#i know i’ll have written a lil bit more that’s just not posted on ao3 but not enough to make a difference

[stellewriites]

thanks for the tags @dwarvenagenda & @pricegouge !! 💓

it was fun to check my stats for this year :3

funny to compare how i started my year vs how its ending (fandoms im writing for, fic length range, themes and tropes i’m preferring, etc).

i’ve found that although ive maybe written less and had less interaction in general from readers this year i’ve truly found some amazing people that i consider good friends on here now :’) and i wouldn’t swap that for anything!!

blank copy below and npt: @pricetagged @ohlawdthebirds @sentientcave @syoddeye @gloard @wraithdance @buttdumplin @luvrodite @mikichko @lewistoferrari @disgustingtwitches

[catsandbats13]

I wrote a Stan x reader fanfic!

I have never written a fanfic before, let alone written smut (spoiler alert) so I hope my fellow Grunkle lovers like it!

Also everyone say thank you to @rubydracogirl for proofreading this for me! You’re the best!

Here’s chapter 1, I’ll be posting the rest shortly

(You can also read it on ao3 if you prefer)

Author's note: you’ll notice the reader only refers to him as Stan, as at this point in the series no one else knew he was Stanley and not Stanford. Also I didn’t want the reader to refer to him as Stanford cause in my mind I’m just picturing Ford instead lol.

Additionally I apologize but I completely left Waddles out, I know he was there in the episode, I just didn’t include him cause I felt it was a bit distracting. Sorry for all you big Waddles fans out there! This is also my first time writing Stan x reader or any fanfic of any kind, so I apologize if it’s a bit OOC.

Scaryoke Scars

CHAPTER 1

You were still trying to wrap your head around everything that had happened. The night had started normally enough with the Shack’s grand re-opening party, attended by the grateful townspeople after Stan had exposed Lil Gideon for the fraud that he was.

You had expected to see some awkward teenagers hanging on the periphery, some smashing of what Mabel referred to as “Stañiata’s”, and maybe even dance with Stan, who you’d been pining after for months since you were hired as additional personnel for the Shack at the beginning of summer.

What you hadn’t expected was for the ground to start shaking, scattering the partygoers as they ran for safety, and for Dipper, Mabel and Soos to round the corner being chased by a horde of zombies.

Sure, you weren’t oblivious to the strangeness of Gravity Falls, what with the kids and their spooky journal constantly getting involved with the paranormal, but you had hoped that after the craziness of Gideon’s defeat there’d be a bit of a break from action and adventure.

You’d had the whole thing worked out; you’d wait until a classic 80s song came on, and make your way over to Stan in his stupidly sexy form fitting suit. From there you would sidle up to him and ask how he’s enjoying his party, he’d make some dumb comment about how it’s high time the people of this town realized the Mystery Shack was the ultimate party destination or joke about how he should’ve charged more for tickets. Then you’d both laugh and he’d share one of those smiles meant for you and only you. You’d gather your courage and reach out your hand and ask “Would you care for a dance?” And in your fantasy he’d chuckle and do that adorable gesture where he blushes and shyly rubs the back of his neck before looking in your eyes and saying “I can’t say no to you, doll.” You’d imagined the two of you dancing the night away and sharing flirty glances and maybe even more, but those dreams were quickly dashed when you saw the mob of the undead coming after the kids.

“Dipper! What’s the one thing I asked you not to do?” Mabel scolded her brother.

“Raise the dead,” Dipper responded remorsefully.

“And what did you do?”

“Raise the dead.”

You couldn’t help but find it slightly funny how cavalier Mabel was about her twin summoning the undead, clearly this wasn’t their first rodeo with the paranormal.

More pressingly though, the zombies were rapidly closing in, leaving the four of you backed up against the side of the shack.

Soos heroically stepped in front of you all, attempting to shield you from the imminent danger.

“Get back dudes, this is about to get intense!”

As the zombies tore through the picnic table like it was nothing, you all screamed in unison, until the terror of the moment was temporarily broken by Soos pulling out his phone to snap a quick picture, commenting, “You gotta admit, this is pretty cool!”

“Not really the time, Soos!” You responded, unable to keep panic from creeping into your voice.

“Don’t panic! Maybe they’re just a really ugly flash mob!” Mabel reasoned in a trembling voice.

Leave it to her to be optimistic in the face of certain death.

“Dudes, stay calm,” Soos interjected confidently.

“With all the zombie movies I’ve seen, I know literally everything there is to know about how to avoid zombies.”

Soos was quickly proven wrong, and you watched in horror as one of the undead lurched forward and bit Soos hard on the shoulder, causing the handyman’s eyes to cloud over to a pale white, his skin becoming pallid and gray with tinges of sickly green as he was turned into a member of the terrifying horde in front of you.

“Second thought, gonna flip the script. Can I…eat your brains? Yay or nay? I’m seeing some yay faces here…”

The three of you jumped back and screamed in terror at the sight of your friend being transformed. Not wasting any time, you grabbed an arm from both twins and took off running, pulling them along around the side of the house, trying desperately to get away from what seemed like an endless, ever approaching crowd of zombies.

As you rounded the corner, Dipper spotted the golf cart to the side and shouted, “Quick! The golf cart!” Only for it to immediately be torn apart by the flesh eating monsters.

“Oh come on!” he said in an exasperated voice.

Soos and the rest of the zombies were right behind you, and you heard the handyman say, “Hoo, that’s a bummer! Good news for me though!”

“Soos!” Dipper and you shouted indignantly at the same time.

“Sorry dude, I just really want those brains!” The zombie Soos chuckled.

“Stay back!” Dipper shouted, taking the shovel he’d been carrying and using it like a baseball bat to launch one of the party’s light up disco balls at the creatures, and hopefully force them back a bit. But to your shock and horror, the zombie simply swallowed the thing whole. The disco ball lit up its ribcage dramatically from within in shades of blue, yellow and red, illuminating your terrified faces.

“Give it up, dudes, your fighting only makes us look more rad!” Soos reasoned as him and the zombies continued their now extra radical approach towards your group.

The three of you backed away from the steadily approaching horde, Mabel gripping onto her brother for dear life and you holding tightly to the sleeve of Dipper’s vest, keeping the kids as close to you as possible. You would be damned if you were gonna let these kids get hurt under your watch. You didn’t know what you could possibly do in defense of literal flesh eating monsters, but you knew you’d go down fighting if it meant giving the kids a chance to get away.

“What do we do? Where’s Grunkle Stan?” Mabel fretted.

“How’s he supposed to help? He doesn’t even believe in the supernatural!” Dipper cried.

Oh god, where is Stan? You thought anxiously.

Dipper is right, he thinks this is all made up, does he even stand a chance against an army of zombies?

You couldn’t bear to think of what they could’ve possibly done to him. Little did you know, you had severely underestimated Stan and his ability to kick ass when it counts.

The mob had quickly gotten too close for comfort and you used your grip on the twins to drag them further down the path towards the front door of the Shack, hoping to find safety behind its doors.

Before you could reach it though a zombie popped up in front of Mabel, and for a split second you thought she was a goner, but the girl didn’t hesitate and used the portable karaoke machine she’d been pulling along the whole time to knock the creature’s head clean off it’s shoulders, shouting, “TAKE THAT SUCKA!”, killing it instantly. Mabel seemed just as stunned as the rest of you that she’d been successful.

“This thing’s a surprisingly good weapon!” You heard her remark before the zombies got within arms reach and you all bolted for the door. The three of you raced inside and you slammed the door shut just as decomposing hands began to grasp at it.

“Quick! We need to board up all the windows!” Dipper instructed, Mabel and yourself swiftly following his lead and blocked the door with whatever you could find in the gift shop, prioritizing the heavier objects like the Mayan calendar and a metal rack of keychains to obstruct the entrance.

Despite your best efforts, the zombies managed to squeeze their hungry limbs through the gaps in the doorway, grasping and clawing at the air in desperation, but not getting beyond that for the time being.

“Okay, maybe that’ll hold them,” you said uncertainly, backing up to the relative safety of the rear of the gift shop.

All of a sudden, the side window was smashed open, revealing a grinning zombie Soos brandishing a drill.

“Hey dudes! By the way, I taught the zombies how to get into the fuse box,” the lights flickered off as he spoke, confirming his statement and leaving you in darkness with only some faint red light from outside.

“Among these dudes I’m like a genius!”

With the window broken, the undead began pouring through the frame and stalking towards you.

“Get those brains, dawg!” You heard Soos rooting for the zombies from outside the shack.

Panicked and trapped, you tried to run to the other door, only for several arms to punch through it and attempt to grab ahold of you. You and the kids had no choice but to retreat into the corner.

“Dipper, isn’t there something in the journal about defeating zombies?!” Mabel cried fearfully.

Dipper pulled out the worn journal and frantically flipped through the pages, searching for something that could save you from this deadly predicament.

“No! There’s nothing here about weaknesses!” He cried in a panic.

“This can’t be happening, I wanted answers so bad I put everyone in danger. Now we’re toast, it’s all my fault and no one can save us!”

A zombified arm popped out of the mob and snatched Dipper up, making him scream, “AH, NO! Mabel, I’m sorry!”

You reacted instantly and grabbed ahold of his midsection and used every bit of strength you had to pull him out of the monster's grasp. You succeeded and managed to wrench Dipper away and instinctively put yourself in between the kids and the rapidly approaching dead. You knew in your heart this was the end, but you hoped that maybe you could distract the zombies long enough for Dipper and Mabel to get away. You were more scared than you’d ever been in your life but you were more afraid of losing the twins, who you’d quickly grown to love over the course of the summer.

“Kids, you gotta run away, don’t wait for me!” You shouted what you thought would be your last words. You braced yourself to fight, your hands clenched into fists in front of you. But before you could take a swing, you were yanked to the side by rotting green arms, pulling you towards its gaping maw. At the very last second, before it had the chance to bite you, the zombie's head was knocked clean off by the violent swing of a baseball bat and a powerful stomp reduced the skull to dust. You fell to the floor, stunned and tried to process what you were seeing.

There, stood in front of you, broad chest heaving with effort, was none other Stan Pines. His suit was ripped and torn all over and covered in what you could only assume were zombie guts, clenched tightly in his hand was a bat that had clearly taken out more than a couple zombie heads on the way there.

He wasted no time and shouted, “YOU THREE, ATTIC, NOW!” in a voice that under normal circumstances would’ve been kinda hot, but you were still too overwhelmed by nearly having become zombie chow.

“Gr-Grunkle Stan?!” Dipper stuttered, clearly in disbelief at the sight of his uncle being such a badass.

“I said NOW!” Stan repeated harshly, jolting you into action as you jumped up and frantically ran with the twins through the living room and up the stairs towards safety, with Stan following, fighting back your attackers as you retreated.

You could hear Stan’s shouts and taunts as he held off the zombie attackers completely on his own.

“Alright you undead jerks, you ready to die twice?!”

You stopped at the top of the stairs once you saw the kids were well ahead of you to look back at Stan. He was a blur, swinging the bat and taking out the zombies like it was nothing, smashing head after head and avoiding every swipe and claw at him.

“The only wrinkly monster who harasses my family is me! Take that, and that!” Stan continued to beat the swarm back, not even hesitating when one zombie gained the upper hand and bit the bat in half, rearing back and punching through its head with his brass knuckles.

“Eat it, no-eyes! Anyone else want a piece?!” He hollered, pumped up on adrenaline and rage.

As much as you wanted to keep watching this impressive display of power by your long-time crush, you knew it was only a matter of time before the mass of the dead made their way upstairs. Reassured that he could handle himself, you turned tail and ran up to the attic, meeting the kids in their room and slamming the door shut behind you.

“Where’s Grunkle Stan?” Mabel asked you worriedly.

“Don’t worry, he should be right behind me,” you reassured the young girl, patting her arm in an attempt to comfort her.

The moment was broken by a loud pounding at the door, the three of you huddled together in fear, expecting the undead to break through any second, but instead the door swung open to reveal Stan, coughing slightly and hunched over, but safe and sound.

“Ugh, ow, everything hurts.” He complained as he made his way into the attic and barricaded the door with a chair.

“Grunkle Stan, that was amazing!” Dipper said in shock and awe at having witnessed his Great Uncle take on a legion of the dead and kick absolute ass.

“Are you alright?” He asked, before awkwardly chuckling and remarking, “Well, at least you can’t deny magic exists anymore.”

After a short pause, to everyone’s surprise Stan responded, “Kid, I’ve always known.”

“What?!” The three of you yelled in unison.

You hadn’t been expecting that, he’d done a great job of feigning ignorance up until this point, you genuinely thought he was oblivious to the weirdness that permeated the town.

“Wait, what are you talking about?” Dipper said in total confusion.

“I’m not an idiot, Dipper! Of course this town is weird! And the one thing I know about that weirdness is that it’s dangerous!”

As if to prove his point, a zombie hand broke through the wood of the blocked door, forcing you all further into the room and away from its deadly grip.

“I’ve been lying about it to try to keep you away from it, to try to protect you from it!”

You felt your heart squeeze at the confession, he was so protective of the kids. It made perfect sense to you as to why he’d chosen to lie, he really thought he was doing what was best for their safety. Not to mention the fact that Gravity Falls’s weirdness was why you were in this predicament in the first place.

The sound of shattering glass reached your ears as another zombie attempted to break into the room, this time through the window. With a powerful right hook, the monster was sent flying back from whence it came, landing in the middle of a crowd of zombies, who eerily stared back at you with their blank, dead eyes.

“It looks like I didn’t lie well enough.” Stan said bitterly.

“What do we do, what do we do?” Mabel cried anxiously.

Dipper pulled out his journal and began pacing the room.

“Well, normally the journal would help us, but there’s nothing in there about defeating zombies! It’s hopeless!”

Unbeknownst to him, the open book had been illuminated by one of the black lights from the party, revealing writing that was otherwise invisible.

“Wait, wait, wait! The text! It’s glowing in the black light!” Mabel exclaimed, drawing her brother's attention to this new discovery.

“What?” He was as surprised as the rest of you, and you all watched as he flipped through the pages, revealing more and more glowing hidden messages.

“All this time I thought I knew all the journal‘s secrets, but they’re written in some kind of invisible ink!” Dipper said in astonishment, his uncle echoing his words in shared astoundment.

“Invisible ink…”

Finally reaching the entry about zombies, Dipper said excitedly, “This is it!” And began to read aloud: “Zombies have a weakness! Previously thought to be invincible, their skulls can be shattered by a perfect four part harmony.”

A four part harmony? You thought. That’s oddly specific.

“Four part harmony, how can we create that? I have a naturally high pitched scream,” Dipper offered.

“I can make noises with my body, sometimes intentionally!” Stan volunteered. You suppressed a smile at that ridiculous statement.

“I can yell louder than the average person,” you proposed.

“Guys, guys,” Mabel interrupted. “I think you’re all missing the obvious solution.”

Cut to a few minutes later, the four of you are gathered on the roof with Mabel’s karaoke machine set up to the side, microphones in hand. You nervously gripped the mic in your sweaty palm as you observed just how big your undead audience was.

Is this even going to work? Is the last thing I do on this earth going to be singing karaoke? You pondered. Well I guess there are worse ways to go.

“Hello, hello? Is this thing on?” Mabel started doing her thing with the karaoke set up as the noise attracted more and more zombies who gathered below.

You gulped nervously, looking over at Stan for reassurance but he looked just as lost and unsure as you felt.

At least I’m not the only one questioning my life choices right now.

“Zombies and gentlemen!” Mabel announced. “I’m Mabel, they’re Dipper, Stan and Y/N, and together we’re Love Patrol Alpha!”

“I never agreed to that name!” Dipper quickly interjected, not even wanting monsters to associate him with his sister's goofy band name.

Mabel ignored him entirely and shouted, “Hit it!” cueing up the music.

The first beats of the classic 80s song began blasting from the speakers, the lyrics appearing on the device's screen with accompanying animated silhouettes of dancers.

Reading the first few lines, Stan commented, “Uh, Mabel, our lives may not be worth this.”

You had to roll your eyes at that, only Stan would say that getting eaten by zombies was preferable to singing one cheesy karaoke song.

As the first lyrics scrolled past, Dipper began to sing hesitantly.

“Friday night, and we’re gonna party till dawn. Don’t worry daddy, I’ve got my favourite dress on?” He covered the mic in embarrassment.

“Mabel this is stupid!”

Wanting to help encourage the boys to sing for their lives, you joined Mabel on the next verse and sang, bopping along to the beat.

“Roll into the party, the boys are looking our way. We just keep dancing, we don’t care what they say! And all the boys are getting up in my face-ahh!”

Yours and Mabel’s serenade was rudely interrupted by a zombie who had appeared at the edge of the roof, attempting to grab ahold of the closest victim.

“Guys! We have to sing together or it won’t work!” Mabel cried.

Your heart inadvertently began fluttering as you heard Stan join in with his gruff singing voice.

“Boys are a bore, let’s show ‘em the door,”

A wide grin overtook your face as you, the kids and Stan all harmonized together.

“We’re taking over the dance floor! Oh-oh, girls do what we like!”

The force of your singing combined sent a shockwave through the crowd of zombies, having an immediate effect on them, they covered their ears and several of their heads just straight up exploded. Emboldened by the effectiveness of the music, you sang the next lines even louder and more passionately along with the Pines family.

“Oh-oh, we’re taking over tonight! Oh-oh, girls do what we like! Oh-oh, we’re taking over tonight!”

The more the four of you sang, the more zombies began to succumb to the deadly sounds of karaoke. Skulls were exploding everywhere, covering the yard in a mess of green guts and flesh.

“We’re queens of the disco! Oh-oh, girls do what we like! Oh-oh, we’re taking over tonight!”

Dipper jumped in at the end to belt out the last line of the song.

“Taking over toniiiiight!”

Suddenly, a final zombie popped up next to him, making him scream, but Mabel was ready for it.

“DUCK!” she shouted, taking aim with a massive confetti cannon, which she shot with impeccable aim and sent the monster's head sailing through the air, finally landing in a punch bowl from the party earlier with a satisfying splash.

“Thank you, we’ll be here all night!” Mabel shouted triumphantly.

“Deal with it, zombie idiots! Ahahaha!” Stan gleefully hollered, laughing maniacally as he celebrated. You couldn’t help but laugh along with him, so relieved the nightmare was over and a little in disbelief that you’d just defeated an army of the undead with the power of karaoke.

“PINES! PINES! PINES! PINES!” The family jumped and chanted in unison, fully claiming their victory.

You giggled and shook your head at their antics, amused.

Well, that certainly could’ve gone worse, you thought to yourself as you watched the family cheer in celebration.

Link to chapter 2 below

[eloiscbridgerton]

Royai fic recommendations in honor of Royai Week 2023!

Just wanted to share some of my all-time favorite complete M and E-rated Royai fics on AO3 ever since getting into the fandom last May 2021. I have a very specific taste (??) in how I envision Royai’s dynamic when they get together, and these fics personally just NAILED it. Like I cannot stress enough how every Royai fan should read these! Without further ado...

Starve the Ego, Feed the Soul by onthearrow (95k words, E)

“Something has changed between them since the Promised Day.”

This has to be my all-time favorite. Like it’s a bit insane how good this fic is. Roy and Riza pining for each other ... in the most pathetic horny manner. Also the smut here... will leave you a bit gagged, it’s unlike anything I’ve ever read before. The author definitely did not hold back LMAO. So many moments in this fic where I had to put my phone down a bit just because I was so 😳😳😳 They have two complete Royai fics (including this one) and there’s one on the way for Royai Week 2023. I recommend to read all of it.

morning sun by hot_girl_burner_account (7.5k words, E)

“Roy walks Riza home after a wedding, and she's wearing this dress, and he might as well come up for some tea, and it's getting late, and the roads are icy, and they both run out of excuses.”

OH MY GOD if you’re looking for a fic set sometime after the promised day where Roy and Riza are just waiting for the ball to drop and immediately give in, this is it. The buildup, the context of being after a wedding.. the amount of flirting beforehand..like I know they were gonna fuck but the banter actually made me say OMG JUST FUCK!!! A sweet lil’ one shot that makes you want more.

the secret is to swallow / without expecting hunger to disappear by lantur (45k words, M)

“The fact that Hawkeye is Roy's subordinate is actually the least of his concerns. The least of the reasons why Roy keeps his distance, outside of their working relationship. It is difficult to keep his Lieutenant at arm’s length when all he wants to do is drag her closer and closer to him, pull her deeper into his orbit, but it has to be done.”

Am I the only one who loves it when Roy is pining and jealous and pathetic and he thinks his feelings are one-sided? Well, if you do too, this fic is perfect. Like... omg you’re so dumb Riza loves u !! Also I love that this is written in Roy’s POV

Once by TheFledglingDM (73k words, M)

“It was a longing like obsession, like madness, a yearning down to the bones. Once, he pleaded. Once, she prayed. Just once and I can move on. _ or - riza and roy's relationship over the years. covers childhood, ishval, the series, and post-promised day.”

HHHHHHHHH oh my god.... this fic... I read its entirety in one night! It’s basically a faster retelling of the events of FMAB except it’s entirely in Royai POV where they’re crushing and horny for each other (to specifically TASTE each other). This fic also would have an award if I gave out an award for Most Reread First Kiss, because yes it was THAT good.

First by TheFledglingDM (4.4k, E)

““So, Roy, I was thinking.” Riza said, as straightforward as if this were just another day at the office. Roy tried to speak but could barely produce volume. All he could manage was, “Uh-huh?” “We should have sex now,” Riza told him.”

Set immediately after Once by the same author. This is just sooo... exquisite I fear... Roy is so eager to please and honestly I get him! This can be read as a separate one-shot but honestly the 73k buildup in Once just makes the reading experience for this fic just 100x better

darker than the ocean, deeper than the sea by yourendlessblue (8.9k, E)

She looks up, and meets his eyes, blinking wide at him and demurely smiles, putting on a silent show. There’s power in this, she thinks, that she can affect him practically just by existing.

“Sir?”

“Havoc’s going to pick you up to our room,” he says, perfectly composed and prim. “I’ll see you.”

Roy is a sugar daddy. They both have feelings but they don’t talk about it they just have sex LOL. The way I wish this had a prequel and a sequel!! One of those rare AUs that just makes you want more!!! I WAS LEFT HANGING!! (not really but you get my point)

let’s fantasize from the other end of the line by lantur (10.8k, M)

“Riza receives a late-night phone call from Roy.”

This fic is soooo sensual. They both know what they’re doing is wrong on so many levels but neither of them ever address it so they CAN’T seem to stop. Also the work that lantur has done for the Royai community should be applauded LMAO if I wasn’t trying to keep this list short I would link all of their fics here. 

can we always be this close by lantur (10.9k, M)

“Roy sits in the spot Riza remembers as his favorite, too - in the armchair facing the entrance. He rises as soon as she walks in, striding toward her. “Thanks for joining me tonight, Lieutenant.”

