posted my fics in ages",

Other: Wattpad, Deviantart, Discord

Other: Crochet dolls, Custom dolls, Roleplay blogs (2), Fan translations, Headcanons (2), Piano music

The purple section in the “Warriors vs Warrior” chart is supposed to read “Warrior.” I made a typo.

Favorites and Least Favorites

Selected Free Response Answers

im sorry warriors i just can't play your game (it is very very hard. i am stuck very early on in the game)

I love cats meow meow meow

was extremely tempted to put twilight for least favorite. unfortunately he is my favorite to write from the perspective of (he has taken over most of my wips. help) and that probably counts for something. WILD on the other hand. hooo boy how the hell do i characterize this gargoyle. why is he Like That. least favorite it is

Twiddy

very good fandom to be in :) everybody is very nice

It's a straight up crime that Wars lost the aesthetics poll so quickly. He has such a peak Link design with the best colors. Ugh I'm getting wistful.

FROGS. FROGS. FROGS. ALSO HAPPY PRIDE MONTH. FROGS. FROGS. FROGS. FROGS. FROGS.

I will fight Hylia herself and the next person who implies Twi can't handle spice. If we're going to lean into him being southern/Midwestern, which is an alright stero type for our rancher, please keep in mind the culture you're basing him off. The south and midwest can handle their spice, I assure you. Have you ever had authentic Louisiana gumbo? It will melt you tongue off. Or some good old fashion spicy fried chicken? I promise the real stuff has quite a kick. (In all seriousness, though. It's more important that you're having fun. And even I can admit the idea of Twi being an Ordonian who can't handle his spice is more than a little funny.)

I am an OoT Link edgelord and have been since early 2017. So, in September of that year, when an artist by the name of jojo56830 puts out a lineup of nine different Links and the Hero of Time is there – the oldest, no eye, Hero’s Shade armor? I saw that one sketch and just thought “oh this is gonna be bad.” Yeah of course he has the coolest design. By the way, it’s only a matter of time until Fierce Deity shows up in the comic and I have reason to believe it could be this current Dawn arc. Dawn … Dawn of a New Day … and who brought about the Dawn of a New Day? Fierce Deity. Twilight is recovering but still injured and what will happen if he falls again? Fierce Deity is coming and we need to be prepared. In this essay I will—

Remember that time when someone put the whole script of the bee movie in here? I’m not that dedicated, and I don’t have that time, but let us remember and hope someone else does it again this time. Cause someone is bound too. We’re all crazy enough to do it. Alright, love you and stay hydrated pls!

Hi! I joined this fandom really recent but i’ve always seen LU stuff on pinterest and elsewhere. Only recently have i actually took the time to understand the fandom and get back into LOZ stuff and i adore the characters and story! The more and more fanart, fanfics, and comics i see about the different Links the more i love them all. It’s such a pain to pick just one i like or one i don’t like because they’re all so unique. I love this fandom and hope to get more involved!! Have a wonderful rest of your day :]

Epona is an underrated queen

your mom

I really don't get why Zelda is called Artemis. Athena makes more sense???? It perplexes me

Anyone seeing this should check out Breanna’s E!Wild AU

Something something queer every Link into oblivion!

[genshinluvr]

Been reading your fanfics for 2-3 years and I gotta say, this has always been one of my favorites that I've read.

Every Sunday I wonder "When will Genshinluvr come back?" yet I never ask you personally since you deserve to have your own life and decision.

All I wanna say is, do what you love to do🫶 Just remember that what you do doesn't have to impress everyone, but it's still someone we readers enjoy. I'm very glad you're back and hopefully having the breaks you deserve after graduation🎉

Omg I forgot that I usually post fics in the middle of the night on Sundays 😭 I'm glad to see that you still stuck around even though I haven't posted an actual fic in, what, a year? 🥹 I miss writing fanfics, but at the same time, all of those weekly updates have caught up to me and drained me completely— making it hard for me to be motivated to write something (even though I have multiple unfinished drafts in Google Docs). Also, as someone who has a degree in creative writing, all of the workshops I have taken have completely destroyed my confidence in my writing lol.

I think my plan for my isekai'd series is they're going to be long (like 5k words or more), and other non isekai'd fics are going to be either short or long depending on what kind of fic it is 🤔 I definitely want to publish the other Isekai'd/soulmate AU fanfic soon since it's the only thing I can think about. Again, thank you for your support and for sticking around despite my year-long hiatus 🥹🩷

[mirixmoya]

hello friends welcome to GRADING TORTURED POET SOCIETY SONGS BASED ON HOW EASILY I COULD TURN THEM INTO A HAYFFIE FIC (PART TWO) i hope u enjoy.

