guys tomorrow is my LAST final before being free of this wretched college (im back in 3 months 💔) and as i’m about to go to sleep i see that @se7entyrell posted jack abbot’s part in her blue code universe ??
i am so keeping it tucked safely into my liked posts so i can read it after my final tomorrow as my reward 🙏🏽 i’ve literally been waiting for this fic to drop forever so this could not have come at a better time, also please check out her fics they’re sooo good and go through her drabbles everything is amazing !
Hi! I was wondering if you could write a fic of Jack Abbot x reader and they take home baby Jane Doe for temporary placement and they get attached to the baby. Sorry if this is terrible I've never requested before lol 🥲
hii !! thank you so much for your request and don’t worry the idea is really good ! but i do need to say that i personally have an issue envisioning myself with kids (for reason that are only my therapist’s concern..) so i do have trouble writing about it
since i still wanna try to write out of my comfort zone i will try and we’ll see how it goes and if i end up posting it but thanks for the request and i will keep it in my options
guys last night i dreamt and i was doing all sorts of things and there so many characters from many shows i’ve watched but at one point i’m exiting a building and i see dr ellis sitting on the stairs outside and i sit with her and we’re talking and someone come up to us and say hi and it’s dr walsh so i’m like "hi dr walsh" and a few second pass by and i realize i haven’t seen her seen season 1 and i whip my head back to her like "OMG DR WALSH ??????"
guys today i’m volunteering for a book festival so i won’t see the episode until im home (because i will cry in public if samira does attempt and then i will be everyone’s problem- anyway just to say that i almost just got spoiled on tiktok and im dodging spoiler like never before wish me luck and we’ll talk during my crashout tonight after watching
Oooooh just had a thought for boulevard!! What if reader gets sick and is so dedicated to powering through because this is her job, this is her shot, that she is just so obviously miserable? And one of the boys (rem probably) is like "you need rest in a real bed and to not be working so you don't pass out" and then r is forced into staying in a hotel room and not the tour bus
-🌙
Hi angel! Deviated slightly from your request but I think the bones are still there and I hope you enjoy it, thank you for requesting <33
a/n: Please do not misconstrue my participation in the marauders fandom as support of JKR. If you’re new here and want to participate in the fandom, I encourage you to do so without participating in anything that would provide financial gain to her or her transphobic agendas
part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8
rockstar!marauders x journalist!reader ♡ 1.4k words
Waking up a bit achey is becoming routine for you on the Mischief Tour, but adding nausea to that feels overly cruel.
Your mouth tastes stale. There’s a sticky gloop around your eyes, a sure sign that you neglected to take off your makeup before going to sleep. You turn your face into your pillow with a low whine of despair.
Then you process that you have a pillow.
Whatever mascara is left undoubtedly smears as you rub your eyes, prying them open a hair at a time. You’re in a room of all white and ivory, with a thin seam of light splitting through thick curtains and a bed you don’t reach the end of even when you stretch your arm all the way out. It’s not heaven, but it’s close. It’s a hotel room.
Delight comes with dread fast on its heels. How did you get here? You know you didn’t pay for this. Even if you’d been drunk out of your mind, you would never in a million years have been stupid enough to empty your bank account for one night in a room like this. But…you might have been stupid enough to follow someone else into theirs.
You lift the covers. You’re still wearing your top from the night before, but your trousers are missing. You spot them a moment later on the floor next to the bed.
You cover your eyes, swallowing as your nausea swells. This is why you should never be off the clock. One night without your tape recorder and notepad between you and your interviewees, and you’ve corroborated everything the industry has ever thought about female journalists.
All you wanted was a story that would keep you your job.
For years, you wrote articles and sent them off to magazines like tossing rocks into the ocean. Most sunk, never to be seen again, and it was only when you were losing hope, only when you were starting to think that maybe you just weren’t meant to do this, that you got the gig at Spellbound. The pay is awful, but the work is good—better than good, if this first assignment is any indication of what’s in store for you. If they keep you, that is. It may not matter how good your feature on the band is if Spellbound catches wind of this.
What was it all even for? You didn’t get one usable quote out of the whole evening. Even if you were to summarize what it is the Marauders are like on a night out, your memory of it all is too hazy to be trusted. You let yourself get sucked in. Into teasing and laughter, the feeling of someone’s warm hand on your back, a soft voice saying things that made you smile in a dark room. It wasn’t the glitz and glamor you might have expected, but it’s still not your world. You’re a journalist; you’re meant to look in, not step inside. And most importantly, wherever you go, you’re supposed to bring your readers with you. No one reading Spellbound is going to know what happened that night at that stranger’s house party with Britain's most sexed-up rockstars. You hardly know yourself. Which means you weren’t a journalist last night; you were only a fool.
You sit up fast, temples throbbing punishingly, when the door to the room opens. James comes in as you yank the covers up over your bare legs, his smile of greeting fading fast at your obvious panic.
“Oh—god, I’m sorry.” He whirls to face the wall. “I’m so used to just barging into these rooms, I didn’t even think. That was rude.”
You stare at the back of his head, reeling. “It’s fine,” you say slowly. “I mean, is it anything you haven’t…seen before?”
“Are you asking if I’m familiar with a woman’s body?” James sounds startled, and halfway amused. “Because, yeah, obviously, but I like to think each one’s like a snowflake.”