It is silly, but Riza’s heart leaps at the sight of him. He looks pleased to see her, too. “Reginald?” She raises an eyebrow. “Really, Colonel. Could you have picked a stuffier alias?”

Roy and Riza have a rendezvous, or two, during the months of separation leading up to the Promised Day.”

OK LAST LANTUR REC (and last fic for this list) but oh god... this is so sweet and tender and UGH... that first kiss made me feel so warm!!! this fic is more emotional than horny.. but it’s so well done!

HOPE YALL ENJOY AS MUCH AS I DID !

[stereopticons]

20 questions for fic writers!

tagged by @rmd-writes

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

78! Which is honestly still astounding to me.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

327,853

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Schitt’s Creek, with a smattering of RWRB and 911

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

the lie between your teeth (SC)

if I’m not beyond repair (SC)

never knew a home before I found your hands (RWRB)

love you in moderation (do I look moderate to you?) (SC)

so bitter and so sweet (SC)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes! I am very slow at it but I do eventually respond to them (I promise!).

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

I mostly only write HEA, but I guess I have to go with (we’ll always long for) one more song by nature of it being MCD (but after a long life, at least)

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

How do you judge which happy ending is the happiest? I do not know.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Once and I did not appreciate it one bit.

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

I do. It’s the kind that always has a lot of feelings in it (and is often a lil bit kinky)

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

I have only written one—twist yourself around me, which was pre-canon SC/Crazy Ex-Girlfriend. I did have an idea for a v smutty SC/911 crossover with slut era Buck but I have yet to write it.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not a whole fic, as far as I know.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, but I would be open to it!

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

Yes! It was a lot of fun and I would love to do it again.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

David/Patrick

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

I’m not willing to admit defeat on any of them just yet, even when it feels like I’ll never finish anything again.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I think feelings and introspection. At least I hope so.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Not using the word murmurs. I’m getting better at world building but it’s still a weakness.

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

I included David speaking German in a fic once because I headcanon that both he and Alexis speak multiple languages. I think if it’s done right and you don’t rely on online translators, it can be good!

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Rent

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

How am I supposed to pick one out of 78?! I was going to say if I’m not beyond repair but I went over to grab the link and was scrolling through my works like oh but I love this one too!! I think my actual favorite is the as yet incomplete indie band Patrick which I swear I’m gonna finish one day (but if you want to read part of it that IS posted, that’s you light me up like starlight. The full fic will be a prequel)

Tagging @indestructibleheart @nontoxic-writes @blackandwhiteandrose @hippolotamus @lizzie-bennetdarcy @jettestar @alienajackson @rosedavid @housewifebuck @kiwiana-writes @mostlyinthemorning @apothecarose and anyone else who wants to play

[siriuslysatorusimping]

Ok, so SOOO much to unpack here, brace yourself. I posted prior on as anonymous 🫥 to get some quick info out, but now I’m really hankering in to unpack.

Ok, so I get it, Gojo definitely has valid reasons to suspect Rinko, but also…

I agree with anonymous (ง'̀-'́)ง, I was ready to fight Gojo (and everyone else who’s an ass to Rinko). Congrats, you have turned a group of Gojo simps to an army of Rinko protectors 🛡️

Anywho, back on point here. Gojo suspecting Rinko was valid because literally everything pointed to her, and while they do communicate to each other often, Rinko has proven to not always share everything because of either Clan shit, or I suspect to keep the barrier of friends with benefits with Gojo.

That said, like, Gojo literally out here claiming she’s his “You’re mine”, like it’s nothing. It’s definitely something, and I get Rinko not addressing in the moment, but she has to question it (Right? 👀)

Also, thank you for representing her feels so eloquently 🥹 as someone who’s recently discovered I have PTSD and panic attacks, and trying to recover from, you handled her own feelings so well! Sometimes reading those experiences can make it hard for myself, but I was able to get through it. So thanks 😊

Well hello! I will also address your anon message in this, so everything is below the cut!! 😊😊

If you're new and HAVEN'T already, you can read Another Level on AO3 :)

I'm pasting your Anon message:

I’m so very impressed with the recent writing of Rinko and Gojo’s life. The way you handled Rinko’s breakdown was true to form of the panic instilling, the body dissociating - all scarily accurate. Literally was screaming at Gojo the entire time to help her breathe by breathing. From my own experience with panic attacks, having a loved one help you through it works wonders (even if you may not want it, you need it). Rinko’s story has found a special place in my heart, and you do her justice in expressing it in your writing. Truly impressed

OKAY.

I will first address the panic attacks and how accurately they are written:

I have had panic attacks for as long as I can remember. I have also had PTSD from past relationships. I recently discovered that I am also autistic 🙃 and 'autistic meltdowns' are often mistaken for panic attacks in undiagnosed people. So, there's that.

I have written about my mental health for a long, long time. Many years. If you'd like, I can share those, but I don't want to make you feel pressured to read them! (also don't want to out myself for how much of myself I've accidentally written into Rinko 👀)

AN ARMY OF RINKO PROTECTORS YES.

I can tell you who will be LEADING that army:

Don't you HURT HIS ADOPTIVE MOM COUSIN.

Gojo staking his claim and what Rinko thinks:

I'm gonna be real with you. Rinko thought almost nothing of him saying that for two reasons: 1) He was drunk. 2) She straight up thinks he is the dumbest man alive.

Rinko genuinely thinks that Gojo is just stupid and doesn't realize that things he says and does send messages of more than being friends.

Why, you ask? Let's take a lil trip down memory lane:

We'll start with this bit from Let Me Know You:

“Friends don’t typically do this,” she said quietly, a small laugh escaping when he pouted. “Unless you’re going to tell me this is how all of your friendships are? Because that’d be very interesting.” That made him laugh, his eyes crinkling at the corners, hand moving to the back of her neck to pull her lips to meet his again. Pressing his tongue into her mouth, his other hand went to her shirt again. “I’ll admit this might not be a conventional friendship,” he murmured, unbuttoning the few buttons she’d managed to fasten earlier. “But that’s what makes it fun. We can have sleepovers-”

Then, I Say "Sayonara":

But she couldn’t, she wouldn’t, tell her mother about her ‘unconventional’ friendship with Gojo Satoru. Not the typical friendship, he would always say as he grinned, pressing a gentle kiss to her temple or forehead. Such a contrast to how he would spend the next few hours taking her apart in every way he could.

AND THEN, FINALLY, New Memories:

“You know,” she said, reluctantly allowing him to pull her along with him again. “That isn’t exactly how friends-” “Not a typical friendship, baby,” he cut her off. “Now,” he paused, grabbing her by the waist and warping them to her apartment. “Get changed.”

I'm going to write an Author Discussion once we've gotten through (Please) Prove Me Wrong, so that will break down quite a bit and hopefully answer some of your other questions!! 😊😊

Full disclosure: Gojo's POV was never meant to be as big of a deal as it's become, and I am struggling to write it rn 🙃🙃🙃

Thank you for reading and sending these TWO amazing asks 🥹💕

[yeehawbvby]

Falling Away With You | Ch. 33

Sebastian x F!Reader and M. Rasmodius x F!Reader

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Chapter Summary: Seb's plotting something. 👀 You also make some new acquaintences.

Author’s Note: After the small continuation of last week’s chapter, this one’s got a small time skip (like, a few weeks at most) and serves mainly as set-up for what’s to come. I like it a lot ^^ I hope you do too! Take care x

Edit: This was written and posted way before 1.6 was released, so I have no idea if the event CA added is at all similar to what I wrote in this chapter and the next one. Just wanted to give y’all that heads up ^^ (and pls don’t give any spoilers, I have yet to experience that for myself!!)

Table of Contents + Work Summary

Check it out on ao3!

Prev | Next

Seb and I watched It Howls in the Rain first during our lil’ horror marathon, followed by Midsommar, because Seb’s never seen it. It’s still just as beautifully fucked up as I remember it being. It’s his turn to pick a movie again, and while he’s searching for our next watch on his new laptop, a thought pops into my head.

“We should go on a date.”

He looks at me with a grin briefly before turning back to the screen. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah! We haven’t been on, like, a ~proper~ one, y’know?” 

Seb pauses his fingers and furrows his brows in thought. “That’s true… I hadn’t really noticed, to be honest.” He looks at me. “You have anything in mind?” 

“Not really,” I shrug.

Narrowing his eyes, it looks like Seb has an idea after a beat of thought. He doesn’t say it though. “I’ll take care of it.”

“O-oh?”

“Oh!” He looks back at his screen, determinedly scrolling while avoiding the question. “I’ve got our next one.” 

I giggle at the enthusiasm, then dramatically whine at his pick. “Tremors?”

“What’s wrong with Tremors?!” 

“Sooo corny…” 

“In a good way!”

I sigh. He almost sounds offended, so I’ll give him this one. He’s allowed to like one of the cheesiest horror films I’ve ever seen if he wants to. “Yeah, I guess so. If we’re both still down for another after this I’m picking something corny too, then.” 

“Whatever,” he rolls his eyes. Seb leans down to kiss my forehead, and before he can fully pull back, I meet his lips with mine. 

Situating myself back against Seb’s chest, I nod at the screen. “Start it up, nerd.”

______________

Sebastian > you busy tonight?

< I’ve been doing some work at Magnus’ place but I can dip if you need

< why, what’s up 👀

Sebastian > think you can be over here by like 6?

< sure, need me to bring anything?

Sebastian > warm clothes and Cannoli

Sebastian > mom’s gonna look after him later on

< wym, what’s going on?

Sebastian > it’s a surprise :)

< love how vague you’re being ;—;

< but *fine,* i’ll be there 

I get up from the cozy, velvety couch, popping a bookmark into the big doozy of a read I was working through, and I set it on the shelf before heading upstairs.

Magnus and I still have yet to really do much aside from studying and whatever, but we’ve been seeing each other a bunch more for my training and shit over the past few weeks. Lotta reading, potion brewing, and creepy hikes into the woods for meditation and spellcasting practice. We tried some teleportation too, but I just can’t get the hang of it. 

It’s been exhausting, but it’s really fun!

We also haven’t gotten jiggy, as Seb called it. Just because there are feelings there and I have Seb’s permission doesn’t mean I’m trying to rush into anything. I haven’t even told Magnus about my agreement with Seb yet, either. Don’t want him to feel pressured. 

Plus, I mean… the whole will we/won’t we has also been exhausting yet fun, in its own way.

As I trek to the entrance of Magnus’ main room, I hear a feminine voice that I don’t recognize. It’s deep and sultry, having a little bit of a lilt to it, but she talks with an overabundance of enthusiasm. I didn’t know Magnus had company besides me... I peak my head around the corner, not showing myself fully yet. Wanna get a feel for the atmosphere before barging in.

Magnus is leaned against one of the counters near his cauldron with his arms crossed against his chest, mostly hidden by his black cloak. His ankles are lazily crossed below him, and he’s nodding along to a woman in front of him. His face seems riddled with concern. Can’t tell if it’s a more serious discussion than it sounds like, or if he’s just pissed about something.

The woman is tall — like, Seb’s height, probably — with pointed ears poking past her long, pin-straight, golden-blonde hair. Her skin is fair, and she’s wearing a velvety and form-fitting black gown with flared long sleeves. She has a gorgeous figure, jeez. The fit is topped off by a textbook stereotype of a witch’s hat: big, pointy, and black, with a purple ribbon around the base.

She was talking very animatedly, using her hands to emphasize certain words, up until now. She suddenly came to a halt. 

Magnus’ eyes widen as they dart towards me, and I watch his Adam's apple bob as he swallows and tilts his head upward just a bit. It looks like he’s holding back from saying something – maybe a warning? – and the witch in front of him continues to stand still.

My own eyes widen, then flicker between him and the woman as my brows furrow. 

“What’s up?” I silently mouth at him. Next thing I know, the witch vanishes. I flinch, not having expected such an abrupt exit. 

“Oh, you’re a cute one, aren’t you?” 

“HOLY SHIT!”

Nearly pissing myself, I pivot my body to the source of the voice that just murmured into my ear.

Here stands the woman that was just with Magnus a second ago, observing my shorter figure behind ocean blue eyes and a coyly tilted noggin. She has a beauty mark under her left eye, but it looks drawn on, unlike my friend’s. Her painted lips, a deep purple on the top and lighter on the bottom, are framing a toothy grin. She’s taking me in like an animal would their prey.

God, she’s super hot…

“Oh, you think so?” Her heavily lined and shadowed eyes redden into the same deep shade Magnus’ do when he’s feeling things.

“Damnit,” I groan under my breath, burying my face in my hands as I realize there’s another telepath in my life now. “Please get out of my head…”

I hear Magnus nearing us as she lifts my reddening face from my hands and into hers, turning it a bit. “That’s no fun,” she tuts as she inspects me. Literally treating me like an object…

“Camilla.” Ohhh, it’s her! That makes sense. ”Release her,” he sternly commands. Whoa. Hearing him talk like that about me makes my tummy flip.

“So protective,” she cheekily responds with an eye roll. “Is this that little apprentice you told me so much about?”

Free from the lady’s grasp, I look at Magnus, feelin’ a little tickled that he told his least-favorite colleague about me. Still antsy though, my hands fidget with the ends of my hair.

“That would be her,” he sighs, his angry red glare softening as he looks at me. As he comes to a halt diagonally from me, he provides a formal introduction. “(Y/n), this is Camilla.” He noticeably stiffens again as he looks towards his colleague.

Hearing her voice, I focus back on the blonde. “Razzy has spoken very fondly about your work.” 

“R-Razzy?” I do my best to egg him on, brain-to-brain, now that I’ve gotten a bit better at that. 

I still can’t read people's minds, and might never be able to; but I’ve all but mastered the art of invading ‘em with dialogue, at the very least. 

My orbs and grin both widen as I slowly turn towards Magnus. He looks down at me beneath fiery red irises. I’ve never seen him so angry.

…I’m sorry but he looks sooo hot like this holy fuck.

“Don’t you dare…” 

Oh god, he sounds hot too!

I gnaw my lip, my smile probably looking more menacing now as I ready myself to eventually test out the nickname. 

“He says you’re quite promising. Very intriguing, considering how green you are,” Camilla continues skeptically, seemingly none the wiser about my private discussion with the wizard. “Even brought you up at the last council meeting.”

“Oh! Seriously?” My head whips between them.  “Magnus,” I address him, my eager eyes landing back onto his. “That’s, like, a huge deal, no?” 

From everything he’s told me about the council, I’ve concluded that they sound intense. Very private in their affairs, but more reputable than most magical associations out there, essentially serving as Ferngill’s arcane overseers. They work with The First Slash, too – masters in their own field – putting their differences in methodology aside to focus on keeping the republic safe. 

If I’m on their radar, that would mean huge things for my arcane career, I guess? Feels weird to put it like that, but it would be accurate at that point.

“It is.” Magnus’ lopsided smile looks proud as he adds, “They’re quite impressed with what you’ve accomplished, my de—“ he clears his throat before correcting himself. “(Y/n). I was waiting to inform you, alas—“

“‘My deeear,’ perhaps…?” Camilla quietly and curiously puts it together, tapping her chin.

D-does… does he not usually call people that? I feel my cheeks tingle a bit just at the thought that the title might solely be reserved for me.

Magnus sighs, seeming annoyed. Camilla then announces, “My business here is done. I’ll let you two enjoy yourselves,” she purrs with a wink in my direction. 

My (e/c) eyes bulge while my cheeks darken further, both at the implications and at how pretty she looked doing that oh my GOD.

In a naught attempt to stop her, Magnus calls after the witch. “C-Camilla, we’ve yet to discuss—” He exhales in defeat, “Aaand she’s gone.” 

Poofed away just as quickly as she has when she teleported behind me.

“She’s… a lot.” I wave my hands a little to shake out the stress of that interaction. 

“Indeed she is, that blasted woman... Brimming with talent, but positively infuriating.”

I lean back against the wall, careful not to trip over or tilt the potted tree at my side. With my fingers clasped behind me, I inspect the wizard. Failing to hide a grin. 

“What’s the matter?” he asks.

“…Nothing, Razzy.” I wiggle my eyebrows for added effect. 

Magnus fucking growls as his eyes shift to a bright crimson again. Oh my god. Oh my GOD. “I wasn’t joking,” he confirms. 

“N-neither am I,” I squeak and stutter. The unfortunate wombo-combo. I look down and scrunch my nose. “Shit,” I laugh hushedly to myself. 

Since our discovery those few weeks ago, there’s been a drastic increase in flirtatiousness between the two of us. I’d say every time we meet, we get one step closer to… uh. Getting jiggy. God damnit Sebby. The dude completely infected my brain with that phrasing.

There are more passing touches now. For example, Magnus will sometimes absentmindedly play with my hair as we work together, even tucking it away for me if it falls into my vision. Likewise, I might catch myself looping my digits through his as we walk to our training sites, when he opts not to teleport us.

There’s also been an increase in lingering eyes and stolen glimpses, both of us often getting caught in the act of checking the other out.

Magnus even says and does shit just to try and fluster me now. Random compliments here and there. Some innuendos where he can afford to sneak ‘em in. Faint goosebump-inducing whispers against my ear, as he watches me brew a potion or whatever.

Can’t tell if it’s the spirits at work with their partner in time bullshit or if it’s just me, but it’s getting harder to resist him every fucking day. 

All that to say, I’m especially feeling it right now. 

In the present, it’s Magnus’ turn to form a mischievous grin. His eyes darken and scan me and he draws near, my face and ears burning up.

“Everything alright? You sounded a tad disheveled, for a moment.” 

Magnus stops just barely in front of me as I nod my answer at him. 

“How uncharacteristically timid of you,” he quietly coos, bending down a little to accommodate for our height difference, and taking my chin in his hand. “Cat got your tongue?”

Oh come on, bro! That should not have been as hot as it was.

I squeak again, fuck, shaking my head as my vision trails away from Magnus’ prying eyes. My heart’s beating so frickin’ hard. Yoba, I wanna kiss his stupid smirking lips…

“Um,” I breathe. I clear my throat before murmuring, “I just came up to see if you wanted to go over anything else.” Good, straight to the point, (y/n). Don’t wanna bust a move just yet. “I’ve gotta head out early today.” 

I finally meet the elemental’s gaze again, and after a moment of visible contemplation while his eyes simmer to maroon, he shakes his head. “No, I won’t keep you if you’ve other affairs to attend to.” 

“Cool,” I smile as he backs up a bit, returning the expression. 

I take note of the way my cheek follows his hand for a split second while it draws away from me, and mentally scold myself. Unfortunately, I’m also made very aware that Magnus noticed it too. He hums out a soft laugh at me for it.

I make my way to the door, grabbing my jacket and tossing it on. “Any wild and crazy plans for you tonight?”

“But of course,” Magnus plays along, escorting me the few feet I traveled. “In fact, I’m already fashionably late for a mixer with some shadow people.”

“As if you’d willingly go to a mixer,” that term feels outdated somehow, “ya hermit.” After slipping my boots over my feet, I kneel to tie them.

“I would!” Magnus defends. “I jest now, but shadow people tend to have a playful vigor that I often find hard to turn down.”

“Sounds like it would be more fun to go to a shadow person party than a human party…”

”Indeed it is,” he chuckles. “Much less chaotic, believe it or not. Little Krobus holds one in their sewer every Spirit’s Eve — Festival of the Mundane, they call it.” 

“Seriously?” 

“Mhm.” Nodding and helping me up, Magnus continues, “They dress as how most mundane do, similarly to how the mundane wear costumes in poor resemblance to elementals during the holiday.” 

I try imagining it, and can’t help the brief fit of giggles I break into. I can just imagine a bunch of blobby, ink-black, vaguely human-shaped figures dressed as the citizens of Pelican Town, pretending to be us. Dancing like Emily, maybe trying to skateboard like Sam or jump rope like Jas…

“That’s so adorable, oh my god.”

“It is. I could consult Krobus about bringing you this year, if you’d like. You’ll need a convincing disguise, as many of their friends won’t take so kindly to a mundane in their presence, but I’m sure Krobus themself would be delighted to meet you.”

I nod enthusiastically. Even with how socially anxious I get, I’m so obsessed with the idea of befriending a shadow person, now that I know they’re not all that terrible. 

After patting myself down to make sure I have everything, I put two dorky thumbs up for Magnus. “See you soon, wizard.”

Snorting as he sees me out, Magnus responds, “Until next time, mortal.”

______________

I’ve really gotta get a cat carrier of sorts. 

I’m trekking my way to Seb’s house, trying to balance a tote on one shoulder, a backpack around both, and a very wily Cannoli in my arms. 

He doesn’t wanna be held right now, but I don’t have a leash or anything that would ensure he doesn’t just run off somewhere. He’s perfect when it comes to staying on the farm despite technically having the freedom to go wherever, so it makes me wonder if he isn’t comfortable to be outside and off familiar territory.

“Just a little longer,” I mumble against his head. 

It’s starting to get dark earlier now, so I nearly jump out of my skin when I hear a rustle in a nearby berry bush. Cannoli and I both stop and stare at it, expecting the worst. Why now, with my cat on me, is something freaky happening? C’mon, man…

The bush rustled again, and a short, stocky figure pops out. 

Cannoli and I yelp. 

Then, the figure does as well. We’re all solidified in place for a moment before it takes a step towards me, just barely lit by a nearby lamp.

I breathe a sigh of relief, realizing it’s just Linus. 

Huh… I’m having a lot of interactions with people I’ve never, like, actually spoken to lately.

“Oh— I didn’t mean to startle you!”

Giving Cannoli some comforting neck scratches, I shake my head. “No, it’s fine! I just didn’t expect to run into anyone out here.” 

“I often do my foraging during the daytime, but it’s tougher once we get to the colder months,” Linus casually explains while picking some blackberries from the outer branches of his nearest shrub. “Sorry if I’m in your way”

“Not at all, I’m just passing through,” I smile. “D-do you forage often?” I timidly ask, genuinely curious. I’ve always wondered about the quality of all these wild berries, but haven’t had the balls to just pick and eat any of ‘em.

“It’s how I feed myself.” I frown, and the man quickly assures me, “I live the way I do by choice. I hope you won’t take pity on me.”

“Oh! I didn’t mean for it to seem that way.” I shake my head again. “I didn’t know that, though, it sounds pretty neat.”

“I agree,” he calmly smiles. 

He has the same soothing and friendly aura my grandpa did… it’s really nice. No wonder he and Magnus get along so well. 

“Anyone can learn to survive in the wild. I think we all have the hidden urge to return to nature,” he says, “It’s just a little scary to make the leap.”

I nod. “For sure. It’s really intimidating.” 

“It’s rewarding if you can adapt.” He moves onto a new bush before beginning his goodbye. “Sorry to cut this short, but I need to gather as much as I can before it gets too dark.”

“Sure, no worries.” I start to walk again, offering him a good night. 

