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reversedanatomy · 4 months

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Finding Peace: Chapter 1

Summary: The first chapter to a slow-burn Nat x Reader fic. Building the relationship between Wanda x Reader. First Marvel fic and post here so I'm still getting used to preferable layouts, writing styles, tags, etc!!

TW: 18+!!! sexual themes, bad relationship themes, alcoholism, swearing, aggressiveness, uncomfortable topics.

Gif not mine

You remember the first night that you and Wanda had gone on a date. You two met inorganically through a dating app. It wasn’t something you were too keen on using, but the dating scene was impossible in the area, and you thought you might give it a try. After meeting Wanda for the first night at a sports bar downtown, the sparks between you two were evident. Her confidence spread goosebumps throughout your body as she weaved her way through a crowd of people lined up at the bar to meet you at your table. She was more radiant than any of her pictures on her profile.

“Y/N?” She leaned over you, placing a locked arm on the surface of the table to emphasize her cleavage.

“Y-yeah,” you stuttered, in awe of the outfit she chose to shape her body. She then smiled and slid into your lap. Caressing your face with her hands, she pressed her lips into yours as if she’d known you for years. You let yourself feel every spark, every firework she set off inside of your chest. The callouses of her hands cupped your jawline. They slid up your face to push your hair behind your ear. Her kiss was warm as it traveled from your lips to the corner of your mouth and down your neck. Her hands followed.

“You waste no time,” you smirked and pushed her deeper towards you. It was all so warm, so familiar. “This doesn’t seem like the place we should be doing this, though. How about we skip the small talk and head back to my place?” You lifted her chin with the tips of your fingers and presented your offer. She gave you a toothy smile that reached ear to ear.

“That’s rather bold of you,” she replied with a twinge of sarcasm. You snorted and let your thumb glide across her cheek. "How about a few drinks first? I get a bit nervous on first dates unless I've had a few." You admired her forwardness albeit it wasn’t something you were familiar with.

“Could’ve fooled me,” a chuckle slipped from your chest. “I thought you were already a few deep and I needed to catch up.” Wanda smiled in response. She moved from your lap onto the seat next to you and pulled a five from her coat pocket. She slid it towards you.

“Catch me up, then,” she whispered into your ear and patted the five before crossing her legs and folding her arms in an act of seductive defiance. A grin curled at the corners of your mouth, and you rolled your eyes in response and clicked your tongue. You took the five and made your way to the bar.

After a few drinks and some small talk, you two left the bar hand-in-hand to wander the downtown streets. Winter was arriving soon, and the biting cold left you breathless. Wanda noticed quickly and drew you into her long, black overcoat with a light tan trim. Already, you felt warmer. Already, you felt safe.

The two of you wandered for hours, but it only felt like minutes. Once your feet started hurting, you two both settled onto the stair steps outside of some unlabeled Baroque-style building. Your hands interlocked perfectly together as you both shared her coat. Wanda made you laugh. It was a genuine, hearty laugh that you hadn’t laughed in years. She was laughing, too. She said that she loved your humor, and that made you grin even more. Your grin was followed, however, with a yawn.

“Starting to get tired?” Wanda yawned in response. You nodded, another full laugh slipping from your chest.

“I mean…kind of? But… I just don’t want this night to end,” you sighed. Wanda kissed your forehead.

“Who says it has to end?” You looked up at her, meeting her blue-green eyes with admiration. “I figured that was the intention from the beginning, so I may or may not have taken us to my apartment.” Wanda turned around and pointed to the third story of the building, where the faint glow of a lamp illuminated through the window.

“That’s rather bold of you, Wanda,” you made reference to her previous claim at the bar. Wanda struck you a side-eye, her auburn hair falling from behind her ear to frame her face. You shrugged. “Well, what are we waiting for? I’m cold as hell and it looks like there’s an apartment up there calling my name.” You stood up and took her hand into your pocket before turning towards the apartment. She stumbled a bit on the steps while standing up, but was eager and quick to let both of you into the building.

The rest of the night was one to remember. The way Wanda felt underneath you felt just as natural as when she kissed you in the bar earlier that night. When you two were ready to sleep, you held her close to your body. You never wanted to let go of this feeling. Everything inside of you buzzed, and a warmth rushed through your veins. You looked at Wanda sleeping in your arms. You never wanted this night to end.

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Nearly three and a half years later, all you wanted was for this night to end. You locked yourself in the bathroom as you heard Wanda in the living room smash her liquor bottle on the wall. You held your hands against your ears as you listened to her shouting about how much this relationship was breaking her, how you were breaking her.

Tears fell down your cheeks. This isn’t what you wanted when you two moved in together into a small apartment in Chicago after dating for a year. For as long as you could’ve remembered, the honeymoon stage never left. The butterflies still fluttered through the garden of your body when you held her in your arms. It was all perfect. All perfect, until the first argument.

Wanda drank. A lot. It wasn’t a problem at first when the two of you were frequenting bars on date nights with or without friends. As time progressed, however, and the two of you moved in with each other, you realized she was just as much of a drinker at home as she was at bars. You mentioned your insecurities about it with her when you noticed that it was affecting your relationship, but she turned up her nose to you and poured herself another glass.

She blamed her alcoholism on a shitty childhood and high-stress job. She never told you what she did for a living, but you noticed she was often gone on extended trips to places she said she couldn’t talk about with you. “Think of it like I signed an NDA,” she would say as an excuse. You sighed and accepted there were things you were better off not knowing. If you pried, however, another argument would start. The drinking would start.

This was one of those nights. Wanda said she was leaving in a week for an entire month on an international trip for work. “We had plans for our three-and-a-half-year anniversary and my birthday, remember?” You said.

“I know, but you know how work is,” Wanda pouted and gave you the ‘eyes’ that she always gave you to get her way when it came to leaving for work.

“No, I don’t know how work is,” you snapped in response. “I never know how work is. You never tell me. For all I know, you could be off fucking somebody or somebodies in Spain or China or fuck knows where else.” You felt the heat rise in your face as a pit formed in your throat. You were choking out your words now because you were scared. But… it was okay to feel insecure about this, right? Wanda told you that you shouldn’t, but all of your friends agree with you that if she’s leaving all the time that you at least have the right to know where she is.

“What are you, my mom? Stop being controlling.” Wanda wouldn’t make eye contact with you. She was sitting at the kitchen bar, staring at the ice in her glass as she swirled her drink. You became irate. You ran your fingers through your hair, gripping into your roots.

“I’m controlling? You’re the one who’s disappearing for weeks or months on end without giving me the time of day. Sure, I was fine with your work trips when they were planned in advance and only for a few days at a time. Now, it’s like you’re leaving every other week, and I don’t know when I’m going to see you again.” The tears began welling up in your eyes. They burned. You began pacing back and forth between the living room and the kitchen.

“Jesus Christ, Y/N, I’m sorry,” Wanda put her drink down and began getting up from her stool. “I wish I could tell you. I really do.” She was drunkenly stumbling towards you, arms outstretched. You noticed her coming towards you, and you started for the bathroom. “Y/N, please don’t do this right now.”

Now you were here, in the bathroom. You turned the lock and slid down with your back against the wall. Wanda pressed her head against the door and started pawing at it.

“Y/N, please don’t do this. Just let m’in ‘nd we c’n talk about it,” Wanda stumbled over her words as she continued to paw at the door. When you didn’t reply, she started knocking. Louder. Louder. Louder, she knocked until you finally responded.

“Wanda, please, just leave me alone. You’re drunk, and I just don’t want to deal with this right now.” You were crying faster than you could wipe your tears, but Wanda wouldn’t leave.

“Then just tell me to leave if you don’t want me around,” Wanda smacked the door before you could hear her walking back to the kitchen. Then came a crash as you heard what sounded like a liquor bottle, or maybe her drink, being thrown to the floor. Jesus, what’s happening to us, Wanda? You thought to yourself as you reached for the tissues to dry your tears and blow your nose. There was more stomping, and the sound of walls being punched before you could hear Wanda trudging back towards the bathroom door.

“This is all your fucking fault, Y/N.” Wanda smacked her hand against the door again. You flinched from behind the door, but you refused to respond. It would only make her angrier if you said anything. “If only you just didn’t question what I did for work like what we agreed on when we first started dating, we wouldn’t be dealing with this problem.” It’s different when we’ve been together for three-and-a-half years as opposed to a few months, you wanted to say, but you held your tongue. Wanda continued.

“I’m not fucking anybody else, if that’s what you want to hear. I’m loyal to you. I’ve only ever been loyal to you,” Wanda started crying and hitting her head against the door. “I love you, Y/N. I only ever show you that I love you. You’re my everything.” The banging stopped. “But if you want me to leave, just tell me.” There was only quiet except for the quiet tears you could barely hear from Wanda. Your breath left your body in a long, exasperated sigh. You lifted your head from between your knees and twisted your upper half towards the door.

“I don’t want you to leave, Wanda. I just want things to go back to the way they were before.” You spoke monotonously, making sure your voice was emotionless enough as to not set Wanda off again.

“It’s never going to go back to the way things were,” you heard Wanda slide her back down the door from the other side. This made you start crying again, even harder. You were scared. If she left, you’d lose three-and-a-half years with the person you thought you were going to marry.

“What happened to us?” You forced a laugh through your tears. You paused after saying that to wait for a response from Wanda. Nothing. Your smile faded back into sorrow as you buried your chin between your knees and looked down at the floor. Maybe Wanda was doing the same. Maybe she was also contemplating the relationship—whether it’d end or whether they’d keep recycling the same arguments and this same drunken routine. You knew nothing was going to change, but you still wanted to try. Maybe it was because you were more scared to be alone than to keep hearing her slam on the bathroom door and smash bottles. When it was good, it was great. But there were so many moments now that left you feeling weak, tired, scared, and unfulfilled that you pondered whether the good moments just made you feel safe, or if they were actually great.

Wanda never responded to your question. You sat up on your knees, took one last breath, and turned to open the door. Your hand settled on the doorknob. Once you opened that door, you knew all the memories you two spent together would shatter like the glass from earlier. You felt that pit rising back into your throat as you unlocked the knob and started opening the door. The idea of facing Wanda right now terrified you—not because she was violent and angry, but because you hated those difficult, uncomfortable conversations about what happens next between you two.

You turned the doorknob and took a step back. You felt the door swing towards you with the weight of Wanda as she collapsed onto the floor. She was passed out. If this was two years ago, you would be rushing to her side and checking her pulse. Now, this was frequent. Weekly. Daily, even. You kneeled beside her to confirm her breathing before grabbing her by the forearms to drag her into the bedroom. As you dragged her, you glanced at the kitchen floor. She only smashed her empty glass, not the entire bottle. At least this time it would be an easy cleanup for tomorrow morning.

Once in the bedroom, you spent no time pulling her arm across your shoulder to help her into bed. You pulled back the bed sheets, set her on her side in the bed, and pulled the sheets up to her chin. You contemplated giving her a kiss on the forehead, but you recognized that this could be the last time you two ever had some kind of physical touch. You leaned in and gave her a quick peck. It tasted bittersweet.

You crawled into bed next to her and studied her face. Wanda was sleeping so peacefully. Her lips were slightly parted, and her auburn hair fell over her face. She always slept with her hand under her face when she laid on her side. You thought one more time about the first night at the bar and the confidence she had upon meeting you. You reminisced on the times you two made love, contemplated marriage, talked about what having kids running around the house would be like, and how you two would grow old together. You wanted so badly for everything to circle back to the sparks you two felt that first night, as that was what kept you going through this mistreatment all these years with her. These memories flooded through your mind, until you finally drifted off into a deep sleep.

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The next morning, you woke up to the bed empty beside you. “Wanda?” You called out for her. No response. She must either be watching TV, or she left to head to the store for breakfast. The pain from the night before held strong in your chest as you composed yourself before heading into the living room. You scanned for any sight of Wanda. The TV was off and there was no sign of her. The site on the kitchen floor where she smashed her glass was swept and mopped. Then, your eyes lifted, where you noticed a note left on the bar.

You instantly rushed to the note, feeling yourself grow heavy as you got closer and closer to it. You picked it up and felt your hands shaking as you read it:

Y/N, I’m so sorry for last night, and I’m so sorry for everything I’m about to write to you. We both knew this day would come where we would part. You and I both have been going through a lot, and I think it’s time that we spent time apart so that we can work on ourselves. Also, work sent for me this morning. I thought we would have more time together before I left to get some kind of closure, but they needed me urgently. I’ll be gone for a while, they said. Months, maybe even years. Please don’t go looking for me. I’ll be okay. I love you.

-Wanda.

You fell to the floor and broke into tears. You let out an ugly, guttural cry as you held the note to your chest. It was over without any conversation. There was no closure. There was no last goodbye as Wanda would step out the door and leave. There was no watching her from the window as she’d walk through the city streets before melting into the crowd, disappearing from your life together. This note was quick and nonconfrontational. It was unlike her.

You put the note in your kitchen drawer and slumped onto the couch. Whatever came next, you could handle it. You always could. You switched the TV on and felt yourself cry. You let yourself cry. A new chapter would open for you, you just had to accept it.

#ojfuehrggterg it'll get happier i promise #I PROMISE IT'LL BE A SLOW BURN IT'S JUST SAD NOW #marvel #natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff #marvel wlw #wlw marvel #natasha romanov #fanfiction #marvel fanfic #wandanat #wanda x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #slow burn

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deancasbigbang · 8 months

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Title: First

Author: FriendofCarlotta

Artist: Eliza_Avalo

Rating: Explicit

Pairings: Dean/Cas, past Dean/Layla, past Cas/Inias, background Sam/Eileen

Length: 26166

Warnings: Addiction (Alcohol/Pills), Therapy

Tags: Novelist Castiel, Mechanic Dean, Divorced Dean, Rabbit Dad Dean, Getting Together, First Date, First Time, Crowley Is a Rabbit

Posting Date: October 25, 2023

Summary: Romance novelist Castiel Novak is recovering from an addiction to painkillers, but he’s struggling to settle back into life post-rehab. His therapist suggests visiting a local farm where anyone can spend an hour or two in the calming company of rabbits. The farm’s owner, Dean, is himself a recovering alcoholic… and a huge fan of Castiel’s books. A story of recovery, romance and rabbits, told in a series of firsts.

Excerpt: The man is… well, if anyone had asked Castiel how he pictured the heroes of his novels, he would have described someone very much like him. Tall, with a strong but slim build, a well-formed jaw and lips made for smiles and kisses. But there are details here so intriguing that Castiel never could have dreamed them up: the slight bow of his legs. The lovely tilt of his smile. The freckles that cover his nose and cheeks and make him look impossibly boyish for a man so tall. “Hey,” the man says, scratching at the back of his neck. “Sorry I wasn’t around earlier. Had… a thing. To do. But, um, welcome. Just wanted to see how you were settling in.” Hurriedly, he adds, “Oh, and I’m Dean. I own the place. Probably should’ve led with that.” It takes Castiel a moment to remember that a response is probably required of him. Somewhat belatedly, he says, “Hello, Dean. It’s nice to meet you. I’m Castiel.” “Oh… yeah. Yeah, I know,” Dean says, shifting on his feet. By this time, Crowley has hopped up to him, sniffing at the tips of Dean’s feet. Dean isn’t wearing shoes or socks, which of course isn’t unusual for someone moving about their own home. And Castiel has never had a particular attraction to feet before. Still, the sight of Dean’s toes, knobbly and vulnerable, makes him feel unaccountably shy. “Hey, buddy.” Dean crouches down and holds out his hand for the rabbit to sniff. “I probably smell like Cas, don’t I?” The second the words are out, Dean’s head shoots up, his cheeks suddenly a rather attractive shade of pink. “Sorry, I meant. One of the rabbits. His name is Cas… Casimir. No… relation. To you.” He looks so frustrated with himself that Castiel finds himself chuckling. “It’s alright. Sam already told me there’s a rabbit here whose name shares a certain similarity with mine.” “Oh. Right. Just… didn’t want you to think I was some crazy fan, you know? Naming my pets after you. Though I am. A fan. Not crazy.” Dean takes a deep breath. “Fuck, I’m being a goddamn disaster about this. I’ll leave you be. Sam’ll be by to check in after your thirty minutes are up.” With that, Dean turns on his heel and makes for the door. Castiel isn’t sure what makes him do it, but there’s something about Dean’s company that’s intriguing, and Castiel has the strangest feeling that if he lets Dean go now, he might never see him again. So he says, in the split-second before Dean can open the door, “Actually, would you… keep me company, maybe?”