“No, I mean. James.” He glances over his shoulder, finding you haven’t moved. You plead with him to understand. “Is this your room?”
James’ puzzlement appears to worsen, his brow crinkling in the moment before his eyes shoot wide. “Oh!”
The pressure in your head cools to a more tolerable level. James gives a breathy, open-mouthed laugh.
“Oh,” he says again. “Oh, you—we—”
“Thank god,” you groan.
“Excuse me?”
“Can you toss me my trousers?”
James obliges, and turns to face the wall again, overcome by spurts of laughter. Thankfully, by the time someone else knocks on the door, you’ve managed to get all your clothes on.
James opens it once you say it’s okay, and Sirius and Remus come in accompanied by the welcome aroma of coffee.
Sirius looks from his drummer, half bent over and eyes watery from laughter, to you. “What’ve you done to him?”
“I don’t remember how I got here,” you admit. “I didn’t know what to think.”
“Oh. Jamie,” Remus chides, passing you a cup of coffee. His own lips twitch amusedly. “Don’t be mean.”
“No, I don’t—it’s not—” James sputters. His eyes shine as they meet yours. “It’s not that you’re not lovely, you just looked so horrified. Is the idea really so awful?”
You roll your eyes, declining to answer. If it weren’t for your job, yes, you might not have such an adverse reaction to the idea. As much as you’d like to think the world a less vain place, musicians don’t rise to the Marauders’ level of fame without people wanting to sleep with at least a little bit. As Sirius pointed out, sexual appeal is part of their brand. The interest of James—or any of them, really—is something anyone would be lucky to have. You’re no exception.
“It’s not you.” James finally manages to quell his laughter, sending you a halfway apologetic look. “I’m just not looking right now.”
You wave him off. “Right, I forgot about your secret girlfriend.”
A funny expression crosses James’ face—you feel a twinge of remorse, worrying the comment may have come across as more prying than you meant for it to—but then he smiles and draws his finger across his lips, zipping them shut.
“This room is yours,” Remus tells you.
You stare at him. “Mine?”
“Yes.” He starts to perch on the bed, sending you a look as though asking for permission, and at your obvious bewilderment sits the rest of the way.
You watch him sip his coffee while your headache grows worse again. “But Lily said the band couldn’t pay for me to travel with you.”
Remus shrugs. “The band isn’t paying.”
“He is,” James says, almost pridefully.
You feel your eyes grow and grow as the air in your lungs dries up. Remus holds up a placating hand.
“It’s alright,” he says.
“No, it’s not.” You shake your head, a bit manically. Your temples throb in protest. “What?”
“Don’t get yourself all worked up.” Sirius leans against the wall, drinking from his own coffee mug while he eyes you appraisingly. “You look like any more upset might make you sick on the bed.”
You look between him and Remus. “But, why? You can’t. I can’t accept it.”
“Looks like you already have,” Sirius hums. He smirks when you glare. “Get over it, babe. We can’t have you as our own live-in paparazzi and then have it come out how badly your time with the Marauders fucked up your back. It’d be bad press.”
“It’s really nothing,” Remus assures you, far kinder than his bandmate. “Do you feel like you could eat? We were thinking of going to a cafe down the road.”
“Might be a good idea to have something not from the hotel buffet,” James agrees.
You blink at him. Sirius snickers, drawing your stare.
“You’re very talkative when you’re drunk,” he clues you in.
“God.” You tip your head down onto your knees. What’s smudging your mascara a bit more, at this point? “I’m so sorry.”
Remus’ hand lays itself over your head with a strangely reassuring weight. “Don’t be sorry. Let’s go eat.”
“Yeah,” Sirius says helpfully, “just get yourself cleaned up so we can go, yeah? Some real food might make you look a bit less ill.”
“How are you not hungover?” you mutter.
Sirius chuckles, and you don’t have to look up to know he’s winking as he says, “Rockstars are immune, gorgeous. You’ll want to write that down.”
i’m gonna put this here so it’s in the records, mohan will attempt at the end of the season because all the attention has been on robby and i think he’ll be the one to stop her (i hate that) (bc he’s been belittling and rude with her since season one)
i can't get over garcia asking robby for a souvenir from his trip and the show alluding to robby's suicide and like what's better souvenir for a trauma surgeon than an injured body?
guys mateo is back in tonight’s episode, and since he’s working night this season it means the night shift is coming in WHICH MEAN ABBOT IS COMING IN !!! alexa play where is my husband by raye
i swear i haven’t stopped writing i just have a lot of exam and presentation back to back till the end of my semester (end of april) but i’ll try to squeeze in some writing sessions ! send me requests for some blurbs if you have some ! (i wanna try writing shorter pieces without much context so i can still write without having to brainstorm ideas)
Not to keep, not to polish… Just to shake the rust loose.
• A character deletes and rewrites a text three times before sending it
• Two people arguing quietly so no one else hears
• Someone almost confessing something and backing out
• A character lying about being “fine” in a way that convinces no one
• Bonus: Same scene but they convince everyone, and it's even worse
• An apology that comes moments too late
• A secret revealed accidentally, not dramatically
• A character overhearing only half a conversation
• Someone packing a bag and pretending it’s temporary
• A reunion where one person is happier than the other
• A goodbye that is meant to be casual but isn’t
Low stakes, high emotion. Momentum comes from movement, not brilliance.