“Thank you, young friend.” Aw! “You as well.”

As we part ways, I wonder if Linus’d be interested in a home cooked meal every here and there. I imagine that even if he lives in the wild by choice, he might still appreciate something warm and made with care from time to time.

As I emerge from the backwoods and stumble down the hill to Seb’s, Robin is heading out of the house. Perfect. I barely have the hands to be able to open it myself right now. 

“Oh, hey there!” She waves, holding the door open for me.

“Hello!” I wave at her with Cannoli’s paw, jogging lightly to catch up. “I have no idea what Seb’s plan is, but thanks for offering to look after this little guy.”

“Me neither, just said you two might be out late.” She pats Cannoli, then me. I despise the content sigh I let out as her palm reaches my scalp. “Just make sure the lab’s locked up before you let the cat loose anywhere.”

I give Robin a curt nod. “You got it ma’am.”

“Have fun, ya rascals.” She makes sure to scruff up my hair a bunch before departing.

I snort and roll my eyes. “Yeah, you too.”

When I’m heading down to Seb, I once again make eye contact with Maru. This time she’s leaving the lab, rather than working inside of it. I can’t wave back this time because cat, so I give her a smile and hope my point gets across.

Once I’m at the bottom of the steps, I tap the door with my foot. “Oy, help!” 

“Comin’,” I hear Seb shout from the other side.

When he opens the door, Cannoli practically pounces on him from my grasp. Seb lets out a tiny yelp.

“What the hell, dude!” I look up at Seb. “You okay?” 

As he pries Cannoli’s claws out of the fabric of his hoodie, he nods, laughing. “Yeah, just scared me.” In a quieter voice, he holds the fuzzball’s face up to his. “Hello to you too, fucker,” he mutters before giving the cat a kiss on the nose. He’s so adorable. 

“Spill it, nerd,” I command dramatically as I plop all my stuff down and shut the door. “Where we goin’?”

“Not big on surprises, eh?” 

“I like surprises!” I frown, “I just wanna know what I’m getting into so I can mentally prepare.”

“Sounds pretty anti-surprise, if ya ask me.”

“Well, I wasn’t asking.” I tap my head and waggle my eyebrows.

“Fair,” he laughs, setting Cannoli down. As I take out a toy for the little guy to occupy himself with, Seb starts to explain his plan. “So, you know about the Night Market, yeah?”

“I think so…?” I furrow my brows, trying to rack my brain for distant memories. “Is that the thing with the boats and shit?”

“Yeah, it is. It’s usually out here, like, mid-January-ish. Buuut they’re set up on land in Calico this week,” he grins. “They have food stalls and games and shit, too. S’like a little carnival. More room for them to set up in the desert than over at our docks, I guess.” He fidgets with his nail polish a bit, shyly continuing, “It sounds like something you might like, so I figured we could go check it out…?” 

I’m fucking beaming. That sounds so fun!

“Hell yeah, dude!” I nod enthusiastically. “This is gonna be sick.”

“Thank fuck,” he mutters to himself. “I’ve never really done any proper dates before, wasn’t sure if I planned it right.”

“What do you mean? You’ve had exes besides Sam, no?” 

“Eh, kinda?” He shrugs. “Did a lot more messing around than actual dating.”

“Getting jiggy?”

“Precisely.” He reaches for my hair. “Here, you’re a looking a little skrungly.”

“Ugh, I forgot about that.” I lean into Seb’s touch. “Your mom gave me a new ‘do on her way out.”

“She did a shit job.”

“At least she knows how to do her own nicely.”

Seb’s lips curve up, as if fondly thinking of her. Makes me feel fuzzy. “Yeah, I’m thankful she passed her good hair genes down to me.”

“…How mad would you be if I told you she’s just as much of a MILF as Jo—“

He stops running his fingers through my hair mid-stroke and tugs. Mmm. A serious look suddenly plasters his features. “I will break up with you.”

Damn. I know it’s a bluff, given the grin he’s very clearly trying to hold back, but I ain’t takin’ any chances. I don’t shy away from casting him a shitty smile. “Gotcha.”

[valenhell]

From the studio that brought you “I can’t find good Byler fics in the ao3 tag”, comes:

"The Definitive Byler fic rec list"

Literally no one asked for this but because I spent the majority of last year (...and 2019, and 2018...) reading byler fics and coping with life, I thought I’d make a list of some of my absolute favorites. 

The other day I was basically starving for some byler fics and the angel @magicalfairy provided me with some of her faves so I thought I’d do the same, because I love reading, and I love all of these fics and I appreciate their writers💗 And fic writers in general, come on!

- This is a mix of long works and one-shots/short stories. - Everything is mostly fluff with a tad of angst and a lot of internalized homophobia conflict.  - Every fic is completed, except for the ones I mention that they are not. - I try my best to lay out the stories in a way that I won’t spoil you the plot but also warning you of some stuff you might don’t like. Either way, all of these fics are correctly tagged by their respective authors/owners, so read at your own risk. For better understanding, in between brackets I denote Rating, Words and quantity of Chapters. - I feel like I should clarify, none of these are narrated in the singular first person. None of that “And I told him...”, no. 

Long fics

a dream always the same (T, 99k, 35 chapters) What happened in those few weeks between the Battle of Starcourt and the Byers leaving Hawkins. Literally a satisfying and very needed fill in of season three, with a good dose of Mike’s thoughts and conflict. Mike’s characterization is specially amazing in this one. The writing style is amazing and I know the author put everything into making it historically accurate, and it was really sweet. You probably read it, it’s by the amazing sevensided here on Tumblr🧡

Spring Break (T, 120k, 14/15 chapters) The slowburn of my dreams. Lots of internalized conflict and conflict with each other. Conflict within the Party (uhh kind of), conflict with Mike and Will. Byers family has moved and the kids are visiting! Chaos. Characterization is on point. Yeah, I know it’s unfinished, but the fourteenth chapter actually serves as a pretty nice ending. 

This is where it starts (M, 148.8k, 24 chapters) Aged up characters. The Party is in college and Will disappears again, but now it’s different. Mike knows he didn’t vanish from thin air, and the discovery he and the Party end up making is pretty insane. Mystery solving/fantasy/third dimension, throw in a bit of D&D and Mike realizing some shit, and you get this marvelous fic. It’s a breath of fresh air. The world building is definitely one of the elements that stands out the most, because it’s very nicely described, it sounds like a dream and it’s completely immersive. Absolute gem of a fic. 

there’s a Starman waiting in the sky (M, 30.6k, 8 chapters) Do I need to say anything? Will is out there living his best life and Mike realizes that wow, umm, maybe his best friend looks a bit too nice with that costume... and wait, is he getting horny? It’s actually really fun and sexy.

The Evening Speaks (T, 23k, 7 chapters) In where Mike is a late-night college radio host and Will is the art student that stays up till late to catch up with Wheeler on the Mic. They flirt through songs y’all, this one is really sweet. 

heads or tails? (E, 24k, 3 chapters) Aged up characters. I know most people don’t enjoy sex in fics and with specific characters but this one is insanely well written. It’s a slowburn that commits to the tension and with every word you are grasping and anticipating their next move. I think you can find the author here on Tumblr as yousaidyes🧡

The Man of Average (M, 56.7k, 5/? chapters) Aged up characters. No but you don’t understand, the writing here is absolute gourmet. The story is exciting as well, it’s super interesting. Weirdly enough, for being very aged up characters, they are well characterized but they don’t feel like teenagers. They are naturally Mike and Will. The author really captured Mike and Will’s essence. I know, it’s unfinished and it’s updated very rarely, but this is the typical fic you can’t believe someone just posted on the internet for free. I will say though, I think it’s definitely not for everyone. Read at your own risk.

Heartstrings (E, 82.8k, 24/? chapters) Aged up characters. By the same author of The Man of Average. A collection of memories, the road to Mike and Will’s happy ever after. And fucking hell!!!!! You’ll cry and get angry, you’ll cheer for them, then you’ll want to crash their faces together because god dammit you love each other!!! But yeah, same thing here. The writing and the way the story is laid out as a nonlinear narrative is brilliant. And I also think this is one of the best Will versions I’ve read. The author might as well be the og creator of this two characters tbh. You can find the author here as mylesimeblr🧡

Sinners behind the walls (T, 1.5k, 1/1) And because I can’t stop recommending this author, a little thing of Mike tormenting himself but also being too deeply committed to Will. 

The Red Envelope series (T/E, 167K, two completed works) Something happens that Will thought was impossible and from there, pure drama and romance. Anything by this author has the potential to become your absolute favorite fic, but this series in particular is amazing. I doubt that any of you haven’t read this, but it doesn’t hurt to put it in this list. I’m pretty sure the author is serendipitous-magic on Tumblr🧡

A New Fight series (T, 91k, two completed works, one WIP) And finally the Star Wars AU that we all needed. But this isn’t your typical “Mike is Han”, “Will is Leia” and “El is Luke”, it’s way more interesting than that, and the author has appropriated the Star Wars world like no other. I’ll admit I’m not a 100% fluent in SW lore but this is amazing to me either way. This author is also on Tumblr, tea-for-one-please🧡

- Yes, most of these are (if not all), in a way, canon compliant/canonverse/canon continuation into fanon. (In a way)

One-shots and short stories

Sundae for Two, Please (G, 4.8k) Steve being the supportive friend and older brother these kids collectively need. (not Jonathan erasure, we love him). Steve is very sweet himself, and this little cute thing through his POV is gorgeous. Yes, it’s byler.

Backstage (T, 10k, 2/2) Jonathan, you forgot to mention to Will how hot your new band’s guitarist is, dude. Now he’s hyperventilating and weirdly flirting with him in the corner. Background Stonathan because why not.

102 Peach Street (G, 3.8k) Established relationship, but not only that, they are married :’’))) PURE fluff. Extreme fluffiness. Diabetes. 

sweatshirts and bottled up feelings (T, 3.2k) Or, Mike thinks that the sweatshirt Will wears looks insanely good on him. And kitchens are for lovers. 

kiss it better (T, 16.3k) Basically one of the best character studies of a few precise moments of Mike and Will’s relationship and feelings. 

will wonders ever cease (T, 11.3k) #i ship will and happiness. Omfg what a beautiful piece of fanfic. Will centric, this kid really deserves all the good in the world.

The Calm After the Storm (T, 1.6k) Tooth rotting fluff, boyfriends in love. Boyfriends being lazy, cuddling, love words, kisses. Boys loving each other’s company... Basically, Mike and Will in their element. What more can you ask for?

neither of us ready to let go (T, 4.8k) That scene from season three, but a bit of a fix it. 

Still in love (G, 1k) Domestic, married life au fluff. Y’all, I’m a sucker for established Byler, even if I can’t find many fics with it. But this is very sweet. It takes place in 2020, but I don’t think there are any mentions of the COVID-19 crisis that I remember.

I Nver Find Out ‘Til I’m Head Over Heels (G, 12.5K) Classic 5+1 fic. If you haven’t read it, where have you been? This is your moment. In where Mike keeps inviting Will to the school dances and Will thinks it’s just a joke until he realizes it’s not. 

Before You’re Gone (T, 5.9k) Will is leaving Hawkins and Mike thinks this is a great moment for a confession. This one I discovered last friday, thank you friend @magicalfairy 💗

You’re weird Wheeler (M, 4.5k) Mike unintentionally starts a tradition of going to each other to talk about their sexual encounters just after they finish. Will keeps getting more explicit with the details he shares, and he makes his best friend interested. This one is really fun y’all.

Out-Of-Town Friends (N/R, 4.6K) It’s not rated. I haven’t re- read it but I’d say it would probably fall in a T rating. So cute!! Will has new friends and sneaks off every friday and the Party doesn’t know where he is going, so Mike decides to follow him and is surprised. 

Snowed Under (G, 1.3k) By the same author of The New Fight series. Mike is spending christmas by himself in college because a snowstorm hits Chicago and Nancy can’t drive to see him, but then he has a surprise visitor. Ahhh just a lil sweet holiday fic. Super cute. 

you love me anyway series (T, 7.1k, three completed works) Literally just the cutest thing ever. Established Byler. Will loves to take pictures and he loves taking pictures of Mike. It’s adorable. 

you wanna be friends forever (i can think of something better) (T, 9k) This one is so amazing. So. Amazing. From Will’s POV, my kid deserves the world and he gets it. 

okay not to be okay (T, 4.9k) Mike is a bit sad but then everything is okay. 

can’t hold out forever (G, 18.4k) Y’all!!!!! 5+1 sweetness. Mike has been falling in love since kindergarten. And it’s long af, you’ll enjoy it. 

even if it takes forever (G, 1.3k) College short AU, they miss each other, they love each other, they promise all to each other. It is sappy y’all.

clear as day (N/R, 18.4K, 4 chapters) It’s not rated, but I’d say it falls in the T category. Strangers to friends to lovers. And also, everyone is pretty gay; we have our dynamic trio Mike, Max and El as disaster lesbians (and gay). Will works at the library and he is also gay. Lucas and Dustin and Will are the best friends we needed. It’s very sweet and the Party is kind of formed here!

I went overboard with the one-shots, so you must have realized how much I love long one-shots and I favor them over long works lmao but they are all amazing!!! If it’s on this list, I probably read it at 2 am, sobbing in my bed. So. Hope you enjoy it☺️🧡

[sofwrites]

fic writer interview

i was tagged by the ever lovely and talented @jake-amy 💖

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

Currently 15 separate ones, though I do typically put my one-shots under one work so it’s more accurately about 30! 

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

258,394 currently :-) 

3. How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

Three- Harry Potter, Princess Diaries, and Bridgerton

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

What Came Before Colin Realized: Multichapter work that spans from the incident to RMB. An accidental fix-it fic that turns Polin into a real slow burn. 

Bridgerton Stories: A collection of canon-compliant Bridgerton one-shots featuring different sets of couples, friendships, and family nonsense. A fun way to expand the Bridgerton universe. 

Welcome to the digital age, babe: Modern AU mixed media fic that spans Penelope and Colin interacting over an entire decade. Includes cringe early 2010s social media posts, a slew of birthday messages, some pretty hilarious puns and innuendos my amazing beta helped create, and a true slow burn. 

The best thing I never had: Also could be called, What If Colin Realized Too Late. A Colin POV one-shot of falling in love with Penelope after she’s fallen for someone else. 

21st Century Bridgertons: A collection of modern Bridgerton one-shots featuring various couples. Just another place for me to put little ideas in. 

5. Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

I do! When I first started writing for Bridgerton, I was worried people would find it annoying if I replied to those that didn’t have questions/things to specifically reply to, so I was really hesitant. Now that I’m a bit more involved in the community, I don’t stress so much about it and try to reply to most comments! But I do wanna say that even when I don’t reply, I re-read and hold all of those comments close. 

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

I think that “The best thing I never had” is the only angsty ending I’ve ever written, and it was definitely... angsty. I did, however, put multiple warnings for it so no one can fault me. 😅 

7. Do you write crossovers? If so, what is the craziest one you’ve written?

No, and I cannot imagine how people do it in complete honesty. ALL the power to those with big enough brains for that though. 

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Ooof yeah, I’ve gotten a few. I think it unfortunately stems from my place in the fandom and people thinking certain things are overrated. In complete honesty, it sucks a lot and holds more power than I’d like. 

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

lol no, unless you count the lil fake-outs I sometimes include

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I hope not! 

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, but if anyone would want to, let me know! 

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

I haven’t yet, but @jake-amy and I might write a Gregory/Lucy fic if we ever get our gears in order 🤓 

13. What’s your all-time favourite ship?

ok so I have a note on my Notes app that lists my favorite ships, so I’ll pick some of those (sorry I simply cannot pick an all-time): Mia/Michael (Princess Diaries), Katniss/Peeta, and Jonah/Amy (Superstore)! My favorite Bridgerton couples, however, are: Colin/Penelope, Francesca/Michael, and Gregory/Lucy

14. What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

I’ve had a modern Polin multichapter fic planned out since last May with about 5000 words written that I don’t think I will ever have the mental capacity to finish. I also have a Bridgerton high school au drafted that I hope I get to but can’t be sure. 

15. What are your writing strengths?

I think I do a good job expressing my character’s emotions through description/cues rather than just writing them out. It’s one of the comments I got most frequently on Digital Age, which was really cool since 95% of it was through texting/posts. 

I also think I do well in building anticipation in a scene. My favorite parts in movies/books are the lead up to things like a kiss, and I love writing them out as well. 

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

I think I have a hard time finding a medium between “long-winded” and choppy writing, and I spend a lot of time focusing on how much extra content should be between each line of dialogue. I also really struggle with imagination and thinking up different scenarios/things for the characters to be doing. 

Also, proofreading. I get tired looking at the same words over and over again. 

17. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I’ve only ever written a few bits here-or-there in other languages, but I’d rather not include anything I’m not fluent in or I don’t have a friend fluent in. I grew up speaking another language fluently, but I also didn’t have any formal education in it so I’d even be hesitant to write anything in that language. 

18. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

My first published work is an 80k marauders multi chapter fic that I never finished so... Harry Potter. 

19. What’s your favourite fic you’ve written?

Oh god, I never know what to say to these because I think I mix up how much I liked a fic vs. how much others liked a fic. But I’ll do my best. 

WCBCR will always have a soft spot in my heart because it really connected me to Penelope and Colin as characters and helped me understand their relationship better. I think It was glorious was most enjoyable for me to write because it brought me back to early 2021 when I really was excited to write most of the time. I also really like An unexpected visitor, which is a bit of a random Anthony&Gareth one, but I like working through some of the more random pairings. 

tagging / saying hello to: @overripe-citrus-fruit @fact-fictionx​ @hallownight89​ @sirphillipcranestanaccount 💕or anyone who sees this and wants to give it a go! take some time and interview yourself ✍️

[thedumpsterqueen]

Standards of Performance, Chapter 10: Accommodations

From the Beginning,  Previous Chapter

AO3 Link

Thank you guys again for being so kind about the new posting schedule (or lack thereof). Your comments and messages and rbs always make me laugh and cry (in a a good way).This is just a lil chapter about them being awkward and cute after The Kiss, and introducing some bigger plot stuff. You'll wanna buckle up for the next one ;)

Summary: You’re the BAU’s newest intern, desperate to prove yourself amongst an established team of much more experienced profilers. Agent Hotchner, the seemingly infallible team leader, sets strict expectations for your performance. He commands your respect without even trying, but is there something more to your relationship than a simple desire to impress your stony-faced boss?

Chapter Summary: Some creep is stalking the team and all you can think about is kissing Hotch. 

Words: 2059

Rating: Explicit, 18+. Warnings on AO3.

Pairings: Hotch x Reader, Hotch x You

The BAU had a stalker.

To put it in a way more relevant to your views on the matter: the BAU’s stalker was interfering with the (hopefully) budding spark between you and Hotch.

It wasn’t that you didn’t care that there was potentially unhinged maniac apparently obsessed with the team, it’s just that when you got the slightly panicked phone call from JJ that Morgan, Reid, Garcia, and herself had all found letters on their doorstep professing an alarming fascination with the members of the team, you couldn’t help but feel a bit irritated that the ordeal was bound to put a pause on the progress you two had made.

That is, until you went to leave your apartment in the morning and found an unassuming envelope shoved under the door. You opened it with shaking fingers to a note written on thick cardstock, scrawled in black, seeping ink as if written by an old-fashioned quill.

I’ve been paying attention to your team for some time - quite the impact you’ve made on the world of crime. The heroes of the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit! I’m sure the world wishes they had you during Bundy or BTK, hm?

Anyways, I had to see for myself. I must admit, finding you was much easier than I would have anticipated given your ‘status.’ I thought I’d drop you this note to say hi and propose a deal. A Game, of sorts.

The Game goes like this: I leave you notes, and you try to catch me! Easy, yes? This is day 1. How many days until you find me?

Xoxo Talk soon,

G

You put the note in your bag and, after double checking your door was locked (not that the flimsy deadbolt the landlord had installed would have done much to keep an intruder out anyways), you rushed to the office. You dropped your note on the table in the conference room where the team had gathered and pointed at it tremulously. 

“I got one too. I touched it, I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking -”

“Don’t worry about it,” Rossi interrupted. “We dusted the others; there was nothing. I doubt yours was any different.”

Hotch plucked your letter up and scanned it quickly before tossing it back on the table. “It’s exactly the same as the others. Nothing identifiable.”

“Why didn’t we get them?” asked Prentiss.

“Access,” said Garcia, notably less cheery than usual. The team turned to her for clarification.

“You three are hard to get to,” she explained. “Hotch and Prentiss live in secure apartment buildings. Rossi has a gated property with security that can rival the President’s. Those of us who don’t live the high life are just... out in the open.”

“So that’s encouraging, right? That the unsub either couldn’t or wouldn’t go through the extra trouble of getting to all of us?” JJ asked, hopeful.

Morgan shook his head. “I dunno if you can interpret any part of what this creep is doing to intimidate us as ‘encouraging.’”

“Does it read as intimidation, though?” mused Reid. 

“I don’t know, you tell me,” Morgan responded. “What’s your take on the language?”

Reid took a millisecond to reread the letter and pursed his lips. “Though the language isn’t directly threatening, the concept of a game implies either winning or losing. He - it’s almost certainly a he - doesn’t mention the consequences for either situation, which could imply that there are none, but that seems unlikely. There’s also the matter of separating himself from others in line three - ‘I’m sure the world wishes they had you during Bundy or BTK,’ not we. He’s trying to distinguish himself to us in some way, which means he wants to be noticed, and I don’t think there’s anything in this language that excludes the possibility of him doing something drastic in order to be.”

“So not encouraging,” said Prentiss dryly. “The question is, why us? Is this personal; did we put someone close to him away?”

“It could be, but the language in the opening seems sarcastic almost, like he’s mocking us,” noted Rossi. 

Morgan nodded in agreement. “It’s a challenge. He’s trying to tell us we’re not all we’re cracked up to be.”

The analysis worried you, because you felt you were the only member of the team for whom that statement might have been true. 

“So, what then?” you asked. “Review security footage and see if we can find anything?”

“Already did!” chirped Garcia. “Hotch had me up all night reviewing the tapes.”

For the first time, you noticed the dark circles under her standard coat of heavy makeup. You looked at Hotch, expecting to find some shame in his expression, but found none. 

“If there was anyone weird creeping around your dwellings last night, I didn’t see ‘em. I even looked through the street cameras in the area. Granted, none of you have a security camera pointed directly at your door, which might not be a bad idea after this -”

“Hold on,” Morgan interrupted, “you didn’t check her apartment though, right?” referring to you. “Cuz she just found it this morning?”

Garcia perked up, but you shot her down with a shake of your head. “Sorry guys, my place isn’t nearly nice enough to have security cameras.”

The team looked unperturbed by that, except for Hotch, who met your eyes with a look you couldn’t quite place. 

“What do we do, then? Wait for another letter?” JJ asked.