DCBB 2023 Posting Schedule

#dcbb 2023 #fic preview #2023 promo #deancas #destiel

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aristocratic-otter · 2 months

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Hey y’all. It’s been a rough month, so thank you to all of you who keep tagging me in spite of my silence. And for those of you waiting for new chapters to one of my WIPs, please forgive me. The good news is, I have a week off of work, and I’ll be able to put out new chapters of at least two of my WIPs, as well as the first post from one of those below that you haven’t seen. So stay tuned!

Thank you to : @thewholelemon, @youarenevertooold, @nausikaaa, @wellbelesbian, @cutestkilla, @monbons, @artsyunderstudy, @ileadacharmedlife, @hushed-chorus, @prettygoododds, @whatevertheweather, @angelsfalling16, @noblecorgi, @ic3-que3n, @bookish-bogwitch, @thewholelemon, @alexalexinii, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe,and @blackberrysummerblog for the tags over the last several weeks.

On to the snippets!

From Saving Simon Snow: (slightly more than six sentences)

I don’t know what I expect when I look at him. Recriminations about my family? I’d deserve them. My father and aunt have been vicious and abusive towards my now-husband. I’ll never be done making that up to him. Or maybe he wants to actually talk about the events of the day? Yesterday, I mean, since the clock has clearly ticked over into a new day.

Whatever I expected, it wasn’t Simon’s blue eyes intensely boring into mine as he says, “Can I kiss you?”

From the Heart in the Well

“You–” I start, and my voice is a croak. I swallow, despite my horror at the liquid still laying on my tongue. I try again. “How could you?”

Simon looks apologetic, but his chin is jutting up nonetheless. “Baz, you needed it—” he begins.

“You’ve made me into a monster!” I cry.

From Snow Fox–nothing new this week. I'm researching my next chapter at the moment.

From TikTok Dancer:

Normally, by now I’d be giving coy glances to my chosen partner of the night. I like to have made my choice at least an hour before we quit for the day, so I can make my interest known. It’s a bit of a dance in itself, this small courtship.

Tonight, unless I find the courage to approach Baz again—why do I even remember his name? Most of the time I forget their names minutes after they say them—I’ll be going to bed without any release. Because nobody in the crowd has drawn my eyes today, despite several pretty people making eyes at me.

I’ve only got eyes for Baz.

I don’t understand this.

From Stars, Flowers, and Children,

One of the tools we rescued from the ship before it sank was a hand axe, and it’s honestly been worth it’s weight in gold. Half the building I’ve done in the last few years would have been impossible without it. I don’t need Davy’s voice in my head growling, “you break those tools, boy, I’ll break you.” I’m constantly aware of the fragility of the life we’ve built here. If I break an axe…no more building out of wood. If the island suffers a dry year, no fruit on our plates. If one of us gets sick…no doctors

From Cupid’s Shield:

My aunt Fiona loves recounting the time he showed up at Watford’s Valentine ball when she was a fourth year. She wasn’t old enough to attend, but she’d snuck into a secret passage that passed the ballroom to spy on her friends, who were fifteen because their birthday (they were twins apparently) was just before the deadline to attend. Reading between the lines, I think Fi was sweet on one of the pair and wanted to make sure he wasn’t making time with some other girl at the ball.

According to my Aunt, Cupid just materialized in midair beneath the great chandelier, and, with a wicked grin, began shooting incorporeal arrows at every mage in sight. Fiona took great pleasure in recounting just who was compelled into snogging their sworn enemies or the girlfriends/ boyfriends of their best friends. Apparently the event was a source of endless drama over the next several months, and my aunt lives for that shit.

Of course, my aunts’ maybe-boyfriend escaped unscathed, or I think she wouldn’t have found the whole thing so amusing.

From my COBB project:

“Director,” I say, “It’s good to see you.”

“And it’s wonderful to see you, my boy. In fact, your return just at this time could not have been more fortuitous.”

I know all too well what that means. My heart sinks into my shoes. I just got back…I haven’t even unpacked yet…

“Sir?” I question, directing every fibre of my being towards hoping the director is not about to say what I think he’s about to say. Of course, I’m not that lucky.

“We have a situation, Simon,” he says, letting his face fall into graver lines.

Tagging: @chen-chen-chen-again-chen, @bazzybelle, @dragoneggos, @erzbethluna, @palimpsessed, @frjsti, @fatalfangirl, @letraspal, @martsonmars, @melodysmash, @moments-au-crayon22, @moodandmist, @mostlymaudlin, @onepintobean, @raenestee, @tea-brigade, @thehoneyedhufflepuff, @upuntil6am, @whogaveyoupermission, @messofthejess, @carryonsimoncarryonbaz, @krisrix, @shemakesmeforget, @larkral, @confused-bi-queer, @rimeswithpurple, and @mooncello, @theearlgreymage, @j-nipper-95, @facewithoutheart, @best--dress, @nightimedreamersghost

#co/ws/awtwb #six sentence sunday #snowbaz #carry on through the ages #carry on reverse bang #cotta 2023

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burntheedges-updates · 10 months

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over again, chapter 3: dinner

This is my updates-only blog! Follow me at @burntheedges Joel Miller x f!reader summary: you fell in love with Joel Miller in Austin, Texas, in 2001, but you thought you lost him and your whole family in 2003 when the world turned upside down. now it's 2024, and you find the surprise of your life waiting for you in Jackson, Wyoming. or, five times you and Joel fell deeper in love, on both sides of the apocalypse (and one time you did something about it) 18+ minors DNI chapter tags/warnings: fluff, flirting, banter, angst, bisexual!reader (like me), dancing, holding hands, a bit of pining, kissing (!!!) (the smut is coming so soon, y’all) a/n: Welcome to chapter 3! We’re finally getting somewhere with these two… and there’s a bit of dancing. The Austin section of this chapter was the preview I posted a few weeks back, but it's been edited a bit. music note: All songs mentioned in this fic are on the playlist. The first 19 songs on the playlist are the mix CD mentioned in this chapter. The playlist post has annotations about the first 19 songs with mild spoilers, so skip reading those for now if you’d rather wait. I was a teenager in 2000 and I grew up in the south (and lived in Texas for a bit, later), so I was aiming for songs I would have heard on the radio and songs the reader and Joel definitely would have heard on the radio and when they went out dancing. word count: 8.2k

series main post | series playlist | ao3 | ch 1 | ch 2

Chapter 3: Dinner

Jackson, Spring 2024

Despite your agreement in his kitchen, you don’t talk to Joel the next day, or even the one after that, except in passing. He’s still taking care of Ellie, and you end up staying in the stables overnight to help with the birth of a foal. (You try to imagine yourself from Before doing anything like that, but it’s impossible.) At least you’re able to sleep again, after that. You’re too tired not to.

It’s been three days when Joel catches you outside around dinner time and asks if he can walk with you, as he’s planning to pick some dinner up for Ellie. She’s feeling better, apparently, but not up for the dining hall quite yet. You remember being wary of it yourself when you first arrived, so you don’t blame her.

Joel falls into step beside you, in silence at first. The air between you is more comfortable than it was three days ago — it feels easier to walk next to him, less fraught to look at him. You imagine touching his hand again and it seems possible. You were exhausted then, it’s true, but it was also overwhelming to be around him like that after so long. Now you’re a little more used to the idea.

You use the quiet moment to look him over, checking the outline of his shoulders, his hips, his gait against the Joel in your memory. He’s grayer now of course, but so are you. He’s the same shape but somehow even broader than Before — same Joel, just stronger, and hardier, and more weathered. You can see a hint of discomfort in his walk, but you all have that these days. The sign of a person who has to walk everywhere. It wears at your joints.

You don’t notice how long you’ve been checking him out in silence until your gaze wanders back to his face and you find him smirking at you, knowingly.

“See something you like, darlin’?” You feel a rush of warmth towards your face, but you’re not really embarrassed.

“Maybe I do, neighbor.” You tilt your head at him and smile a bit. “Same as always.”

He shakes his head and works his jaw to hide a wider smile. “I’m pretty sure we’ve said that to each other before.”

“Yeah, I think we did. That night we had dinner at your place after Sarah was sick.” It’s easier to recall things like that, now that you’ve let yourself start. It’s like the memories were just waiting for you to acknowledge them and now they’re all pouring out.

He tenses a little when you say Sarah’s name, making you wonder if you shouldn’t have. But she was yours too, and you can’t let go of that. You never have and you won’t start now. Not even for Joel.

He looks away and then back at you, seeming to shake it off and moving a little closer to nudge your shoulder. “You still remember what I taught you? Pretty sure we had our first lesson that night.” He winks, the old flirt. You laugh.

“Joel, I haven’t danced with anyone since the last time I danced with you. I can’t promise I even remember the steps.”

He pauses, slows to a stop, and turns towards you fully. “Maybe we should give it another shot, see if, um,” he clears his throat. “See if we still partner so well.” You meet his eyes, and you see he’s feeling the same things you are – hesitation, hope, maybe a little fear. Maybe a lot.

That feeling that’s been pulling at you – that second chance you’ve been thinking about for months – becomes almost tangible in the air between you as he speaks. It makes you feel brave.

You step a little bit closer and reach out to slide your hand into his. He closes his eyes, just for a moment, and you hear his breath hitch.

“Tommy always did say we could light up a dance floor.” You look down at your hands and decide to go for it, too. “I’d like to see if we can, still.” You’re talking about more than dancing, and you both know it. “But I know Ellie comes first, and I don’t want to rush into anything and mess it up. I missed you,” you see he’s formed a shaky fist with his free hand, while the hand holding your own is relaxed and warm. “But we’ve done a lot of living without each other.”

You look back up at him, hesitantly. You don’t want to push for too much, too fast. You have no idea what fast or slow mean for the two of you anymore.

Joel nods, twining his fingers through your own and squeezing gently. “We have. But even now I’d never have doubted you’d understand about Ellie. You’re a great mom.”

He uses present tense, which makes you suck in a sharp breath. You feel it again, that echo from the past. It still hurts. Maybe it’s like building muscle and it’ll fade the more you let yourself feel it.

“She doesn’t know you, of course, and she’s wary of strangers. And we need to get to know each other now. But we can take it slow.” He smiles at you, a bit sadly, and squeezes your hand again.

“Slow is fine with me, cowboy.”

He looks surprised, and then huffs out a short laugh. “No one’s called me that in 20 years.”

“No one’s called me darlin’, either.” For a moment, you just lock eyes and take each other in.

“Do you want to come over for dinner soon? Maybe next week, I want to try to get Ellie to leave the house first.” He looks hopeful, but also still hesitant.

“I’d like that, Joel. And I’m happy to wait until she’s ready. I’m still getting used to these- um, these feelings, myself.” He nods, and you know in that moment he understands what you can’t put into words.

“It wasn’t easy for me, at first. I reacted badly.” He shakes his head, and you think maybe this is an understatement. You reach out to grasp his wrist, right above where your hands are intertwined. “I was cold, barely living back in Boston. Mostly just dying, slowly. Not ready for all the ways that kid can get under my skin. Not ready to have someone I would- that I could let down again. Everything she did reminded me of–“ he clears his throat. “Of Sarah. And I didn’t talk about her or let anyone else talk about her for 20 years. Even saying her name, it’s…” He trails off and looks down the road back towards your houses for a moment, working his jaw as he gathers his thoughts.

“Anyway. I think I know what you’re feeling. I’ve been there myself.” You nod, not sure what to say, or if you can get any words out. You squeeze his hand, this time.

He steps back a little, stepping out of the moment you’ve just shared. “Anyway. We should get on. I’ll let you know about dinner, and maybe you and I can meet for lunch sometimes? Until then?” You nod and smile, even as your hands separate well before you enter the dining hall.

…

You don’t manage lunch, but Joel does come back to you a couple of days later with an actual dinner invitation for the following Saturday, five days away. You agree of course, even though you know how anxious you’ll get with five days to wait. He must see it in your face because he reassures you, “Ellie told me to ask you, darlin’.”

So you manage, anxiously, counting down the days until Saturday. You keep busy in the stables and the garden and even eat with Tommy and Maria a couple of times, trying and failing to ban all teasing about it. He takes mercy on you when he sees the state you’ve wound yourself into by Friday afternoon.

“Everything’ll be fine, sunshine. No need to look so gloomy.” You can’t help but roll your eyes, wondering if you’ll ever escape Tommy Miller’s puns about the weather. You see Maria doing the same but Tommy just grins, unrepentant.

“I just don’t know what to expect, which makes it worse.”

He reaches over to pat you on the arm. “Ellie’s prickly, sure, but she adopted him the same as he adopted her. She cares about what he cares about. It’ll be fine.”

You’re not so sure, but you take the reassurance as it’s meant and try to breathe through some of your anxiety. It sort of works.

…

On Saturday you distract yourself with baking so you’ll have something in hand when you arrive at their house later. You haven’t made cookies in years (you hadn’t had the chance in years, before Jackson) but you think they turn out fine. You run out of things to do eventually and find yourself staring at your reflection in the bathroom mirror. With fifteen minutes to go you wrench yourself away (he knows what you look like and you’re both old, now, anyway) to finish getting ready. You glance at the shoe box by the door, wondering if you should bring it or leave it – maybe it won’t come up? It probably will, though. You sigh, unsure, and decide to leave it. You can run back and get it if you need to. Cookies in hand, you head next door.

You wonder if Ellie was waiting at the window, because she yanks the door open before you can knock. She raises an eyebrow at you and asks, “What’s that?” nodding at the plate in your hands.

“Cookies. You’re looking better.” You hand her the plate.

“Cookies!” her eyes get comically big as she takes them from you. Joel, demonstrating how much of a dad he still is and always will be, calls from the kitchen, “not until after dinner, Ellie!” She immediately frowns, looking mutinous. You grin at her as she rolls her eyes.

“Don’t worry, that whole plate is for the two of you. Plenty to go around.” She looks a bit mollified, and heads towards the kitchen. You follow.

You find Joel at the stove, spooning something out of a pan and on to three plates. “Whatever that is, it smells amazing, Joel.”

He smirks at you over his shoulder. “It’s pepper chicken.”

“No fucking way.”

It’s out before you can help yourself - you haven’t had a meal like that, from Before, in ages. Ellie snorts. “He’s been talking this up all day, it better be fucking good.”

He eyes her a little, but you cursed first (whoops), so what’s he going to say? He looks back to you and explains that Tommy helped him figure out how to make it with what they have in Jackson. “Hopefully it’s about the same.”

The three of you settle at the table as he sets out the plates, and you notice they’ve put a candle in the center of the table.

“Nice ambiance,” you say, grinning at him a little, trying to shake off your nerves.

