#potential slow burn romance

[funtimegarfield]

Read tags for more context

I have a few ideas floating around and want to keep writing.

[aventurineswife]

Fluff idea: Reader chases her more-than-friends-less-than-lovers colleague Aven in his office with cute animal stickers in her hands threatening to stick them on his face// She tackles him and comically trips, making them both crash to the ground with their lips colliding as they land, like those cliche animes.. (boomm

“I just wanna be your favorite mistake”

Summary: In the high-stakes world of the IPC, you find an unexpected source of joy in playfully chasing your enigmatic colleague, Aventurine, around his office with a stash of cute animal stickers. Determined to make him wear them, you give chase – only to accidentally trip, sending both of you crashing to the ground.

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Fluff, Humor, Accidental Kiss, Reader works for the IPC too, Friends to Lovers vibes, Workplace Romance, Lighthearted Romance, Playful Dynamic, Slow Burn Potential, Anime Trope (lol).

A/N: I think I'm being stalked or something because I was thinking something similar to this today too 😨

In the polished, high-stakes corridors of the IPC, where risk was currency and loyalty was fleeting, your favorite pastime had recently taken an unexpected turn: chasing after Aventurine with an arsenal of cute animal stickers. It was perhaps childish and silly, especially in a world of cold calculations and ruthless ambition, but something about seeing his refined face adorned with cartoon bunnies and glittery foxes felt irresistible. So, you made it your mission.

Today, as you waited in his office doorway, Aventurine had already caught sight of the stickers in your hands. “I think not.” he murmured with a smirk, adjusting his glasses just enough to peer over them. His eyes sparkled with mirth – and a hint of a challenge.

“Oh, come on, Aven. You’ve dodged this long enough.”

With that, you lunged forward, arms outstretched. He sidestepped gracefully, turning his head just enough for a perfectly timed eye roll.

But you were not giving up that easily.

Determined, you took a quicker step, reaching for his shoulder. Aventurine slipped aside, chuckling at your determination, but you pivoted faster this time, grazing the fabric of his dark green shirt. He spun around, his breath hitching, and you couldn’t help but smile victoriously, eyes gleaming with mischief.

“Gotcha!”

Or at least, that’s what you thought.

Because in the very next second, your foot caught on the edge of his office rug, sending you tumbling forward. Aventurine reached out, hands instinctively catching your shoulders as you both toppled to the ground. You landed against his chest with a thud, laughter bubbling up before you even realized how close you were. In the heat of the moment, your noses brushed, and, as though straight out of some romantic cliché, your lips collided with his.

Boom.

The world stilled, both of you frozen in place. His hand, which had been on your shoulder, seemed to linger there for a moment longer than necessary. You felt his breath, warm and quick against your lips, mingling with your own in the awkward quiet that followed.

Aventurine was the first to break the silence. “Well,” he murmured, a soft laugh ghosting over your skin. “I’ll admit, that was an unexpected… strategy.”

You leaned back, your cheeks flushing as you scrambled to sit up, but his hand moved to steady you, his fingers lingering in a way that sent your heart racing. His smile was as charming as ever, but there was something softer there, a warmth that replaced his usual air of suave nonchalance.

“Maybe I’ll consider those stickers after all,” he said, his voice dropping just a little lower. “But only if they’re…” He tilted his head, looking at you with that trademark sparkle. “Exclusively applied by you.”

You couldn't hold back a laugh, still feeling a bit dizzy from the fall – and from him, so close. “Well, only if you promise to stop dodging next time.”

He smirked, the corners of his mouth curving into a smile that was both challenging and endearing. “Perhaps I’ve grown a bit fond of this game.” He shifted slightly, his gaze holding yours with an intensity that sent a delightful shiver down your spine. “Care to make it a… regular occurrence?”

With a teasing grin, you held up the sheet of stickers again. “I’ll consider it. But next time, don’t blame me if I bring the glitter ones.”