(you can find PART ONE here, for anyone interested!)

i. the black dog: 8/10. excellent directly-post-war hayffie song. captures a moment when they haven't quite re-connected yet, but they're both dying without eachother. "my longings stay unspoken, and i may never open up the way i did for you" "six weeks of breathing clean air, i still miss the smoke" is all very them. a really effective illustration of how the world feels like a different place in heartbreak, it's desolate and aching, which is all very very hayffie.

ii. imgonnagetyouback: 9/10. this song is bananas crazy, but so is effie. so it fits. it reeks of the turbulent, on-again-off-again, boundaryless, situationship parts of hayffie. once again, i think this could be a VERY good directly-post-war vibe. "i can tell when somebody still wants me" "you'll find that you were never not mine" "even if it's handcuffed, i'm leaving here with you" are all crazy thought processes which i can 100% imagine effie having.

iii. the albatross: 7/10. i know everyone is really stuck on this being a lucy gray / katniss / snow parallel song, but i see the hayffie vision! i think it would be a good song to juxtapose all of effie's relationships with capitol men against her relationship with haymitch. how is she made to behave by love? how does her fame + position loom over her relationships? effie is mythologized by the men in her life, almost made unreal by their perceptions of her, and it's haymitch who makes her real again. if any of that makes sense.

iv. chloe or sam or sophia or marcus: 8/10. EVERYONE HEAR ME OUT ON THIS ONE, but i have this vision of really angsty post-canon hayffie where they try to make a proper relationship work, they really do, but they just... can't. but there is an ache to this failure. a regret. they thought that they would always be able to come back to this, to eachother, but they discover that life is actually a series of closed doors. things change over time. they're forced to grieve this past version of their relationship that they simply don't have access to anymore. "you turned me into an idea of sorts, you needed me but you needed drugs (ALCOHOL) more" "could it be enough to just float in your orbit?" "if you want to break my cold, cold heart, say you loved me" ... yeah, the angst potential is endless.

v: how did it end?: 7/10. ONCE AGAIN, excellent bones for an angsty post-canon 'well, it didn't work out' hayffie vibe. good general thg imagery with "lost the game of chance, what are the chances?" + "the empathetic hunger descends" etc etc. "we were blind to unforeseen circumstances" very very them.

vi: so high school: 5/10. i feel like i could twist it to be hayffie if i tried really hard. like maybe a post-canon movie-verse traumaless fluff vibe where everything just falls into place. "no one's ever had me, not like you" is a very good line for hayffie tho.

vii: i hate it here: 8/10. excellent potential for a pre-canon / during-canon hayffie where effie uses their relationship as her refuge from the rest of the world, it's the only place she can truly be herself. the precocious child stuff, the debutant stuff, "i'm lonely but i'm good, i'm bitter but i swear i'm fine", all feels veryyy effie. this song would also be a good framework for effie being incapable of articulating her relationship with haymitch to other people, the magic of it is lost on them, it comes out clunky and awkward. but SHE knows it's real.

viii: thanK you aIMee: 2/10. not a hayffie song. but i feel like i could make it about effie & The Other Escorts if i really tried.

ix: i look in people's windows: 6/10. listen, this album is just an post-canon hayffie gold mine. "i had died the tiniest death" (the war) "i'm afflicted by the not knowing" (her relationship with haymitch) "what if your eyes looked up and met mine, one more time" (they can try again, can't they?). the anxious, almost neurotic ruminating is very effie to me.

x. the prophecy: 10/10. THE HAYFFIE SONG! if you saw the twitter edit before it got taken down, you KNOW. "don't want money, just someone who wants my company" "i'm so afraid i've sealed by fate" ... devastating. i think the illusions to prophecy & fate & this lack of control all play into her role in The Games really well. the idea that she's being punished for her sins by this lack of love. so much of effie is controlled and precise, i think the fact that this one thing (her relationship with haymitch) is sooo out of her control would drive her insane. perhaps insane enough to beg on her knees...

xi. cassandra: 4/10. not really hayffie focused, but good potential for one of my more politically focused fics. maybe the year of the 75th, leading right up to the rebellion. cinna & portia strike me as very cassandra-coded.

xii. peter: 1/10. not hayffie. maybe seneca & effie relationship study, but def not hayffie.

xiii. the bolter: 10/10. PERFECT EFFIE SONG! NO NOTES! SHE IS THE BOLTER! a precocious child with a "quite bewitching face" who is "splendidly selfish, charmingly helpless"??? welcome back effie trinket! the chorus is very hayffie to me. i'm thinking pre-canon early affair vibes. we get all the fun contrast between her relationship with haymitch and her relationship with the capitol "trophy hunters". the bridge could not be more effie if it tried, "hearts are hers for the breaking, there's an escape in escaping". she falls through the ice (the war) but don't worry folks, she comes out alive!

xiv. robin: 0/10. i genuinely have no idea what i could do with this song. sorry.

xv. the manuscript: 3/10. potential for post-canon living-happily-ever-after hayffie but with effie reflecting on her past relationships with capitol men. there's lots of illusions to grooming and the imprint that age-gap relationships leave behind that i think could really work.

[ikilledyvette]

Definitely not distracting myself from Election Day anxiety! Despite the first sentence of this fic, this is a standalone for now. I've got a whole multi-chap story in my head, but IDK when or if I'm gonna get to it. If you'd like to be tagged on the off-chance I do write more, just let me know!

Eddie is the first one to get stuck in a time loop and predictably takes the longest to accept that, no, he doesn’t have a brain tumor, and no, he isn’t going crazy, and yes, this is really happening to him. Once Eddie finally acknowledges this, he becomes convinced that fixing things with Christopher will break the cycle. It doesn’t. 

Eddie, well. He maybe has a very small emotional breakdown then because he’s long since lost track of how long he’s been trapped here, and finally, finally he managed to get his son back; finally, he was actually happy, and then—

It’s Tuesday again, and Chris is gone, and Eddie is all alone.