“That’s all we can do until we have more evidence,” said Hotch, visibly frustrated. He hated waiting, you knew that. You all hated it. It felt like watching a car without its parking brake on slowly start to roll down a hill.

“If that’s all, sir…”

Hotch nodded at Garcia. “You’re all dismissed. Business as usual for now. If he craves acknowledgement, best not to give it to him unless we have to.”

The team filtered out, and you made to follow them, but before making it through the doorway, Hotch called you back. He shifted feet, cleared his throat, and looked at you.

“About the comment you made earlier,” he started.

What comment? You wracked your brain trying to remember if you’d said something rude, or something that hinted at what happened between you two, but came up short.

He noticed the puzzled look on your face and clarified. “When you said your apartment complex wasn’t nice enough to have security cameras. I wanted to say that -” he ran his hand across his jaw, clearly uncomfortable, “- I know the internship salary isn’t impressive, and if you feel you’re unable to afford safe accommodation, I’d be more than happy to talk to Strauss about -”

“Oh, God, no.” You felt as if your face was on fire. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it that way, my apartment is fine - I mean of course there’s things that could be improved - but in no way do I feel unsafe.” 

“Well, good. Okay then.”

Before you could make your exit and spare you both from the residual awkwardness of the interaction, he spoke again. “There’s one more thing. Given that whoever wrote this note has displayed his willingness to come to our doorsteps, JJ is staying with Emily for the time being, Reid with Rossi, and Garcia with Morgan.”

You smirked at the last pairing. Leave it to those two to capitalize on a stalker to bunk up together. 

“I was going to have the Bureau get you a hotel in the meantime, since he did come to your apartment, but Garcia suggested that since we live so close, you could just… stay with me.”

Holy shit.

There was a pained look on his face as he finished the sentence as if he recognized what an utterly bad idea it was, but hadn’t had the good sense to reject it himself. He looked at you, expecting an answer despite the lack of a question mark at the end of that statement, and you struggled mightily to compose yourself to deliver an acceptance that didn’t appear uncomfortably enthusiastic. 

You must have taken too long, because he immediately started to retract his offer. “I already told her it was completely inappropriate; the rest of the team is used to staying together for cases but given you just started, and after the last few days I completely understand -”

“No!” You cut him off. “Sorry, no, that’s not what I was going to say at all. I’d love to. I mean, I think it’s a good idea. I’d feel a lot safer…”

‘With you around?’ Is that too much?

Fuck it. 

“... with you around,” you finished, and you swear you saw him push back a smile.

“Alright, then. I’ll let Garcia know.”

You made a mental note to send that woman a thank-you card.

***

As the workday wound down, you were surprised to Hotch turn out his office light and walk out at the same time as you did.

“Early night?” you teased as you walked to your cars in the parking garage, despite it being 7 pm. 

He chuckled. “It would have been rude of me to keep you hanging around until I decided to leave.”

Right. You were leaving together. Because you were going back to his apartment. Together. The undeniable domesticity of the moment put a skip in your step, and you couldn’t help but wish this was happening under different circumstances.

“So I’ll just stop by my apartment and grab my things?”

“What? No,” Hotch responded, frowning. “I’m coming with you. The whole point of all of this is to avoid being alone.”

And that’s how you ended up speeding down the highway like a madwoman, leaving Hotch in your dust, taking the stairs two at a time, and frantically scrambling to get your apartment in order. It wasn’t terrible; not as if you had rotting food sitting out or something (probably because you didn’t actually cook enough for that), but the recent caseload and spending so much time with Hotch in the mornings had certainly pushed general organization to the wayside. You shoved the growing pile of dirty laundry into your closet, straightened up the coffee table, and were in the middle of packing your suitcase when you heard a knock at the door.

Giving the apartment a quick once-over to make sure you hadn’t missed something utterly humiliating, you opened the door to an unimpressed Hotch.

“I could have pulled you over for speeding, you know,” he said as he strode into your living room.

“Yeah, sorry,” you said sheepishly, “I wanted to make sure this place wasn’t a mess the first time you saw it.”

He cocked an eyebrow and you realized how that came out - the first time, as if there were going to be many more - and you coughed and looked away.

“Anyways. I’m almost done packing, just gotta grab a couple more things.”

He nodded and you hurried to it, wanting to get him out of your apartment as quickly as possible. Normally you’d have jumped at the chance to be alone in a quiet place with him, but the way his eyes were scanning the room made you nervous that he was learning more about you in a very short amount of time than you felt entirely comfortable with.

***

You walked into Hotch’s apartment for the second time ever to find it just as clinically neat as before, except for a set of sheets and blankets laid out on the couch. Grinning, you gestured to them.

“Thought you said you were sure I would say no?”

It was his turn to be shamefaced. “Just in case. Besides,” he shot back, grabbing your bags from where you’d deposited them by the couch, “You’re taking the bed.”

“Like hell I am!” you scoffed, forgoing propriety. “I’m not making my boss sleep on the couch in his own apartment.”

“Considering I, as you mentioned, am your boss,” he responded, “I will be making that decision.”

You plopped down on the couch. “Unless I just refuse to move.”

He stood a few paces away and glared, but gave up and dropped your bags all the same.

You could have sworn you heard him mutter “brat” under his breath, but that didn’t sound like something Aaron Hotchner would say, did it?

Taglist (I got a bunch of new ones so message me if I forgot to add you!):  @stop-drop-and-drumroll @criminalmindzjunkie @xoprincessmel @cevanswhre @addie5264 @klinenovakwinchester​ @honeyshores​ @violentvulgarvolatile @masumiyetimziyanoldu @violetclifford​ @pipersaccomplice​ @itsmytimetoodream​ @groovygoob​ @captainhyenafan​ @thebadassbitchqueen​

[villa-kulla]

Fic Writer Review

Tagged by @fontainebleau22, thanks for the tag, sorry for the delay!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

26 at the moment.

2. What’s your total AO3 wordcount?

722 309. I’d have thought it would be more considering how long some of mine seem to get, although looking at other people’s answers to this meme, I guess 26 isn’t really a huge number!

3. How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

My first fic ever was a little Lord of the Rings experiment for an exchange thing. But my first proper dip into writing for a fandom would have been Breaking Bad, where I wrote for a couple of years before it felt like my ideas had run their course. Then there was a Kingsman fic, and then Mag7 where - similarly to BrBa - wrote feverishly for a couple years until it felt like the well had been plumbed. Oh yeah and then jumped into the Marvel fandom to drop one Marvel fic before immediately jumping back out lol.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

So the Marvel fic has officially just become my most kudoed fic, which is kind of hilarious considering it was a SUEZ! CANAL! FIC! But in my opinion, a good one lol. So yeah, it would be 1. The SamBucky Suez Canal fic, 2. The Kingsman soccer AU, 3. Desert Sand, 4. Chisolm’s 7, and 5. Blue Devils. That last one surprises me, but I guess it was an early one for the fandom, so I think it became an automatic read.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not

I do! It’s possible I’ve missed some here and there, but generally I try to get them all.

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

I don’t think any of them! While my fics definitely include angst, ideally it’s still in a fun way, or at minimum, bittersweet? I don’t generally want the last taste in a reader’s mouth to be angst. ALTHOUGH. I really really wanted to include an epilogue to the selkie fic that’s kind of angsty. Basically the story would end, but then many years later we’d see an old man get off a bus on the coastal road, carrying a suitcase. He’d be wearing a suit, clearly back from many years travelling. He’d walk to the coast, back over a hill where there’d once been a little fishing cottage, long since torn down. He’d walk down to the beach and into a little cove where he’d kneel by the water he knew better than anyone. Opening the suitcase he’d take out a box which he’d then empty into the ocean, ashes spreading across the water. He’d take out a folded bundle of cloth and wrap it around his shoulders. Then he’d dive into the water, disappearing into the waves, leaving nothing but an empty suitcase behind him, and a folded pile of clothes.

I loved that ending but I’m still not 100% sure if it was keeping in tone with the actual ending, so I left it out. Maybe one day I’ll go and add it as en extra chapter snippet.

7. Do you write crossovers? If so what’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I don’t know if I’d call them ‘crossovers’ exactly, although I did stick Goody and Billy into a Some Like it Hot ‘jazz band on a train’ situation, and I also did a Breaking Bad one that used some elements of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. Those feel more like ‘AUs’ though. I like situational crossovers, but I’ve never been super into fics where characters from different fandoms actually interact.

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Thankfully not. The most off-putting comment I’ve gotten was someone who - despite being very complimentary - decided to make a full-on laundry list all the anachronisms in a chapter lmao, like what. Stuff like "interesting that this character used this expression when XYZ would only been invented 10 years later!” etc. I’m positive they didn’t realize how it came off, but still, that was kind of hilarious in its.....obliviousness lol. It was special.

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

I do. And I guess I’ve done the full spectrum of ‘fade to black’ to ‘describe every bead of sweat in pearlescent detail’. It really depends on what the fic calls for! I’ve done some I’m quite proud of tbh, but there are others I’d like to go back and have another stab at, just because they felt kinda cookie-cutter.

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of!

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

There’ve been a couple! I can’t remember which ones specially, but I had some people asking to translate some Breaking Bad ones, and I think a Mag7 one too. I remember someone messaging to ask permission like “We love your fics in Russia!” and that was a very sweet and wild thing to hear.

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

Yes, I wrote one with @yoporkchopsandwiches! Our Victorian opium dens Breaking Bad AU lol. I was just thinking of that recently actually and remembering how fun it was to read what the other wrote! We plotted out most of it together, and then took turns writing chapters or scenes. But of course while writing you come up with other details or ideas, so we’d then present the new chapter to the other with all the new bits added. And it was so fun to read what the other came up with like ‘omg no way didn’t see that coming/good idea!’ and then picking up their idea from there. In that sense it was almost like improv but for writers.

13. What’s your all-time favourite ship?

That I’ve written? I think I’ve had the most fun with Goodnight/Billy, partly for the time period, partly for the dynamic, but mostly for the plausibility. While I really enjoyed writing BrBa, it felt more like it came from enthusiasm for the show, not the central ship lol. Don’t get me wrong, the chemistry and its potential was extremely fun to write in a fic setting, but I don’t find I actually shipped it while watching the show itself. Whereas it’s been nice with Mag7 to write for a ship that’s actually....more believable lol. 

14. What’s a wip that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

Ugh I can’t beLIEVE I have an unfinished fic up on ao3 lol it haunts me. I was sure I was done with Goodnight/Billy, and then early quarantine last year I had a train robbers AU idea, so I posted a couple chapters. But I don’t think my heart was super in it, I was more just messing around with the idea. I don’t want to delete it, but I’m also not super motivated to finish it haha, but we’ll see what happens. But tbh I like the poem summary better than the fic itself:P

15. What are your writing strengths?

Plotting, keeping things moving, and making stories feel visual maybe? They’re almost all movies in my head anyways, so I think I have good instincts for ‘cinematic moments’.

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

I think I’m a little lazy, and also ‘end-product oriented’. In some ways it’s helpful to picture the whole fic before you write it, but sometimes it results in some scenes feeling slightly slapdash because I’m just trying to get them out to move onto the next. Like ‘everyone did everything I wanted to in this scene? Great, next.’ I could stand to ‘stop and smell the roses’ more while I write, and actually see what else I can do to improve a scene.

(also if I use a word once it sticks in my head I end up using it like 5 other times in a scene and don’t notice lol, I need to stop that)

17. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

All for it! Depends how it’s done though. I personally find long scenes of dialogue where you have to constantly jump down to the author’s notes for the translations to be distracting. I like when it’s integrated more naturally where actual translations aren’t super important. Like in River Grit, Billy overhears this little exchange between Goodnight and his childhood nanny:

“Ah c’est vrai, mon petit Bonsoir! J’en peux pas le croire!” she cried out and laughed as she embraced Goody. Billy realized with a start that he actually recognized one of the words: ‘Bonsoir’. Goodnight. (insert brief flashback of Goody teaching him the nickname) / “Ma Serafine,” Goodnight said with a laugh. “C’est vrai que tu ne vieillis pas. Tu vas me rendre jaloux, heh?” / Billy had no idea what Goodnight was saying, but he sure as hell recognized Goodnight’s tone for flattery, and it was confirmed when the old woman laughed and smacked his arm.

What they’re actually saying is: “Oh it’s true, my little Goodnight! I can’t believe it!” / “My Serafine, it’s true you never age. You’re going to make me jealous”. But it doesn’t matter because this fic is from Billy’s POV so it’s about how he experiences the language around him, which is why I wouldn’t have included a translation for the reader. If you understand it then it’s a bonus, but the words themselves aren’t really the point! 

18. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

That lil Lord of the Rings fic.

19. What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

Hmm for Mag7 I’ve always liked River Grit and love how it turned out. I also think Ashes feels very complete as a fic and I liked the flashback format. And while it’s not my favourite fic, in hindsight I’m impressed with the Kingsman football fic and how I had to write about 5 different soccer games and make them all feel different and exciting, and not just some variation of ‘He kicked the ball!’ I’m really pleased with how those sequences all turned out.

La fin! Not tagging anyone this time, but please feel free to do this if you see it! I love when people just take initiative to do these things without waiting for a tag (also please tag me in it if you do, ‘cause I love reading these things lol)

[chichirichick]

SoMa Week Day 2: Healing

Hey, again! First off, I want to actually be proud of myself for a second since I'm posting two consecutive entries for @soulxmakaweek! I never expected my brain would actually allow this, but here's Day 2! Read it on ff.net, ao3, or after the cut!

I have a scar. Hard not to notice since it's hip to armpit, a line that practically killed me. While maybe some guys would love it for the braggin' rights, I think I'd prefer forgettin' it exists. It healed- so why do I have to give it another thought?

…

Shit.

OK, I know I do. I know there's somethin' there, but I'll be damned if I actually want to scratch anywhere past the surface of it.

I have a scar.

Easy to notice.

Hip to armpit.

Didn't kill me, but…

Maybe it sorta did. Or-- man, do I feel stupid saying this, but-- maybe it killed a part of me. Puttin' the rest of that explanation into words sounds as promisin' as havin' my teeth pulled but… here goes:

Maka Albarn is a giant pain in my ass. Has been from day one and has succeeded in doin' nothin' but improvin' on that skill each day of our partnership. 'Cept… at the same time, she is the only reason I'm alive.

That doesn't make any sense- mostly 'cause the reason for that scar is Maka Albarn needin' my protection, needin' me to take a death blow for her and not hesitatin' to do it.

Well, it makes some sense since she was the one that kept me together after. A guy who practically loses his guts doesn't exactly have the mental or physical oomph to feed, clothe, wash, and all-around take care of himself. Maka did that. Stein may have stitched me up, but eatin', drinkin', sleepin', even showerin' was all thanks to Maka. And, for the first time in our entire lives, none of it came with even a breath of complaint or a look other than somethin' close to pitiful from those green eyes.

So I lived because Maka did the heavy liftin'.

But part of me died because Maka did the heavy liftin'.

See, if you look back at that fourteen-year-old Soul who came to DWMA, my general hope is that you'd see a cool guy, but I know the truth. I wasn't anywhere near cool in my own head. Sure, I had the look-- still do-- but if you cracked me open you'd hear the racket. Even before that annoyin' lil' gremlin, I had voices foggin' up my inner workin's. My mom, my dad, my brother- just to name a few. I hated it. I lived with it every step I took and there didn't seem like a way to escape it.

But she killed it.

Guess I should say somethin' nice like "she healed me with her love," but goddamnit is that ever corny, and I'd rather complete that teeth pullin' I mentioned than have her actually hear those words from my mouth.

'Cause it's really fuckin' hard to hate yourself when you got someone who'll drag your ass into the bath if you can't do it yourself or someone who'll sleep with you every night until the nightmares settle. It's even harder to doubt yourself when they're always there tellin' you that you'll make it through, tellin' you that you're more than enough.

That old Soul died with that slash.

The new Soul… guess he just heals a lil' more every day that I'm he's with her.

Maka barely glanced over the composition before she ticked her eyes to him in annoyance. "What is this?"

"Tol' you- it's that stupid paper Marie wanted us to write about 'where we find our strength,'" Soul tried to deliver that with the same enthusiasm he had for laundry day. "You said you'd proofread mine because, and I quote: 'You always mess up your grammar and you're lazy with your main ideas so you always get the same grade.' And heaven forbid lil' Ms. Perfect's weapon get anything other than-"

"I can already tell you that your structure is terrible." She glanced again at the page, not absorbing the words just the awful penmanship and the truncated lines. "You know what paragraphs are, right?"

Soul rolled his eyes. "Maka, just read it."

She only dared another quick peek before leveling a grimace at him. "And are you serious with all those apostrophes?"

"It's how I talk," Soul offered with a shrug.

Maka released an all-suffering sigh before she centered her glare on the first line of the page.

Soul watched her eyebrows wrinkle.

Her mouth gaped and snapped shut again.

Her eyes flicked only a second's worth of attention to him before hitting the paper again.

He tried to relax, slipping his hands into his pockets to keep himself from drumming unsteady beats on his thighs to echo the ones in his heart.

Pink and then red started to drift to the top of her ears.

"Well?" He was eternally grateful that he managed that with impatience rather than one of those boyish, nervous squeaks that were threatening in this throat.

"Y-you-" she was stammering off the word, her eyes still glued to the paper. "You can't use an expletive in a school essay, Soul!"

He sucked his teeth. "Maka Albarn, that's all you got to say to me?"

She waved the paper at him, less a white flag of defeat and more a banner for her cause. "One- fix the apostrophes. I don't care if it's the way you talk- no one writes like that! Two- take out the curses. They seriously have no place in academic responses. And three-" She heaved a breath as she pulled the paper taut, making it hide her face from him. "Three- if you thought this was romantic, you shouldn't have prefaced it with the idea that first and foremost I'm a pain in the ass!"

"A giant pain in the ass," he corrected.

"Soul!" That was a tumultuous mix of tones from the refusal of defeat to the outright embarrassment of having her feelings written so perfectly yet entirely not eloquently.

"You're ruinin' my paper." He moved towards her, hands coming over hers to relax the strain in the page and uncover her face. "So you said you'd correct my mistakes, right? So correct me if I'm wrong, Maka…" His cool was fizzling as he needed to stop to take a swallow in hopes of easing his voice. "I sorta… I'd sorta like to know if I'm wrong about the love part. Like… do I have to fix it to say partners- friends- or…"

"You have to fix it to say you love me too," Maka snapped bluntly.

In vain he tried to catch the giddy little laugh that escaped his mouth, but there was no snatching it from taking flight. "Guess I did forget the main idea."

Maka's face burned while her fingers crinkled the edges, but a wonderful fluttering was starting in her heart. "But that is the main idea, right?"

"Yeah, sorta the whole point of the essay." He tried to shrug it off but the glow on her cheeks was being amplified by the smile that was starting to break through the worry. "So, uh, I guess I'll fix it. I'll just- I should probably just say it plain, right? That I-" Maybe this was the moment his point was proved, looking down at her, holding her hands in his, killing the last little bit of that scared boy who no longer existed. The real wound finally healed. "I love you, Maka."

[knightofameris]

Hiii! I was wondering if you had any fluffy fic recs? If you use AO3 and have any recs from there that would be nice too! Thank you!!!

AHDJSJD. okay I honestly do not mind giving out fic recs. Just for starters tho I do have a fic rec blog @knightofreaders !! You can also search through my blog with the tag “ameris’ fic recs”

Otherwise for now I’ll rec some AO3 ones and tumblr ones rn!! Mostly AO3 because you can find the tumblr ones on my rec account. I’m just giving recs I can think of off the top of my head rn. I’m sure I’m missing some.

Some of them might actually be GN!reader and not fem!Reader. I may have fucked up when labeling. Hmm.

Also I curse a bit on this. a lot. LMAO also terrible spelling throughout. good luck. 

Fly High, Baby! by beartea on AO3

180k+ || slowburn || series ; completed || reverse harem || fem!reader

This one is one of my favorites. I’ll probably go hunting for the post (here!) I made for it but I went so hard on my lil review. It’s a reverse harem, slow burn. But they have such a beautiful writing style and their characterizations are spot on. I don’t know if anyone else have ever understood these characters this well with how they break down the characters. Literally break them down, make them raw because they’re crying and you’re crying suddenly too. The MC is incredibly relatable IMO. She has a personality while also being written where you can relate to her. I see myself in her. But I also see my friends. And my friends are themself in her. And she’s annoying. And frustrating. And she’s human. Reverse harem includes: Ushijima Wakatoshi, Kuroo Tetsurou, Sugawara Koushi, Akaashi Keiji, Iwaizumi Hajime, Oikawa Tooru.

Times I’ve cried reading: probably like at least 5x. MC does have a given last name but that is because she’s adopted. Also, I’m not an Ushi fucker at all, but tea made me like,,, just love ushi,,, a lot

Ghosts We See by Renesis on AO3 // @renesis-jj here on tumblr

200k+ || slowburn || isekai || series ; ongoing || fem!reader || reverse harem

Another masterpiece, also a favorite. I think Ren does a great job world building, she truly makes it an experience and at this point I’m not even reading it for the haikyuu boys LOL. I absolutely love how she brings us into the story (as the MC or just as a reader) and submerses us into this world she created. she does a great job showing us the world rather than telling, keeping us in the dark like MC, and guiding us through the world like MC as well. Ren also has an incredible way of understanding the characters, even their alternate forms because at the core they’re all the same. But because the ones in the alternate world grew up in a harsher environment of sorts, they seem different. Harem includes: Ushijima Wakatoshi, Bokuto Koutarou, Kuroo Tetsurou, Miya Osamu, Miya Atsumu, Kita Shinsuke, Suna Rintarou, Oikawa Tooru 

Ren has multiple side stories intertwined as well which makes it just absolutely amazing. I should ALSO mention, I was already an inarizaki fucker but Ren made me go oh shit. also the same as I said about Ushi from beartea, I was not an Ushi fucker but Ren also made me like him a lot more

Next Time by @\dorkyama (I am not tagging her I’m too shy lol)

??k+ || slowburn || exes to lovers || completed || fem!reader || Miya Osamu

UGH one of my favorite series (I keep saying that) for osamu this time. I love the way remy portrayed MC. She’s frustrating and annoying but so real. She also did a great job showing the relationship with MC and Osamu. It’s funny people were always angry at Osamu but personally I was always angry at MC. I think more so because I’d do what she’d do lol (i was going to add all the chapters word counts but lol)

Sugar Sweet series by @kuroos-babie​

parent AU??? lol || ongoing || fem!reader || multiple  

So this is actually connected to all of her single mom!headcanons. I haven’t read all of them but I DO know that the one’s I have read make my heart just throb. If you know me, you know how much I do Not Like Kids. Well it’s not that I don’t like them, it’s more like I would not want to be a parent lol. I’m fine with being that older figure someone looks up to, but not in a parent way,,, but like Chiqui makes me question it every so often LMAO. But I’d like to be the cool aunt or idk. 

embroidered hearts by memento_amare on ao3

2.1k+ || one shot || strangers to friends to lovers || fem!reader || Sugawara Koushi

This is just insanely fluffy. And. It makes my heart cry with how cute it is. Because MC is scared of love and yet,,, Suga shows her it’s okay to be scared but to let herself love. 

the comfort of your hand in mine by memento_amare on AO3

1.2k+ || one shot || childhood friends to lovers || fem!reader || Sugawara Koushi

Another fluffy one. I just loved it for the mutual pining and childhood friends to lovers and the revelation. Ugh. It’s also on tumblr now :3c

Read more because I have a lot lol.