Ellie laughs, a single emphatic ha!, loud and bright. “He would not stop talking about that candle all damn day. I told him it was cheesy, so he wanted to get rid of it, but then I told him you apparently liked cheesy romantic shit, so he should keep it.” Joel is staring Ellie down and clearly wants her to stop talking, but she’s looking at you and you’re nodding to encourage her.

“Oh? I do like cheesy romantic shit.” Ellie laughs again, clearly at his expense. “What else did he say?”

“That’s enough of that, I think,” Joel interrupts, cutting Ellie another look. “Let’s eat before it gets cold.”

You roll your eyes and see Ellie does the same. She grins at you, but then seems to catch herself – like she’s enjoying the back and forth, but isn’t sure of you yet. Fair.

You take a bite of the chicken and can’t stop the moan you let out at the taste. “Holy shit, Joel. How did you manage this?” When you look at him he’s already staring at you, fork dangling from his fingers, looking a little bit like he just got hit over the head with something. “Joel?”

He coughs and adjusts his seat. “Um, right. It wasn’t so hard, just traded for some ingredients from the garden. It’s good?”

“It’s great,” Ellie says. Clearly it’s true because she’s making the chicken disappear at the speed of light. At the same time she’s somehow also darting her eyes between the two of you, like you’re doing something suspicious. She lets the silence hang for a moment, but then asks, “so, what have you been up to for the last 20 years?”

“Ellie! I told you, we don’t need to hash everything out all at once. We can take it slow.” Joel cuts in, eyebrows furrowed in her direction.

“Oh come on, Joel, you’re such a dinosaur. But like, not one of the cool ones. Just ask! Why waste time?” You wonder what you did to make Ellie want to ask. You were nervous before, but now you’re feeling a bit like you’re walking a tightrope again. Is this a good thing or a bad thing? It’s impossible to tell, but it feels like it will go over worse if you refuse.

“We can talk about it. I don’t mind.” You try to give Joel an encouraging look as you respond. He’s quiet for a moment but then agrees.

“Alright. Don’t see why we shouldn’t, I guess.” His voice takes on a teasing note as he looks back towards Ellie. “Let’s just jump right in, since you want to so bad.” She rolls her eyes at him again.

“So, let’s hear it! Where have you been?”

You take a deep breath, trying to decide where to start. You know from Tommy the outline of what they did, where Joel has been – the locations, a few major events, and so on. But you don’t think he knows much about your story. You set down your fork and begin.

“On Outbreak day, I was in Boston at a conference for work. Joel and I talked on the phone that morning before the conference, but by the end of the day… well. Everything changed.” You take a sip of water. This part, at least, you’ve told someone before, so it’s not as hard to organize your thoughts. “I tried to call, I think everyone did, but the phones went down pretty quick. There was chaos, and then there was what became the QZ, later. But I left before they really got it going. I went south – all I wanted was to get home. To get to Texas.” You’ve been speaking to Ellie, mostly, but at this point you finally look at Joel, and you find him staring at you, unblinking, with the unreadable expression on his face that you know means he’s trying to hide some strong emotion. You look away from both of their gazes and down to the table, gathering yourself.

“I found a group heading south and went with them. We made it to Baltimore, but it was such a goddamn mess. They didn’t want to keep going and I didn’t want to go alone – I knew back then that I wouldn’t make it far – so I stayed, thinking I’d find another group. But staying for a little while turned into a long while and, well. You’ve probably heard what happened to the QZ there in ‘07.” Joel nods, you can see him out of the corner of your eye. You look at him again and find him the same as a moment ago, but with his fists clenched so tight his knuckles are white. You realize you’re staring and look away.

“At that point I was clinging to the hope that my family was still alive with the barest tips of my fingers. But having to leave Baltimore pushed me further south, and I ended up in Atlanta. And, well,” you look at Joel. “I ran into Joyce.” Joel starts in his seat, hands relaxing in his surprise.

“Joyce Roberts?” he asks, incredulous.

“Yep. That Joyce. Can you believe it? Just walked right into her on the street one day.” You look at Ellie again. “Joyce lived on our street, back in Austin. This was in ‘08, I guess? And we had a whole reunion moment, and then she just looked at me, and I knew. I knew what she was about to say.” You feel yourself start to choke up, and close your eyes, taking a deep breath.

“I know now that she was wrong, but then, it was crystal clear, like a movie playing in front of my eyes as she told me what happened. She said she’d seen you that night, Joel, you and Tommy and Sarah. You sped out of the neighborhood in the truck, and somehow she saw Tommy again, in the chaos after that plane crashed. After that she lost you again, but she asked after you later at one of the camps. She said they told her that according to their records, all three of you were dead.” You’re whispering, at this point, but you try to breathe through it.

“I guess the, um, the news about what happened with Sarah and then... after… that news got around from the field hospital, but not quite correctly. So some list of survivors got updated wrong. It’s not like those lists were worth much, not for much longer. It was before everyone stopped trying to keep track like that.” You open your eyes, and glance at Joel. He’s pale.

“But anyway. She was sure, and it had been five years. It killed whatever hope I had left.”

You’re quiet for a moment. You see Joel is barely breathing next to you, his hands clutching the edge of the table. Ellie’s eyes are wide and her face says she’s not sure if she should make any noise at all. You know Joel knows what you were alluding to after Sarah’s death and you don’t want to bring it up any more than that, not now. You’d heard it from Joyce and it’s been a weight ever since.

“Um, anyway. I guess I’ll… we can talk about that another time.” You glance between them and rub your hands on your thighs. Breathe. “So I was in Atlanta for a while. Probably about 8 years? I just worked, like everyone else. Made some sort-of friends.” You hesitate, thinking about Michelle. You decide you’ll come back to it later. You’re already choking on the words as they leave your mouth.

“But by ‘16, I had to leave. It was getting… weird, in the QZ. And for other reasons.” You take another sip of water. “By that time I was more capable of surviving on my own. Like everyone these days, I guess. So I headed west, thinking I’d go home, see what was there. Turns out I beat Tommy back to Austin by a year or two.”

You turn to Joel. “That’s why he barely found anything in the house. I, uh, got there first.” You see it dawn on him. “Yeah. I have some stuff over at my house, I wasn’t sure we’d talk about it. I can go get it later.”

“What- what stuff?” He looks like he wants to know and doesn’t want to know, at the same time. You know the feeling.

“You remember the photo calendars we had made in ‘02 and ‘03? Those, and a couple other pictures. Sarah’s favorite book. One of your shirts and the- um. The belt buckle.” You cleared your throat. “Some new clothes for me. And, um.” You meet his eyes. “That mix CD, from when we got together. Some other little stuff.” He looks overwhelmed. “Yeah, there’s a lot. I’ll bring it over, ok? You can go through it, keep stuff.” He nods, looking far away.

Ellie looks like she’s about ready to burst. “What CD? And what happened in Atlanta? What about after Austin? What next?”

You smile a little at her questions. “Ok, let’s see. Well, Sarah helped Joel burn me a mix CD – do you know what that means?” She shrugs, saying she knows what a CD is. “Ok, close enough. Basically Sarah and Joel created the list of songs and put it on the CD. It had some of our favorite songs to dance to on it. I haven’t seen a CD player in years but I took the CD anyway.

“Atlanta…” you swallow. “Let’s come back to that, ok? After Austin, I kept heading west. I found some people in west Texas who weren’t so bad to stay with, for a bit. I think I was there for about two years? And then I decided to head to Kansas City, but I heard some bad stuff before I ever got there. I ended up making it work with what was left of the Dallas QZ for a while. I did ok there, anyway. And then last year I decided to head out this way, and Tommy literally stumbled over me on a patrol and scared the shit out of me and turned my life upside down in the process.”

You stop, and the three of you are quiet. All you hear is the sound of your own breathing.. You aren’t sure what else to say without getting too deep into things you don’t feel ready to talk about, from Baltimore and Atlanta and Dallas. None of them were easy and all of them still hurt at least a little bit. You hope Ellie doesn’t ask but you’ll try if she does.

Joel looks like he’s still trying to take in everything you said, but he finally says, “I wonder if we ever passed each other. Tommy and I, well, our goal at the beginning, as much as we had one, was to get to Boston. To you. But somewhere around Dallas we heard that the initial Outbreak in Boston had been so bad, there were barely any survivors. And I-“ he clears his throat. “I, um, wasn’t in the best shape, back then. It convinced me you were gone, like Sarah, and well. I wasn’t… I couldn’t…” he just shakes his head. “We didn’t actually get there until years later. I guess we could try to match it all up, make a timeline.”

You shudder. Were you ever in the same place at the same time, unknowing? You almost don’t want to know.

“I don't think I’m ready for that.” He shakes his head, agreeing with you. “I think that’s all I can do tonight.” You look back at Ellie. She’s studying you.

“We can talk more later,” she agrees, “but I have one question.” You nod, fixing your face into something neutral. A slightly mischievous look comes across her face. “Can we listen to the CD? We have a player in the living room.”

You start and bang your hand on the table. “You do? Fuck, I never thought I’d find one.” Joel sighs, and rolls his eyes as you shake out your hand. “I’m allowed to curse, old man, I’m just as old as you.”

“Not quite, darlin’.” He smiles at you. You start to come down from the emotional rollercoaster of the last half hour and smile back.

“Let me go grab the CD.”

You run back to your house, and after a moment’s thought, grab the entire shoebox. He can look through it later.

When you return to their house, Ellie and Joel have moved to the living room, and she’s elbowing him and saying something you don’t catch that makes him put his face in his hands. She grins and spots you in the door. You hand her the CD.

Ellie inspects it carefully, seeing the handwritten tracklist in the little paper insert that has yellowed a bit with age. “Joel, did you really make this?” He nods.

“Sarah did the technical work but we made it together.”

“You weren’t lying, he really was a cheesy romantic. How many of these are in Spanish?” He sighs in a long-suffering way, falling back onto the couch. It makes you smile.

“Like I told you, it’s who he is.” You look at him, and despite the grumpy act he’s putting on for Ellie, he winks at you. It sets off fireworks inside of you and you smile, helplessly.

Ellie gets the CD in the player, and the whirring noise it makes as it spins the disc sends a wave of nostalgia over you, unexpectedly strong. You resist closing your eyes, knowing what you’ll hear first. You want to see Ellie’s reaction.

You try to control your face, watching as “La Bomba” starts. She looks confused, and then incredulous.

“What the fuck is this?”

You start to laugh, and you see Joel chuckling, too. You know “Suavemente” is up next so you look at him and hold out your hand. “Want to show her?” He gives you a look, and for a moment you aren’t sure what he’ll do. But he stands, of course, and takes your hand.

“Sure, darlin’.” And then he starts to move.

You weren’t lying when you said you hadn’t danced in 20 years. But somehow, in Joel Miller’s arms, your body remembers what to do, and you start to move across the room together like no time has passed.

Joel had taught you how to dance in his backyard, with Tommy and Sarah laughing nearby. He had shown you a bit of merengue and how to two-step that first day, and much more later, but most of the time you had just let him lead in both partner dances and line dances. Some of the songs on the CD were ones you used to dance to in his living room or in night clubs, and some were just for you. You wouldn’t say you’re doing any particular style now, as the second track starts, just that you’re dancing and following his lead.

Ellie whistles and cheers you on from the side, but you can’t look away from Joel. His eyes are locked on you and it feels impossible to look anywhere else. You float through the dance, feeling like your feet are barely touching the floor.

When the song ends and “Lambada” starts, you force yourself to step back, a bit overwhelmed with how much the dance affected you.

“Ellie, do you want to learn?” She looks surprised, and then uncertain.

“Um, maybe? I’m not sure I want to dance with anyone.”

You tilt your head as you look at her, a hunch forming in the back of your mind, and smile. “Maybe give it a try?” She nods and Joel beckons her over. As they get in position you search through the tracklist to a song you think might work for a lesson. You skip ahead to the Shakira song later on the list because you think the slower beat will help.

You sit on the couch to watch Joel start to direct Ellie around the room, but it pretty quickly becomes clear that it’s not working. She’s fighting him with every step and they keep bumping into each other. It seems you were right – maybe Ellie, headstrong as she is, would do better leading. You stand up.

“I think we’re teaching her the wrong part,” you say as you cut in between her and Joel. He smirks, gesturing for you to take his place as he moves towards the couch. “Ellie, why don’t you try leading for a bit.” You direct her and it’s immediately pretty obvious that she’s more comfortable controlling the dance. She learns a couple of easy steps and starts to lead you carefully around the room, picking up on what Joel had been trying to do as well.

After a couple of minutes you look over your shoulder at him, grinning, but you see that he’s gotten distracted by the open shoebox on the coffee table. He’s got his belt buckle in one hand, thumb tracing the design absently, like he still remembers the exact shape of the letters after all these years. With the other he reaches in to pull out the 2002 calendar. It’s the one with you and Sarah on the front, smiling for the camera and posing in front of the lake you used to visit in the summer.

You don’t even realize you’ve stopped dancing until Ellie bumps into you. “What’s wrong?” she asks, looking around you at Joel. “Oh.”

Joel seems to realize you’re both looking at him, and he looks up at you, that familiar unreadable look on his face. “Sorry, I just looked in and couldn’t help it. I–”

“It’s alright. Maybe that’s enough of a lesson for today, anyway.” You smile a little. “You can hold on to the box, we can figure it out later. Or talk about it. Whatever you want. I kept, um, one of Sarah’s hair ties, with the yellow beads. There’s another one in there.” There’s one more thing back at your house that you decide to keep to yourself for now. Neither of you are ready for that. “And, um. I gave Tommy your mom’s bracelet. For Maria.”

Joel snorts. “The one you always hated and thought was ugly as sin?” You laugh.

“Yep, that’s the one.”

The atmosphere in the room has gotten heavier, the moment clearly over, and the two of you have become awkward, losing all the ease you found when dancing. Ellie steps into the middle of it, and says, “well, I still have questions, but I can already hear Joel telling me I’m being rude like the cranky old man he is, so next time, I guess.”

You feel a bit lighter at her words. Next time? You’ll take it. “I’d like that. Thanks, Ellie.”

You start to head towards the door, and Joel carefully sets everything back in the box to join you. “You can look through it, Ellie, just be careful.” She nods, sitting gingerly next to the box on the coffee table, looking over its contents with wide eyes. The two of you step out onto the porch to say goodnight.

You’re quiet for a moment, looking at each other. Joel regards you thoughtfully, and says, “that went about as well as it could, I think.” You agree.

“The dinner was great, Joel.”

“Well, that too. But you and Ellie, is what I meant. I think she’s still wary of everybody but me, but seems to me like she wants to get to know you.”

“I really hope so. She’s a force of nature, isn’t she?” He nods, smiling, and you can see in it how much he cares about her, his adopted younger daughter.

“Sorry she brought all that up so quick.”

“It’s fine, Joel. I wanted you to know, anyway. Both of you.”

He nods, but looks a bit hesitant. “I know we said slow and agreed, darlin’, but I hope you don’t mind if it ends up being real slow after all.” You reach out to reassure him, lightly touching his right arm.

“I need time, too, Joel. There’s things you don’t know about me yet, and things you probably want to tell me, too.” He doesn’t look reassured. You think for a moment, and add, “We know the foundation is there, right? But what we built is long gone, so we just have to see if we can build it again.” He’s looking at you like he can’t tell if you’re sincere or making a construction pun to tease him. It’s both, but he doesn’t need to know that. For now.

“Alright, darlin’. That’s maybe enough feelings for one day.” He laughs as you roll your eyes at him. “But I have to tell you something, though, before you go.” He moves his arm and you start to move your hand away from where you were still touching him, but he catches it and laces your fingers together.