Aventurine chuckled, his eyes never leaving yours. "I'll take my chances."

And for once, it didn’t feel like either of you was bluffing.

More Aven fics coming 🤭🫶💖✨

[amaramiyu]

[Analysis] Richette (Richter&Annette)

Sometimes a ship can sneak up on you unexpectedly and it ultimately ends up consuming you. That's exactly what happened to me with Richette (RichterxAnnette) from Castlevania: Nocturne. After pondering for a couple of weeks, I've decided to do an analysis of their relationship because not only do I enjoy them as characters individually, but there's so much nuance and complexity to their relationship and so much to discuss. So without further ado:

First of all, I need to talk about these two gorgeous character posters (pictured above) of Richter and Annette. Color theory time!

On Richter's poster, he's all serious, stern, and means business. The color blue is heavily utilized and in color theory blue is considered a cool color. The color blue typically has the following meanings: calmness, honesty, trust, stability, and responsibility. Furthermore, the color blue is also usually associated with the sea, trust, the sky, stability, tranquility, and depth.

Interestingly enough, Annette's poster is sort of the opposite of Richter's she's coquettish and looks slightly playful. The color yellow is greatly emphasized and in color theory yellow is considered a warm color. The color yellow typically has the following meanings: happiness, creativity, mental stimulation, impatience, and cowardice. Furthermore, the color yellow is also usually associated with energy, sunshine, brightness, cheerfulness, and joy.

Episode 1

Richter first meets Annette after she saves him from a Night Creature while he is suffering from his PTSD (childhood trauma witnessing his mother's horrific demise by Olrox). I love Annette's soft smile towards Richter.

Richter is impressed/amazed by Annette's magical abilities.

Annette not only demonstrates her magical abilities but she also showcases that she's knowledgeable about Night Creatures and the Vampire Messiah. Initially, Richter's hurling many questions at her and he's frustrated until she answers them. Richter becomes a little sheepish when it's revealed that Annette and Edouard are looking for "someone called Belmont" and he's the Belmont in question.

Episode 2

Richter's definitely intrigued by Annette as Edouard and Annette are discussing her lineage. Richter plays up his confidence and contentment with how he's perfectly fine with his knives and his family heirloom the Vampire Killer whip to kill vampires. But the mood changes once he brings up magic and his mother due to his childhood trauma.

Annette: Where's your mother?

Richter: She died. Some vampires do magic too.

As we will learn later, Richter's and Annette's respective mothers being killed by a vampire is something that they have in common. You can see the sympathy displayed in Annette's eyes.

When Edouard was being overtaken by the vampires and Night Creatures. Annette was distracted and frozen with despair, but she needed to regain her focus to finish creating the bridge for them to escape so that they could live to fight another day.

This is an all too familiar scene for Richter the grief, pain, and loss of a loved one. The heavy pouring rain adds to this somber moment.

Episode 3

The next day Richter comforts Annette stating that their only option was to retreat. They were surrounded and it wasn't her fault regarding what happened to Edouard. However, Annette feels like she abandoned him and that he wouldn't have abandoned her. Edouard was like family to her and all that she had left after her mother died.

Richter: I know what it's like to watch your mother die. I fled...but I guess you couldn't do that.

Here comes the nuance Richter acknowledges the similarities between Annette and him losing their mothers. However, he also realizes that he was able to flee get on a ship, and travel to a whole different country across the ocean putting distance between him and the vampire that haunted him. But Annette couldn't do that she was stuck on the island of Saint-Domingue having to pretty much almost every day confront her nightmare.

Annette as she's recounting the slave uprising in Saint-Domingue we get this commentary:

Richter: It sounds like an epic battle.

Annette: Freedom was sweeter than the sugar we harvested.

There's also this parallel last episode when Richter mentioned some vampires can do magic. This episode during the flashback:

Annette: Vaublanc changed into a bat. What other magic can they do?