Claustrophobia by melremade on AO3

11.2k+ || two shot || friends to lovers (?) || Sugawara Koushi || a lil spicy || fem!reader

I thought this one was cute LOL. Sugas adorable in here and it’s only a lil spicy cus it had a pretty detailed make out session

Miscellaneous by Thisisforthebest on ao3

?.?k+ || multiple parts || fem!reader || has some SPICEY moments but it’s cute fluff mostly.

This ones hard to group. This one has a bunch of stories split into parts throughout different chapters of this uhhhh AO3 fic? I’ve admittedly only read Suga’s and Oikawa’s. I love both and Oikawa’s is still unfinished. suga’s is childhood friends to lovers and ugh it’s just so cute. Oikawa’s is also cute and I wanna scream. There are also other characters on here, but I haven’t read them oops. I only was interested in Suga’s and Oikawa’s lol. 

Drop the Guillotine by rosequartsy on ao3

13.7k+ || one shot || friends to lovers (?) || a lil SPICEY || fem!reader || Miya Osamu

I’ve gone back to this fic once or twice. It’s well written and it’s obvious about the pining going on in both sides and. Well I like it kol. And idk how to talk about it without giving out spoilers

All I Want by declaraso on AO3

44.5k+ || series ; completed || slow burn || childhood friends to lovers || fem!reader || Miya Osamu

The slow burn in this one was so FRUSTRATINF. and yet I kept reading because I loved it so much. You really want to bonk MC AND SAMU.

Crush like WOAH by herecomestroublr on AO3

9.2k+ || one shot || established relationship || fem!reader || Sugawara Koushi

HINATA goes to his two upperclassmen for help on confessing. And MC and suga explain their relationship development lol. This one was just really cute cus it focuses on Mc and suga but at the same time not.

too easy by @\kuroopaisen

3.2k+ || one shot || friends to lovers || Sugawara Koushi

Another fic I go back to a lot. I JSUT love friends to lovers. And I can see how this relationship developed so well and realistically??? Because there were moments in there I could relate to with my former relationships lol

pillow fort rituals by @\kuroopaisen

3.9k+ || one shot || childhood friends to lovers || Kuroo Tetsurou

My one single kuroo rec on here. lol. Well not counting the reverse harems. Anyways this one I absolutely LOVED. it was just well written and it was another type of relationship I’d want, one that kinda eases into one from friendship. I love that shit. I also think about this one a lot. I also enjoy this one a whole lot because, well, I like the idea of a relationship developing naturally in a way where there are no declarations of love or likes. It just happens and you know it’s there and the other knows its there. and maybe eventually you both do talk about it but. it’s there. 

Can you guys tell I have a strong preference towards gray haired characters 🤡🤡 and can you tell what my favorite tropes are ajdhajjd

Anyway I’m sure some of these you may have already seen. But these are my absolute favorite. Or maybe they are ones you’ve seen while scrolling through AO3 or tumblr but never gave a chance because I dunno. Some ARE long which is understandable. But hopefully this will convince you because hngngh

[maybankiara]

I HAVE COME TO SAVE THE DAY

pairing: JJ Maybank x Kiara Carrera

summary: JJ is a postman and Kiara is his favourite receptionist (alternatively, 4 times Kiara didn’t know JJ’s name and the one time she did).

w/c: 5k

a/n: i posted this on ao3 back for jiara week and totally forgot to post it on tumblr, too, so here’s a belated jiara fic, a short ‘lil enemies to lovers trope for y’all!!

masterlist | tag list

read on archive of our own

1: J.

‘Carrera Law Firm, how may I help you?’

  The guy standing in front of Kiara in a postman’s uniform gives her a glance that’s part-question part-disbelief, and then points at the device in his hand. ‘Delivery for Anna Carrera.’

  ‘Oh. Okay.’

  Blood rushes to Kiara’s cheeks as she clicks the button on the desk telephone, reaching her mother within seconds. 

  ‘Just sign it in,’ says her mother. 

  ‘Okay.’

  She hangs up and looks at the guy, extending a hand. ‘I’ll sign it.’

  He gives her a slight eyebrow raise and she may or may not see a hint of wickedness in the tight corner of his smile as she takes the device from him. She’s quick to sign it, with a shaky hand, and give it back to him. 

  ‘You’re new here.’

  Kiara nods, says: ‘Yeah, it's my first day’, even though it was a statement, not a question. 

  He stares at her for a hot second with the same expression, and Kiara expects him to ask something else, make it a conversation—it seemed like a conversation starter—but he doesn’t even acknowledge her answer. 

  ‘Where do I put this?’

  There’s a slight thud and she leans across her desk, seeing a medium-sized box with his black combat boot right next to it. 

  Her lips purse as she realises what he’d done, and decides she dislikes him. 

  All she wants to do is tell him off, that could be fragile, but she’s new and he seems cocky and reeks of trouble enough to make her bite her tongue. 

  So all she actually does is lean back into her chair and nod towards the wall to her side. ‘Just leave it there.’

  He does so without a question, and on the way out, gives her a two-finger salute. 

  Kiara checks the paper slip he left on her desk, finding his name with ease: J. Maybank. She thinks of his short but shaggy blonde hair, rugged and self-satisfied appearance that oozed confidence, and yeah, he looked like a boy whose name begins with J.

  It’s not the most awkward conversation/situation she has that day, but it’s the most memorable one, mostly because she can't get his smirk out of her head for more reasons than just one (and far too many of them she’d never admit). 

  She decides she hates him, anyway.

2: JOHN

The next time he comes, it’s Friday and Kiara’s got the hang of it, so she wags a finger at him to tell him to wait as she picks up the ringing phone. 

  ‘Carrera Law Firm.’ 

  She talks with the customer—a lovely lady, has the misfortune of living next to a new construction site—for a little bit, laughter falling from her lips. It’s Friday already and she’s gotten better at this, more confident, and making J. Maybank wait on her is worth it. 

  (It’s not a personal vendetta, per se – more of karma, really.)

  She watches him shift weight from one leg to another, hands resting in his pocket. He’s got a slouch to him, the ease in his shoulders making him seem as if anything he wishes for, the world gives him. Kiara’s friend Sarah calls boys who stood like that suave, but Kiara calls it arrogance. 

  The same half-smile with the same dose of wickedness in its curve is mocking her when she bids farewell to the lady on the phone. Her back is resting against the chair and a pen slides across the paper, before she actually looks at him. 

  ‘Delivery?’

  J. Maybank reaches into the side of his backpack and takes out a handful of letters, placing them on the desk. 

  Kiara frowns, because he’s still standing there. ‘Do I need to sign those?’

  ‘Nope.’

  He doesn’t budge and neither does his smile. 

  She collects the mail and goes through it, separating them in piles for each of her mother's employees. It takes her a couple of seconds, but J. Maybank’s gaze on her burns on her cheeks and makes it last a whole eternity. 

  Her glance at him comes in pair with a single raised eyebrow. ‘Can I help you?’

  J. Maybank puts his fingers on the desk, tapping one of them. ‘I can leave a message with you, right?’

  ‘Yeah, sure.’

  ‘Okay’'

  He nods. Kiara notes his fingers are shaky as he reaches into his pocket, taking out a pen and a piece of paper, even though there’s a bunch of both already on her desk for this exact purpose. 

  He scribbles down a note and folds the paper in half, hiding the text. He slides the note towards her, fingers still shaky. It’s a far cry from the overconfident, cocky person he was a mere minute ago. 

  ‘I looked up on the internet and it said that you offer free consultations, right?’

  Kiara nods. ‘Mostly, yeah. Depends on what you need.’

  ‘Family law,’ he elaborates. 

  ‘Then a consultation is free. It’s Mrs Viola Glisson’s department.’ Kiara puts her finger on the note and she wants to open it, to see what he’d written. Instead, she swallows dryly. ‘Do you want me to give this to her?’

  He nods. ‘That’d be great.’

  No thanks comes her way, only a smile that is innocent for less than it takes her to blink. He gives her the same two-finger salute and is back to the cocky J. Maybank in moments, and Kiara hates to admit that she can’t take her eyes off of him as he walks through the glass door. His uniform doesn’t fit the aesthetic of the building, nor Kiara’s smart black trousers and a red t-shirt with a propper-up collar and a zipper on the cleavage, but he doesn’t look out of place. 

  As soon as he’s out of sight, Kiara’s fingers take the paper note, ready to give it to Viola, a woman who grew up with her mother and Kiara dated her son James back in middle school. She’s planning to give it to Viola immediately, no wicked intentions, but J. Maybank’s face pops up in her mind, complete with the self-confident smirk. She gives in with a sigh, thinking that he deserves her snooping for the way he’s been acting. 

  To her disappointment, the writing is just a phone number with John Maybank written underneath it. 

  She hands it to Viola with a sigh, offering no information to go with it. Viola reads the note and a knowing look spreads over her features. ‘Maybank, the postman, right?’

  Kiara nods. 

  ‘He’s about your and James’ age, no?’

  ‘I guess.’ Her face flashes before her eyes and she places him in her school corridors with ease. She knows he doesn’t go to the Cooke Academy because a face with demeanour like his would stand out. 

  ‘He’s a good kid, Maybank. Mowed our lawn a fair amount,’ Viola muses to herself. Her fingers flip through a stack of papers and she writes something down, looking up at Kiara. ‘Did he say what he needed?’

  ‘Just a consultation with Familial.’

  ‘Hm? That’s interesting, might be about his father... Can you bring me a cup of coffee on your way out? You make the best coffee I’ve had in years!’

  Kiara knows when she’s being dismissed, so she does as Viola asked of her. Her mind buzzes with the newfound information about J.—John—Maybank. 

  He’s a mystery, and stays in her mind longer than she’d like, again. 

  3: JOHN J.

‘Mrs Grubbs, I can’t give away our employee’s private information.’

  ‘It’s just a phone number,’ repeats Mrs Lana Grubbs in exasperation. ‘It’s not private.’

  ‘A personal phone number is private information. I don’t have the right—’

  ‘Fine, I’ll just do it myself.’

  The short woman with greying brown hair pulled into an elaborate bun walks past Kiara's desk with complete disregard of any manners whatsoever, and is already halfway through the main hallway when Kiara comes up in front of her. 

  The young Carrera puts her hands between her and the woman, lips pressed tight. ‘Mrs Grubbs, you can’t walk in here unannounced.’

  ‘Announce me, then.’

  ‘You need to have an appointment,’ elaborates Kiara. She feels herself close to seething; there are firm rules set in stone when it comes to culture, and the woman before her seems to have completely missed them. ‘I can arrange you an appointment.’

  Mrs Grubbs scoffs. Her perfectly defined eyebrows shoot up, and her lips purse as she raises her chin. ‘I need an appointment now, young lady.’

  ‘My mother is in the middle of a meeting, and is busy until the end of her shift.’

  ‘She is not that busy. Push me in after this meeting.’

  Kiara sighs. Even if she pushed her in, she knew her mother wouldn’t give her time of the day with that attitude. ‘With all due respect—’

  ‘Ms Lana!’

  The two women avert their attention to Kiara’s reception desk, where a fair-haired boy in a postman’s uniform is standing with a small box in his hands and a grin on his face. He waves at them, but he’s looking at Mrs Grubbs. 

  ‘Hey, Ms Lana. How you been?’

  Mrs Grubbs’ demeanour changes in an instant – Kiara watches her go from a ruthless witch to a friendly lady from the neighbourhood. She approaches John Maybank and squeezes his cheeks with, asking about school, his friends, and whatnot. 

  Kiara takes the opportunity to go back behind her desk, eyeing the exchange suspiciously. Before she knows it, John is hugging Mrs Grubbs and she turns to the girl with a disappointed smile on her face. 

  ‘I will arrange an appointment elsewhere,’ she states, as if Kiara is supposed to give a damn. ‘Your services are subpar.’

  at least we don’t need to deal with entitled, mannerless assholes like you, crosses Kiara’s mind, but the only thing noticeable is the smile on her face. ‘In that case, I hope you find services that match your demands.’

  What she gets in return is a distasteful eye roll paired with an over-dramatic huff. Mrs Grubbs turns on her heel and walks out of the door without so much as a goodbye. 

  At last, Kiara takes a deep breath and shifts her gaze to the postman in front of her desk. 

  ‘Don’t worry about it,’ he tells her with the smirk she’s gotten used to in the past two weeks. ‘Ms Lana is a bitch to everyone.’

  ‘Not you,’ sighs Kiara. 

  ‘No, that’s because everyone likes me.’

  She raises her eyebrows at him—she seems to be doing that a lot when he’s around—and just opens her hand. ‘What you got?’

  ‘Delivery for Mrs Viola Glisson.’ He hands her a paper slip and the device to sign, which she does. ‘So you don’t agree that everyone likes me?’

  ‘I don’t.’

  ‘Ouch.’ John places a hand over where his heart is supposed to be (a little too far to the left) and grimaces. ‘That hurts my feelings.’

  Kiara gives the device back to him, walking around the desk to pick up the box and put it on it. She knows he’s staring at her cleavage (not very exposed, but noticeable when she bends over) and wonders if he left it there on purpose. 

  When she sits back in her chair, he’s still there, fingers tapping against her desk.

  ‘Look, thanks for your help with Mrs Grubbs,’ she says, because a) she’s not a fool and she can tell what he did, and b) she can swallow her pride for one second. 

  ‘Does that make me your prince?’

  ‘You didn’t come on the white horse or in your shining armour.’

  ‘My uniform’s kinda shiny,’ he says, tugging at the short sleeves that have the reflective tape on it that is a must-have for Kildare. ‘And my bike is white.’

  Kiara laughs. ‘Your bicycle?’

  ‘My motorbike.’

  He says it slowly, with the “e” stretching into a knowing smile, and Kiara hates that he knows exactly what he’s doing, and hates even more that it’s working. 

  Thing is – by now, Kiara is half-certain that the majority of the reason why his presence irks her is because she’s attracted to it, and Kiara Carrera hates being attracted to people who are cocky and self-serving. He looks like he could be a good night’s fun, with his cheeky grin and eyes that remind her of waves she sometimes surfs on, and he reeks of trouble, still. This used to be her type – tall, blonde, with a streak for illegal activities, but Kiara said to herself that she isn’t fifteen anymore. She hasn’t been fifteen in two years, come two weeks. She’s past that childish behaviour. 

  ‘I don’t need a knight in shining armour, pal,’ she states, shutting down her thoughts before they progressed even further. I need a postman.’

  ‘We could be friends,’ he says. ‘Why not, huh?’

  ‘Do you always chat with receptionists for longer than it’s appropriate?’

  ‘Only cute ones.’

  Kiara can’t contain her laugh this time, and it echoes in the room full of marble. John is smiling at her, and she thinks that the wickedness in the crook of his smile is just playfulness, instead. Teasing, too, and maybe just the slight hint of a daredevil. 

  She leans her elbows on the desk, intertwines her fingers, and rests her chin on her hands. ‘I don’t even know your name.’

  He cocks his head to the side as if he knows she’s lying and, based on the way he seems (perceptive, in any case – he’s very good at finding out what makes her tick), he knows that she is. 

  The blond extends her a hand and she takes it. ‘John J. Maybank.’

  ‘Kiara Carrera.’ His grip is firm but so is hers, and they have a little staredown. ‘Adding in a “J.” to make yourself seem fancy?’

  (She pretends her hand isn’t cold once his is away; she pretends she doesn’t feel the blood coursing through her veins, or the knots in her stomach when his eyes fall to her lips.)

  John J. Maybank laughs with his whole chest, arms crossed on it. ‘Fancy is the last word anyone would use to describe me.’

  Her eyes travel up and down his body, and she tries not to linger on his biceps, accentuated by his pose, or the way his uniform sits just right on his body. 

  Instead, she grins. ‘I can tell.’

  He taps his fingers against her desk, and her eyes catch a pair of rings she didn’t notice before. ‘Anyway, we're friends now.'

  ‘Do I want to be friends with you?’

  John J. Maybank is already halfway out of the building when he turns to her, walking backwards, and shrugs with his arms outstretched. ‘I don’t think you have a choice.’

  He’s right – she doesn’t. 

  She thinks he’d be surprised if he knew just how little choice she has when it comes to him.

  4: JOHNNY JAY

John J. Maybank catches her as she’s walking out of the small—hers only—bathroom next to her desk. 

  ‘Hey, friend.’

  Kiara still rolls her eyes at the greeting. There’s something off about him, only she doesn’t notice what it is until she's sat down at her desk – he’s wearing a basketball top and short cargo pants, paired with the usual combat boots. 

  Kiara certainly didn’t expect to find out that the uniform actually hides quite a good bit of his body that is, objectively (and not in the way of Kiara objecting), quite pleasant to look at.

  He catches her looking. ‘I’m here for an appointment with Mrs Glisson.’

  ‘Now?’

  John J. Maybank glances at the clock to his right, above the bathroom door. ‘In ten minutes.’

  ‘Give me a second.’

  Her mind buzzes as fast as her fingers flip through the book of visitors. She recalls him asking for a consultation with Viola about two weeks ago, distinctly remembering Viola saying something about his father possibly being the reason. Her fingers land on the last time someone came for Viola. 

  ‘Sorry, she’s still in a meeting.’

  ‘Thanks. It’s okay, I’m not in a rush,’ he says, taking a seat in the waiting area, a few feet from Kiara’s desk. He throws one hand on the back of the seat next to him, ankle over a knee, and grins. ‘Besides, I don’t mind the company.’

  ‘I’m busy,’ retorts Kiara. 

  ‘When’s the last time you had fun?’

  ‘How long ago did you come here?’

  ‘Damn, dude. You still don’t like me?’

  ‘Nope.’

  They both know it's a lie. 

  In the past two weeks, he’s been here about five times, and every single one of those, he stayed behind to chat a little bit. Kiara didn’t mind – she liked having someone to talk to, especially someone who was her age. 

  (Well – not anymore, as of today.)

  ‘You should come to the Boneyard,’ he says. ‘And before you say you don’t want to—I see you—I’ll just let you know that I know you do, because I’ve seen you there, with Sarah Cameron and the kooks.’

  At this, Kiara leans back in her chair, crossing her ankles underneath her desk. ‘Don’t recall the Kooks playing at a Boneyard party. I think they tend to have proper concerts, instead.’

  ‘So what, you’re gonna say going to Boneyard parties isn’t your bad habit?’

  A smile spreads over her lips, heated underneath his gaze. She likes that he caught her reference – she likes that maybe they have the same taste in music. She likes the idea of them dancing to it, at a Boneyard party, red solo cups in hand. 

  ‘Relax, Johnny Jay.’ He raises an eyebrow at the name, but doesn’t interrupt her. ‘Boneyard parties aren’t really my scene anymore.’

  John J. Maybank stares at her with the same knowing look. She catches the glimmer in her eye that tells her she's not fooling him, and she sees the intent in the curve of his Cupid’s bow. 

  He flashes a set of white teeth and a pair of dimples. ‘Bring Sarah Cameron and the kooks. It might be a pogue party, but it’ll be a proper party.’

  Kiara’s smile is soft, and her cheeks are heating up again underneath the sharpness of his gaze. ‘What will they say when I find out I’m friends with a pogue?’

  ‘You care about that?’

  ‘No,’ she admits, ‘but I thought you might.’

  ‘Nah, dude. My friends already know about us.’

  ‘There’s no us.’

  ‘There could be.’

  He gives her an award winning smile, one that must’ve given him the aura of someone good for a night's worth of fun. (She hates that it’s drawing her in the way he is, making her want to say yes when she told herself she’d be more responsible her last year before leaving for college.)

  Kiara just sighs, going back to what she was doing before she took a bathroom break – doodling on a paper they used for testing the new printer (the one only Kiara seems to understand, which makes her useful, and the situation annoying). 

  John J. Maybank walks over to her, fingers on the desk. It irks her when he does it, so he does it as often as possible. 

  She looks up at him and for once, there is not a hint of anything wicked.

  ‘Come on, Kiara. Next summer, you’ll be getting ready for college, and you’ll be too busy to enjoy yourself. Then you’re gonna leave for college and you won’t look back, and that’ll be the best years of your life wasted. Besides,’—he taps against her hand and she slaps his—‘I won’t be there anymore.’

  He tries touching her hand again, and she slaps it all the same. ‘Why does that matter?’

  ‘‘Cause I’m the best thing Kildare has to offer.’

  as if.

  Kiara is about to snap back with something—he hasn’t figured out what—when Rafe Cameron walks past the two of them, giving her a court nod. She pushes John J. Maybank’s hand off the wood, pretending her hands don’t burn where skin touches skin. ‘That’s your cue.’

  He nods, and she notices the smile fell off his face while she watched her best friend’s brother walk out. His blue eyes are glazed, and his lips are trembling so Kiara pokes his hand with the top end of her pen. 

  ‘You’ll be fine, Johnny Jay.’

  ‘Yeah.’ He nods to her, or himself, and taps once against the desk. ‘See you later, I guess.’

  Kiara gives him what she hopes to be a reassuring smile. 

  John J. Maybank leaves, and she listens to the familiar thuds of his boots until she hears Viola's door open, and he walks in. What they’re doing isn’t her business, regardless of how badly she wants to know. Rafe Cameron’s here because he’s dealing with some bullshit his dad’s putting him through, and the only reason she knows any of that is because Sarah told her. Kiara is practically family to the two, even if she isn’t the biggest fan of the boy. 

  Johnny Jay, on the other hand, is someone she struggles to even consider a friend, since they’ve never met outside the confines of these four walls. They read each other well, bounce off of one another like a pair of old friends, and they’ve got a lot more in common than she would’ve ever thought. 

  They’re not friends in the traditional way, but they’re friends enough. 

  The telephone on the desk buzzes with the word VIOLA in place of caller ID. Kiara answers. 

  ‘Kiara, sweetheart, can you please print for me the documents I sent you?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Thank you, darling.’

  Printing is actually much simpler than any of them realise. Kiara doesn’t even open the documents before sending them to the printer, clicking a few buttons that are just settings for how the page will come out (and most of them she doesn’t even need to touch). The printer is in the building’s library on the first floor, and the room smells of old books and freshly printed papers. 