So yeah, maybe Eddie has a very minor breakdown where he just sorta ... lies down on the station floor and listlessly tells everyone there’s no point in getting up, no point in doing anything; he’s just going to stay here until it isn’t Tuesday anymore, which won’t actually happen because it’s always Tuesday; it’ll never stop being Tuesday, and is it possible he died, and this is literal Hell? This really feels like it might be literal Hell. At which point, Chimney and Hen lift him up on a gurney and drive him to the hospital, and Eddie is admitted overnight and then wakes up the next day in his own bed, alone again. It’s Tuesday.

Well. No point wasting more time feeling sorry for himself. That’s not how Eddie was raised, so he gets back to work on breaking the loop, this time (reluctantly) telling people in order to get their advice. He tells Buck first (because he always goes to Buck first), and Buck believes him because, well. He’s Buck. (Maybe YOU’RE in a coma dream this time, Buck inevitably says each and every time they have this conversation.) Eddie also goes to Chimney (because he must have some idea right, all those movies), and Chimney pretends not to believe Eddie but obviously does; at least, he does once Eddie predicts the next six things that happen. (Thus begins the 118 Time Loop Movie Nights. Eddie’s pretty sure he’s now seen every single time loop movie and television episode that was ever made. His favorite is Edge of Tomorrow.) And Eddie inevitably goes to Bobby, too (because Cap always gives good advice, even if Eddie can’t always follow it), and Bobby clearly doesn’t quite believe him, but humors Eddie anyway. (Also, if Eddie asks early enough, he can get Bobby to change the menu. Eddie is so sick of pancakes. Eddie will never eat a pancake again.)

He never bothers trying to convince Tommy or Hen about the time loop because Tommy only goes along with weird shit when Buck is involved (Eddie gave Tommy so much shit for dressing up for that mummy funeral), and it’s just too hard to imagine Hen “this time he only got stabbed” Wilson humoring anyone. Honestly, Eddie respects her for that.

He goes back to church. (It doesn’t help.) He screams at his parents. (It doesn’t help—not with the time loop, anyway, but on a spiritual level, it’s pretty great.) He shaves off his mustache, not because he thinks it’ll work, but because Buck, Chimney, and Bobby each independently suggest that it might. (It doesn’t, and Eddie scowls for the remainder of the day because everyone at the station keeps coming up to him and saying things like, “Finally came to your senses, huh, Diaz?” or “oh, thank God,” or “YES! Pay up, bitches, I WON!”)

Eddie stumbles into the actual solution entirely by accident. Three days after the Mustache Solution fails—and maybe, maybe in the middle of a second emotional breakdown—Eddie, refusing to get up out of bed, calls 911, and says, “Well, turns out I’m still stuck in this time loop. Any advice?”

Maddie takes the call, and while she clearly thinks Eddie is either having some kind of psychological meltdown (possibly true) or has a terrible head injury (not true, unfortunately), she’s also ... nice, offering good-natured commiseration about the time loop in between more professional questions like “are you bleeding” or “is there anyone else around, Eddie?” She sounds worried but also calm, like this isn’t even in her Top 10 Weirdest 911 Calls, and for some reason, he finds that oddly soothing.

Eddie ends up in the hospital again, but the next day when everything resets, he asks Maddie to lunch, saying yeah, it’s kind of out of the blue, but isn’t it weird how little time they’ve actually spent together over the past seven years? Maddie agrees, and lunch goes great. They have a surprising amount in common: Buck, obviously, but also complicated relationships with their parents, and struggles with depression, and a history of leaving newborn children behind and lying to themselves that it’s for the best. So. Not all positive stuff, exactly, but it’s kinda good to have someone else to talk to about it. And they chat about lighter stuff, too. Maddie says she’ll try one of his telenovelas if he tries one of her k-dramas. He formally accepts with a handshake, and she laughs and says, “Deal.”

Eddie goes to bed that Tuesday, thinking I needed this break, and hopes to hang out with Maddie again someday if he ever returns to his own timeline. And then he wakes up, and it’s—Wednesday? And Eddie doesn’t know what the hell to do with that. 

He’s not ... could he ... could he be secretly in love with Maddie? 

Eddie barely gets through the thought before making a face and immediately shaking his head. No, Maddie’s pretty, and she's nice, and he can see why both Buck and Chimney adore her—but he doesn’t love her, and she definitely doesn’t love him, and getting tacos together doesn’t exactly feel like the kind of Important Life Lesson that all of Chimney’s movies taught him to expect. Eddie considers having a third mini breakdown about it, but it’s Wednesday now, so unfortunately, there will be actual consequences for that.

Instead, Eddie goes back to work and just ... continues on with his life. He doesn’t tell anyone about the time loop, obviously, because no one but Buck would believe him, and even if they did believe him, they’d just tease Eddie that his Important Life Lesson was to make a friend. (Eddie has friends! Ones outside the 118, even! He has Tommy! And ... and other people! Okay, Eddie used to have a lot more friends, but lately, he’s just ... he’s been so busy with work. He’s picking up all the overtime he can because otherwise he’s home alone in an empty house, looking at old pictures and collapsing in his son’s bed and crying where no one can see him—but it’s fine. He’s fine.)

Okay, maybe he hasn’t been fine. But other than Eddie’s new aversion to pancakes and a neurotic need to check the date roughly twenty times a day, he’s actually doing pretty great now. For one thing, he and Maddie keep getting lunches and swapping TV shows. (Chimney and Buck squint at them, suspicious of this newfound alliance.) And most importantly, Eddie hasn’t forgotten what he learned about finally reconnecting with his son. (The short version: honest communication and lots and lots of therapy.) Three weeks after the time loop ends, Christopher finally comes home on two conditions: Eddie keeps going to therapy and also finally shaves the mustache.