“You’re so kind and smart and beautiful,” he starts, and your breath catches in your throat. He smiles at you. “It took my breath away back then and it still does now. I’ll be mad until the day I die that I missed out on 20 years of you, but I still can’t believe you’re here, in front of me.” He tilts his head and squeezes your hand. “You’re especially beautiful tonight. I felt as lucky to have you in my arms during that dance as I did back in ‘01.”

Your face has gone hot and you raise your free hand to your cheek, knowing he can tell.

“Joel–”

“No, I want you to hear it. You were the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen outside of your house with the moving truck that day we met and it’s still true now. And watching you talk to Ellie and get to know her?” He shakes his head a little, but he’s smiling. “I never thought I’d feel this way again, never thought I’d get to watch two people I care about get to know each other like that. I just wanted you to know how much it means to me. That’s all.”

That’s all, he says. Like it isn’t everything. You’re biting your lip, holding back tears by the time he’s done. You reach out to cup his cheek with your right hand. “Joel Miller, you smooth-talking son of a bitch.” He laughs outright at that, sounding a little choked up himself.

“I’ve never been able to defend against those moves. Not that I’d want to.” You smile as he leans his head into your hand. “I’m feeling it too, ok? We should go slow, yes, but… well, like I said, we’ve got the foundation. We’re just easing into it.” He grins, and you see a glimpse of him at 32 that you weren’t expecting to ever see again.

“Probably better, at our age.”

“Better for you maybe, old man. I’m still younger than you.”

“Darlin’, you turn 50 soon, and we both know it.” You shove him a little, grinning. He smiles back, that half smile that used to get under your skin and take your breath away. It still does.

“Well, Joel Miller, with that I think I’ll turn in.” You start to turn away, but he reels you back in for a short hug. He holds you tightly for just a moment, whispering, “Thanks for the shoebox. I can’t… well. I’m going to take my time with it.” He pulls away.

“Take all the time you need.”

...

Austin, Spring 2001

On Sunday, you changed your outfit five times before telling yourself to get a grip and putting back on the first thing you had pulled out of your closet, 45 minutes ago. Joel had seen literally all of these clothes before; he’d lived next door to you for six months. Get it together. You looked at yourself in the mirror, messed with your hair one last time, and then forced yourself to leave the bathroom and head downstairs.

In the kitchen, you glanced at the clock – 5:54pm – and picked up the cookies you baked that morning, heading next door to the Millers’.

You knocked on their door, and after a few moments with no response you knocked again. Odd. You put your ear to the door and heard music and Sarah laughing. You tried the door and realized it was unlocked.

As you crossed the threshold you called out, “Millers? Anyone home?” Inside you could more clearly hear the music coming from the backyard, so you left the cookies in the kitchen (where something smelled amazing) and headed towards the back door.

You found it open, and you could hear Sarah laugh again as you moved closer. “Dad come on, you stepped on my toes!”

“Sarah Miller, I raised you not to tell lies.” Joel sounded out of breath, but he was laughing as he said it.

“Well, that’s definitely a lie if I ever heard one.” You leaned in the doorway, smiling as you watched Joel lead Sarah around the yard to “Rie y Llora.” Tommy jumped out of the way as Joel steered Sarah right into him in retaliation for that remark. They hadn’t noticed you yet.

“Celia Cruz, huh?”

All three Millers turned at your question, all three smiling at you. It was a little overwhelming, as always, to have the attention of all three at once. Sarah elbowed her dad lightly and laughed, saying, “she’s Abuela's favorite.” Joel rolled his eyes.

“It’s good music for learning,” he muttered, clearly not for the first time.

“It looks to me like Sarah already knows what she’s doing.” You smiled at the look he shot your way.

“Ha! See, dad?”

“Sure, baby girl. Why don’t you go take Uncle Tommy for a spin, since you know what you’re doing.” With that, Joel spun Sarah towards Tommy, who caught her easily and started leading her around the yard. You laughed, and then looked back towards Joel. He was watching you with that half smile that always gave you goosebumps.

“Do you know how to dance, darlin’?”

“In a club? Sure. Like that? No way.”

He grinned at your answer. “Want to learn?” He held his hand out, guiding you towards him once you placed your hand in his.

“I’ve never danced like this before. I’ll probably stomp all over your feet.” Joel placed your right hand on his shoulder, and took your left hand in his right.

“You let me worry about where our feet go, darlin’. I’ll show you the basics and then you just follow me.” And over the next 15 minutes, that’s exactly what he did.

Soon you found yourself slowly moving around the yard to “Lambada,” definitely slower than the music called for. At some point Tommy and Sarah went inside to work on finishing dinner but you barely noticed. You were focusing on keeping up with Joel.

Just as you started to feel a little bit confident, a slow song that you didn’t know started to play. Joel slowed the two of you as well, starting to mostly sway in place instead of moving around so much. He pulled you a little closer with his left hand around your waist.

Catching your breath, and taking your focus off of your feet, you asked, “what brought this on? I don’t think I’ve ever come over to find y’all mid-dance-lesson before.”

“Sarah’s got that school dance coming up and she’s a bit nervous.” He laughed, shaking his head. “I tried to tell her I only know how to do this and a few of those line dances they do in the clubs Tommy goes to. Not whatever dancing they’ll be doing – probably closer to your club dancing.” He winked at you, and you held on a little tighter to his shoulder. “But then she reminded me that her cousin’s party is coming up, anyway, and they will definitely be dancing just like this. So, we were practicing.”

“Cousin?” You asked, confused. Tommy didn’t have kids, and you were pretty sure there were no other Miller siblings.

“Ah, technically it’s my cousin’s kid, on my mom’s side. Easier to just say cousin. They all live down in San Antonio.” He shrugged. You nodded.

“Well, you did a good job teaching me. Bet that’ll be a fun party.”

You realized at that point that you had slowly swayed in the direction of the trees closer to the back of the yard. You were under the shade of one of the trees, partially out of view from the house. You'd moved closer together as the dance slowed and you found yourself with your right hand on Joel’s neck, fingertips almost touching his hairline. Your eyes darted from his arms, holding you securely, to his shoulders, flexing under his shirt, up to his face.

You looked up to find Joel looking right back at you. “See something you like, darlin’?” He smirked. You felt a rush of warmth towards your face, but you weren’t really embarrassed. You felt like your whole body was tingling, like you were heading towards something you’d been hoping for for months. Like you were racing forward and up ahead there was a cliff you might fall off of, but you’d fall together. Like the fall was the point, the destination. Your breath caught in your throat.

“Maybe I do, neighbor,” you managed. He grinned in response, tugging you just a bit closer. Any closer and you’d feel him pressed against you everywhere.

“I know I do.”

“What?” You’d lost track of the conversation. His proximity was going to your head.

“See something I like.” As he responded, he let go of your hand and brought his right hand up to cup your face. You saw him glance from your eyes to your mouth and in response, you pressed closer, winding your hands into his hair. Joel leaned in, and you barely felt the touch of his lips to yours, when the back door opened and Tommy shouted, “dinner’s ready, love birds! Get in here!”

Joel groaned as he stepped away from you, resting his hands on your shoulders. “I guess we should head inside.” As he said it, he lifted one hand to trace his fingertips along your cheekbone before running his hand lightly over your shoulder and down your arm. “Stick around after dinner? I’d like another dance.” You smiled as he reached down to take your hand and lead you toward the house, walking backwards and keeping his eyes trained on yours.

“Smooth moves, Miller. Save some for later.”

He was still smiling, but suddenly you felt the intent in his gaze, more focused than even a moment ago. “Oh darlin’, don’t worry. For you I got plenty more.”

…

Dinner with the Millers was always fun, and this occasion was no different. Tommy and Sarah teased Joel mercilessly, and he got them right back, though he was always a little softer with Sarah.

You talked and joked over dinner, noting Joel had made one of your favorites – pepper chicken – and he winked at you when you thanked him for it. Sarah updated you about her week after she got over her cold and her excitement about the upcoming dance. After dinner she rushed upstairs to talk to a friend on the phone as Tommy headed out the door (“to do some real dancing, y'all should come out sometime”). You were left with Joel in the kitchen, clearing the table together and starting in on the dishes.

“You don’t have to help with that, darlin’, I can get ‘em later.”

You bumped your hip against his as he slid in next to you at the sink. “It’s no bother, Joel. Let me help.” He smiled at you, softly, and nodded, picking up the towel to dry the dishes.

You worked quietly, sometimes recalling a joke from dinner, but you mostly just enjoyed the moment together. As soon as you handed him the last dish he set it aside, still wet, to take your hand and lead you back outside. He switched the music back on with the volume low as you passed the boombox.

In one smooth motion, Joel turned and pulled you back into his arms, into the stance you had only just left before dinner. But this time he pulled you close from the start, tucking you up against him and smoothing his hand across your lower back.

“Well hello there, darlin’. Fancy meeting you here.”

You smiled, and rolled your eyes a little. “Hey, cowboy.” You let your fingertips play with his hair along his neck. You noticed a light shiver in his shoulders as you did.

You smirked. “Joel, are you ticklish?”

“No, and you better not let on to Sarah that you wondered anything of the sort.” He glared at you playfully as he said it, spinning you a little into a new spot in the yard. You laughed, a bit winded even though you'd barely moved.

“Hmm, seems like information that would be worth quite a bit to some people around here,” you mused. You brushed your fingers lightly across his hairline again, and he squirmed again in response.

He hid a smile, pulling you in so he could whisper directly into your left ear. “But darlin’, if you keep my secret, I’ll make it worth your while.” It was your turn to shiver.

“Oh? How so?” You’d never heard your own voice so breathless.

He chuckled, and raised his left hand from your hip to your jaw, tilting your head to your right as he tucked his face into the left side of your neck. He ran his lips lightly from your shoulder to your jaw, sending shivers down your spine as you inhaled sharply. He kissed you, lightly, right at the hinge of your jaw, and then on your cheek, and then his mouth met yours, softly, barely there and then with gentle pressure.

He pulled away after only a moment, and you met his eyes in a daze. His gaze was dark, and you felt like you were moving through molasses. Everything was slow, and soft, and heady. You were floating through it and Joel’s hands on you – on your cheek, holding your left hand – were the only things keeping you tethered.

Joel murmured your name. “Let me take you out.”

“When?” Your reply fell from your lips so quickly it made him smile, and you smiled back, unashamed.

“Friday? Sarah’s got a sleepover.” He smoothed his thumb over your cheekbone. “We can go dancing, show off these moves.”

You laughed. “Joel, I’ve barely got one, maybe two moves. You sure we don’t need another dance lesson before we take this show on the road?”

He huffed a laugh too, and turned you a little. “Just follow along with me, darlin’, I won’t let you stumble.”

You bit your lip, and nodded. “Friday.”

“Friday,” he agreed, pulling you in again. As his lips met yours again, you wondered how you were going to wait five days for more of this. Joel pulled himself away with a small groan, resting his forehead against yours. “We should stop before we get too carried away, with Sarah home.” You nodded.

You danced a bit more, finishing out the last couple of tracks on the CD. Joel kept his forehead against yours at first, and then tucked your face into his chest, resting his cheek on top of your head and slowly swaying as the last song trailed off into silence.

You didn’t want to let go quite yet, and it seemed Joel didn’t either, as neither of you moved. You could feel your happiness at finally taking the leap together glowing in your chest – from dancing around each other to an actual dance, the months of talking and flirting had finally gotten you somewhere. But you couldn’t help but wonder.

“Joel? Why now?” You asked it softly, face still tucked into his chest. He hummed lowly in response before pulling back to meet your eyes. He regarded you silently for a moment before seeming to come to a decision.

“I think we both felt it, right? That first day. You were – you are – the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, and I knew I wanted you,” he smirked as he noticed you bite your lip at that admission. He squeezed your hip. “But I realized pretty quick that with you, I wanted something real. I haven’t dated anyone in a long, long time. I wanted to take it slow, and get to know you first.” You nodded. You wanted that, too.

“But darlin’, I realized the other day, when you were here with Sarah, that maybe there’s a line between taking it slow and just being afraid, and I was flirting with it. And I’d rather be flirting with you.” He grinned as you rolled your eyes a little bit at his joke. “I’ve been afraid for a long time. Afraid of letting someone in when it’s not just me I have to worry about.” He looked towards the house. “But Sarah loves you.”

“And I love her, Joel. That girl is special.” He smiled and nodded before looking back at you.

“I know you do. And she’s been teasing me about asking you out for months.”

“Oh yeah? Well you should know better than to ignore her advice, Joel.”

He sighed, long-suffering, and nodded. “I know it.”

Joel pulled away and started to head back to the house, right hand reaching for your left. You felt a little shaky, like you really had been floating for the last half hour.

As you approached the front door, he squeezed your hand. “I’ll see you Friday, darlin’.”

“You sure will, cowboy.” He smiled and pulled you in for another short kiss.

“Now get, before we get any bad ideas.”

You laughed, and headed out the door he opened for you.

“Night, darlin’.”

“See you Friday, Joel.”

...

a/n: see you 8/20 for chapter 4 (aka, when the smut arrives lol)

update: ch 4 now posted!

Tag list

@morgaussy @jay-zzle @bluetattoos @dins-riduur-anthe

#joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #tlou fic #tlou fanfiction #joel miller fanfiction #my fic #over again fic #x reader

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steves-strapcollection · 10 months

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WIP Wednesday - Friday (from last week): romcom!AU edition

So I've just been plugging away at this fic and I actually kinda just forgot to keep posting the snippets but I'm here!!! I'm going to post the snippets I promise so here is the next section!!

The Set-Up - Steve POV & SFW

“You wanna take a shower before you go?”

“Probably a good idea. I’m pretty sure there’s lube in my hair,” Eddie complained lightly, raising an eyebrow accusingly at Steve. “You have any idea how that got there, Stevie?”

“I plead the fifth,” Steve responded and Eddie rolled his eyes with a laugh. When Eddie made a move to roll over to the edge of the bed, Steve grabbed his wrist lightly and smiled when the other man looked over at him curiously. “Quick kiss?”

Eddie’s expression relaxed, even as he sighed heavily and leaned over. “So needy,” he grumbled before kissing him. And Steve knew Eddie was just teasing, that it was just a joke, and he even knew that he was being a little needy.

The comment still cut Steve to the quick.

When Eddie pulled away, he immediately rolled off the bed and onto his feet. Steve absently registered that Eddie was complaining about something—“Jesus, my legs are still fuckin’ Jello.”—and he was pretty sure he laughed an appropriate amount when he realized Eddie was looking at him. Eddie had smiled back at him, broad and dimpled before disappearing in the bathroom, leaving the door open.

Steve watched the doorway for several moments before turning to stare up at the ceiling. Letting out a slow breath, Steve closed his eyes and tried to bring back some semblance of the confidence he was feeling just ten minutes ago.

“Needy.”

Letting out an explosive sigh, Steve ground the heels of his palms against his eyes.

It only hit so deep because it was true. At his core, no matter how much he tried to make sure everyone was happy and content, Steve was desperate for the attention and affections of others. He was clingy and pushy, and sometimes inappropriate like asking a one-night stand for a kiss before he went to take a shower before going home.

“Yes, Steve, you wanted ten days to ‘get away.’ Not me, but you didn’t even actually ask me.” “You suggested it! What, I was just supposed to go on a vacation alone?” “Of course not, Steve. I mean, you don’t even go to the grocery store alone.”