Annette: He was so brave, so committed to our freedom.

Richter: We'll avenge him. I swear.

Their resolve to take down the vampires and the Vampire Messiah is even further strengthened.

During Annette's rousing speech in the town's square, Richter is mesmerized and captivated. He's actually listening and paying attention hanging on to her every word. He even cracks a smile.

This is a stark contrast to earlier in the season when during one of Maria's revolutionary gatherings he admitted he wasn't really listening and was basically nonchalant about the whole ordeal.

Episode 4

Annette's still shaken up from witnessing Edouard as a Night Creature in the last episode. I must say Richter's quite chivalrous towards Annette in this scene. He's checking up on her asking if she's all right. He also lays out the facts and reality of the situation as harsh and grim as it might be.

He stresses that they need a plan because he doesn't want a repeat of what happened at the chateau. However, Annette's impatience and impulsiveness are getting the best of her.

Annette: The Abbey's made of stone. I can bury them in their own church, bring it crashing down around their heads.

Richter: A proper plan, not walk in, make a few snap decisions about who deserves to live or die, and then turn everything to rubble.

The conversation takes a turn towards cowardice and being afraid.

Richter: I've only been afraid once in all my life, and I was 10.

Annette: You know what it's like to watch your mother die, you said. She was killed by a vampire, wasn't she?

Annette connects the dots and here's some more nuance. People are shaped by their upbringing and the type of environment that they grew up in. Annette states that Richter and Maria are not cowards it's more so that they are just children with no experience of the world, no experience of the hard choices that adults have to make.

There's great teamwork demonstrated here as Richter protects Annette while she's doing her incantation.

When Richter comes face to face with his nightmare (Olrox) years later he reverts into his scared 10-year-old self and flees. Annette's shocked, disappointed, and furious at how he just abandoned their plight.

Richter Belmont is the person that her mentor Cecile told her to seek out and that would be able to aid her in accomplishing her mission. Even though he couldn't use magic anymore, she said that they'd make do, but now he ghosts them this definitely does not go over well.

However, Annette will later come to understand his perspective and situation even though as of right now she comes across as insensitive towards him.

Episode 5

This episode showcases the aftermath of Richter's actions towards the end of the last episode. Annette can't sit still and wants to free Edouard from his chains instead of regrouping and waiting for Richter to return.

Tera tries to make Annette understand Richter's behavior and actions. Olrox is the vampire who killed his mother after all and the nightmare that still haunts him.

Annette: We all have nightmares. If I'd let my past terrify me, I'd never be free of it.

As I mentioned earlier, Annette, unlike Richter, has come face-to-face with her nightmare(which also includes slavery) just about every single day on the island. Richter hasn't physically confronted Olrox in almost a decade. Annette's able to face her nightmare(Vaublanc) head-on she isn't afraid of him anymore. We witness this later in the episode when she confronts him. She doesn't allow Vaublanc to get under her skin or break her. She conquers and defeats him.

Richter as of right now, doesn't have much fight left in him, but he'll eventually regain his resolve and turn things around.

Episode 6

Juste and Richter share many parallels they both experience a blockage to their magic after witnessing the traumatic loss of their loved one(s) due to a vampire before their eyes. They both blame themselves for it as well. Juste has such a defeatist attitude, and Richter could've ended up similar to Juste if he wasn't able to work through his blockage.

Annette calls upon her mentor Cecile for guidance. She expresses how Richter ran away but Cecile reminds her that everyone starts by running away. Annette ran away too at first but she eventually got to a point where she didn't cower in front of her tormentor, it's not something that's going to happen overnight it takes time. Cecile also advises Annette to learn to hear her ancestors. There's light in the darkness.

At his lowest point, before Richter regained his magical powers he thought of the people who he loved and wanted to protect. Annette was included alongside Tera and Maria. Now, not only has his magic returned but so has his resolve.