Eddie does both.

[alexanderlightweight]

Prompt for Wednesday, if it pleases 💜

I know you literally just posted marriage of inconvenience, so totally get it if you don’t wanna think about it anymore, but I am obsessed, fascinated, been thinking about it all day. I especially love that we got Magnus’s take on things, and also Jem taking one look at Alec and being like “lmao Magnus of course when you steal a Nephilim you pick top shelf”

The actual prompt—what is everyone else’s reaction!? Jace, bereft of a sucker to tie Clary to? Maryse, mother-in-law to Magnus Bane. The Clave, suddenly missing their scapegoat/fix it guy? How does the warlock community take Magnus suddenly being married/bonded after like four hours of conversation. Do the NY shadowhunters loyal to Alec (because we love a competent, well-loved and respected HOTI Alec) think Alec’s been enchanted or are they just happy he’s with anyone but Clary?

And, of course, any Malec post-fic vibes you have are always loved, valued, and appreciated.

i actually wrote half of it three years ago and the rest just recently when my health got better, so i'm not exhausted with it or anything, but thank you for checking that's incredibly sweet. i actually really love that verse and have filled a few other prompts for more of it so this was fun and I finally tackled a non malec pov for this fic. i hope you enjoy!

also please remember Jace is an unreliable narrator dealing with a lot of trauma and also self-denial. he thinks he's in love with his sister and he's really struggling with that. A LOT. he canonically doesn't think of alec's feeling and wellbeing until last or when alec's injuries pain jace (which he doesn't have in this verse). he's so caught up in clary and wanting clary that he can't even try to understand why alec would be upset with marrying her when it's all jace wants/ed.

--

Jace is pacing frantically through the Institute halls.  

Alec hasn’t been seen since he went out for a lone patrol and reported everything was fine and that he was marking some new streets that had been renamed.

That was fine.

Everyone knows that Alec is trying very desperately to spend as little time as possible in the Institute because of the impending wedding.

Which is just selfish to Jace.  

Alec gets to marry Jace’s sister. The girl Jace thought he could love, Clary. Who is absolutely amazing and perfect and Jace still wishes, sometimes though he never lingers on it. 

But Alec is acting like he’s being stabbed through the heart and tortured or even deruned.  Jace has never seen him so miserable in their entire life and he doesn’t get it.

He wishes, once again, that Alec hadn’t backed out of their parabatai bond. That Alec hadn’t made the excuse of, ‘we want different things and positions in life, Jace’.  Like it was that big of a deal that Jace had no intention of someday being a Head of Institute or Consul or Inquisitor or some higher position like Alec wanted. Jace would be happy to be a commander, but he also wasn’t fussed about when it happened. 

Sure things got a little boring, but commanders had more paperwork and weren’t sent out on as many missions. Jace wanted to wait before he stuck himself half-behind a desk like Alec was trying so hard to do.

So in that way, he had understood a little, that it would have been hard when Alec achieved his goals and went to Idris and Jace stayed at whatever Institute he was a part of. It had hurt though, the rejection and this hurts even more. They could finally be brothers, since they aren’t parabatai.  They could call each other brother and it would be recognized and if Jace can’t have Clary then the only person he would want to, is Alec. 

“Izzy!” He calls when he sees her.  She’s been hot and cold since the marriage was announced.  Acting like she’s both thrilled Clary is going to become family and also guilty, avoiding Alec who isn’t even talking to her. 

Which may be why she’s avoiding him. Izzy hates it more than any of them when Alec shuts them out.

“Jace.” And she’s not smiling, she hasn’t been smiling much unless Clary or that mundie pest of Clary’s is around. “Have you seen Alec?”

“No, I was just about to ask you. Any ideas? He should have been back by now, even if he did spend all night out alone to avoid everyone, it’s noon. He never stays out this late.”

Izzy looks as worried and miserable as Jace feels and he’s about to suggest they go talk to Hodge when a fire message appears out of the air and Izzy snatches it with whip-like reflexes. 

“It’s from Alec.” She sounds relieved but instead of a smile her face twists further into a frown.

“What is it, Iz?” Jace asks leaning close over her shoulder to peer at the note. It’s weird, Izzy still feels more like his sister than Clary and he wishes he could figure out how to have that kind of easy, sibling relationship with Clary.

He’s hoping it will be better after Alec marries her, he would never covet Alec’s wife. Couldn’t, it would be too big a betrayal of the bond they share and have nurtured since childhood. That Alec was and is the only one Jace would tie his soul to, because he wants Alec to be tied to him in return.

To always be Alec’s little brother, to be protected and cared for the way Alec has always done for Izzy and Max and Jace once he became as close a Lightwood as he could come.

“He’s not coming back until the day of the wedding, apparently he’s decided that he just needs a few days to himself.”

Jace wants to hit something, preferably Alec at the moment.

“So what, he’s just going to leave before the wedding? What is Clary supposed to think about this? Did he even think about how she’s going to feel?”

“I’m pretty sure you’re more upset than Clary will be,” Izzy says slowly, watching him carefully. “Are you okay?”

“No, I’m not okay! Alec is ruining this for everyone, why can’t he just stop for a minute?”