  There’s a difference between snooping into a note he left for Viola and looking over the documents that she is currently taking out of the printer – she can’t not see what is written on them when she has to check that the printer hasn’t gone out of ink. 

  It’s only a glance at each of the pages, but it’s enough for her to see EMANCIPATION FORM and RESTRAINING ORDER FORM written at the headers of each of the two sets to clock onto what’s happening.

  The only thought in her head is: shit.

  She wasn’t meant to see that. 

  Kiara’s hands produce a shaky knock against the wooden door, and it’s Viola’s raspy smoker-voice that invites her in. She’s still feeling a little bit sick in the stomach when she enters, papers in hand. 

  ‘Thank you, Kiara,’ says Viola, a thoughtful expression on her face.

  ‘No problem.’

  Her voice is feeble, filling out every inch of space not occupied by something, or someone. She’s halfway out the door before Viola even gets to dismiss her, and she glances at Maybank on the way – he’s pale, face sickened with something she doesn’t recognise, but his eyes are weary in a way no sixteen-year-old’s should be. 

  He doesn’t seem angry – it’s Kiara’s last thought before the door shuts, and she can’t see him anymore. 

  Time passes as she waits for the meeting to be over. The fair-haired boy is all she can think about; she shouldn’t ask questions but there are many in her head, and her doodles can’t distract her anymore. When customers call, she doesn’t chat to them, and no people walk in to divert her attention. 

  He walks out about quarter of an hour later, a bittersweet edge to the eyebrows looming over his eyes, a stack of paper in tow.

  ‘Hey, friend.’

  A finger taps against the desk, next to a doodle that looks an awful lot like him. She moves her arm and rests her elbow on it. 

  ‘Hey,’ she says back. ‘Did it go well?’

  ‘Well.’ A sour smile. ‘I’m not sure getting a restraining order against the same old man you’re trying to get emancipated from could ever go well.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ offers Kiara, and it's genuine. 

  To John J. Maybank’s credit, he gives her a court nod and a smile that seems a little less like it’s saying i am doing something that could go terribly right or terribly wrong.

  ‘Come to the Boneyard on Saturday. Bring Sarah and everybody. It’ll be fun.’

  ‘I’ll think about it.’

  He must know her well enough to be able to tell this is as close to a yes as anyone will ever get from her, because the smile his cheeks stretch into is the one with dimples, and a fancy for trouble.

  She knows him well enough to be able to tell that what she found out stays between them. 

  (Kiara wonders when strangers turned into friends turned into people who understand each other without having to say anything.)

  ‘Oh and, uh,’ he calls back from the main door, ‘happy birthday!’

  He doesn’t stick around long enough to hear her thanks, but he sticks around many other times.

  + 1: JJ

Flowers. 

  ‘Those better not be for me,’ muses Kiara from her desk. ‘I don’t like orchids.’

  JJ walks in with a bouquet of flowers and his postman uniform, all accompanied by a wide, cheerful grin on his face. He’s got a spring to his step and he swings himself around the desk, planting a kiss to Kiara’s cheek. 

  Her hands loop around his waist. With the flowers now on her papers, Kiara feels as if she walked into the Camerons’ backyard. 

  ‘It’s not for you,’ says JJ, wrapping a curl around his finger. ‘For Mrs Glisson.’

  ‘What’s the occasion?’

  Kiara’s—well, whatever they are to one another—hesitates for a second, but she thinks it’s more for dramatic effect than actual hesitation. 

  His finger taps her cheek, warm and rough at the tip. ‘I’m moving into the Chateau today. Officially.’

  ‘Have the forms gone through?’

  He nods, and Kiara flings her around his neck, pulling him into a full kiss. It shifts into a hug, and she feels him relax into her. ‘I can breathe now.’

  ‘I can only imagine.’ She pulls back, smiling as wide as he is. ‘How are you feeling?’

  ‘Shocked. Terrified. Excited. Ambi-feelous.’

  ‘That’s not a word.’

  ‘God, you’re starting to sound like Pope. I never should’ve introduced you.’

  ‘It was inevitable,’ Kiara says. 

  They both know it, so JJ just runs a finger alongside her jaw, and his lips briefly touch hers. He’s gone after that and so are the flowers (Kiara is genuinely glad they weren’t for her). Viola isn’t in a meeting right now so it’s fair game, and about two minutes in, she’s pretty sure she can hear the woman crying/yelling (when it comes to Viola, those sounds are way too similar). It’s a big deal for everybody – the whole firm took him under their wing once they found out about the horrors of living under the Maybank roof, enough that they decided to do the case pro bono. 

  (JJ doesn’t like pity, so he made sure to help out in any way they can, from running errands while doing her postman job or being their personal mechanic during his free time.)

  When he comes back, he’s all smiles, lips stretched out wider than Kiara thought it possible. 

  ‘I’m picking up post today,’ he says, walking over to the box with mail thrown into it. ‘Busy day.’

  ‘How busy?’ 

  ‘Busy.’

  ‘Could you spare ten minutes?’ asks Kiara, stepping away from her desk. He can see her in her full glory now – she’s pretty sure he has a thing for secretaries and their lookalikes, and she’s been putting in extra effort the past few days. ‘I think a pipe went off in my bathroom, or something. Since you said you’d help out with maintenance…’

  JJ checks the clock above the bathroom, then shrugs, facing away from the camera to give her a coy grin. ‘I guess ten minutes won’t hurt.’

  ‘Thank you.’ She starts walking over to the bathroom, JJ at her heel. ‘I’ve been dying to get this fixed for days.’

  ‘Mhm. I can imagine. It must’ve been awful.’

  ‘Truly terrible.’

  The moment they’re behind the closed door of Kiara’s bathroom, she’s pressed against the cold wall, JJ’s body hot in front of her. His lips are all over her neck and her hands making a mess out of his hair, while his are busy tugging her shirt out of her trousers and sliding underneath the fabric, pulling lines on the bare skin. 

  Instinctively, Kiara’s hips buckle against his as she arches her back and tilts her neck, exposing more skin for him to brush his lips over. She feels the bugle, and lets out a hearty laugh. 

  JJ stops kissing her, just enough to give her a glare with a frown. ‘I can see how terrible it’s been if you have time to laugh at me.’

  ‘Shut up,’ Kiara says, tugging at his collar to pull him closer. ‘We’ve got to be quiet.’

  His hands travel downwards until they’re in her trousers, cupping her ass, and Kiara buckles against him again. She pulls him closer until they’re chest to chest, and she kisses the spot right below his ear, feeling him moan against her, his hands gripping her tighter. The thrill of being caught is making both their hearts race, and Kiara can think of very few things hotter than this moment.

  ‘Quiet is the last thing you’re going to be, Kie,’ he threatens.

  She’s up on the sink within a heartbeat, and he tugs her trousers down with more ease than she’d think possible. 

  There’s a mirror on both sides of the wall, in front of her and behind her; she sees the grin on her lips, with self-assurance and a hint of wickedness to it, watching JJ press kisses up her tight that leave marks no one but her will be able to see. 

  Her hands are tugging on his hair, pulling him closer to her. ‘Ten minutes,’ she reminds him. ‘Make ‘em count.’

  All JJ does is bury his head between her legs, and she starts to think that this bathroom had never been meant for anything other than this.

  ★

tagging. @jjmaybanky​​ @chasefreakinstokes​​ @drewstarkey​​ @thatsme-johnbookerroutledge​​ @outrbank​​ @juneyxx @drewstarkeyobx​​ @ilovejjmaybank​​​ @teamnick​​​ @jjmaybanksbaby​​​ @mahleeyuh​​​ @nicolewithasoul​​ @kiarawilliams127​​ @starlightstarkey​​ @anonymous0writer​​ @outerbongs​​ @warnettc​​ @jjandreidsgirl @jjmaybanqs @sofiesshitshow @kaitieskidmore1 @maybanksbaby @abbiesthings @tempestuousjj @coconutroseowl @queenofthepouges

[dreamingofscully]

5x20. “The End” - X-Files Rewatch

A little missing scene fic I wrote to accompany this episode: [INTRUSION] / Read on AO3 / rated T / M/S UST / Diana / Multiple POV, Drabble, Missing Scene / The first interactions between Mulder/Scully/Diana after the conference room scene. Also, how did Diana end up in the back seat of their car?

Anyway, on with the episode! I have quite extensive analysis about Diana & Mulder, Scully's jealousy and the MSR. Probably one of my longest posts yet. Hope you enjoy! Comments, reblogs and tag comments are love!  ❤️

***

Cute lil' Gibson. Love him so much. ❤️

Mulder and Scully's picture in their office.

What is Mulder hoping to find?

Mulder isn't sure, beyond "The Truth". His sister, of course, but overall?

Scully can't live with ambiguity like that - that their investigations will continue forever with no end goal, because there is no end goal in Mulder's mind. She needs more certainty, something solid.

If Mulder reaches the end of the work - does he lose Scully? (This theme is addressed in Fight the Future.)

Mulder's face when he sees Diana.

He's not angry, just shocked. They didn't leave on necessarily bad terms, at least in his mind. He probably blames himself, as he usually does. (MORE AT THE END.)

"There were things at home I decided I wanted to get back to."

Diana's assumption that she can have Mulder when she gets back. There's no idea that he's changed or doesn't want her any more.

Scully is confused. Why are they giving this woman a ride? Why is she being included in something that was normally just something she shared exclusively with Mulder? She's jealous, possessive, at least when it comes to Mulder.

Their positions entering Gibson's room: Mulder, Scully, Diana.

The whole mind-reading scene.

I think Mulder is thinking about Diana, just because she's turned up and it's so weird for him. He also has the annoying tendency to take Scully for granted sometimes. 😥

It could be either Diana or Scully thinking about Mulder, maybe both. Gibson is a troll. Both of them have Mulder on their minds - perhaps Diana is a bit more overt, though. Scully is good at compartmentalizing and would try to focus on the case despite the strange woman intruding on her territory.

That Mulder doesn't want Gibson to say who is thinking about him. He thinks its Diana, of course, and he does NOT want Scully to know about her yet. He wants to delay any explanations for as long as possible. Why? He's never told Scully about Diana. His feelings for Scully, his thoughts about their relationship... they're in a very delicate position and his ex showing up throws things completely off-balance.

Diana peeking in on Mulder and Scully's argument/discussion MAKES ME RAGE.  😡

Scully's look when Diana speaks. Like... who gave you permission to enter this conversation, Diana? Certainly not Scully.

Mulder giving Diana the "authority" to do the testing over Scully.

He obviously knows her strengths, what she's capable of. Still hurts.

Scully's "So you two know each other." and Diana's obtuse "It was a long time ago." OOF.

That Diana knew Mulder before Scully, does she feel that gives her some special advantage? She's trying to assert herself, get some of the power she feels she lost from their previous interactions.

Mulder's so transparent. He's SOOOOO uncomfortable with Scully knowing Diana.

Why would it be awkward unless he feels guilty or some strange sense of betrayal?

Why would he feel that way about a past relationship unless he was thinking about deepening the one he has with Scully?

Scully holding Gibson's hand. ❤️

Gibson the little troublemaker.

Telling Scully she's thinking about Diana and Diana is thinking about Scully.

Scully finding out more about Mulder and Diana.

Her jealousy is written ALL OVER her face.

That Diana is more similar to Mulder

Scully can't help but feel insecure, that Mulder would favour a partner like Diana instead of her. 😥

I love how excited Frohike is to see Scully. ❤️

When going to the LGM, she says : "Analyze the data … with an eye to the parapsychological."

Does Scully feel she needs to be more open-minded because she feels threatened? She needs an advantage.

Frohike looks very uncomfortable when Diana is brought up. What does he know that the other gunmen don't? Maybe Frohike knows exactly the predicament that Mulder is in regarding his feelings for Scully, and whatever issues Mulder dealt with about Diana.

Byers' "I always wondered why they split up." Oh he is so clueless. Scully's face. Her emotional, roughened voice. She's not dealing well with this new info.

That he was in a romantic relationship with Diana, while working with her. She’s probably thinking: maybe Diana is the reason that her and Mulder haven't had anything happen between them, why he's rejected her over and over? He doesn't feel that way about her, he's been pining over this other woman. Who will now replace her not only in a romantic sense (that she never had but she perhaps thought might have been possible) but also in a professional one.

Scully heading to the Gunmen's to fact-find about Diana is pretty cute in a heartbreaking way. Scully brings something for them to look at, but she is also there to grill them about Diana. I think her evasiveness about her reason for being there might be pretty telling to the Gunmen (Frohike, at least), and they might suspect some sort of jealousy on her part.

Mulder's chatty when there's only one of them.

Diana is DEFINITELY trying to manipulate Mulder away from Scully. "I sense you could have used an ally, though – someone who thinks like you, with some background."

Mulder's defense of Scully: "I've done okay without you."

Diana's "Hey ... I’m on your side." and taking his hand. This just screams manipulative to me. Also, this seems like a strange phrase to use. She’s trying to convince herself as much as she is Mulder.

Scully seeing the handhold.

Walking away, trying to recover from whatever it was that she thinks she saw. Some sort of intimate moment - after learning about their past. Diana seems to want to rekindle things, but where does Mulder stand?

The scene in the car is just heart-wrenching. The deep sigh, the tears in her eyes.  😥

Then, Scully proving to a roomful of agents why she's been the BESTEST PARTNER EVER. TAKE THAT STUPID FOWLEY. (I’m not biased, I swear.)

Mulder's so happy and proud that people are seeing how awesome Scully is. ❤️

Scully dropping the "five years" that she's worked with Mulder to Diana and talking about proof.

Diana's criticism: "How do you quantify the spiritual? It can’t be done." Trying to undermine the importance of what Scully's learned, what she's given Mulder.

Diana frames her argument as being concerned with the X-Files being shut down. So what? Is Mulder just supposed to ignore the incredible evidence so he can continue his endless pursuit of nothing? Never wanting proof or anything concrete, just happy to gather stories and have faith in unprovable beliefs?

The similarity to the beginning with Skinner - what does he want? Does he want proof or does he want to endlessly investigate cases and learn interesting things but never actually accomplish anything? Does he want Scully's way, or Diana's?

Scully's white suit vs Diana's black one. Just sayin'.

MULDER DOESN'T ULTIMATELY CARE ABOUT THE X-FILES IF HE CAN GET PROOF. HE CHOOSES SCULLY.

Pre-Scully, would Mulder have thought the same as Diana? Probably. But now his beliefs have shifted. It doesn't matter what he has if he doesn't have the foundation, the basis in reality - to back them up.

Mulder has GROWN. He's changed so much since Scully's come into his life.

Time for Scully to do the same.

CSM back to his old tricks. They wanted him back so he could assassinate - but he's just a tricksy manipulator who takes pleasure in tearing hope away from people at the last minute. He's a cat playing with a mouse before he breaks it’s neck.

Scully's wearing a lot of skirts this season. ❤️

Gibson's "They’re so worried about what other people are thinking when the people they’re worrying about are worried about the same thing. It makes me laugh."

Scully's worried about Mulder, and Mulder's worried about Scully.

"No, you don’t care what people think. Except for her. The other one." - Gibson

Scully does what's right no matter the consequences. That's why she's still with Mulder. But Diana, she has no idea what to do there.

Diana falling asleep while watching Gibson. So she's incompetent, too? Cool cool cool. 😡

Scully at Mulder's apartment. Skinner knowing she's there.

She went home after finding out Diana was shot/after finding the sniper assassinated. Changed and came to Mulder's apartment. Why? To be there for him. Maybe she heard about Jeffrey Spender and his threats.

"I'll be here if you need to reach me." - Scully

Staying with him, helping him through whatever he's thinking; that they've lost not only the proof but the X-Files as well. Maybe their partnership.

Scully feels guilty. Mulder sided with her, chose her proof despite the warnings from Diana. And the consequences she mentioned are all coming true. Maybe she's not good for him anymore, maybe she is HOLDING HIM BACK. Her thoughts, her guilt that she expresses in Fight the Future start here.

The ending.

Holding onto Mulder while he stands there, stoic and unresponsive.

First, he lost his proof, his answers. Then, his life’s work. What’s left?

Scully’s reaching out, but he's folded into himself.

I like how this episode seems to end with Scully embracing Mulder - trying to hold onto him while he is the stoic and standoffish one. Seems like this whole episode, from an MSR perspective, has been about Scully's emotions surrounding their relationship, trying to hold onto Mulder, who she feels is slipping away. Holding tight to the idea of THEM when she's not sure there has ever been the possibility of a THEM.

***

MY DIANA THEORIES

Diana

She helped CSM when he was shot in Redux II: in exchange, he'd find a way for her to return and get Mulder back

She returns at the same time as CSM; at the beginning all she's told is that she can have Mulder (yes, like an object), nothing much about Scully except that she's his partner and they AREN'T involved

She's shot, why? To show her that CSM can do what he wants with her, that he OWNS her; she's cured quickly, by HIM: tells her she's going to be working on the XF with his son and her only objective is to get Mulder to turn against Scully or at least put a wedge between them

CSM knows that the MSR is the reason why his repeated attempts at turning Mulder have failed. Mulder's changed, he no longer can be manipulated by people as easily. Scully is his conscience, his integrity. As long as they are together, Mulder in invulnerable.

Diana is the perfect way to disrupt the relationship. She's been working with the Consortium, and she can (or at least used to be able to) wrap Mulder around her finger.

Diana/Mulder Relationship

They had an on-again, off-again relationship ever since he was out of the academy (Gunmen)

Diana was manipulative but loved him in her own way. She feels entitled to him. She assumes he will come running back to her because he always did it before.

From my Kill Switch post: Diana made Mulder wear the ring to 'claim' him, she was pretty possessive of him. They didn't actually get married until after they discovered the X-Files. And that was sort of a last ditch effort by Mulder to keep her, since she was getting impatient with his obsessive focus on the X-Files. She left anyway shortly after, sent the annulment papers by mail for some bogus reason that she guilted him into agreeing with. I don't think Mulder was ever in a healthy relationship with someone who was unselfish and truly cared about him until Scully (and even that isn't quite healthy in some ways, but at least she cares for him).

Mulder feels responsible for losing Diana, that it was all his fault for the relationship failing. He's avoided romantic entanglements since then. He SPECIFICALLY refused to entertain the idea about loving Scully because of this history.

He doesn't harbour any negative feelings towards Diana, or feel that she did anything wrong.

I have some ideas of what she said to him to get him to agree to the annulment and they'd probably fuck him up; this goes beyond speculation and into fanfic territory so I won't get into it here. Nevertheless, he feels like he's shit at relationships, that if he were to try to become involved with Scully in that way that she'd leave him because of it. He always loses those he loves, and it's always his fault.

[pickalilywrites]

happy halloween! i wrote this lil thing after watching this trailer for this show called Zombie Detective! I haven’t actually watched it so idk much about it beyond the premise, but i worked parts of it into this lil au ^^ hopefully you guys think it’s fun! the idea is that it’ll be a series but idk when i’ll get back to it, haha, but i do have future plans for it! also, can you believe this is my second erejean? crazy! i thought i would have written for them more haha

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How To Disguise Yourself As a Human Being

EreJean. Zombie Detective AU. 

How to Be a Zombie series. 

10108 words. 

Read on AO3!

I’m alive. 

It doesn’t occur to Eren, after digging through six feet of dirt, that this isn’t entirely true. While it’s true that he’s alive, it would be more accurate to say that he’s alive again. Then again, it doesn’t quite hit him - as he breathes in his first breath of fresh air in what feels like months - that he had died in the first place. 

To be fair, this isn’t how Eren had pictured himself going out: knocked out in the middle of a midnight stroll through the forested hills that occupied the south of the small town he'd grown up in only to be choked to death, his strangled breaths unheard by the slumbering town. He had pictured himself going out with a bang, something like a gunshot and not snuffed out so easily like a candle. Preferably, it would be in his thirties (forties, if he were lucky), giving him enough time to make a noticeable mark on the world. But, of course, the universe is unpredictable, unjust, and, above all, a huge bitch. 

All Eren can think when he first crawls out of the earth is that the sunlight is so bright it’s practically blinding. He holds out a hand to shade his eyes only to realize something strange - his hand is frighteningly thin and pale and veiny. His tanned skin is now a sickening shade of gray and Eren can easily see the veins of purple and blue running underneath the thin layer of skin. He looks down at himself - his torn up clothing covered in dirt, his bare feet the same color as the rest of his sickly skin, and the dry brittle hair hanging from his head. Dried blood stains his clothing, the only bit of color on him. He realizes then, sitting next to the six-foot hole that was meant to be his grave, that he hadn’t just been attacked that night. He had been killed. Murdered. He was dead. And now he’s alive again. 

Nobody tells you how to deal with being a zombie. They tell you how to deal with a zombie but never what to do if you become one yourself. It turns out that humans are far more equipped to handle zombies than post-apocalyptic media would have you think. You could probably even make it if you were a senior citizen as long as you were able to raise your cane above your head. It’s only occasionally that a person gets eaten by a zombie now because fighting one off isn’t actually all that difficult. Eren knows the basics: aim for the head because the brain is what controls a zombie and their skulls are as soft as eggshells, zombies are slow creatures but you should still think fast, and never ever let a zombie bite you. 

The last rule has Eren salivating as he realizes that it’s been a while since he’s eaten anything. He lays down on the ground, hand on his stomach as it rumbles. He tries to will away the cannibalistic urge that’s eating away at him by thinking of anything except his desire to feast on human flesh. He wants to be hungry for human food: miso ramen with its rich, salty broth and succulent slices of char siu pork with sweet kernels of corn and a soft-boiled egg on the side, okonomiyaki batter sizzling on the grill and topped with shrimp and green onions, or even crispy karaage with a squeeze of lemon and dipped in mayo. But Eren doesn’t crave any of it. His stomach growls in dissatisfaction, banishing his thoughts of food and replacing them with more horrifying alternatives: human skin breaking between his teeth and salty on his tongue, soft tissue melting in his mouth, taut muscle chewed up and swallowed hungrily. Eren craves sustenance in a way he never has before. 

A bush rustles nearby and his eyes flicker over to it. Eren doesn’t move; staying still as a zombie is much easier than it ever was when he was a human. There is nothing but the wind sweeping up leaves in little gusts for a moment, and then, Eren sees it: a rabbit timidly making its way out of the bush. Its wide brown eyes stare at Eren, ready to scurry away at any sign of movement. The rabbit’s little pink nose twitches as it hops ever closer to the reanimated corpse that is Eren Jaeger. It’s such a tiny thing. This might even be its first time experiencing the fall - crisp autumn leaves underfoot, chilly morning air as the temperature cooled from summer to fall, and the sun setting earlier and earlier each night. It hasn’t lived nearly as long as it should, and yet Eren can’t help but salivate as the rabbit approaches him, imagining how satisfying it would be to plunge his teeth in its tender flesh. 

The rabbit stops where Eren sits, leaning down to sniff at the hole in the knee of his jeans. The poor thing didn’t stand a chance. 