Episode 7

Richter has finally returned after being m.i.a for a few days and he has to clear the air between Annette and himself.

Immediately without wasting any time or putting it off, Richter goes to speak to Annette. He is nervous as hell and bracing for a storm, so he was surprised when Annette said that she knew he'd be back and that she was more concerned than she wanted to be.

Richter's like oh, really? And starts joking, "The muscles, huh?" The tension in the air diffuses between them and blushing ensues. Annette talking to her mentor really helped her ease up; she's not being driven by anger, and it's reflected in this moment between Richter and her. They've come to understand one another.

Richter reaffirms that they're going to get Edouard out of his cell. He shows Annette that his magic abilities have returned. Richter talks about remembering what makes him who he is and the type of person he wants to be...a Belmont. Living up to the legacy of his family's last name was also something that he was grappling with during the season as well.

When Richter mentioned the love in this house it stood out and resonated with Annette. Annette is overall dazzled by Richter during his speech it's adorable.

Richter: I won't let myself be afraid ever again.

Annette: But we are afraid. It's not always bad. It just means we have something to lose.

Being afraid and fear are natural human emotions but the reasons behind why we are afraid can differ. We can be afraid because we have something or someone that we want to protect and not lose.

The current atmosphere and mood are romantic during this moment. Richter and Annette are staring deeply at each other. Richter also sneaks glances at Annette when she breaks eye contact with him.

Can you feel the love?

Later on, they're calm, cool, and collected putting together a plan of action this time around. This is an improvement from Episode 4 where they also needed to formulate a plan of action.

Episode 8

Annette: Don't burn the place to the ground.

Richter: Good point. And try not to reduce it to rubble.

Would you look at that? Some fun light banter before a big battle. Their lines are also a callback to earlier episodes in the season. Remember in Episode 2 Annette talked about burning the chateau to the ground. Also in Episode 4, Richter said the turn everything into rubble line. The difference here is in the context, tone, and delivery.

You can really see the growth and development even further by this stage in their relationship.

Richter: We had no choice. Did we?

This scene is so heart-wrenching. Richter's tone and delivery of the line and his glance over to Annette for reassurance. Tera is now going to be a vampire. Our heroes just can't quite catch a break can they this season?

Congratulations! You've made it to the end. Even though this took many days to put together I had fun creating this. I may have missed a few things, but I feel like I touched on the main elements.

Thanks for taking the time to read my analysis.

[leftythehelpingtankengine]

Beauty, the Pea, and the Beast

Chapter 2: Oh Balls.

Word Count - 2k

Also available on AO3 & WattPad

Summary: In an attempt to provide aid to a runaway princess, Luigi gets himself mixed up in an arranged marriage to a prince of a neighboring kingdom, what he doesn’t know is that a certain evil king also plans on having the princess’ hand in marriage regardless of whether or not (s)he’s partial to it. Will he find a way out of this, or will he end up falling for one of them? (or both >;))

Content Warnings: none yet

It had been about two months since Luigi had begun his stay at the princess’—well, his— castle until she returned. He and Toadette still weren’t on the best terms but she seemed genuine with her apologies and remorse. He would be able to forgive her in time, since then she’s been his rock and confidant. He adjusted well to the life of the princess of the Mushroom Kingdom, maybe even liked it. However, the most difficult part for him was shaking off his chronic nervousness about everything around him. 

Luigi was sitting in front of a grand mirror with Toadette showing Luigi different dresses for him to pick from for the Winter Solstice ball that was to be held after sundown. He was barely paying her any mind until Toadette spoke loudly, “Don’t fret Your Highness, you’ll do fine, you only need to look the part and occasionally converse with your guests. Why don’t you pick out which gown you’d like to wear for this evening?”

Luigi nodded, his nerves slightly eased, “You’re right, I would like to wear the blue and pink dress with long gloves and a shawl.” Luigi sighed, standing up and beginning the elaborate process of getting dressed.

