if you leave this kind of comment on any fanfic writer’s work or if you think this shit is okay and isn’t the reason more and more writers are choosing not to share their works with your entitled ass for free anymore, you should be ashamed of yourself.
if you suspect a fic is ai and if that bothers you, quietly close the tap and leave the fic. no one forces you to stay.
some people don’t deserve fanfics, much less for free.
also even if authors didn’t tag any specific warnings but they used the “creator chose not to use archive warnings” tag, then that is your warning.
“omg you should’ve —” no one forced your entitled ass to read anything. fanfic writers write for themselves and their own enjoyment. if you don’t like what you’re reading, quietly leave. ao3 is not an airport. no one cares about your departure so no need to announce it.
There's a lot of gleefulness about the idea that Ryan Gosling might peek into what's been going on with Grace, but has anyone wondered how Aaron Taylor-Johnson might react if he found out what we've been doing to/with Tom Ryder?
Our little secret | Jamie x GN!Reader | 28 Years Later | 800, T
AO3: Otaku_girl | Fics only account: @otaku-girl-ao3-fics | ATJ character masterlist | June of Doom 2026 masterlist
Fandom: 28 Years Later
Summary: “How long have you been like this?”
You were supposed to turn three seconds after the bite.
It’s been nearly three months.
Prompt: June of Doom day 18, today we have... How long have you been like this + weak
Our little secret
“How long have you been like this?”
Your stomach twists as Jamie breathes out the words that you have been fearing ever since the infected got its hands on you. He should be putting distance between you. Should be drawing his bow. He shouldn’t even be talking to you right now, as instincts take over. Survival over sentiment.
Survival over everything else.
Jamie’s hands are warm against your ankle, turning the twisted, heated flesh so that he can get a better look. You’re supposed to be making sure the clearing near the shore is still safe for a larger party to come across and gather firewood. With winter drawing close, it’s only a matter of time before it’s no longer safe to make the crossing, the cold making some of the infected sluggish while driving others to new hunting grounds. It’s always a precarious season, balancing the need to shore up the island’s food supplies with the risk of drawing the attention of wandering infected.
“Nearly three months,” you admit, the words like ash in your mouth.
His hands tighten, drawing a pained hiss from you. “Three months?”
It shouldn’t take more than three seconds. Yet somehow, here you are, still talking, and walking – well, limping – and undeniably you.
“One of the slow ones,” you admit, the shame of it lingering in your voice. A fast one would have been understandable. Or one of the berserkers. But to have been caught unaware by one of the crawling, bloated monstrosities? “Fell down a slope. Didn’t see one at the bottom, half under the leaves.”
You should have smelt it. You were too busy trying to impress Jamie. To show him that you could keep up, just as well as anyone else.
He peers down at it again, fascination warring with incredulity. Dark locks fall heavily around his face as he shakes his head. You’re two days into what should be no more than a five-day round trip. It wouldn't be difficult for him to leave you behind. It’s not like anyone would question what happened.
His thumb brushes over the swollen flesh.
“Three months…” Jamie murmurs. “And it’s only your ankle?”
“Mostly,” you confess. Jamie’s eyes snap back to yours in an instant. “Sometimes I feel tired. My leg goes weak now and then. Ankle’s not been the same since.”
It’s not enough for you to become a liability – you’d sooner get it over with and shoot yourself before dragging Jamie down with you – but it’s enough that, on some days, back home on the island, you can’t walk without a limp. On those days, you know better than to leave the house.
Silence stretches between you, heavy with everything he is trying not to say.
You shake your head. You don’t have anyone else you want to tell. Nobody who would miss you, should anything happen. Only Jamie.
“Good.” He stands, jacket rustling. The sound of the trees swaying draws his gaze, though it’s nothing more than the wind. It takes you a moment to realise he’s holding out his hand towards you. Watching. Waiting. “Let’s keep it that way.”
He pulls you upright carefully, slower now than before, slipping your arm over his shoulders once your weight threatens to buckle that bad ankle again. His grip stays firm around your waist as the two of you begin making your way back toward your makeshift camp.
It’s safer to stay up in the trees this time of year. Safer to turn in early, too, before climbing in the pitch black becomes its own death sentence.
“You’re not… going to tell anyone?” you ask, soft words breaking the stillness between you.
Blue eyes flick towards you, before slipping back towards the horizon. “What’s the point? ‘S not gonna help anyone. Might not let you back in. I reckon it can be our little secret.”
Something tight and painful eases in your chest. “Yeah. That sounds… yes. Thank you.”
He glances sideways at you then, expression twisting like he’s uncomfortable with the sincerity of it. “Don’t thank me yet. I’m still winning.”
You stare at him blankly. “Winning what?”
“You said you could beat three rabbits before we head back.”
A startled laugh escapes you before you can stop it. Jamie’s mouth finally quirks upward.
“Next round of drinks is still on you – even if that ankle slows you down.”
The urge to kiss him is almost overwhelming. Of all the people who could have found out, Jamie… you would have put money on Jamie shooting first, no questions asked. He squeezes your shoulder.
The tight ball of worry in your chest begins to unravel. Maybe there’s still hope after all. For getting through this. For your silly little crush on Jamie. Not everything is lost, after all.
Thank you so much for reading. If you liked what you read, please consider leaving a kudos or comment on AO3.
AO3: Otaku_girl | Fics only account: @otaku-girl-ao3-fics | ATJ character masterlist | June of Doom 2026 masterlist
The distance between what is said and what is known to be true has become an abyss. Of all the things at risk, the loss of an objective reality is perhaps the most dangerous. The death of truth is the ultimate victory of evil (c)
Welcome to the Rebellion
Yes, i finally finished 🫠
Paper, graphite pencils