Before he can even think, Eren grabs the animal in his grimy hands and bites into its neck. The sound of teeth digging into raw flesh is disgusting, but Eren can’t find it in himself to stop, taking bite after bite, moaning hungrily even as the rabbit struggles in his grasp and blood dribbles down his chin and onto his hand. Eren takes a bite from the rabbit's neck, blood spurting as his teeth tear at a vein, and feels the creature struggle uselessly until finally growing limp in his hands. He eats the rest of it - fur and flesh and blood and all - and feels it fill him like no meal ever has before. He doesn’t know how he had ever eaten before. In his previous life, he couldn’t imagine anything better than well-cooked meat: grilled, fried, roasted. He loved it marinated, covered in spices so that the different flavors could blend together and bring out the umami of the meat. Now, he realizes those extra flavors only masked the true taste of meat - gamey with a slightly sweet aftertaste - and cooking it destroyed its integrity. There’s something invigorating about eating raw meat, chewing through tender tissue and tough tendons, breaking flesh down, grinding it between his teeth. He’s had a taste and now he can’t imagine it any other way. 

The rabbit was a small meal, one that did well to satisfy his hunger for the time being but fed his desire to search for more flesh. Rabbits are lean - small creatures with soft tissue, its only tough muscle in its legs. Eren can only imagine what other animals would taste like. He wants the taste of deer on his tongue, its meat smooth and firm as he bites down into its flesh, its rich and earthy flavor melting in his mouth. Raw pork would be meatier, fattier, sweet and savory at the same time. Chicken should be lighter, not nearly as rich or pork or venison, but nice and juicy as Eren tears his teeth into it. Beef should be tender, thick and meaty and earthy all at once. And human flesh … 

Eren licks his lips at the thought of sinking his teeth into a human’s shoulder but quickly shakes his head as if that would be enough to banish the horrific thought. 

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and stares at the smear of blood across his skin until he falls on his back with a heavy thud. Eren wants to feel disgusted at himself, to be ashamed at the monster he’s become, but his stomach grumbles. Even as he clutches at it in a helpless attempt to muffle the sounds of his hunger, all Eren can think about is how terribly dissatisfying his meal was and how he longs for something more. 

A moan escapes his lip, frustrated and lonely, and Eren wonders how he’ll ever be able to survive his second life. 

----------

Swapping from a traditional zombie diet to a vegetarian alternative, Eren discovers, is actually very easy if you’re able to distance yourself from humans. Well, it’s not really vegetarian if he’s still eating meat, but at least it’s not human meat. That has to count for something, right?

Eren had never really appreciated living in a small town until now. When he was in college, he had jumped at the chance to attend a college in the big city. It was fun; he got to have class with hundreds of kids instead of the normal ten or twenty and met a lot of new people. There were clubs and the chance to have an actual nightlife instead of just having a drink at the convenience store down the block because that was the only place that was open at night. Eren even enjoyed sharing an apartment with four other guys even if they could all barely pay rent and there was never a single clean spot in their shared space. Moving back home was a disappointment, but there really wasn't much else he could do when renting a place in the city was ridiculously expensive and, despite receiving his bachelor’s degree, he couldn’t land a decent job. His hometown was so quiet and dull in comparison, and some houses on the outskirts are so far apart that it takes fifteen minutes to get to the next one, but those are things that are actually very ideal for zombie life. 

In all of his time as a zombie, Eren has only encountered a handful of humans and only from a distance. He doesn’t dare go near the town. He doesn’t think he’s ready for it, at least not yet. He wants to go through more training - learn how to keep space between him and his desires while learning how to satisfy himself with the meals he can get. Camping in the hills at the side of town is helpful, Eren finds. Having grown up here, he knows exactly what places to keep clear of so that he doesn’t run into any innocent townspeople or tourists that have come for a leisurely stroll on the trail. Being at the edge of town also means that Eren’s close to the farm at the foot of the hills, which means he always has a source of alternative meat to feed on when he feels peckish. 

He used to hate the old farm. Even if he was on the other side of town, Eren swore he could still smell the stench of manure even if his mother told him it was ridiculous. Sometimes he would even hear the roosters crowing at the crack of dawn, which didn’t even make sense because Eren didn’t live anywhere near the farm or at least he lived far enough away that he shouldn’t hear roosters shrieking at an ungodly hour every single morning. The other townspeople adored the farm because it was a source of locally-sourced meat that they could trust, nothing like the imported beef and poultry from outside the town. Eren, not understanding the ethics in the meat industry, didn’t care for any of that at the time. He just knew that everything about the farm - its stench, its noises, its entire presence - annoyed him, so he once suggested that he and his friends go cow-tipping. All but one of his friends agreed and so they all sneaked out only to be stopped when they reached Armin, the only person who didn’t want to go. 

“You know you can’t actually go cow-tipping, right?” Armin yawned sleepily when they had snuck into his room to drag him out with them. 

“Why? ‘Cause it’s ‘bad’?” Eren asked, putting the word in quotes to show that he didn’t care and rolling his eyes for good measure. 

“Well, yeah. Not to mention we’d be trespassing,” Armin explained. “And, like, cows don’t even sleep standing up. Horses do that.” 

“Oh.” 

Needless to say, Eren’s plans for that night were thwarted and he had another reason to hate the farm. Now, Eren can’t imagine what he would do without it. 

Eren doesn’t eat at the farm, at least not at first. He keeps an eye on it, noting when the farmer’s truck is in, when it tends to disappear, and when the lights are on at night. When he dares to sneak into the farm, he takes a mental count of all the animals - cows, goats, pigs, chickens. Eren is certain he can get away with eating the chickens as long as he does so sparingly. Maybe he could eat one a day, but the dwindling population of poultry would be noticeable within a number of days. He takes a mental note of the days where the farmer lets the animals out to graze, especially the cows and the goats. The pigs, Eren thinks, are probably the easiest for him to eat. They’re far from hairless, but they’re not as annoyingly furry as cows and goats. Of course, they’re not nearly as tasty, too fatty and rich to Eren’s taste. He likes things with more muscle, something with a bit of chew to it, but disposing of bones is a hassle too. In the meantime, Eren feeds on rabbits and birds he manages to catch in the forest, all the while dreaming of something more satisfying to fill his belly. 

The first time Eren sneaks in to eat a chicken, the sight of the poultry in front of him is so horribly enticing that he devours it on sight. He doesn’t even think, just lunges for the nearest feathered fowl and bites into it even as it flaps its wings and tries to scratch at his face with its claws. One good bite to the neck - punctuated with a large crunch! - and the chicken was lifeless in his hands and he ate away, occasionally spitting out the feathers between bites, while the other chickens clucked noisily around him. It’s only when he’s finished off his meal, polished the meat off its bones, that Eren realizes the ruckus he’s made and, upon hearing footsteps approaching, flees from the scene and disappears into the forest. 

It’s the first time Eren makes that mistake, but it’s far from the last. Although he only makes the trips to the farmhouse only once or twice a week at most, he has too many close calls to count. There are traps the farmer begins to set up to catch the culprit. They’re harmless at first, just traps that set off an alarm when tripped to alert the farmer, but they grow more and more violent - little mouse traps that snap at Eren’s toes, vicious bear traps with jagged metal teeth, steel conibear traps meant to break his body in two - and yet Eren manages to evade every one. Being a zombie makes him slower, but it also makes him more careful, more perceptive of the things around him. Human Eren wouldn’t have stood a chance. 

He still dreams of being able to return to society and live like a normal human being, but it has a slim chance of becoming reality, Eren thinks mournfully as he chomps down on the leg of a goat he had mercilessly bitten into just moments ago. Sure, he hasn’t eaten a human since he had awakened from the dead, but who’s to say that he couldn’t if given the chance? His craving to bite into human flesh, to feel it melt on his tongue, to have it fill his belly, is still one that burns in the pit of his stomach every night, but he’s learned to ignore it so far. As much as he wanted to chase after every stray hiker that had happened to wander into his line of sight, Eren has never allowed the desire to consume him, instead running away and biting into the meat of his arm because he wanted something - anything - to sink his teeth into and the taste of his rotting flesh helped to banish any want for human meat. 

A sudden thump pulls Eren away from his train of thought and he realizes with horror that the farmer is pulling open the barn door. There’s no way to escape, so he has no choice but to hide. 

Cursing under his breath, Eren discards the rest of the goat, leaving its carcass behind as he scuttled to the pile of hay in the corner of the barn. It smelled of dried grass and the stench of the farm. He hoped it would be enough to mask his own putrid scent. 

The clomp, clomp, clomp of the farmer’s boots against the wooden floor grow closer as he comes to inspect the abandoned carcass of his half-eaten goat. Eren watches through the hay as the farmer kneels, pulling what’s left of the goat into his lap and mourns the loss of the poor creature. 

“Those goddamn wolves,” the farmer moans, his voice filled with grief. It’s not unlike the sound of an animal as it cries for mercy. It’s the same sad tone, desperate and confused. The thought of the farmer, his throat in Eren’s hands as he holds the farmer beneath him and bites into the man’s face, with a lonely cry of anguish escaping his lips as he breathes his last makes Eren salivate. 

“Pull yourself together, Jaeger,” Eren mutters under his breath, but his teeth continue to grind as he imagines the taste of the farmer on his tongue - a good mix of tender tissue and tough muscle, like beef but so much better. A hungry growl escapes his mouth before he can stop himself and he hastily shoves a fist inside his mouth, biting down hard until he tastes old rusted metal on his tongue and his tears sting at the taste of his bitter flesh. 

The sound is just enough to catch the farmer’s attention and the man looks up to where Eren is. He stares at the corner where Eren is hiding, eyes unknowingly gazing over the hay bale that conceals the zombie. He continues to look but, finding no other disturbance, returns to look mournfully at the goat in his lap. 

“We’re going to have to lock this place up better if they’re eating the damn goats too,” the farmer says with a shake of his head. With a sigh, he stands up, hoisting the goat’s remains over his shoulder and walking out of the barn. 

Eren breathes more easily when the door of the barn shuts with a hard thud. He crawls out of the hay bale, brushing off the bits of dried grass that stick to his clothing and hair. A little wistfully, his eyes rest on the bloody stain in the stall that had once housed the goat. He had gotten a good taste of it, but he was unable to finish his meal. Hunting for a rabbit in the dark to satisfy his hunger is going to be a pain in the ass. Still, it’s not all a loss. 

In all his time as a zombie, Eren has never been in such close proximity with a human, had never stayed that still in front of a human and not given in to his urge to run away lest he does the unfathomable. He had never trusted himself to not give in to his nature, but tonight is proof that he’s not a monster, at least not completely. At the very least, he’s capable of staying close to a human without eating them. 

Eren rubs at his mouth, wiping at the blood leftover from his last meal. He’s starting to think that reintegrating himself into society isn’t completely impossible but if he’s going to do this, he’s going to need a little help. 

----------

After careful deliberation, Eren realizes that there are really only a handful of people that are equipped to deal with his reanimation. His first thought was to return home because any mother would be overjoyed to discover that her son who had gone missing has suddenly reappeared, but the same cannot be said for a mother who discovers that her missing son has returned as a zombie. If anything, the shock of finding out her son is still alive - alive again, actually - might kill his mother, and that’s something that Eren wants to avoid. 

There are plenty of people in town who knew who Eren was when he was alive, but not very many people that Eren would consider close enough to turn to even if he were in dire need of help. He’s never been the most popular guy in town and he doubts showing up as a zombie will win over any hearts. Out of his friends, he’s probably closest to Armin, who he’s known since they were in kindergarten. Going to Armin for help wouldn’t actually be a bad idea. He’s hands down the most intelligent person Eren has ever met and the town pride for attending Sina University, one of the most difficult universities to be admitted to. He’s also the most loyal, surprising everyone except Eren when he eventually returned to their hometown to work as a civil service worker because he wanted to help improve their town. At first glance, Armin would be the most obvious choice to seek help from, but there’s also a very big issue with Armin: he’d probably faint at the sight of his best friend as a zombie and, well, Eren’s not sure he’d be able to handle himself if an unconscious body dropped in front of him just waiting to be feasted on. 

He goes down the rest of his list: Annie would be more equipped to handle a zombie. There’s no doubt that she’d easily kick Eren’s ass whether or not he was a zombie, but that in itself was an issue too. She’s the type of person to kick ass and ask questions later, and he doesn’t think he’d get too far if she smashed his head to pieces. Eren thinks he’d be able to negotiate with Reiner better, but he’s not sure his friend would be able to help him. Reiner would probably laugh his ass off after finding out Eren had somehow been turned into a zombie and, frankly, Eren isn’t in the mood to deal with that. Thus, after a month of careful planning, Eren finds himself at the front of Jean’s door praying that his friend still lives in this sorry excuse of an apartment. 

He reaches out and knocks on the door with a tentative rap of his knuckles, stepping back and swallowing nervously as he listens to the heavy footsteps on the other side of the door. Keeping his head down, he pulls his hood closer over his face, hoping to shield himself from any curious eyes that might notice him visiting Jean at four in the morning. 

“Who the fuck-?” Jean mumbles as he pulls open the door. A bat dangles from his hand, but he just scowls when he looks at Eren in the face. “Even if you aren’t a goddamn zombie, I will bash your head in.” He starts to lift the bat but Eren hurriedly lifts his hands to shield his face. 

“Wait, Jean!” Eren says. His voice is a lot more hoarse than it used to be. He doesn’t know if it’s because he hasn’t used it in god knows how long or if it’s because zombies don’t have the same vocal cords as humans. He clears his throat. “It’s me. It’s Eren.” 

“Eren?” Jean lowers his bat as he squints and takes a good look at Eren in his tattered hoodie, scraggly hair covering most of his face. He relaxes and then makes room for Eren to squeeze by. “Jesus, you look like hell.” 

Jean’s probably right, but it doesn’t mean Eren likes hearing it. It’s not as if Jean looks any better in his rumpled Yoda pajamas and bedhead. 

“Were you going to hit me over the head with that?” Eren asks, still eyeing the bat warily. 

“Yeah, I mean, zombies and everything,” Jean says with a shrug. He shuts the door behind Eren and gestures for him to take a seat at the dining table. The brunette takes a seat himself and yawns, not even bothering to cover his mouth. “But what about you? Nobody’s seen you in over, what, a year? Your mom cried about you the entire time, calling up everyone she knew every night just to see if anyone had seen or heard from you. Everyone thought you died.” 

“Oh, well …,” Eren says sitting there awkwardly. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands, if he should put them on the table or fold them or what. They end up in his lap so he can stare at them and avoid making eye contact with Jean. “They wouldn’t be wrong. Er, at least not exactly.” 

Jean freezes and then his eyes widen, fully awake now. Slowly, he leans across the table and reaches out until his hand is on the hood of Eren’s sweatshirt. They stay there like that, staring at each other while Jean’s hand rests on Eren’s hood until Jean finally pulls it back and reveals Eren’s true appearance. 

“Fucking hell, Eren,” Jean says exasperatedly, burying his face in his hands. 

It’s not how Eren had imagined telling Jean, but it’s not like people made pamphlets for this stuff.

“It’s not like I planned this!” Eren whines, slumping down in his chair and pulling the hoodie over his head again. It’s kind of embarrassing to come out as a zombie. “I just … woke up one day like this.” 

“And you just decided to walk up to my door and let me know then? And then what? Eat me?” Jean hisses. 

Although Eren is grateful that Jean is keeping his voice down, he wishes his friend would stop rubbing his face in exasperation. He finds it so … distracting the way Jean rubs his rosy red cheeks, soft and squishy under his palms. If Eren could just take a bite out of them …

He shakes his head violently. “Stop!” Eren says more to himself than to Jean. He startles himself with his own voice, so he proceeds more calmly, his voice lowered. “I mean … no, that’s not what I’m here for. I’m kind of like a vegetarian anyway.”

“Oh, so if I plop a salad down in front of you you'll be happy eating that instead?” Jean sits back with a snort, arms crossed over his chest. His biceps flex, muscles bulging. Eren doesn’t remember if Jean was ever that toned before, but turning into a zombie has made him a lot more perceptive to these types of things. 

Eren sucks his cheeks in to keep from drooling. “No, I said kind of like a vegetarian. I still eat meat just not, you know, human meat.” It’s supposed to be a good thing, but he still winces as he says it. Not eating humans isn’t really an accomplishment. 

“Good for you,” Jean says dryly. He raises an eyebrow. “So what are you here for? Don’t tell me you want me to … to mercy kill you.” They’ve never been the best of friends but Jean still shudders at the thought of having to do such a thing. 

“No, no, nothing like that!” Eren says hastily. He wonders why those have to be his only options: killing people or being killed himself. Under his breath, he mumbles, “If I wanted someone to kill me, I probably would have asked Annie.” 

“Yeah, she probably would have done it without batting an eyelash. Maybe even without you having to ask,” Jean says and chuckles in spite of the situation. The sound of his laugh makes the atmosphere less tense and Eren relaxes in his chair. Across from him, Jean looks at him with an expression of curiosity rather than one of suspicion. “So if you’re not here to eat me and you don’t want me to kill you, then what are you here for, Jaeger?” 

Eren purses his lips and looks at Jean, wondering exactly how close they are. He would never put him at the top of his friend list although there have been occasions where Jean has been the first name on his hit list. They’ve gone through far too many fights over everything and nothing over the course of their friendship - over copying homework back in middle and high school, over whether or not the other owed them money, over who accidentally left Armin behind, and things that are too trivial to remember now. Asking to disguise your zombie friend as a normal human being is probably the ultimate test of friendship. 

“I want you to help me.” 

Jean sighs but, Eren notes, it’s not a rejection. He gets up from the table and runs his hand through his hair. “It’s way too early for this. I need coffee.” He opens a cupboard and pulls out a pack of instant coffee. Pausing, he looks over at Eren. “Do zombies drink coffee?” 

Eren was never a fan of coffee even when he was alive. Now, the idea of drinking something so bitter makes him want to gag even more. Still, Eren shrugs. “Sure.” 

----------

After a conversation over some (very disgusting coffee), Eren and Jean have agreed to a couple of things. 

First is that, while they shouldn’t openly disclose the fact that Eren is a zombie, they should most definitely let a few people in the know because there’s only so much Eren and Jean can do on their own. Eren can’t have his mother knowing. It would probably break her poor heart to know. But they should at least let Armin know. Out of their friend group, he’s undeniable the smartest one. They’d have to break the news to him in a way that doesn’t frighten him, but Eren thinks that it’ll be manageable. They were debating on whether or not they should let Annie know - Jean was heavily against it but Eren was all for it - and agreed to let her know after consulting Armin for his opinion. They didn’t even want to think about Reiner and Bertholdt right now. 

Second is that Eren can no longer feed on wild animals, but Jean will provide him with a supply of raw meat. The idea of eating meat that’s gone through some processing isn’t ideal, but Eren will take what he can get. At least Jean promised to get him some pig blood to douse the meat in too or else it would be even less appealing. 

(“How do you even eat with those teeth of yours?” Jean asks, trying to peer into Eren’s mouth as the zombie scowls at him. “I mean, you have incisors and stuff, but your molars aren’t really ideal for tearing up food.” 

“Oh, well, it kind of just … gets everywhere,” Eren admits unhappily. 

“Disgusting.”) 

Third is that Eren has to have a makeover. 

“I can’t believe you still have that shitty job at the hair salon,” Eren mutters, referencing the hair salon in the center of town where everyone gets their hair cut. He stopped going there in middle school because he was tired of only having to choose between a buzz cut and a bowl cut, the only hairstyles that were offered to boys below the age of fifteen. 

“Yeah, well, be glad because you’re in desperate need of a haircut,” Jean replies. He pulls a sheet over Eren’s shoulders, holding it in back with a safety pin. He threads his fingers through Eren’s limp hair and frowns. “You can’t make a prolific career as a makeup artist here unless you’re super passionate about high school girls going to prom or brides and their bridesmaids coming in for the occasional wedding. At least cosmetology school covered how to hold scissors.” 

“Sorry,” Eren mumbles, suddenly feeling guilty. He’s felt unhappy and unfulfilled living in this small town, but he’s never really thought about how his friends have felt. Armin and Annie seemed more than content and Reiner enjoyed having his family nearby. Jean would complain every once in a while, but he never seemed too serious about it until now. He must feel as if his potential is wasted after getting a degree in cosmetology only to spend his days cutting hair for his neighbors down the street. 

“I don’t know why you’re apologizing. It’s really not that big of a deal just working here.” Jean takes out his water bottle and spritzes Eren’s hair before running a brush through it. He takes out a pair of clippers, opening and closing them with a few clicks as he approaches Eren. “Do you mind how much I hack off? It’s been a while since you had it cut short and it probably wouldn’t look as … greasy.” 

“Hack away.” 

Eren’s hair flutters to the floor with a few quick snips, the only sound that fills the room. 

“But you’re not like the other zombies,” Jean observes. After snipping most of Eren’s hair off, he trades his scissors for electric clippers that buzz to life with a monotone whir. 

“I hope you’re not going to ask me about it,” Eren murmurs, eyes closed as he feels the clippers shear off the hair at the back of his neck. The feeling of Jean’s finger running through his hair, fingers brushing against the newly stubbled hair, feels so pleasant that Eren can’t help but lean back into it a little bit. It’s been so long since he’s interacted with another human. He hadn’t realized how much he’s been longing for a simple conversation, a simple touch, until now. 

“Why not? You’re a zombie now, aren’t you?” Jean ruffles the top of Eren’s head, the part he hadn’t trimmed short, and retrieves his scissors again. He leans in front of Eren, brushing the hair forward. He’s meticulous about cutting hair, studying the way it falls in Eren’s face before making the first careful cut. 

“I’m a zombie now,” Eren repeats with a snort, “but that doesn’t make me an expert on this. I’m completely new to this, in case you forgot.” 

Jean’s right, though. Eren isn’t anything like the zombies they’ve seen before. Most of them are just sluggish monsters, feet trailing as they moan and groan out incomprehensible noises before they get their brains smashed in by whoever they managed to run into first - maybe the second-grader down the street or even the mailman going about their rounds. Eren, however, is completely coherent and his existence is very close to that of a normal human being aside from his decayed appearance. He’s not sure if he got lucky and rose up before the worms had gotten to him. 

“You’re not, like, actively rotting, right?” Jean asks suddenly after finishing up on Eren’s bangs. 

“What? No!” Eren says, mortified and offended at the same time. Is he really that disgusting? He wouldn’t dare consider himself handsome now - he probably wouldn’t have considered it even if he were alive - but he feels suddenly self-conscious at Jean’s question. Aside from his sickly gray skin and his slight loss of muscle, he hasn’t decayed much and he hadn’t noticed any further deterioration following his resurrection. And even if he were rotting, it’s not like he could control it. 

“I was just asking,” Jean mutters. 

“Whatever.” 