Toadette was making the final adjustments to Luigi’s outfit when they heard a knock at the door, informing them it was nearly time for the guests to arrive. Toadette accompanied Luigi to the vast soon-to-be-filled room to sit on his throne until the first guests arrived. Not long after The doors opposite from him began to open and the guests came flooding in. He stood up as the first guests approached; lords and ladies from the Mushroom Kingdom. He stopped paying attention after the Royal family from the BeanBean Kingdom made their entrance. He finally understood why the Princess didn’t want to be here for this, it was terribly boring so far. 

He saw the room slowly fill up with people dancing and chatting around the edges, a gentle melody echoing and silencing their chatter. He envied them. He was taken out of his thoughts when all of the guests had been introduced, allowing him to sit down once more to eat and enjoy the party as much as he could.

Another hour had passed before the music was stopped and the announcer gained the attention of everyone once again.

“Thank you all for being here tonight for our Winter Solstice ball. In addition to the Solstice, we’re holding the ball in honor of the new happy couple! We’re thrilled to announce the marriage between our very own Princess Peach of the Mushroom Kingdom and-”

“The King of Koopas, King Bowser.” A large reptilian beast guffawed behind Luigi. 

Luigi stiffened, too frightened to react or even look back at him. Bowser took that as an opportunity to grab Luigi, toss him over his shoulder, and make a mad dash toward the nearest exit with minimal resistance, allowing him to disappear into the night.

Luigi snapped out of the shock and began yelling and fighting him to no avail. He continued for about ten minutes before giving up and letting out an irritated huff.

“Where are we going?” Luigi asked, his voice hoarse from screaming. He was doing the best he could to prop himself up, but settled for resting his head on his arm that’s now propped against Bowser’s back.

“Home, of course. We’re going to the docks first. I have a ship waiting for us.” Bowser explained, clearly pleased with himself.

Luigi sighed in defeat, there wasn’t much he could do at the moment. There was no way he could get away from him between blowing his cover and his current attire. Between the heels and puffy fabric he wouldn’t be able to get far. Oh, and Toadette would kill him if something were to happen to the dress.

Bowser noticed Luigi’s change in demeanor. “Don’t act so disappointed Peaches, I told you that I would come back for you. Don’t worry it won’t be much longer until we reach the boat,” he said, failing to lighten the mood.

Luigi remained silent, ignoring his kidnapper, his head swirling with many thoughts and feelings— fear, contempt, exhaustion. The king was blissfully unaware of Luigi’s mental gymnastics and decided to continue, “I made sure to have someone get your little handmaiden— I know you’re very fond of her after all. I have also arranged for us to be housed in close quarters with one another-” 

At this point Luigi stopped listening, Toadette was in this with him now? He felt a little better knowing that he was not alone and would still have help maintaining the facade. He couldn’t get caught, especially not by King Boswer. Luigi shuddered, he didn’t want to think about what might happen if the Koopa King were to find out.

“Are you cold Princess?” Bowser paused, placing Luigi down, and taking off his coat to give to him, then offering his hand. Luigi put the coat around him and hesitated before taking his hand. He decided it would be better to try to stay on Bowser’s good side for the time being. 

For the first time Bowser and Luigi got a better look at one another and time seemed to stop for just a moment. This was the only time Luigi had seen Bowser outside of aiding his brother in keeping the peace between kingdoms. He was….handsome? Luigi could not tear his eyes away, what about him is so alluring? He was tall, strong, his hair the shade of the most passionate of fires, hands so large to-

“You look more radiant than normal Princess…” Bowser begins. “Even with your swollen nose, you look like a goddess on earth glowing in the light of the new winter moon.”

He was sincere, his eyes were wide and full of an emotion Luigi couldn’t seem to comprehend, as he was still staring helplessly, now flushed. He opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by rustling behind them. They both turn their heads towards the sound, releasing them from their shared enrapturement.