“Hey!” And Izzy sounds upset now and Jace hates it when she’s upset. It reminds him of her when she was eleven and crying because Jace wasn’t handling the transition of living with the Lightwood’s very well. Alec had told him that if he ever made Izzy cry again, Jace could forget Alec being his brother, because he wasn’t going to be a brother to someone who purposefully made their siblings cry. 

“Alec didn’t choose this. Remember! This was picked by everyone but him.” And Jace recognizes now what the guilt he’s seen on her is from. “If he needs a few days to wrap his head around not getting a choice, then he gets them. No tracking him, Jace. I’m serious.” And Izzy clips off, only her hands clenching and unclenching again and again betray her guilt and what Jace thinks might be shame.

He does feel a little bad, but not enough to be guilty. 

Anyone should be honored to marry Clary, Jace’s sister. Alec is just being stubborn because he and Clary butted heads when she showed up. Once Alec’s back and the wedding has happened, things will be fine. Better than fine, they’ll all be family.

[pagegirlintraining]

helloo

i have been re-reading your sex-shop au (it's really good) you co-wrote with sb else and i have been wondering. in the sequel when stuff gets more explicit, how is it to write that? do you plan intimate scenes a lot or more than other scenes. what is important? or are they more spontaneous? is it a big challenge to write them together with sb else and do you read each others parts to give feedback? what kind of feedback?

haha that's quite a few questions but i'm curious :)

hi there anon :)

First of all thank you, that’s so sweet and I’m glad it’s holding up on the re-read too 🫶🏼

Now as for your questions, I’ll try going through them one by one. Just a warning, this might get a bit long (when asked about writing, I’ll always have a hard time shutting up again 😅).

Also disclaimer, I’m obviously not some sort of expert on this topic. This will only be an answer based on my personal experience.

1) do I plan explicit scenes more than others? - Not usually. In fact, the only real planning I do for them in any of my other fics is whether they’re gonna happen and where in the plot. The specifics are being decided as I write.

Obviously, with sex shop it was a bit different because we needed a different toy/gimmick to be included in each chapter. We actually made a list of six things we wanted to include beforehand, then each claimed the ones we felt like writing ourselves (or in my case, handed off the one I didn’t feel like writing). Beyond that, though, it was write as I went again.

2)what’s important in an intimate scene? - Emotions. I could read the most detailed description of a sexual act and feel nothing if it doesn’t include how the characters feel. That starts with what they perceive, what they hear, see, smell, feel etc. (think moans and such, the light catching in someone’s hair/eyes/on their skin, do they smell freshly showered and like a comfy hug or are they still sweaty from a run, the temperature or strength of someone’s touch and so on and so forth) and moves on to how the things they perceive make them feel in this moment. Most of the time, that second part is in some way amplified or modified by the fact that they’re experiencing it with this specific person, which is my personal favorite part about intimate scenes.

I’m sure there’s also plenty of people who lean more toward description heavy stuff, which is more than fine. It’s just not what I’m trying to do with my own writing.

3) are they more spontaneous? - kinda answered that one already but I’ll add that I’ve never been able to write out of chronological order, so every intimate scene is very much written with the previous parts of the story in mind. It’s spontaneous in what the specific sexual acts are, but I always know ahead of time what I want the characters to feel/think about/realize during them.

4) is it a challenge to write explicit scenes with someone else? - I guess it depends on the person, but in this case, not at all. I think it’s important though to discuss ahead of time if one or both parties are uncomfortable with writing or reading certain things.

Also, writing together mostly means we write different parts of the same story, hence we each write our own explicit stuff, then make sure both parts fit well together. So the real challenge is daring to show somebody else your vision and hoping they agree with it.

5) do we read each other’s parts to give feedback, and if so, what kind of feedback? - YES. That’s the best part of writing together imo, is hyping each other up but also getting to give and receive the kind of input that can make a story even better. To be fair, my feedback to most of @the-amber-fox’s smut is a pretty unhelpful combination of 🫠 and 🔥, but we make do 😂 from time to time we’ll suggest adding something, mostly if the other person’s a bit stuck. But yeah, most of it is just getting to read it ahead of everyone else and being happy about that 😁

I hope I could answer some of your questions in a helpful way 💜 Thanks for giving me the opportunity to think about this so explicitly (pun not intended). I’ve never done that before so that was fun :)

[ozimagines]

I was wondering if you had any thoughts on what would happen if Chico got paroled. I think in show he wasn't eligible until 10 years... but maybe a miracle happens?? I hope that you are feeling better!

Ohhhhhhh… what have we here? War Boy getting out on parole? Now that would be fun! Said he had 17 years till parole, but in most of my out of Oz fics, in my mind, the prosecution of Kibbler actually holds water and many guys are released early. So that’s what I’ll do here. I wonder how many changed he’d have to make to give him a happy ending? Because that’s my goal on this page. I want to give every character a happy ending where maybe they’re not where they wanted to be but they’re where they need to be. That’ll be my headspace writing this.

(Sorry it took me so long on this request. Actually did a little soul searching to write this. I haven’t been shy about my mental health struggles. We’re still fiddling with diagnoses rn but I’ve definitely got a mood disorder, and a thought disorder, but I’m taking an mmpi to see if I have a personality disorder to go along with everything. Writing this kinda made me think about what I’d have to change to get my happy ending. As much as I see myself in Robson, I also see a lot of myself in Chico. He’s not evil, but he’s impulsive and it ends up biting him in the ass more times than not, and I can certainly relate on the drugs front (been sober about two months now. Don’t know exactly how I feel about it yet). Anyway, long way of saying that writing this helped me, so thank you for the request.)