The argument with Nancy was crawling back into his head for the first time since before he went to the pool. Steve had managed to tuck away the hurt and the bitterness, even while talking about her to Eddie, but now? While he was grappling with wanting Eddie to stay when the man wanted to leave? It was impossible not to remember what she said. Hell, didn’t he just prove some of her point? Not even twenty-four hours after she dumped him and Steve was already fucking someone and getting moody that they wouldn’t spend the night.

Steve only managed one night alone, and that was probably only because he was drunk.

Taking a deep breath, Steve worked to set aside those thoughts until Eddie left. The man would be finishing up in the shower soon, and Steve didn’t want him coming out to find him moping like a child.

Tagging the people who asked for a snippet: @sidekick-hero @scarcrossdlvrs @inairbinad @theheadlessphilosopher @hellion-child @stobinesque Tagging the ppl i think would also want to see this: @xenon-demon @lets-try-to-be-normal-otakus @thefreakandthehair @legitcookie @patchworkgargoyle @starryeyedjanai

#wip wednesday accountability #gerry wip

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always-together · 6 months

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Just a Little Something Up Ahead

(Aka: A very long overdue apology, where I’ve been, where I’m going, and the future of my blogs (Spoiler alert: I’m not going anywhere, but updates are needed))

Tagging everyone I remember writing with frequently on my blogs in the hopes they see this and read the whole thing: @pcrplevenom , @nxtleftbehxnd , @misfitxofxfriends , @ssatxr , @advnterccs , @opportunistic-chicanery , @trickywanderer , @twistytwine , @automaton-otto , @monmuses , @raktanag , @dragonizens , @alicerozen , @arianatheangel-girl , @saltygempearl , @castleofmxses

Please take the time to read this whole thing if you can. This has been a long time coming and I don’t want anyone to feel as if my absence has been anyone’s fault, because it absolutely has not been, under any circumstance. It’s been entirely me, and my own inability to maintain all of my blogs during college.

Hello everyone. If I’m remembering correctly, this is my first non-reblog post since last October, when I vowed to come back and respond to the Halloween threads I attempted to start and obviously, disappointingly (most especially to myself), never did. I felt very bad then and still do, because it was going to be my first time interacting with several new blogs and I just…ruined my chance to make a good first impression because all will to write Garnet completely vanished. Some of the people that I tried to start interactions with are tagged in this post, and to both you all and those I write with all the time, but especially the first-timers, I apologize deeply and hope you can forgive me for letting you all down like that.

I know there’s a million worse things to be guilty of on the internet than abandoning your rp blogs because you have no muse, but this has all been just as bad as those worse things to me. Although I’ve undoubtedly been having fun on my Spamton blog I’ve also been feeling incredibly guilty, and for leaving you all in the dark as to my thought processes and IRL reasons why I went away I once again deeply apologize. No words can properly express to every single one of you all just how sorry I am for disappearing this past year and a half. It’s been a long time coming, but now that my fall semester at college is over I feel now is a good time to explain everything and talk about where me and my blogs are going from here.

The number one thing is, of course, college. Even in my freshman year, prior to my Spamton blog, I was having trouble maintaining multiple blogs and characters at once due to work sapping all of my writing energy. Coupled with the jobs I ended up getting, especially the one I’ve had since June, trying to run five blogs at the same time proved impossible. So, foolishly, I took the easy way out and stayed put at the one I had, and still continue to have, the most muse for. I don’t regret doing so, as it made balancing everything much easier to handle, but I do regret not telling you guys somehow first and leaving you all behind like I did.

The other main thing is…hard to explain through just text with no tone indicators, so please bear with me and know that, again, me leaving most of my blogs and you guys behind was no one else’s fault but my own. Attempts to properly come back here and apologize have been stymied by me finding my prior writing style and tagging system cringy and disorganized, respectively. Of course, it was only a matter of time before I felt this way: This blog has been around since I was 17 and now I’m 20, with much more writing experience behind me and the ability to refine my tagging process over the course of my different blogs. This blog feels stuck in the past in comparison to my Spamton blog, my newest blog, in a certain way, in regards to that. Especially with the disorganized tagging. What was I thinking 🤦‍♀️

That’s not even getting into the muse pages across all of my blogs, further worsened by the fact that I’m primarily mobile and can’t edit them at a moments notice or create fancy Caards like all of my mutuals. They make me cringe more than my writing in some ways. Please do not look at my About the Mun page on this blog, I will be removing that when I can 😬

Returning here eventually became associated with regressing to how I was back in 2020 in my mind, and soon that began to spread towards how I felt about my other blogs, too. I was rigid in replies and sticking to plots, barely sent partners memes yet inwardly expected to be sent them in return, and never really IMed or communicated except through tags. I am happy to say that over the past year of silence I’ve gotten better at all of that, but you all shouldn’t have had to suffer while I figured my shit out. But nevertheless I still left, and hid away at my Spamton blog until now.

I want that to change, desperately. I miss you all. I miss Garnet. I miss all of my other muses, too. But considering I’m a junior in college now, with my capstone/thesis fast approaching, I don’t know how difficult that’s going to be. And of course, I don’t want to abandon my Spamton blog, either. Whatever I end up deciding, however, I need to update all of my information pages to reflect my current standards and make my tags more easier to navigate, like they (mostly) are at my Spamton blog.

So until I can find the time with my busy holiday work schedule to do this necessary work on all of my blogs, all activity is currently at @thebigshotman . Feel free to send in memes, random asks, and interact/IM me there, if you’d like! I’ve gotten a lot of crossover threads going lately, and much like the Haunted Mansion there is always room for one more 😊 So please, if you’re still interested in interacting with me after all of the shit I’ve done, head there for now.

I’ll be reblogging this on all of my other blogs tomorrow so as many people see this as possible, and know I didn’t forget about everyone. Changing everything looks like it’s not going to happen until after New Years, so consider coming back to everything my New Year’s resolution-except unlike many resolutions, this one is actually going to happen.

Thank you for taking the time to read all of this, if you indeed still are. Like I said, I’ve missed you all dearly, and I want to come back. But I can’t until I’ve done some very overdue updating and organization. (Everything old will stay tagged as it is, but going forward things will be easier to find.)

I’ll see you all soon. And this time, that’s a promise.

Love, Mun Bri ❤️

Relationships/friendships with Garnet and all of my other muses will remain the same unless you or I message each other agreeing otherwise

#(sophomore year also made me realize putting too much focus on my hobbies was a recipe for disaster 😵‍💫)#(so off I went and I did what I did. but I’m going to do my best to try to change all of that)#(no matter how shakey my activity ends up being ❤️)#(no tags. this is the start of the clean slate)#(I WILL COME BACK. this I promise 🤝)

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nekoannie-chan · 7 months

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Impossible

Title: Impossible

Fandom: Marvel, Captain America.

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.!Reader.

Rating: Teen.

Word count: 214 words.

Warnings: Disappearance, mystery.

Summary: None knows what happened to you.

A/N: This is my entry to @multifandom-flash Halloween, Annie-5017 & square 5:

"No one could survive that!"

You can read it on Wattpad and Ao3 too.

@saiyanprincessswanie

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistakes, please let me know and I will correct them.

I don’t give any kind of permission that my fics to be posted on other platforms or languages (I translate myself my work) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don't steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other's people. The only exception is the ones I gifted 'cuz now belong to someone else. If you find any of my works on a different platform and are not one of my accounts, please let me know. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Marvel's characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

Add yourself to my taglist here.

My other media where I publish: Ao3, Wattpad, ffnet, TikTok, Instagram, Twitter.

If you like it, please vote, comment, and give me feedback to improve my skills and reblog.

Tags: @sinceimetyou @unnuevosoltransformalarealidad @navybrat817 @angrythingstarlight @shield-agent78 @charmed-asylum @caplanbuckybarnes @sapphire-rogers @nana1000night @talia-rumlow @writingshae @alexxavicry @azulatodoryuga @daemonslittlebitch @chaoticcollectivenightmare @endlesstwanted @chemtrails-club @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @here4thefanfics @theestorm @patzammit @kmc1989

How long has it been? Hours? Days? Weeks? What exactly had happened?

You could still feel the sound of the clock ticking in your head.

"No one could survive that!" you heard Steve say.

What had happened?

Why couldn't you remember?

Why couldn't anyone have survived whatever happened to you?

Didn't Steve remember that you were a mutant?

You turned to look at the calendar—three weeks, to be exact—and you were gone.

Gone?

The last thing you remembered was that you had a mission, then... then you'd closed your eyes and...

Awakened in Avengers Tower?

At least the voices in your head had finally quieted, but your thoughts were still very fuzzy.

You could hear the others mentioning wounds—wounds that no one could have survived.

Maybe you should find a way to remember everything; even if it wasn't pleasant, you should know what happened to you.

Tick, tack, tick, tack...

You could hear very clearly how the clocks were ticking, and suddenly you started to feel tired. You could also hear Steve calling you, but...

His voice seemed so far away; maybe if you took a nap, everything would be solved...

A few minutes later, you opened your eyes, but they were not your usual look; your eyes were completely black.

#multifandom flash #halloween #steve rogers x reader

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kafkasmjjw · 8 months

Note

Hi :) can you recommend your top 5 moonjo/jongwoo (jongmoon?) fics?

i’m going to link my top 5 post-canon, canon divergent and aus because i’ve been in this fandom for too long to choose only 5. these aren’t ordered by preference, and i’m choosing complete fics and only one per author. please heed the tags and ratings in case any of it makes you uncomfortable!

post-canon:

origins by mslunita

Moonjo is hardly protected by tissue; his body is rough-cut. Bone-fed. It’s easy for Jongwoo to break the skin and feel as if he’s sharpening his teeth on the skeleton itself.

monsters call it love by finalizer

He looks like a statue, an impossible man cut from white marble—neat and composed and perfect. Jong-woo wants to ruin it. Poke at it, prod at it, mar it with his fingertips and his teeth. Something so perfect has no right to exist. He wants to destroy him.

since we’re feeling so anaesthetised by eris

Jongwoo flexes into the pain, fingers twitching around the phantom contours and pressure mapped out on Moonjo's throat. From somewhere almost outside himself, he says, “Would you have let me kill you?”

no angel speaks to me by gfriendly

“Want to know how I remember it?” Jongwoo asked.

if i were a carp by theletterv

“Eat me.” It’s a quick answer, and the disorientation of it just as quick. Jongwoo turns so fast it pulls something in his neck, blinks at him owlishly but the peace on Moonjo’s face never falters. “Eat you?”

special mention to 'choose happiness' by ennui_ing because their fics are absolutely stunning and a must-read. top tier characterisation.

canon divergent:

pyre by anthean

And really, why is he surprised? Jongwoo is special. He’s precious. Moonjo wants to know him inside out, skin to muscle to bone to marrow, in every way that he can. That Jongwoo wants him too only cements Moonjo’s own desire.

tender sugar by angelas

“Uhm, sorry,” Jong-woo says, “I think maybe I should lea—” “Oh,” Moon-jo intercepts. “There’s someone special in your life.”

on the seventh day we rest by SLq

“Are you lost?” Jong-woo looked up. A man stood at the bottom of the hill. He watched Jong-woo steadily, generous mouth curled in a smile.

как в старой сказке, я не знал, кто волк // i didn't know who my enemy was, just like in an old fairytale by fia_lka

“So the only way you could help me right now, ahjussi, is if you dropped on your knees right there and sucked me off instead of her. Would you do that?”

dangerous beginnings by uhlee

Honey, I like this side of you. Take what you want from me. You use me so well, jagiya. Is it good, jagi? Am I good?

AUs:

flower by mayday0329

I thought he would give up after that. But instead he smiled again, and fumbled in his pocket for something, before taking out a tung flower. It had withered a long time ago, but one could still see that it had been a startling white before. He pressed it into my hand, along with a crumpled business card. Will you come find me again, then?

do you ever feel lonely, jagiya? by sweetnsimple

“Do I make you feel lonely?” he asked. Jong-Woo opened his mouth. Swallowed and tried again. “Yes,” he said.

pray we never meet at the wrong hour of the night by mslunita (i know i said one fic per author but carli’s writing is a weakness of mine)

Moonjo laughs at the last one. “Cannibal,” he says aloud, a glint in his eyes. He clears his throat. “Well. This is quite the macabre list.” He drags his eyes from the screen back to Jongwoo. “You’re something special.”

why did it have to be you? by tooprofessional

“Are you going to punish me?” He took a step closer, slowly looking up the younger man’s frame, eventually meeting his gaze. He tilted his head to the side. “You know, for causing a scene.”

they live in the dark by vivisextion

“You know, I’ve heard supernatural presences can lower the temperature of a room…” Jongwoo shuddered. “Please don’t remind me.”

annnd that's it for the complete fics. as for wips, im currently devouring second circle of hell by reddiary. a true fucking masterpiece. and hell at your heels by an anonymous writer who should know they changed the trajectory of my life. ennui_ing's how much can you change before it's some kind of murder? has me by. the. throat. fills me with a good dose of dread every time and the characterisation is gorgeous. ANNDDDDD of course, this hotel au 'all the ghosts are in the garden', by b that is so so SO well-paced and in character it's actually insane.

#mjjw #fic recs #seo moonjo x yoon jongwoo

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ryuichirou · 28 days

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Replies

We’re back with more replies! Long ones today…

Anonymous asked:

Can you recommend us any tumblrs to follow?

Unfortunately, I can’t recommend any tumblrs either… we don’t even have a feed here, we just drop posts and leave; I am sorry. 😔 It’s easier to check my tl when it’s only my art there lol Once again, read this as an invitation to share your favourite blogs in the comments.

Anonymous asked:

Hello! I'm the anon from the headcanon ask about TreyRidChe and wanted to thank you for answering! I had to dig because for some reason the tag system wasn't working and I was never sure if it got answered until today! Again though as someone who likes TreyRiddle first and foremost (so the bias was perfectly acceptable) I do agree Che'nya would be more a provoker especially from what I've seen in the manga. (It's really in the way Trey was so much more enthralled by Riddle from certain pages.)

I am happy to hear from you again, Anon! And I am very glad that you found the post despite all the issues with the tags… it’s very difficult to find posts on this site sometimes, especially when there are so many of them, and the notifications don’t work all the time either. 😔 (By the way, here is the post that Anon is talking about!)

Also, I completely agree with you, I still think that their dynamic is basically like this. Like I’ve said in the initial post, Che’nya loves Riddle, but doesn’t mind sharing and ultimately wants his friends to be happy, and he knows how hopelessly in love Trey is with Riddle. The manga panels with these three are so pretty and filled with emotions…

Anonymous asked:

Omg I just saw your other reply about not liking ship kids, I'm so sorry if my previous ask made you uncomfortable or something ;;;

-Idia's womb tattoo anon

Anon! No worries whatsoever, this isn’t related to it and you didn’t make us uncomfortable at all. Like I said, there are certain scenarios in which we enjoy the theme, and if it’s dark and/or kinky, the chances of us being on board are always higher. Moreover, your ask is related to a comic that we posted ourselves, so it’s all good – we started it >:3c

What we don’t like is the 100% wholesome and genuine “our baby is kicking, can you feel it?”, “passing out because he’s just found out he’ll be a father” thing. Nothing against it, it’s just not our thing. I’m also just taking my time with a lot of asks because I want to reply properly, but my brain is small and my limit is a couple of replies per day 😔 This is why I am slow…

Thank you for your concern though! And I’ll reply to you in a moment 👀

Anonymous asked:

Random, but since you imagined you don't like pregnancy tropes, does that also count for MPreg? (which stands for male pregnancy)

tbh, MPreg is not my thing, but suddenly remembered that, that’s a thing. This brings me back to the good old days of hetalia cuz this fandom had a LOT of Mpreg going around, lol.