A bit more rustling occurred before a small figure emerged from the flora; a koopa blissfully unaware at the verbal assault awaiting him.

Bowser’s face contorts to unbridled rage. You could nearly see smoke as he exhaled before going absolutely ballistic, screaming at the koopa for interrupting, paying no mind to Luigi anymore.

Luigi recoiled, disgusted with Bowser now. Concluding that his moment of weakness was nothing more than the winter moonlight. Now fully in control of his thoughts and actions, he decided that now would be a good time to try to escape.

Luigi wasn’t sure which direction to run in but ultimately decided any direction away from the scene unfolding would be best.

Bowser had soon finished his verbal onslaught and took a deep breath to regain his composure. With a calm smile on his face, he turned back towards the Princess but quickly realized she was gone. Panic. Sheer panic flooded his senses.

Luigi had only been running for a few minutes at most however it felt like it had been hours. He would have kept running if he hadn’t tripped over his own foot and twisted his ankle. Luigi cried out and laid there for a second before looking around. His blood ran cold. In an unfortunate turn of events, the direction he chose led him to the very docks he was desperately trying to get away from.

He was quickly surrounded by members of Bowser’s court bombarding him with questions, making his head spin, until a voice roared above theirs, “WHERE IS SHE??”

Silence followed as the crowd backed away from Luigi who was sobbing at this point. Bowser’s face dropped and rushed over to Luigi. 

“Peaches?!? Are you okay? What happened?” Bowser’s face was painted with worry and concern.

In between sobs and sniffles Luigi cried, “You were yelling at that poor koopa, my dress is ruined, and I twisted my ankle in these ACCURSED HEELS-” More sobs wracked his form.

Bowser was completely taken aback, “I sincerely apologize Peaches, you’re never emotional so this must be important to you. I’ll have someone fix your dress and-”

Luigi was seeing red. Him? Emotional? He gritted his teeth together, “You listen here, Your Majesty-” Luigi tried to stand up. “I would love to see you go through a day as me without losing your temper at the slightest of inconveniences. You have no right to call ME emotional when you act like a spoiled toddler if something doesn’t go exactly as you had envisioned it.” He was truly riled up at this point, beyond thinking of the where consequences his current actions would lead him.  

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I would like to get something to eat and then return to my chambers for the night without you, since you so rudely took me before I could even taste the hors d'oeuvres at the ball.”

Bowser was completely shocked, but quickly smiled, “There's the Peach I know and adore. I’ll have everything arranged for you.”

Luigi scoffed as Bowser picked him up and carried him onto the ship. He took Luigi to his quarters where there was a physician and an attendant waiting for him.

“Your Majesties.” The physician bowed down to Luigi and Bowser. He then waved him off and set Luigi down on the settee against the wall.

“I need you two to check and tend to her ankle and bring her favorite dishes. Once that’s been done leave her be.” Bowser sternly instructed, standing tall.

They bowed to Bowser once more, causing him to turn around and leave, the attendant following not long after.

The physician brought a small table over towards Luigi so he could prop his leg up and allow them to examine his ankle.

It didn’t take the physician long to examine Luigi's now swollen ankle. Telling him that it was sprained and that he needed to stay off his feet for the next couple of weeks. They wrapped Luigi’s foot in a splint, then bid him a farewell, closing the door behind them.

Luigi looked at his foot, frustrated that he ruined any chance of escaping on his own. He couldn’t believe how badly he had messed up in such quick successions. Not fighting or running at the ball, finding a chance to escape and running in the wrong direction, which had caused him to be immobile for a few weeks minimum. He really had hit rock bottom at this point.

Luigi heard a knock at the door and the attendant from before came in with a large tray of food. He pulled a small table over to where Luigi was sitting and set the tray down. He bowed to him then left without a word.

As soon as the door clicked shut Luigi moved the entire table closer and noticed that Bowser had his cooks prepare a several course meal, which he wasted no time eating. Then he moved to the large bed with great care as to not injure himself further. 