Chico Guerra getting paroled would include…

First thing he feels is panic. Like a wave crashing over him. He feels like he got away with something.

And really, he did. He’d served a mere fraction of his sentence. Murder one. Only fifteen years in, and about a million infractions and violations to boot, and he’d still be seeing daylight before anyone else. It was an odd feeling. Getting away with murder.

Didn’t feel nearly as good as he’d hoped.

There was something missing.

Maybe it was the drugs.

Since doing weekly piss tests, the drugs were something he missed. Maybe not all the side effects… it was nice to have his dick working again, not that he’d had much use for it in Oz after they cancelled conjugals.

But he missed the feeling of drugs. The wildness of them. Life was so mundane, especially in Oz, though he wasn’t exactly batting a thousand before it.

He had this restlessness that was hard to ignore. Something always prodding him towards some sort of extreme action. He was never good at overriding his impulses.

Dr. Phil had been on in the common area in Em City one day. Chico thought he was a piece of shit fake television doctor but hey, what the fuck did he know. He did say one thing that stuck with Chico though.

He had said there was a difference between an irresistible impulse and an impulse not resisted. Chico had thought about that long into the night times, and sometimes would wake with the first thing on his mind. Which one was he? He’d always told himself that his impulses were irresistible, and no one in his position would be doing any better. He had these itches inside of him, crawling beneath his skin like creepy bugs. They compelled him to act, and he always did what they told him to do.

He was sure if he’d mentioned it to anyone, they’d think he was as crazy as Alvarez.

Maybe he could resist these impulses, but had always chosen not to. Wasn’t too far fetched. Maybe that’s what everyone in Oz had; impulses they chose not to resist. No. It couldn’t be. That would make them bad people, he figured, and he wasn’t a bad person. Not a good man by any means but not a bad one. Not a real monster anyway.

He nearly shit himself when the Kibbler case came on the news, saying they’d be handing out overturned sentences. His heart had stopped when his lawyer told him there was a chance. His entire body went numb when they’d declared his sentence overturned.

He was packing up his cell when Morales came to him. They’d not exchanged many words about it. Besides the fact that Enrique was jealous, he also knew Chico would be sticking to his best behavior so as to not end up in Oz again, meaning his usefulness had come to an end.

Chico had packed up most of his stuff, his fingers still tingling with staticky, unreal feelings. Part of him didn’t believe for a second that he’d be released. Some part of him thought they’d lead him to the door and tackle him to the ground. He was picturing it when Morales placed a hand on his shoulder, and he jumped.

“Lo siento, hermano, but I did say your name twice.” Morales said softly. Chico nodded and didn’t say anything. Didn’t trust himself to. Some part of him figured that his sentence would be worse in Enrique’s hands than in that corrupt gringo judge. “So, you’re getting out today?”

“Yeah.” Was all Chico said, running his tanned fingers through his head of black hair. He shrugged as if to say ‘whatever the fuck that means’. Morales smiled softly and looked down at the ground.

“Can… I need a favor from you.”

Those were the words Chico had hoped he wouldn’t hear. He fumbled for his words, trying to say no without getting fucking killed.

“Not that kind of a favor. A personal one.” He fished something out of his wallet. It was a picture of some kid; a little girl about three years old. “This is Allita. She was… is, I guess, my kid.”

Chico furrowed his brow but didn’t say anything, just kind of going over the little girl’s face in his mind, committing those sparkly eyes and that little cheeky smile into his brain.

“This is her at three. She’s, Hell, gotta be twenty five now. Haven’t seen her since this picture. I… I left her mom to raise the kid alone when she was a little.” He sighed, taking the picture back from Chico and going over those eyes again, the same dark, penetrating eyes as her father yet somehow kinder, and full of life. He suddenly made eye contact with his lieutenant. “I always regretted that, Chico.”

“You want me to find her?” He asked, zipping up his bag and turning thoughtfully to Enrique, pretending not to notice a little weakness in his former boss’s eyes. “Get her to come to Oz and see you?”

Morales chuckled and shook his head.

“No. She won’t come here. I tried to get her to come a few years ago. She told me, in as many words, that she hated me for what I did to Mitzi, her mom. Said I was living the life I deserved.” He pursed his lips and tried to force out his next words. “Said… if I had just stayed with them, it would be different now. That I would have had a life.”

“Shit, man.” Chico breathed, knowing how bad those words must have hurt him. He’d had the wind knocked out of him when his ex-girlfriend married that Hawaiian guy. Couldn’t imagine hearing those words from your own kid.

“Yeah.” Morales summarized, again, blinking the shimmer out of those normally intense eyes. “Anyway, she won’t come here, so… can you just check on her and tell me if she’s… y’know…”

“If she’s okay?” Chico finished and Morales shook his head.

“No, if she’s happy. That’s all I want, y’know. Just for her to be happy and healthy. I just need to know that, and I’ll leave her alone forever. I just need to know I didn’t fuck her up.”

Chico nodded, having already accepted the task in his head, placing a hand on Morales’ shoulder and squeezing reassuringly.

“Sure thing, jefe.”

They embraced awkwardly and Chico got his bag ready to go.

No one tackled him at the door, they just had him sign for his belongings, minus the crack he’d had on him at the time of his arrest. Just a watch from his late brother, his wallet, and a pack of blue raspberry bubble gum, if you could believe it.