But in a world of magic and such is not impossible? I mean, Malleus did come from an egg, so like, yeah.

Just like I said in a previous reply: it depends on how it’s used. If it’s just a happy family, and the purpose of mpreg in the story is simply to put characters in the scenario in which they are expecting, it’s absolutely not for us; it could even get triggering at times. Even in terms of kinks, sometimes it works well, but sometimes it turns into a massive squick. I can’t even describe it in a way that would be 100% conclusive; it’s a delicate topic, I guess. If it’s more messed up or if there are darker themes involved, it’s much more likely to work, and with mpreg it has a lot of potential to be messed up by definition.

When it comes to possibility and magic, yeah, twst universe gives a lot of opportunities to make mpreg happen! Be it convenient magic, unique reproductive systems of certain species, or even something that simply exists in-universe. It’s funny that you mentioned Malleus because the idea of him being able to lay eggs certainly pops up in our conversations from time to time… the mechanics of that, the implications, the complicated relationship Malleus would have with it and stuff; there is a lot to talk about. (We actually have a kinky comic where he lays an egg and Lilia crushes it, but completely forgot about it... it’s been a while.)

And Azul too, I think we talked about him making Idia carry his eggs at some point. When it’s animalistic like that, it’s much more fun because it’s less real, more weird and a bit gross <3 which automatically makes it hot because Idia would be freaked out the entire time.

So yeah, it all depends, and honestly goes from -100 to 1000 at times lol, so it shouldn’t stop you from sending asks. If the theme is something that we don’t like or have nothing to say about, we’ll just skip it.

(oh god, good ol’ hetalia days! I guess we missed all the mpreg- or just erased it from our memories lol)

Anonymous asked:

have you ever considered Sebek/Leona?.

(you view Sebek as a top and Leona as a bottom so it doesn’t break your no switching rule right?)

Leona would get a kick out of “stealing” Malleus’s little boytoy form him and setting out to do so.

while Sebek the poor naive gullible croc has no idea how even ended up fucking Leona in the first place let alone that it was happening to get under his liege’s skin…

who knows if it even work to piss Malleus off though.

You know Anon, miraculously we did talk about these two in a couple of posts!

What’s interesting about this ship is that Sebek has no idea where to put Leona in his mental scale of important people: he really doesn’t like him, he hates how Leona treats Malleus, but he is also supposed to respect Leona nonetheless (Lilia and Malleus both remind him of that) + doesn’t like being dismissed by Leona for some reason. So if Leona wants to provoke Sebek into sleeping with him somehow, it’d be easier than one might think: Sebek really is gullible… but if he learns about Leona’s motive behind seducing him, he would get so angry and also disappointed in himself that he might actually attack Leona and get in trouble for that lol

Although the thing is, there is a big problem with Leona’s plan: if Sebek is having an active affair with Malleus (= being his little boytoy), it won’t be easy to seduce him. And if Sebek isn’t having an affair with Malleus, Malleus probably wouldn’t care much. So was the croc dick even worth it, Leona?

#replies

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jaskiersvalley · 7 months

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Hi! Please don’t be freaked out that I essentially just stalked your blog? Emoji ask game, if you feel like it <3

😈💖🧐

Finding that someone has trawled through my blog is honestly the highlight of being on this hellsite (affectionate). It fills me with such unbridled joy. Having said that, my brain holds memories worse than a sieve holds water so I cannot for the life of me remember anything I post or reblog, as such the ask game is a mystery. By way of apology I shall pop on your doormat a fic like a cat would present a carefully hunted leaf.

Technically the Truth

The perk of Geralt dating Jaskier was that Lambert and Eskel met Cahir. How exactly Geraly ended up dating a popstar was beyond understanding but his makeup artist was a perk for sure, even if they couldn't visit him quite as they wanted to. Cahir had two dogs which, at first, had been a delight for Lambert and Eskel. Alas, they couldn't meet them. Being rescues with a gnarly past, they were distrustful of new people already and fiercely protective of Cahir. Add in their size and the stereotypes of their breed, Cahir did not take any risks. It didn't stop him sending pictures of the dogs in various ridiculous situations, Lambert's favourite was perhaps the one involving duck printed onesies, caps and, for some hitherto unknown reason, a pacifier.

Introductions were slowly made, meeting on a walk. Treats only worked to some extent as a form of bribery and buying the dogs' favour. While out and about, things were fine. But when home, it was a bit of a different matter. Still, they worked hard and finally both Lambert and Eskel were accepted and welcome visitors in Cahir's home.

For a makeup artist, Cahir sure seemed exclusive. He toured with Jaskier and his manager, Fringilla. There were very few other clients he worked with, Essi was one of them and, with some disdain from Jaskier, he also occasionally worked for Valdo. But mostly he was not only Jaskier's makeup artist but also confidant. Tours were one thing but Cahir also tagged along to trips, interviews, appearances. The biggest honour was when he asked Lambert and Eskel to take care of his dogs for a couple of weeks.

It was no hardship really. The first week flew by, they sent Cahir photos and got brief messages in return. Whatever it was Jaskier was filming (possibly a music video?), it was keeping Cahir busy. The second week they heard even less from Cahir. By the end of it he had seemingly dropped off the face of the planet. Worried, Eskel questioned whether Jaskier had been in touch with Geralt. Finding out he was home already made something twist cruelly in his chest. To make matters worse, at the end of the two weeks Fringilla was the one to appear, taking the dogs with her. House and hearts empty, Lambert and Eskel were at a loss.

Things didn't get better. Though it wasn't a comfort, Geralt started spending more time with them, seeming to sulk. It all came tumbling out after a few beers.

"I miss him," Geralt grumbled.

"Who?"

"Jask." The word was scoffed as if it should have been obvious.

Eskel rubbed his nose. "Isn't he home? Shit. You aren't having troubles too, are you?"

Shaking his head, Geralt knocked back the last dregs of his drink. "No. He's got these damn dogs living with him. Something about a will or some shit."

"Why's that an issue? You're Mr. Animals Guy. Let me guess, they're tiny teacup yappers?" It was nigh on impossible to hide the bitterness in Lambert's voice.

"I wish. Two big bastards, he says they're friendly once you know them. But fuck, they keep growling and snarling."

Lambert and Eskel shared a glance. It was Eskel who spoke up. "Geralt, listen to me very carefully. You said will, right? And these dogs, they big, one is brown and white, cropped ears, the other is solid grey, missing an ear and has scars on his neck? Called Peaches-"

"-and Fuzzles," Geralt finished, frowning. "How the fuck did you know?"

"Cahir." Voice barely more than a broken whisper, Eskel leaned against Lambert, trying to hide his breaking heart. "What the fuck happened?"

Anger was easier than grief and Lambert gave into it. Face twisted into a scowl, he squeezed Eskel's hand in his. "We have some questions for your boyfriend. How dare he not tell us?"

"Tell you what?!"

"We're paying him a visit right now. And making sure Peaches and Fuzzles are happy."

Just like that Lambert was up and grabbing his shoes, not caring that it was late or that they'd all had drinks. The taxi took them to Jaskier's without a hitch and he angrily jammed his finger on the buzzer. Familiar twin howls went up. After what felt like an age, Jaskier cracked the door open.

"What? It's a bit late and I'm not up for guests."

Pushing at the door, Lambert stuck a foot in. "Let us see them. And you better tell us why the hell you have Cahir's dogs."

Whatever it was that Jaskier saw in them, he stepped back, allowing them to barge in.

"They're in the garden," he said and gestured in the general direction. "Just-" breaking off, he shrugged, "-be gentle, okay? It's been rough."

Not really caring about Jaskier's woes, Lambert was hurrying to get to the dogs, Eskel hot on his heels. Only, the dogs weren't alone in the garden. The first thing that gave it away was the glowing cherry of a deep cigarette drag. A dark, familiar sihlouette was huddled on the bench, dogs by his feet.

"Cahir?!" Lambert near enough screeched. His determined march was only cut short by the deep growl of one of the dogs. It slowed him down enough to collect himself. "You have a lot of explaining."

The outside light came on and Eskel caught Lambert as he staggered back. Bruised, tired eyes stared up at them as Cahir took a moment to gather himself.

"Hey." Even his voice was wrecked, hoarse and scratchy.

"Is that all you have to say?" This time Eskel was the one to finally snap. "You fall off the face of the earth, Geralt tells us Jaskier has your dogs because if was in your will. And all this time you weren't dead?"

"You prefer if I was?"

"No!" Lambert's outburst drew another growl and Cahir tutted at Peaches.

Stubbing out his cigarette, Cahir pushed to stand, movements stiff. "Things went tits up. I'll call it in then explain inside."

In the end Jaskier was the one who made some mysterious call. He returned to the living room where Geralt, Lambert and Eskel were on a sofa while Cahir was in an armchair, dogs by his feet. Sitting down, Jaskier groaned.

"So, we may not have been completely liberal with the truth. Technically I am a popstar and Cahir my makeup artist. But, uh, that's a cover. We work, or rather, I do and Cahir used to work for the intelligence agency. I could get us places, Cahir had the time to do the work while I distracted."

Lambert laughed and the others looked at him like he had grown a second head.

"What? You don't believe this bullshit?" He stared at Eskel and Geralt, face falling. "Oh shit. You do." In the light of the living room it was much easier to make out the bruises on Cahir's skin, the shape of a brace around his knee under sweatpants, the sling which he had a knack for slipping his arm out of. A little weakly, Lambert added, "I just thought Cahir was too embarrassed to tell us he fell down some stairs or something."

"I wish," Cahir huffed.

"You rest your throat," Jaskier interrupted and took over. "That would be a nicer thing to recover from. Cahir's been staying with me since he was released from hospital. For obvious reasons we can't tell you how he was injured. He needs to rest-" here, he gave Cahir a pointed look, "-and not smoke."

"Bite me."

"In the interest of his health and recovery, it was deemed best he stay with me until he could be on his own again."

"Meaning?" Eskel didn't like the sound of that.

"Physical and mental rehabilitation," Cahir spat with disdain. "Company mandated. Will have some lovely scars and nightmares."

"Cahir," hesitant suspicion laced Eskel's voice, "are you being kept here against your will?"

The bark of a laugh turned into a coughing fit that left Cahir red in the face with tear streaks down his cheeks. "Just can't be alone. Jaskier knows the drill. Not for civilians."

"Do you still want us?" Eskel pushed on and next to him, Lambert sat up a little straighter.

"Don't think you'll want me after this."

"Come home with us." It was Lambert who said it, half a command, half a plea. "Peaches and Fuzzles too."

A long look was shared between Cahir and Jaskier who not so subtly shook his head. Taking a deep breath, Cahir nodded and offered the other two a small smile.

"That sounds nice. I'd like that."

#lambert/eskel/cahir #eskel x lambert x cahir #eskel #lambert #cahir mawr dyffryn aep ceallach #jaskier #geralt of rivia #the witcher #tldr: secret agenting goes wrong

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bbygirl-aemond · 11 months

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i want to write an hotd fanfic so bad… i’m watching the early GOT show too as well to try and wrap my head around the lore but i fear that my fic will still be very amateur and show that i don’t really have that big of a grasp on the lore and worldbuilding and language around me.. can you give any advice onto how to tackle this? any specific ways i should research or how to remember every little thing to make the story as accurate and correct as possible?

hi and welcome! don't worry, i have been through this exact process within this fandom haha. i was the queen of sparknoting my way through my lit classes in college when i didn't have other time, so i think i've kind of perfected the art of making it seem like you've deeply read something, even if you haven't.

let me give my usual disclaimer that i don't recommend reading fanfic to get a sense of characters or worldbuilding in a new fandom. that's because to a fresh eye, it's impossible to tell what is the author's invention/headcanon (which may be incorrect/ooc) and what is actual canon. fanfic writing should be about indulging yourself and your creativity, not about trying to cater to the most popular opinions even if you don't agree with them. so i really do recommend sticking to canon as much as possible, and being very deliberate about where and when you use fanon as a reference.

i create a tumblr blog for every fandom that i'm planning to write in to serve as a repository for my research and notes. this blog is unusual in that i forgot to make it private and then had too much fun engaging with y'all to go back. but my first posts were all specifically for stormbreak purposes. if you're nervous about putting things out there, you can password-lock your blog, so you're the only one with access. being able to sort with tags for characters, houses, etc. will be super helpful. another good idea is to take notes in google drive, since you can also search for things there and use the outline feature to navigate. the goal is to have one or two places where you compile all of your work that are easily navigable.

a really good starting place for research is this particular asoiaf wiki. i do not recommend any of the others, especially the ones based on individual shows, because those often do not include details that are in the books. i genuinely cannot tell you how many hours i've spent on this wiki. start your research here- look for dates, places, events, houses, relationships, appearances, etc.

meta analysis is also a really good idea to gain knowledge. tumblr or reddit are the places to go for this. it's really important to seek out posts that are both sympathetic and unsympathetic towards characters or houses. the goal is to get a sense of the different opinions within fandom, and decide which ones make sense to you. on tumblr, you can search a term, select for text posts, and scroll until you find big walls of text. (as an aside: if you're doing this, blocking tags related to fanfiction, imagines, xreader, etc. will help streamline your search and filter out headcanons in favor of meta)

lastly, and be careful with this one since it is fanon but not canon: memes! twitter and tiktok are great for these. they're great for getting a sense of vibes, but not for actual canon facts about a character. remember, fanon can sometimes be very distant from or even contradictory with canon, so take these with a grain of salt. i do still find them useful for forming opinions about personalities, mannerisms, and attitudes of different characters.

if you want more info about how i actually planned out stormbreak, i've answered an ask about it here!

#hope this helps anon!#ask #asks #answered #fic: stormbreak #fic #stormbreak

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theemporium · 2 months

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i used to write x reader fics and it's always hard to write them without mentioning too many specific physical attributes, but it's certainly not impossible. like i'm a white european woman, and i was writing based on like... my own experiences. so i was writing shit like "your cheeks turning red" and "he brushed his hand through your hair" 😅

but then one day i remember seeing a post and it made me realize that obviously cheeks wouldn't turn red on everyone and that everyone won't have hair that you can just brush your hand through. so i would always try and find alternatives that would give off the same vibes. like instead of cheeks turning red, i'd say that "your cheeks warmed" because they do that with everyone! it's just different how visible it is on different people's skin 🤷‍♀️ i'd still slip up but at least i'd do my best, and i think that's kinda what more white fic writers should do tbh

BUT when it comes to personality..... it's completely up to the writer imo. like i'm horrifically shy and never in a million years would i approach a guy first and flirt with him, but i still love x reader fics where the reader is the one seducing the guy!! i'd never do that shit irl but i love imagining a version of myself who would!!

and like, obviously people write from experience and what they know!! it’s just how it is with certain things!! but you can also write shit you’d never say or do in a million years and that’s fine too. just like every person is different, so is every reader!!

personally for me, as a poc, I don’t get too bothered or too upset if there’s something the reader does that I can’t relate to. but that’s only because I don’t really envision myself as the reader, she’s her own wee character in my head. but I totally get if other poc are!! (just as long as they aren’t rude or entitled when they message writers about it, because I’ve seen that be the case sometimes)

and if it’s an oc, I get it! it’s a character! that’s the point! just don’t sit there and try to tell me it’s a reader and then give her a name😭especially when it’s something that’s very ‘american’. there’s nothing wrong with oc’s!! be proud of them!! don’t try to hide them in x reader tags!! embrace them for what they are!!