Eren watches as Jean does some fancy thing with his scissors, cutting away at Eren’s hair. It’s taking far longer than Eren had expected. He probably would have shaved his entire head and been done with it, but Jean has always been more patient when it comes to taking care of appearances. 

“Do I really look that bad?” Eren asks. He kind of wishes he hadn’t, but the words have already left his mouth. Jean can be brutal with his opinion at times. 

Jean pauses for a moment, taking a second to look at Eren. He doesn’t scrutinize Eren the way he sometimes scrutinizes celebrities and models on magazine covers, but the intensity of his gaze still makes the zombie squirm uncomfortably as he makes his analysis. “You’ve looked better,” Jean finally replies, “but you don’t look terrible.” 

“Oh.” It’s not the answer that Eren was expecting (although he’s not sure what kind of answer he wanted in the first place), but he’s content with it. 

His friend goes back to attending to Eren’s hair. “Believe it or not, you might actually look better than when you were dating Historia by the time we’re done.” 

“Historia?” At the mention of his girlfriend, Eren straightens his back, the movement startling Jean. The zombie grimaces apologetically when Jean shoots him a glare. He settles back to his original position and clears his throat, trying not to look too eager as he asks, “How is Historia?” 

“Oh, um,” Jean says. It’s difficult to tell if his delayed answer is because he’s reluctant to respond or if it’s because he’s currently trying to figure out what to do with this stray lock of hair that’s sticking up on Eren’s head. “She’s, ah, dating someone else now.” 

“She’s what?” 

“Stop moving or I’ll buzz off the rest of your hair and give you a mohawk,” Jean scowls, forcibly shoving Eren back into the chair. He cuts a little more hair but stops after seeing the frown on his friend’s face. He reaches out to brush off the hair on Eren’s shoulder and says with a sigh, “I mean, you can’t really blame her. You disappeared without a trace.” 

“Well, sorry for not leaving a message. If I knew I was getting murdered, I probably would have let someone know that I wasn’t coming home!” Eren sniffs. He sits back in his chair with a thud, arms folded across his chest. Historia dating someone else is the least of his problems right now, but he can’t help feeling a little miffed about the whole thing. 

It’s not like he loved Historia or anything super romantic like that, but he did like her a lot and he was certain she reciprocated those feelings. They met during their junior year of college through mutual friends and started dating towards the end of their senior year. Unlike Eren, she came from the bustling city of Sina, so it surprised him that someone from such a big city would take a liking to someone like him. She enjoyed photography, majored in it, and managed to find a job at a news company in the city. After failing to secure a job in the same city, Eren had thought that was the end of the relationship, but she had offered to try long-distance for a while. It worked a lot better than Eren thought it would. The distance between Shiganshina and Sina was too far for them to commute to each other every day, but they settled on seeing each other every other week. Sometimes Eren would come visit Historia, but more often than not she would come and visit him, claiming that the quaint little town had a charming and relaxing atmosphere that she could never find in the city. 

The last time he had seen Historia was a week before he had died. They went for a long walk around the town and he had taken her to the noodle shop he often frequented as a high schooler. She liked the broth and sent her compliments to the chef, an act that charmed the shop owner so much that a complimentary plate of dumplings was sent out to Historia and Eren. 

The last time Eren had spoken to Historia was the night before he died. They were speaking on the phone about the next visit - if Eren should travel to Sina or Historia to Shiganshina - before Eren excused himself to go on a nightly walk in the forest. He promised her he would call her later that night. And then he never did. Shit. 

“It’s not like she wasn’t worried about you,” Jean says. “I mean, she was pissed at first, but she looked for you when we all realized you were missing. We never found you, obviously, and it wasn’t like she was going to stay hung up on you forever. So she started dating someone else.” 

It’s true, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less. 

“How long before she started dating someone else?” Eren asks. He probably shouldn’t ask - the answer will most likely make him feel worse than he’s already feeling - but he’s morbidly curious. 

Jean finishes cutting Eren’s hair and ruffles the top of the zombie’s head one last time. “I’m not sure. Maybe half a year? A little longer? It’s not like I saw her regularly after you were gone.” 

“I guess,” Eren mutters a little forlornly. He doesn’t even want to look at his reflection when Jean holds up a mirror, but his eyes flicker up anyway. He takes the mirror in his hand and looks unhappily at his reflection. A hand reaches up to play with his hair, still the same chestnut brown but a little more brittle than it used to be. The sides and back of his hair are shorn short in a neat undercut but the top of his hair is still long, long enough to be swept towards the front and hang in the way of his water, green eyes. Looking at his reflection, his hair is really the only nice-looking thing about him. The rest of him still looks sad and ugly and pale. 

“Let me do your makeup now,” Jean tells him, already opening up his makeup kit. 

“Fine,” Eren sighs. He sets the mirror facedown on the nearby table and frowns as Jean wipes off the dust and grime on his skin with a wet wipe. He doesn’t like how cold and damp it is as Jean cleans his face - as a zombie, Eren finds the cold to be unbearable - and shudders as the wet wipe brushes against his cheek. As Jean finishes up cleaning his face, Eren asks, “Is the person she’s dating … nice?” 

“I guess.” Jean inspects the tiny bottles of moisturizer in his kit before deciding on a small white container with a brand name in neat black print that Eren doesn’t recognize. It doesn’t smell like anything, but it’s cool as Jean gently pats the moisturizer into Eren’s skin. “Historia’s girlfriend actually lives here. She moved here after you disappeared though. Came here after getting a job for our local newspaper. They must have met during one of the searches we did for you and, well.” 

He’s thankful that Jean leaves the sentence unfinished. Eren’s imagination can fill in the blank. He should probably be happy that Historia hasn’t spent the last year worrying about him, but he isn’t thrilled to hear that she’s moved on either. 

“Hey, can you stop frowning?” Jean asks. He waves his hand in front of his face, imitating Eren’s expression in an exaggerated manner. “You’re giving yourself wrinkles and your skin is hard enough to work with already.” 

“Sorry,” Eren mumbles.

“‘s fine,” Jean assures. He screws the cap back onto the jar of moisturizers and plucks a makeup sponge, a brush, and a tube of primer. He squirts a little of the primer - a light yellow gel that comes out the size of a dime - before dabbing at it with his makeup sponge and begins to rub it across Eren’s face. “I’ve never had a zombie as a client. If you end up looking good, it means that all those years at cosmetology school weren’t a waste.” 

Even if Jean doesn’t do well and Eren ends up looking like a zombie in clown makeup, Eren doubts that it’ll be a full representation of his friend’s full talents. Jean had a knack for art when they were kids; he knew exactly how to blend colors and shade. He even won a few art contests here and there back in middle school and high school. His talents seemed to transfer naturally when he decided to become a makeup artist, not that he’s had the chance to display them after finishing cosmetology school. Jean’s gifts go pretty much unused now (except for on the few occasions that Annie decides she wants to go out with a little more intricate makeup), but those types of skills just don’t go away. Of course, Eren would never say any of these things to Jean’s face. He had never complimented Jean and he wasn’t going to start now just because he started a new life. 

Instead, Eren says, “You’re painting me yellow.” 

Jean clicks his tongue as he begins to smooth out the primer over Eren’s skin. He’s gentle as he does it and Eren has to wonder if he’s this careful with his other clients or if he’s just cautious because Eren’s zombie skin is more delicate than normal human skin. “It’s just to help with your complexion. It’s really pale now, so this is to help cover up all those veins that we can see and hide the dark circles under your eyes. I probably would have used a pink primer if you were normal. Or something to help moisturize and lighten your skin.” 

Eren hums. He always knew makeup was complicated, but it’s another thing to actually sit down and experience it for himself. He’d never be able to do this on his own. 

“I’m gonna look fresh to death,” Eren murmurs as Jean moves in to apply some foundation. “Drop dead gorgeous.” 

Jean rolls his eyes, pausing to say, “I’m very good at making people look amazing, but I can also make you look even worse if I wanted to.” 

“No, thank you,” Eren squeaks, shutting up immediately. 

Normally, Eren wouldn’t bother making these types of jokes. Puns and play on words is the kind of humor that Reiner usually resorts to. If anything, Eren and the rest of his friends try to avoid it lest they annoy Annie with such nonsensically stupid humor, but Eren feels as if he doesn’t have a choice but to resort to such simple jokes if only to distract himself from everything that’s happening in front of him. 

The thing about being a zombie is that everyone, no matter who they are, looks like an attractive piece of meat. This includes the drunk hikers that stumbled into the woods at night that Eren sometimes saw from a distance, the farmer that Eren never liked as a child because he always smelled of manure, and Jean, the very same Jean that Eren had once called horse-face back when they were kids. Jean has since grown into his exceptionally long face and is, at least what the mothers in town would call, handsome, an adjective that Eren and his zombified brain would heartily agree with. 

Jean is inches away from Eren’s face as he dabs in foundation and concealer - both far too dark to match Eren’s current skin tone but are very close to his original color - and Eren can get a good look at his brown eyes, his brow furrowed in concentration. People often said that Jean and Eren had similar eyes when they were children, something Eren didn’t really understand because his eyes were much bigger than Jean and also a completely different color. People would probably have a different opinion now because Eren’s eyes are now wet and watery all the time, but Jean’s brown eyes are bright, shining with intensity despite the dark bags under his eyes. Eren just wants to pluck them out and plop them in his mouth, crunch them between his teeth. They’d probably be as plump and juicy as an octopus ball. 

Up close, everything about Jean looks perfect. Even if Eren has never eaten a human in his life, Jean would probably be his ideal prey. He’s a decent size, tall with some lean muscle and not a lot of fat. Eren could probably feast on him for days. He can’t imagine Jean tasting like beef - he’s not muscular or meaty enough. He’d probably be more similar to the taste of venison: rich and earthy with a slightly sweet aftertaste. The texture would probably be the same too, Eren thinks hungrily, smooth and firm but juicier and more succulent than beef or even pork. 

Even Jean’s skin looks enticing. Eren had never been one to notice people’s skin. He didn’t care about blemishes or acne or anything like that. He still doesn’t care even though he’s sitting so close he can see every mole, every acne scar, every single pore on Jean’s skin. Those little imperfections hardly bother him. Those things won’t affect taste and texture, Eren is sure. He does, upon his close inspection of Jean’s skin, have a newfound appreciation for healthy skin. Jean’s is so shiny and clean that he’s practically glowing. It’s nice and tight pulled over smooth bone and firm muscle, keeping all this flesh nice and juicy. His lips look especially plump and pink, probably treated with some sort of lip care routine that Eren could never be bothered to make into a habit. Eren doesn’t remember if Jean’s lips were always that nice or if he’s just noticing it now. He kind of wants to lean over and have a taste, see if they’re as sweet as they look before he nibbles on them and rips them off, swallowing them whole. 

“You’re drooling,” Jean tells him, snapping Eren out of his ravenous reverie. 

“Sorry,” Eren mutters. He’d probably blush if zombies were capable of blushing. He reaches up to wipe the drool from his mouth but Jean hastily smacks his zombie hand away and wipes at the corner of Eren’s mouth with a wet wipe. 

He shouldn’t be having these thoughts about Jean. For one thing, he just promised Jean that he wouldn’t eat any people. As much as Eren wants to chomp on Jean’s face right now, eating his childhood friend would be very traumatic. He knows way too many things about Jean to eat him like he’s some poor rabbit right now. In fact, knowing so much about Jean should be a huge turn-off for Eren. Jean chews on the end of his writing utensils. He has terrible morning breath especially after he’s drunk coffee. He lets his dishes soak overnight before actually washing them. Why would Eren want to eat someone like that? Of course, it’s hard to remember all of that when Jean is sitting in front of Eren the way he is, his back hunched slightly and his brow furrowed in concentration while he nibbles on his bottom lip as he carefully applies some mascara to Eren’s eyelashes to make them look less sparse. 

Looking at Jean is definitely making Eren hungrier, so he squeezes his eyes shut hoping that not seeing Jean will make Eren forget just how delicious-looking his friend is. Unfortunately, that seems to make everything worse. Living by himself and hunting for his own food, becoming a predator to so many unsuspecting prey, has only heightened Eren’s other senses like smell and touch. 

Eren breathes in and his lungs are flooded with Jean’s scent. He smells sweet and earthy, like a mix of a freshly mowed lawn or rain-soaked soil. It overpowers the cold, sterile smell of makeup, all of them claiming to smell like flowers but really just smell like they’ve come out of a factory. Eren wants to bury his face in Jean’s scent, get lost in it as he presses his nose into Jean’s neck. It would probably be even better when he cuts Jean open, his fragrance mixing with the metallic smell of blood. 

God, Eren can just feel the saliva pooling at the back of his throat. He doesn’t want to get scolded for ruining his makeup again, so he tries to swallow it down only to choke on it. 

“You alright?” Jean asks. 

Eren chances a glance at his friend, cracking open an eye carefully. “I’m fine,” Eren manages even though he’s the complete opposite. 

“Okay, let me finish you up then.” Jean sets Eren’s makeup with a mist of some sort. (“It’s to help your makeup stay on,” the makeup artist explains. “I’ll probably have to redo some of it in the afternoon, but we’ll think about that later.”) He finishes it up by applying a nude lipstick to help cover up the cracks and the color of blue-gray lips. 

It’s difficult not to be fixated on Jean’s fingers, especially when they’re so close to Eren’s mouth. They’re long and slender, the type of fingers an artist has. Eren wants to wrap his lips around them and taste the salt on Jean’s skin. If he sucks hard enough, the fingers will probably detach with a deliciously clean pop! Jean’s hands actually remind Eren of the chicken feet he and his friends used to get at the dim sum place near their university whenever they felt like treating themselves at the end of the term. Chicken feet didn’t taste nearly as good when Eren was a zombie. They were all skin and bone, not to mention the claws that nearly cut Eren’s tongue every time he ate them. Jean’s hands look like a more elegant version of chicken feet, his skin smooth and fingers meatier than the bony digits of a chicken. 

“Purse your lips for me,” Jean says. 

Eyes still fixed on Jean’s hands, the zombie obeys, frowning at the waxy feeling on his lips. It turns him off to the idea of eating Jean a little bit. He’d probably ruin his makeup and all of Jean’s hard work would go to waste. 

Jean studies Eren for a moment before nodding, satisfied. “Good. Try not to touch your face when you go outside or else you’ll smudge everything.” He caps the lipstick and begins to pack everything away in his kit before he notices a hand mirror he’s placed face down beside the kit. Taking it, he hands it to Eren. “Here, take a look.” 

Hesitantly, Eren takes the mirror and gazes on his reflection. He’s not sure what he’s expecting to see. When he was a zombie, he only saw his reflection a handful of times in pools of water and in the sideview mirrors of the farmer’s truck whenever he passed by. Despite knowing his true form, seeing himself with such lifeless gray skin and scraggly hair hanging in his face, the light that was always in his eyes when he was alive absent, was such a shock that he vowed to never look at himself again. Eren’s done his best to avoid looking at his reflection since then, only catching a glimpse every now and then and flinching in horror every time. But looking at his reflection now…

His skin is no longer a dull, sickly gray but a healthy tan. It’s not the exact same shade he was back when he was alive - it’s probably a few shades lighter - but it’s definitely an improvement. His makeup isn’t too apparent, which he appreciates. It’s one thing to disguise himself as alive and another thing entirely to show up in town a year later looking like a model. He just has some light blush in his cheeks and his lipstick hides how ugly and chapped his lips were before he came to Jean. Eren’s hair looks more socially acceptable now that it’s not hanging in greasy strands around his face. The undercut on the sides makes him look younger, a little livelier, and his hair is long enough on top to cover some of his eyes. It’s not enough to obscure his sight but enough to distract anyone from seeing how watery and tired his eyes look. As long as people aren’t looking too closely at him, they might just think he hasn’t slept in a while. He looks good. Great even. Jean was probably joking, but he really did make Eren look better than he did when he was alive. 

“I think you might have done too good of a job,” Eren mumbles. He’s about to reach up and touch his face, but Jean latches onto his wrist and shakes his head. Ah, right. No touching. 

“Don’t underestimate yourself, Jaeger.” 

Eren wonders if that’s supposed to be a compliment. He’s about to ask Jean, but Jean is already disappearing into his room. 

“It took longer than I thought it would to do your makeup,” says Jean. There are sounds of him shuffling through his closet for something to wear. He pops out and throws Eren an old oversized hoodie and some dark jeans. “Wear those. Keep your hood up while we’re out. I don’t know if we should tell people you’re back, at least not yet. Let’s meet Armin first.” 

“Alright.” 

He stares at the hoodie in his hands, wondering if he should put it on. Should he strip? It feels weird to undress in Jean’s living room, but it’s not like Jean hasn’t seen him in a locker room before. Then again, that was back when Eren’s body wasn’t all … gross. Still, Jean was actually pretty considerate about Eren’s current appearance aside from the question about decomposing. Ah, fuck it. 

Eren begins to take off his worn-out shirt and jeans, leaving them discarded on the floor. He pulls on the sweater first, careful not to mess up his makeup in the process. As soon as he puts his head through the hoodie, he immediately regrets it. He’s met with Jean’s overwhelming scent - warm and comforting and absolutely delicious. He breathes it in a little too hard before realizing that it’ll be awkward explaining to Jean if he’s caught in the act. Hurriedly, he pulls the hoodie over his head and wiggles his arms through the holes. He’s in the process of pulling the jeans over his legs when Jean steps out of his room. 

“Do you need help?” Jean is changed out of his pajamas and into casual outerwear - khaki pants and an overcoat thrown over a button-up. He has a knitted scarf wrapped around his neck, probably something Armin made when he was stressed out the night before a council meeting. On his head rests a matching knitted beanie. He looks so nicely put together that Eren feels embarrassed standing in his living room half-dressed. 

“N-no,” Eren stammers as he tugs the jeans over his calves and then his thighs. He wasn’t sure they would fit. He and Jean weren’t exactly the same size; Jean was always long and lanky even before he had his growth spurt, but Eren must have lost a lot of muscle mass during the zombification process because the jeans are a little roomy around his thighs. At least the cuffs are too short, ending an inch above his ankles, so Eren hasn’t grown shorter while he was buried under the ground. He straightens out his clothes and pulls his hood up, looking at Jean expectantly. “Where are we going?” 

“To talk to Armin,” Jean replies. He glances at his phone and nods at a text message before tucking the phone back in his pocket. Plucking his keys and wallet from the drawer, he walks to the door and opens it, beckoning for Eren to follow him. “Come on. Let’s figure out what to do with you before you accidentally eat someone.” 

“Right,” Eren chuckles nervously, thankful that Jean isn’t able to see the nervous sweat that’s currently breaking out on the back of the zombie’s neck. He wants to keep his promise of not eating people to Jean, he really does. More than anything, he wants to keep it to at least prove that he’s nothing like the other mindless zombies that have been roaming around and getting their heads smashed in. There has to be some difference between him and them, Eren thinks, but it’s hard to believe when he’s busy staring at Jean’s backside and his long, long legs that seem to stretch on for days. It’s even more difficult when his eyes settle on Jean’s ass because his khakis hug his curves too well and it’s impossible for Eren to not look. Eren wants nothing more than to sink his teeth into Jean’s ass and taste that sweet, peachy flesh on his tongue. 

God, Eren thinks with a whimper as he pulls the hoodie over his face and forces himself to look at the ground so that he’s no longer tempted to eat his friend alive. This is going to be the death of me. 

[velvet-verve]

fic writer interview

I was tagged by the illustrious and wonderfully talented @electricshoebox like...days ago and then promptly forgot. But I wanna do it! So here goes.

Name: Straight to the difficult questions, huh? Fine...Lillian.

Where you post: Pretty much exclusively my AO3

Most Popular One-shot: Don’t have a one-shot yet, because I am a wee fanfic baby. Might work on fixing that soon.

Most Popular Multichap: Dogfight! First fic I ever wrote. Deacon/F!Sole Rosie Castevet who is both a badass and a crybaby, miraculously at the same time. I personally think it’s a bit...rough. Especially at the beginning, but hey! I’m learning! I’ve learnt! I...you get the idea.

Favorite story you’ve written so far: It’s actually turning out to be Fugue State, my Maccready/F!Sole fic. Like I said, I’ve improved a lot and I started this one off solid. I love Midge, and I love her and Maccready’s dynamic, and because of their personalities, I get to hold a loooot of stuff back. Kid back in the Capital Wasteland, who? Tragic backstory involving the death of a beloved brother, what? More trauma between the both of them than you can shake a stick at but they both refuse to share, where? In my other fic, Dogfight, Rosie kinda just...tells people stuff. She doesn’t see the point in hiding it. Whereas Deacon’s the one who shares small pieces at a time, (after spilling his guts about his dead wife.) Now I’ve got two stubborn idiots who hate showing weakness. Fuck yeah. Those idiots are gonna take forever to kiss.

Fic you were nervous to post: Fucking both of them.

How do you choose your titles: Funnily enough, both of the titles of both of my fics relate to the sole survivor’s career prewar. Rosie is a fighter pilot, hence the name Dogfight. Midge is a pianist. Fugue State is both a reference to a literal fugue, (a type of musical composition,) and a psychological fugue state. Losing your identity and sense of individuality and having to work to get it back. Who are you without the spouse you lost, you know? Both Midge and Maccready have to figure that out through the course of the fic, and...you know...some of us take longer than others. 

Do you outline: Pfft. No. And I think it’s very obvious. Every time I try to outline anything I just end up...writing it. I have a structure in mind and I know where I want to go and (mostly) how I want to get there, but no, I don’t outline. I usually let the characters guide me through the story and...voila. I let those words flooow baby! 

Complete: none. :) you’re welcome.

In progress: ALL. BOTH. OFTEN WRITING FOR BOTH FICS AT THE SAME TIME BECAUSE I’M A BIG DUMMY. Actually, I have been focusing more of my energy into Fugue State lately, but I’m still a big ol dummy head. Don’t be fooled.

Coming soon/not yet started: So, uh...I may have written little snippets from Mac’s eventual trip to DC in Fugue State...including interacting with that universe’s lone wanderer...and it made me totally want to write the fic. It did. So, yes. I have a tentative idea and foundation for a fallout 3 lone wanderer fic. Oh, you wanna know the pairing? Well too bad, so sad, buckaroo. My lips are sealed.

Okay it’s Female Lone Wanderer/Butch Deloria but you didn’t hear it from me.

Prompts?: Never done them. Not opposed. Not sure!

Upcoming work you’re most excited about: Oh, you’re trying to get me to talk about that lone wanderer fic, huh? Well, move on, buster! I’m not even sure I’m gonna do it. Yes I am. It’s not like I even have a solid basis for who my lone wanderer even is. Yes I totally do her name is Jane and she has a very cool baseball bat and I love her.

Tagging anyone who wants to do it! I’ll be the fall guy, don’t worry. Just say I tagged you and do your lil interview you cutie patootie, you. 😘