He popped a piece in his mouth and made a face at the staleness, walking towards the door and out to his freedom.

Carlo had gotten out a year before him, on parole after the stabbing. He was waiting by the car, leaning against the hood with his arms crossed, ready to receive his brother in arms, as it were.

“Hey, la familia.” Carlo quoted, embracing Chico as warmly as he’d ever been embraced. He knew Carlo really did think of him as family, which was good, he figured, as the rest of his family was dead or never existed.

They drove mostly in Chico’s silence and Carlo’s explanation about how things had changed on the outside.

“There’s this thing, it’s like a program for the new phones that are out; TikTok. Like, videos less than a minute long, usually, about everything from facts to fiction to inane shitposts.”

Chico snorted as he explained what a shitpost was, still looking out the window at the world he’d left so many years ago. The buildings were some new and some old. The clothes were some new and some old. He was some new and some old.

When they’d gotten to Carlo’s apartment, Chico was already spent for the day, the travel and peopling taking a lot out of him. He slept like shit, loving the bed but hating where his mind was taking him.

All those people he’d hurt or killed, sort of dancing in his mind all blurry and dreamily. People who’d never get the chance he was just given. All the lives he’d ruined.

Then there was Allita, the representation of the life he’d never had.

Carlo woke him up.

Apparently he was clawing at his neck again.

When he awoke the next day, he’d started his search for Allita, scouring the internet with Carlo’s assistance. The fuck was Tinder anyway?

Carlo had found her Insta, her posing with some guy with a nondescript face. They’d only been dating a year or so from what her stories told. He knew it was her when he’d found her, because she had those same eyes. Same smile.

They found out that she worked at a Starbucks-like coffee house, one of about a thousand new locations since Chico had been away. He found the shop on Google Maps, and after ignoring some comments from Carlo that he was built to be a stalker, he grabbed Carlo’s keys and left.

The coffee shop was empty, for the most part, some song playing over the radio. Dominoes.

“Dominoes, dominoes, dominoes falling… you build us up just to knock us back down, funny why you act surprised when we hit the ground…”

“Hi, welcome to Cafe Roma. How might I provide you with excellent service today?” She chirped at him when he got to the front of the line. He waffled for a moment before ordering.

She was wearing all black, a couple of face piercings and tattoos, but a smile on her face. She did look pretty happy, and not just in a customer service type way.

“I’ll… fuck… just a small black coffee.”

“Short black Americano or just a demi of espresso?”

“I… I don’t know. Whichever I guess.”

She might as well have been speaking Swahili.

She giggled.

“Big coffee guy, huh?”

“Used to be. Thought I knew most of the words but…” he gestured vaguely to the menu. “Fuckin’ thing’s in hieroglyphics now.”

“Why haven’t you had coffee in the last ten years?” She laughed, ringing in his order.

There was no one else in line, so he decided to chit chat before springing the news.

“I… just got out of Oz… shit, I mean Oswald-“

“I know what Oz is.” She snipped a little, face becoming a little less kind than before, but she shook it off quickly. “Have someone in there myself.”

“Anyone I know?” Chico baited.

“Hope not. Person I know is a real piece of shit.” She spat, handing him his receipt. “No offense.” She came back quickly.

“No, you’re pretty much on the money for most of us.”

Some indie song came on the speaker now. He didn’t know the band, so he asked.

“Mountain Goats,” she informed, starting to make his easy coffee order.

“From the cities to the swamplands… From the highways to the hills… Our love has never had a leg to stand on… From the aspirins to the cross-tops to the Elavils… But, I will walk down to the end with you… If you will come all the way down with me…”

“Seriously, it’s gonna bother me.” Chico lied. “You look so familiar. Is your Oz connection related to you?”

“Yes.” She answered, tersely. “My biological father.”

“As opposed to-“

“As opposed to anyone who had any hand in raising me.”

“Right. Sorry.” He shrunk back, taking his coffee. She sighed.

“Enrique Morales?” She questioned, and he snapped his fingers as if the realization was just coming to him.

“That’s who.”

“Yeah well, you’re doing a helluva lot better than he is if you got out. That motherfucker’s gonna rot in there.”

“You’re pretty mad at him.” He observed, and she shrugged as if to say ‘what else?’ “I guess I’m just curious. You seem to be doing well for yourself despite not having him around.”

“I’m doing well because I didn’t have him around. If he’d have stayed, he’d have poisoned my life like he did his own. Don’t get me wrong, I was always hurt he left to just fuck around and do crime, again, no offense. It made me feel like I was worth less than the rush. Less than the money and power. But he taught me the most important lesson ever, by leaving; he taught me what I could handle, and apparently, I can handle a lot. I’m stronger because of it.” She concluded, sort of cocking her head at him. Be nodded and sipped his coffee.

“How?” Was all he asked.

“There’s a poem… I studied English in school, and there was one guy I wrote a thesis on; William Wordsworth? Familiar?”

He shook his head, so she started reciting.

“What though the radiance which was once so bright, be now forever taken from my sight, and though nothing can bring back the hour, of splendor in the grass, of glory in the flower, we grieve not, rather find, strength in what remains behind.” She started to clean the counter absentmindedly. “The trick isn’t focusing on what’s lost, just finding those moments that last a lifetime and keeping them close. Find whatever the strength is in what remains, I guess.”