#cece answers

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deepperplexity · 1 year

Text

Prompt: 24. Christmas Party

Pairing: Is there even one? It’s a secret… Read and find out, much like unwrapping a Christmas gift, no?

POV: Second, Reader [+First, Narrator]

Setting: Your home, kinda? More secrets I guess…

Continuation of: 23. Cherishing Joy (and 23 + 24 of RICKMAS 2021)

A/N: This fic, well, my late-night brain surprised me… Remember how I said I couldn’t possibly top the final fic of 2021? Well I think that may still hold true (it was so good last RICKMAS, wasn’t it?) HOWEVER(!) I still managed to come up with something COMPLETELY NEW for the final fic of this year and I seriously hope you will like it, gosh, I don’t know what to do if I disappoint you with this one… If that’s the case, I’m sorry RICKMAS 2022 didn’t end how you thought but for me, with all the new beginnings 2022 offered I find it rather perfect with something old turned into something new. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like this during the decade I’ve been writing and reading fanfiction. Tell me if this has already been done and where I can find something similar if that’s the case please 😂

I’m very sorry I’m five months late… I promised I’d finish this, so here it is. Something different, something new yet old, something I hope will make you ugly-cry but in the end make you feel warmth and joy 💚

As always I have to take certain liberties with the Reader Character, or I can’t write a functional story, but I hope I’ve managed to make the right choices for the majority of you — like having an undying love of Snape for example 👀 And I usually avoid involving other forms of media directly but part of this fics creation is a fanedit I saw a long time ago that I to this day find to be absolute perfection, and it also happens that it’s something that not only brings me immense joy but fucking terrible pain as well since it’s an impossibility. And this fic, this story, is about just that. Accepting you cannot do anything about the impossible but you can find joy in this life and the possibilities within it — even if there will always be things we wish to change and things we cannot see ourselves.

I’ll let you get on with the fic, after all, you’ve waited for months 🙈😅💚

Tags/TW’s: Honestly, there’s no real warnings beyond this fic being emotional af and based on the real you…

Abbr.: Y/N - Your Name

Word Count: 6.5k+

Masterlist page // Masterlist post // AO3 // LINK TREE

You bolted upright. The little blue star glowing atop your table had come from nowhere. It just appeared, out of thin air. You clutched your wrist, feeling the strings from last year beneath your palm. Again? You thought and the joy which shot through you mixed with terrible dread. You remembered the pain from last year, the tears and the goodbyes. The horror of having to leave them all behind, knowing they had all been waiting for you to arrive.

But then there was the purest of joy, getting to hug them, see them, talk with them. It had been more than you could ever have dreamt of. So, it wasn’t really strange that you reached for the star with trembling but quick fingers, was it?

It unravelled, unfolding itself in your hand as if it were made by paper. The faint blue glow turned brighter as the star disintegrated into glittery dust floating into the air. You watched with wonder while I felt my entire body morphing, this is not gonna be pleasant, but what wouldn’t I do for you, darling.

Your eyes widened before a scream left your mouth as I appeared. “You’re-, what-, who-, you’re Helena Bonham Carter!” you shrieked while I coughed out some universe dust. “You know, travelling between dimensions is not comfortable, do you remember that awful feeling of falling upwards?” I asked, tugging on the puffy sleeves of my sparkling white dress with tiny hands before flying over to the window. The darkness outside offered me a hazy reflection.

“Oh, well, this is a rather pleasant form,” I said with a voice not my own. “You’re-, you’re a fairy?” you asked and I turned mid-air, my little wings flapping behind me while the huge dress swished about, all sparkles and shine. “I think, you may have conjured me as a fairy godmother, doesn’t Miss Helena play that role in Cinderella?” I asked while floating forward, being a miniature version of a human. “I conjured you?” you asked and I nodded, a glittery wand appearing in my hand while my dress turned even shinier. Now, I couldn’t very well begin explaining the ins and outs of magical creativity or the flow of magic, nor the many layers of the universe or the way a wish in one world may be granted in another. That was too frikkin much to get into - and you looked kinda shocked, still.

“Next time, try thinking of someone less, umh, puffy, if you don’t mind, darling,” I said with a smile and I couldn’t help but adore the confused blush creeping across your cheeks. At least you seemed to relax a tad more. “Did I fall asleep?” you asked. “Nope, not at all, I can slap you if you want to make sure?” Your hands shot out into the air. “No, no, I’m good, I’m all good,” you protested while I fluttered down to stand on your table, pushing at the leftover glitter with my shoes.

My mannerisms seemed to take after those of the person whose form I was in and I quite liked Helena’s ways of moving around a lot and always doing very loud expressions with her face, very much like myself in my own world. I shook my wand, sparkles coming out of it after a few waves. “There we go,” I said and plopped myself down on the edge of the table, dangling my feet. “Well, sit, I’m gonna strain my neck if you stand like that.” You flopped down on the couch faster than I had expected.

“Thanks, now—” “I’m sorry, but who are you if you’re not her, or a fairy godmother?” you asked and I tilted my head, a tad offended truth be told but I guess the question was valid. “Plex, obviously, who else would I be?” “You’re Plex?” “Well yeah, I don’t look like this usually, but magic is strange and I think since you conjured me into this world I had to take on a form you would find comfort and safety with, one of the rules of magic that’s summoned. The summoned can’t really choose their form, it’s complicated, shall we get on with it?” “With what?” you asked, looking confused yet again. “You’re heart’s wish of course.” “My-, what?”

I sighed and got myself up (not bloody easy when wearing an enormous dress you know). “So, every heart has several wishes, one of those wishes got me here,” I began while pacing over the table, “and given I’m here it has to be a creative wish about Alan Rickman, that’s the wishes I grant, so what’s your wish about him? And no, I can’t get him back or allow you to see him - he’s quite the angel though, I must say, and he’s fantastic at dinner parties, always entertaining.” “You know him?!” you shrieked and I stopped, looking at you in that bored way of Helena’s. “Well, obviously, how do you think I manage to get all his characters so on the nose? Pun very much intended, mind you,” I said with a smirk. “He’s a terrible co-writer, by the way, being a director and all that, so I only allow him to give me five comments per work and that’s it. He’s still rather pissy about me killing you off at the end of Death’s Judge you know,” I continued with a pointed look toward you, “but he’d already used his five comments for the last book, so, whoopsie-daisy, what can you do?” I half giggled and half sighed while shrugging my shoulders in that distinct way of Helena’s.

I looked around, allowing you a moment to stop gaping at me. “This isn’t really festive, is it?” I flicked my wand, getting the sparkles to work again and drew it all around the room, making Christmas lights, candles, little figurines and even a gingerbread house appear with a skating little elf on a mirror made to look like ice. “Much better.”

You were still gaping at me when I turned back; I sighed. “You know, we don’t have all night so what’s your wish darling?” I didn’t mean to be rude but the magic would only last for an hour, and the sooner that hour could start the better I could make that hour for you. “I-, I don’t know,” you said. “Sure you do, otherwise I wouldn’t be here.”

You opened and closed your mouth a few times before you shook your head. You seemed all out of sorts and even if I could feel your wish I couldn’t grant it if you didn’t tell me something about it. So, I floated about the room for a moment longer while your eyes followed me. It was strange being seen by you. Usually, I was the one watching and none would be the wiser about it — ever.

“Tell you what,” I said and flew up to your face, “what do you wish for most regarding Alan? That he’d said something specific? That he had worn some specific clothes?” I asked. “Well, no, not really. I just…” “Yes..? You what?” “Oh, I just wish there was more of him, you know… Like, just, more. He left us too soon and now there’s nothing left I haven’t seen of him. And, he should have played more parts like Turpin and Snape, you know, the dark and truly brooding type with a streak of callousness almost. He does-, did those so well and I wish there had been more.” “Well, there you go then,” I said with a smile while twirling away from you, feeling my magic pulse and sizzle within my veins — my creativity already running away with me when my eyes snagged on your bookshelf filled with knick-knacks, figurines, books and movie-related items. There was the standard Harry Potter merch too of course, but that was not what my eyes got stuck on.

“A Disney fan, are we?” I asked with a smirk, feeling things fall into place. “Well, yes, who’s not in love with Disney?” “True, true, very true,” I admitted while nodding and thinking, the tip of my wand tapping against my bottom lip.

THAT’S IT! “This whole time-, but of course! How silly of me,” I chided myself with and turned back toward you with quite the mischievous smile — Helena truly has the most marvellous expressions, perhaps I should take on her form more often? “Umh, what? What’s silly?” “Oh, don’t you worry, darling. Plex has this in the bag! Now, let’s see, we’ll need, some sparkle, some… twirling, annnnd-, there!” My wand turned into my magical pen while the inkhorn, glowing a marvellous shade of purple with red mist coming from it, plopped into existence right at that moment.

My hand instantly began filling the air in front of me with sparkling words. I couldn’t believe the luck of having to grant your wish, the magical force of creativity always the most strong and powerful when shared and wished for by others.

“You still have the strings around your wrist, good, good, good,” I muttered to myself while glancing toward you, your wide eyes seemingly enchanted by the glowing letters quickly turning into sentences and paragraphs mid-air.

“Remember last time you had to hold your breath?” You nodded eagerly. “Well, you might wanna close your eyes and do just that in three, two, one!” I flicked my pen, slashing the air at the end of a sentence and was pulled out of your universe when my creativity alone took over, catapulting you through time and space, sending you to another world nearly identical to your own…

≪⁕≫

Not again! You thought and cinched your eyes while barely having enough time to inhale a deep breath. The pulling around your stomach, the feeling of falling upwards just as horrendous as last year.

You gasped for air as your feet hit the ground. The world spun for a second longer before you managed to open your eyes only to scrunch your eyebrows. “What in the world?” you asked out loud while looking around your own home, your own living room. Yet, it wasn’t. There were little things out of place, small objects you didn’t recognise on your shelves, the windows a different shape and the curtains a different shade than your own. Same colour though.

The TV was on, some strange talk show with a Christmas theme to it. You didn’t recognise the woman who seemed to be the host. Not that it mattered, you were too busy wondering why you felt at home yet also didn’t. Why there were no posters of Snape on the walls or why the room lacked all the details, merch and fandom creations you’d had of him in your true home. Where is-, is this another-, why wouldn’t I have Snape everywhere? Oh god, no, don’t tell me there’s a universe where Alan didn’t play Snape?!

Your reactions made me smirk as I hovered next to you, unseen once more. I was there, but you would never know it. I was waiting, with my heart fluttering as I listened in on your nearly panicked thoughts.

Applauding erupted and your eyes got snagged by the TV. There he was. In the flesh, with his distinct smile and that gentle waving he always did when walking up on a stage or passing fans. Alan Rickman. Alive and well. You gasped as you sank down on the couch, your body instinctively knew where it was while your eyes were glued to the TV.

Your hands went to your mouth, staving off another harsh exhale. He looks… older. Oh my god, he looks older! Tears formed in your eyes while you watched Alan take a seat opposite the host, still smiling widely with more wrinkles around his mouth and eyes, slightly longer and more white hair than before and his belly was there. He was rounded and healthy looking, no sign of the cancer that stole him from your world.

“What a greeting,” the host said. Alan chuckled and your heart stuttered. “Quite the welcome, indeed,” he said and your brain seemed to falter at hearing him speak, new words in a new manner in a new environment. “But we’re not here to discuss greetings and the amount of love the world has for you and your phenomenal character portrayal, are we?” the host continued, her dark eyes alight with appreciation and a hint of wonder while she viewed the man you loved above all else.

Alan chuckled on screen, leaning back and then laughing a bit louder while he gave the audience and camera a direct look. Oh god, he’s alive… He’s alive and well and… happy. “So, now, to the question we’re all wanting to hear your answer to,” the host said while she leaned forward and Alan gave her his attention while you leaned forward as well, entranced by the screen and in utter havoc at seeing him once more.

“Is it a Christmas movie, or isn’t it?” the host asked and your mind got flung to Die Hard, the scene where Alan entered the building with his goons and you giggled at the fact that even in other universes this appeared a question that was repeated time and time again, every December. You knew he’d say no but you couldn’t wait to hear it, hear his voice in this new manner, even darker and slightly raspier than in your world as he was now seventy-nine — six years older than he’d ever be in your world.

Alan’s laugh pulled you out of your remembrance. “Angelika, must we do this every year? My answer remains the same, darling,” he said with a smile and your mind screamed like a school girl at hearing him use the term ‘darling’. The host, Angelika, smiled and asked him to indulge her. “It’s not a Christmas movie,” he said, “it will never be a Christmas movie.” “Yet every year, on the twenty-first of December it plays on television,” Angelika said with warmth in her voice while Alan shrugged and did that specific little lifting of his brows.

“I mean, what sort of Christmas movie has nothing to do with Christmas?” Alan continued while the audience laughed. “There’s fire, death, a manhunt and all sorts of un-Christmas-like things, not to mention the backlash about the romantic interest he took in her, and in this adaptation her of him.” “What?” you asked out loud, sitting up straighter while Angelika nodded and agreed with him. “What romance? What woman?” you asked the TV as Alan leaned back in his seat.

The host turned toward the camera. “Text us a yes or a no, tell us what you think, is Paris In Flames and Lust a Christmas movie? Is this upturned, distorted live adaptation of the classical story a must for Christmas to be complete for you?” she asked the audience and camera and you had no idea what movie she talked of. There was no movie like that in your universe.

“Angelika, honestly, how could a movie about a judge falling in love with the thing he hates the most be a Christmas movie? He kills her and himself in the end, it’s more the retelling of Romeo and Juliette, a tragedy, than that of the Hunchback Of Notre Dame that’s about freedom,” he said and your entire body stiffened. Your heart hammered, your mind turned utterly quiet and the world seemed to hold its breath along with you. As if time slowed down as realisation dawned on you.

“I’m sorry, Alan, but I think you’ll be outvoted on this one,” Angelika laughed along with the audience’s clapping in agreement. Alan simply laughed and shook his head. “I’m grateful for the love this story has received though, with its darker theme and twisting of the original story it nearly feels like the untold story behind it all,” he said and the audience cheered anew, chanting Alan’s name with love.

“Well, we’ll see what the voters say in a few minutes. First, we’ll watch one of the numerous fan edits sent in for this celebration of Paris In Flames and Lust’s twentieth anniversary!” The crowd erupted in cheers while the camera zoomed in on Alan, his warm smile unmistakable. He was flustered and honoured, you knew all his expressions and the way his eyes darted between the crowd and the host had your heart in upheaval.

And then the sound slowly died out, the sound of a song you’d never heard before began to play, the male singer singing in French as the screen went from black to an array of colours, a woman dressed in the most beautiful saree, laughing and moving in slowmotion across the screen while colours were thrown and her face was split in absolute joy as the music turned louder. That’s-, no way! Deepika?! Oh my god, she’s-, is she Esmeralda?!

There was dancing and scenes of people, Notre Dame, a pope and finally, Alan Rickman… you were glued to the TV with tears streaming down your face as you watched the most beautiful fan edit you’d ever come across. The fact it played on what appeared to be national television fried your brain. This was not your world, this world was… better.

The music turned intense and you were lost to the story unfolding before you like a summary of the movie you would never be able to see in its entirety. But the edit had you in its grip as it tore at your heart with it’s beauty, the thought of having something new of Alan, of him playing the brooding, calloused and broken character you so loved him as. The screen lit up with colours and you sobbed as you watched…

[Watch THIS edit by Mina Le Fay before continuing]

Your eyes were brimming with tears, my own heart ached at seeing the pain-mixed joy you were drowning within. But you kept watching the TV as the talk show returned with a roar of applause from the audience as the camera swiped over them before landing back on Alan. I’ll never see it… You thought as he stood and bowed on the stage right before the crowd roared as the camera zoomed over to Deepika Padukone. Alan stepped toward her and they met with a deep embrace while the crowd went wild.