His chest contracted a little, sucking in breath and not seeming to let it go.

“How do you do that?” He asked, forgetting the tact of his questions and simply asking what was on his mind.

She smiled sadly.

“Like you do anything else; one step at a time.”

“I… thank you.” Was all he said. He had enough to report to Enrique now. She was just fine without him. Just fine.

He threw a tip in the jar and turned to leave, before hearing;

“Tell Dad I said thank you.” She called to him, and his head whipped around to see her smirking, still a little sadly. “For teaching me how strong I am.”

He nodded his head in the affirmative and left, her words burning through his head like hot metal through snow.

He drove around a little and kept that poem rolling over the grooves of his brain.

“Strength in what remains behind.”

He put on the radio; some country station.

“I don't know about tomorrow… But right now the whole world feels right… And the memory of a day like today… Could get you through the rest of your life”

“Find those moments that last a lifetime.” Still drifting in his head.

He waited for Enrique to call and told him the news. He could hear the muscles in his body relaxing at that news.

“Thanks, Chico.”

“She’s… she’s pretty fuckin’ smart too.” He mentioned what she said to him, and Enrique also mulled those words over in his head.

“Good luck taking the first step, hermano.”

Chico went to bed that night, the words still dancing in his head; and woke up the next day with an entirely new outlook on life. He threw his clothes on and went for a walk.

He applied for two jobs that day; one as a daytime mechanic, the other as a weekend bartender at some local college bar. He got both jobs. When asked what his biggest weakness was, he said; “I didn’t know what I could take. That’s not a problem anymore.”

He always liked working on cars with his older brother, Bobby, before he was killed in a gang war. It was nice to do things that reminded him of Bobby. He spent the last twenty years trying to forget him.

He sat in the park on his lunch breaks, sometimes tossing his leftovers to the pigeons.

He started working out again, and not just to survive, lifting weights for the endorphins he was no longer getting from drugs.

He tried to live less impulsively, something not easy at first, but like anything, it got so easy over time that he realized one day that he wasn’t thinking about it anymore, just sort of doing it.

He stopped focusing on what he didn’t have, or what was taken from him. He found those moments that could get you through the rest of your life, and held onto them.

He caught up on the Saw movies, having been arrested after the first one. He really liked that torture porn shit, fucked as it may be. His favorite was either Saw VI or Saw VIII. His favorite trap was the Shotgun Carousel.

He and Carlo always talked through it.

After they finished that, they tackled all the major horror movie franchises, his favorite being the Saws or the Final Destinations, his least favorite being the I Know What You Did Last Summers. He never got into those, but watched all three.

He and Carlo started a horror movie reaction YouTube channel, getting a few hundred loyal subscribers, that being enough for them.

Chico learned to cook a little, only really knowing how to make arroz con pollo and huevos rancheros before, but he and Carlo were making their way through a recipe book they thrifted; some parody bullshit porn book named Fifty Shades of Chicken. They could hardly get through any recipe without laughing their asses off.

He enjoyed bartending. Bartenders got flirted with and bribed and everything, and having that little bit of admiration and power from the hoards of drunken pseudo adults was enough for him.

He enjoyed cutting people off and serving body shots.

Everyone liked him, calling him the Shot Master for his ability to turn any full sized drink into a potent shot, his favorite being any drinks with sexual names. Loved serving those to the hotties that flirted with him for free drinks.

Which he gave out often.

He became a Mountain Goats fan, and caught up on all the Gorillaz lore he missed. His favorites were Old College Try and Clint Eastwood, respectively.

He was sort of filling in the parts of his personality that he normally filled with crime.

He tried to get into musicals when Miguel had invited them to one of the shows he was managing, but only really liked Hamilton and Next to Normal, though he never really talked about the last one.

He liked that song Next to Normal. “Something next to normal, that would be okay.”

Chico was fine living next to normal. It was the closest he’d ever come to it.

Sean Murphy and Tim McManus checking in on his often. He couldn’t say he cared for either but was pleasant enough that they didn’t cause trouble for him.

He and Carlo would drink and mock both of them after though.

He was the Best Man at Carlo’s wedding, and then the godfather to his kid a year later.

The two were inseparable. Brothers. Family.

Chico liked playing with his Goddaughter, Carlota, or Lottie for short.

She like that when they played, he always did the voices for the toys, though he denied it to anyone but Carlo and his wife.

By the time she was two, they were having full (nonsensical) conversations, picking her up during We Don’t Talk About Bruno and throwing her on his back like the rats along his back, her giggling in his ear the whole way.

He liked making faces at her, and she always made them back.

Chico was in the middle of peace before he realized that he’d started, feeling as secure and happy as he had in his entire life.

He regretted his past to some extent, but didn’t lose himself in it as he did before. He knew what he’d lived made him who he was, and he had some respect for that.

He didn’t focus so much on what he lost, but what he had, realizing he had quite a bit in life, or at least more than others.

He worked through his problems with Carlo, and with himself.

He knew he wasn’t some fancy doctor or lawyer with a kid and three cars, but he lived just fine, and sometimes that’s all we can hope for. Just to be okay with where you are and who you are.

When he found his peace and his smile and his life, and before he knew it, the smile and light came back to his face, and he was contented.

Yeah, he’d found strength in what remained, and what remained held him over for years to come.

He never went back to Oz; never went back to who he was, but he appreciated Chico of yesterday, if only for teaching him what he could handle.