They spoke but the microphones didn’t catch the words and then Alan led her by her hand to the seat next to his. Your heart twisted, her beauty was striking even without the costumes and adornments she’d worn in the movie — which you’d only ever see that perfect adaptation of.

Angelika began speaking with the both of them but you cried and looked through the watery haze as Alan smiled and laughed with Deepika who seemed more than happy to see him again. Professional care and perhaps a friendship between them. He looked so utterly happy and well, so perfectly healthy and joyous. Just how you always pictured him. He was perfection and he was alive.

“So, Alan and Deepika,” Angelika said while you snivelled and swiped at your cheeks to rid you of the overflowing tears. “I’ve heard a rumour,” she continued and smirked at the two who both shared a look — as if they knew where the conversation was headed. “Go on, ask,” Alan said as you drew a shuddering breath. “Is it true you two are currently in the middle of producing the origin story of Judge Turpin where you, Deepika, will play the woman who got away in his youth?”

Your eyes widened, the TV was utterly silent as Alan and Deepika shared another knowing look. “Indeed,” Alan said, “but you have been slightly misinformed. As this tragedy did so well, we decided to do another. So, as you can guess, Deepika will play the woman Judge Turpin loved wholeheartedly and—” “Alan, you’ll spoil the ending!” Deepika said with a laugh while she grabbed his hand. “Oh, the ending is already out there, even if few have read that intricate story. I’m still rather surprised by it, and it being out there in such a way. Freely available… Nothing but passion for the art, just the type of writer I find most enjoyable to work with,” Alan said while the camera zoomed over to Angelika’s shocked face, her mouth agape while staring into the camera. “Not another word, Alan,” Deepika said with a smile and shake of her head and Alan chuckled. “Very well.” “What? NO! Tell me!” you shouted at the TV, desperate to figure out what he was talking about, but the first string around your wrist glowed. No, no, I need forever in this universe!

“Well, we shall all wait eagerly for that story to come to the screen, but do tell, who will be playing the young Judge Turpin?” Angelika said with a gleam in her eyes, hungry for information just like you. “We’re not allowed to disclose that yet, you must wait and see,” Deepika said and you wanted to scream. You needed to know.

A loud knocking came from the door and you jolted. What the— Another round of knocking. “Come on! Open up!” a female voice called, the sound muffled by the closed door. You didn’t recognise the voice though. “(Y/N),” she called out and knocked again, harder. “You’re so slow! I KNOW YOUR GONNA WATCH IT!” Whatch what? You wondered as you snivelled and wiped at your tears as the talk show was cut for commercials.

You walked over to the door, trying to calm your breaths and raging heart. Should I pretend I’m not here? You wondered but there was a pull within you, a sensation that told you whoever was on the other side loved you and was important to the you of this universe. “I swear to god—” another round of banging “—open this door right now! You’re not watching it without me!” the voice shouted and you reached for the handle while I watched with bated breath to see your reaction.

You pulled the door open slowly, but it got pushed open as a woman you’d never seen before entered in a rush. Her hair swished about her face, and her clothes looked worn and perfectly comfy. Much like your own clothes. “What took you so long?” she asked as she dumped a whole bag of snacks and drinks on the floor.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, what do I do? What do I say? You wondered as panic crept along your veins. She just stared at you, her beauty absolutely striking and the gorgeousness of her body — despite it being hidden behind puffy clothes — made you wonder how someone so perfect was in your home. What kind of universe you’d landed in where someone like her obviously had a close relationship with you.

“You’re always so quiet, I swear to god you were broken as a child,” she said with a deep sigh but there was love in her sweet voice, and care. The genuine kind. And as you stared at her, not knowing what to do with yourself she sighed and grabbed the bag anew. “Come on, it’s starting in two minutes,” she said after having glanced at her wrist and you simply nodded, not understanding the emotions that were bubbling within you. They were so warm, so familiar, so unknown.

As you closed the door she made her way into the living room. When you arrived she’d already covered the table with all your favourite snacks, your favourite drinks and some strange candies you’d never seen before. Perhaps they don’t exist in my universe?

“(Y/n), I swear to god, if you’re gonna just stand there and look at me like that I’ll kiss you to snap you out of it. Why have you been crying anyway?” she asked and you blanched. Was this a partner in this universe? Was she someone super important? It felt like it, in your heart. It felt like the woman looking at you was beyond important, but there was a barrier there too. As if the you in this world loved her and it transferred into you but you were from another universe so perhaps the sensation was yours but not yours fully?

“Don’t tell me, you watched the Angelika Realm show?” Your eyes widened. “Ha! I knew it, you’re such a sob, love.” The woman shook her head and laughed, but it was again in that warm and caring manner. As if she loved that about you. But you hadn’t cried for the reason she thought, no matter what reason that was. “Sit your ass down, it’s starting,” she said and you obeyed, sitting down on the other end of the couch as she switched the channel on the TV.

The Fox Century intro filled the screen and your eyes flicked between it and the woman on the other end of the couch. She was just so beautiful and you felt a lump form in your gut, a knot of worry too familiar for you. The comparing started that very same second, the doubt of yourself consuming you while you tried to focus on the TV and not all the things perfect with her and wrong with you.

“God, I’m so excited, every year it’s the same but still, I can’t believe I get to do this every Christmas with you,” the woman said and you looked towards her, only to find her staring at you with a wide smile. “I know it’s selfish, given why you’re not with your family, but I’m so happy I met you… someone who understands the— THERE HE IS!” she shrieked as the both of you looked at the screen just as Alan appeared on screen dressed in a frock coat version of Disney’s Frollo. He was absolutely stunning and warmth churned within you while the hurt and pain stabbed at your heart.

“Fuck me, he’s perfection,” she said and sighed happily while positively ogling the screen. It made you giggle, that spreading warmth taking over more and more while your eyes watered at seeing Alan Rickman in something new, something perfect, something dark and perfectly suited for his portrayal. “What you giggling for? You’re a bigger simp than me,” she laughed and threw a pillow at you. You caught it just in time.

“You know, having you is like the best gift from the world, ever.” Her words were sincere but spoken in a passing manner as she reached for a snack from the table. As if it was something obvious, something she said often, something you were already supposed to know. I’m lucky in this universe, you thought as you hugged the pillow. “You okay?” she asked while your eyes got hooked by the TV, showing Alan walking through a giant church while choir music began to play softly. “I’m-, no sure,” you confessed. Not knowing what to say. You were all over the place and the feelings of real life mixed with those of the other you. “Are you already imagining the scene where he burns her? You’re like an hour ahead in the movie!” HE BURNS HER?!

Your head whipped around, the image of Deepika as Esmeralda burning on the stake filling your head. “Why are you looking at me like you didn’t know? We’ve watched this like twenty times, and for the past five years on Christmas. You’re so emotionally invested it’s almost scary,” she laughed. “God, I’m gonna have to hold you through your bawling this year too when he takes his own life, aren’t I?” she asked and your mouth plopped open in horror.

Alan’s death roared in your veins, the loss of him filling you to the brim as he began to sing on screen. You were instantly entranced as he sang about righteousness and civility, about being in God’s eye and under his command. His baritone voice was perfect, the music effortlessly consuming, and the look of severity he held his features to was absolute perfection. He was made to play Judge Frollo. And I won’t witness it all, I’ll never have that, never ever… The thought was stark and hurt something fiercely as you watched the movie unfold before you.

Tears wetted your cheeks, your teeth biting down on your lower lip. You wanted to bawl, wanted to scream and shout how unfair it was that you’d never have the life of the universe you were visiting. But I knew, deep down I knew you loved the glimpse of the world where he was alive and well. I knew it was painful, knew it would torture you, but also give you a small relief — seeing him again, fulfilling your wish even if it could never truly be granted fully. Death was permanent. No amount of magic could ever undo it.

“He’s so beautiful,” you whispered as the song came to its crescendo. “Perfection,” the woman next to you whispered as you were both enthralled. “I can’t wait to see him in Death’s Judge next year, gosh, he’s going to be perfect… Even if it won’t be many scenes. You know, given it’s the history of him. I bet they’ll only have a few scenes at the end tying it in with Sweeney Todd. But I’m glad it’s Tim Burton doing the movie, I just know he’ll make it perfect and we already have tickets for the première.” We do? I’ll— No, I won’t… Fuck, I hope you know how lucky you are in this universe, you thought as you clutched the pillow even harder.

You blinked, your eyes widening as the dancing Deepika entered the scene, her depiction of Esmeralda pure perfection. You gasped as the scene switched, showing Alan anew, showing Frollo gasping at the view of the dancing beauty — him falling in love at first sight. It was beautiful acting, perfection as always. The story was different from the original one, not a real retelling but an adaptation.

You snivelled and a warm hand grabbed your wrist, pulling you swiftly toward the woman whose name you didn’t know. But in her arms you felt comfort. “You’re such a baby, love,” she whispered and kissed the top of your head with the sound of a smile in her voice. Your whole heart fluttered and hammered but it wasn’t truly your emotions. It was false yet true, confusing yet so absolutely clear.

You sank deeper into her, relaxing in her embrace as you watched Paris In Flames and Lust unfold, nearly forgetting for a moment it would all be ripped away from you, not remembering that the words spoken through the speakers would never ever be hard again for you.

The second string around your wrist began to glow and you jolted, bolting upright as reality sank its shiny claws into you. No, no, no, not yet! “What’s the matter? You’ve never reacted to this scene before? Don’t tell me you’re getting hot for Phoebus too. Come on, we watched one fanedit of him and Frollo and you’re getting all jolted now?” “No, no I-, I have no time,” you exhaled as you wrapped your hand around your wrist, pressing the strings into your skin while you tried to burn the image of Alan as Frollo into the very fibres of your brain. “No time? We have all the time in the world, what are you on about?” “I—” Can’t tell you… Fuck, I don’t want to leave. This feels so right. “You’re acting weirder than usual, I love your weirdness but—”

The world began to spin around you. The TV blurred and the hands grabbing your shoulders were barely there. You couldn’t focus your eyes on her when the whole room looked as if it were breaking down, piece by piece. No, no, no, not yet! I need more time! This feels perfect, I-, I need more time! Plex! Give me more—

All air left your lungs as the hands holding your shoulders fully disappeared, you were falling upwards, your limbs being tugged in different directions while your lungs burned from the lack of oxygen. The sound of Alan singing about love killing him came and went in waves as darkness pushed and pulled at you. You couldn’t scream, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see but you felt it all.

I watched as all the souls of you in a multitude of universes passed through you. Every life of yours that wasn’t truly yours exploded in an array of sensations, burying you like a tidal wave. I used every ounce of magic I had left to protect you from the sensations — but it was a common occurrence. Travelling through universes meant passing others by and souls all across the multiverse in its endlessness were connected.

You left my sight as the darkness opened up and swallowed you whole. You were back where you belonged and my power depleted, my magic consumed. “Good luck, darling,” I whispered to the darkness as I was pulled downward uncomfortably and cast back into my own realm.

≪⁕≫

You gasped for breath, splayed out on the floor in your own home, while everything hurt like hell. Your entire body ached and for a moment it felt as if you were too full. Images flashed in your mind of things you knew you had never actually seen. What was that? You wondered as you sat yourself up.

Everything came rushing back in one swoop. The universe you had visited, the things you’d seen and felt, the love another human had for you, the life of Alan, the new views and sounds you’d been granted.

You cried. Cried and wailed as you shook on the floor, holding on to the memories. It felt like dancing over a minefield, as if any second it all could be ripped to shreds. Taken from you. But it had been real. The string around your wrist was more than enough proof as the third string, from the last star of last year, glowed in pulses. The wonder of that other world still lingered, the hurt and joy as palpable as the floor beneath you.

The realness of it, unlike last year’s adventure, made it hurt even more than the loss you’d felt back then. Last year it had all been surreal, fictional. This was real. There was a world out there where you were loved deeply, accepted fully by someone who understood and he was not only alive but healthy and happy. There were words he’d never spoken in your world, characters he’d portrayed that you’d never know about, movies he’d starred in that you’d never see.

Sitting there, among the remnants of memories, made you feel beyond hollow. Abandoned and alone. There was no more of him in your world. But I got this one hour… I-, I got these memories that aren’t ever going to last, you thought while you drew a shuddering breath and wished with all your being you could have been the you back in that world.

Little sizzling sensations erupted over your skin, everywhere clothes didn’t cover it, and you looked up. Little sparkles floated down from the ceiling in a glittery rain and dissipated as soon as they made contact with something. You looked around through the haze of tears while your lips trembled.

The sparkles began to fall upwards when they made contact with something, becoming a dense mass in the centre. A glittery ball twisting in on itself. “What in the—” your words were interrupted as words began to form midair.

In this world, he’s gone. In this time there is no more of him. Even if it hurts, do not foolishly wish for another life when yours is so precious. The world you just visited may appear as a form of heaven. But did you not see? Your undying love of Snape did not exist. The fanart you adore was nowhere to be found, because in that world you never joined the community. You never went online and found the friends you now have. You never met all the people you love, who love you.

There may be things you wish were different in life, there may be things you hate and writhe in pain over. But do not let the bad overshadow the good. There are things you have done — caused — that you cannot see. How you saved her, how you made him feel seen, how you made them smile — and you’ll never know it. Just like they do not know the way that fanfiction made you feel validated, how that fanart spurred you to confess to yourself you enjoyed a controversial ship, how that fanedit made you bawl your eyes out as you realised you were not alone in your fancasting… Think of all the things you’ve felt thanks to others without letting them know, do you not think it’s the same the other way around, darling?

Do not wish for another life because of something you have no control over. Change the things you can, and evolve in a manner that makes you happier. Have care in your heart for yourself and do not dismiss the good of this life in times of hardship and pain. Do not dismiss your importance in this world even when it hurts you. There is only this life, and it’s yours for the taking. So live it, love it, accept what you cannot change but do your best to be part of the bettering of this world even when you cannot see the difference you yourself make. The only thing permanent in your life, is you. But that does not mean you cannot have a permanent effect on someone else, just like Alan has had on you…

Thank you for changing the world with your existence. Yours through the multiverse, Plex

You exhaled a deep, shuddering breath as the sparkles burst into a display not unlike fireworks before all of it disappeared in a soundless burst. You snivelled and wiped at your cheeks. This is nothing like last time, you thought while you hugged yourself. The remnants of the love you’d felt in the other universe slowly dissipated. Quietly turned to nothing.

You squeezed the fabric over your chest, tried to inhale deeply as you lost the sensation of your other self in that other world. You waited for the loneliness to come, for the hurt and sense of loss to take over. But the sparkling words were etched in your mind. You couldn’t ignore them. The feeling you waited for didn’t take hold. Somehow, you felt warm. Despite being alone, despite being the same you as before, despite having seen what could have been that would never exist in your world. You had something else in this world. You meant something else in this world. But you meant something, were someone, as others here were to you. And that was more than enough for a smile to stretch your lips…

Masterlist page // Masterlist post // AO3 // LINK TREE

A/N: Thank you for still being here, I hope this story was worth the wait for you, darling. Please, do leave a comment and share your thoughts if you wish — I adore every comment I receive and appreciate your investment in my writing ❤

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[May:2023]

#rickmas2022 #rickmas #alan rickman #rickmaniac #snapedom #fanfic #reader insert #pro snape #judge frollo #deepperplexity #deepperplexity fic

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