Luigi was exhausted. His mind replayed the instances of the past evening as he laid down. Neither Princess Peach or Toadette had mentioned an arranged marriage to him, or even hinted at it. Could this be the reason why she had Luigi take her place? Had she found someone, or was this the final straw? Luigi couldn’t say, after all, he didn’t know who he was allegedly marrying. Obviously it wasn’t Bowser considering their past and the fact he literally made an event of him kidnapping the ‘princess’. 

Luigi put his hands over his face when his mind shifted to King Bowser. He was so embarrassed with his thoughts and shift in character. How could he have let himself feel that way about an ill-tempered tyrant, even if only for a moment. He couldn’t deny that Bowser was attractive, determined, and confident—all qualities Luigi admired on their own— but his treatment towards others was repulsive at best.  Luigi yawned, maybe he could change that… and with that final incoherent thought he drifted into a dreamless sleep.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN: hey yall there were some edits that were done after I had posted this initially, so i finally got around to adding them 10/30/24

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[jmoonjones]

The General & the Valkyrie plot synopsis:

When the Valkyrie becomes withdrawn and self-destructive and all attempts to reach her fall short, the General turns to his tactical expertise for inspiration. Applying his strategic mind to the battle raging in her soul he slowly and gently helps her discover new interests and coax her from the pit of self-loathing she has sunk into, empathetically encouraging her journey of self-discovery by letting her know he's by her side if she needs him.

His consistent and loving support, along with two new friends independent of her sister, the Valkyrie is able to take control of her new powers, and gain true agency over her decisions and body for the first time in her life. 

This is a story of her journey, bolstered by people who actually have her best interests at heart.

"I'm just so glad that in this universe the General wasn't an antagonistic jerk to her when they first met or drop her hand when someone he'd slept with 500 years ago walked in. Like, c'mon son" - The Winter Court Review

"Sometimes you can't trust the original author to stick the landing, and that's where the beauty of imagination and AUs converge." - The Day Courter

"I loved when she and her sisters go to the cabin, just the 3 of them, to hash everything out about the past and make peace with it. It felt really mature and a new step for their relationship," says one reader

"What? Am I annoyed with the canon version so much that I have replaced it entirely with a loving and supportive headcanon to give the Valkyrie what she deserves? Maybe. Did I want to make the General actually feel like he deserved his position in the military by having him use his brain? Also maybe. Perhaps all the characters in this world deserve better?" says the author, who loves Nessian but acknowledges there are definitely some things to adjust

[helpimstuckinafandom]

Me starting another bg3 run where I will make virtually all the same decisions in mostly the same order as if there isn't different branching paths

[petrichorium]

One thing about me is if I could feasibly write an arranged marriage plot w a character I’m going to fall for them

[jobean12-blog]

Adventures in Babysitting

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader

Word Count: 2.5K

Summary: You and Bucky are friends and it's clear you both want more but you fight it, scared of your feelings and ruining what you have together. But spending some quality time together can't be such a bad idea...right?

Author's Note: I just needed some fluffiness. So here we are. The little girl in this (niece) is probably around 6ish-7. Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thanks Daisy! 🥰

Warnigns: soft and sweet fluff, some flirting, tension, teasing, lots of cute.

You order your second drink from the barista and weave through the small line to get back to your table. Most of the staff here know you by name and don’t mind that you spend a few hours of your weekend morning enjoying a drink (or three) and reading.

Settling back into the chair you grab your book and try to find where you left off. The door to the shop opens and cool breeze blows in. Taking your warm cup between your fingers you lift it to your lips, hoping the heat will seep into your bones, when you hear your name.

You blink up to see Bucky standing near the counter and a different kind of warmth rushes through your body. His hair is messy, and he’s dressed in a tee shirt and sweats, as if he’s just been out for a run. Even a little sweaty, he looks better than should be allowed.

He pulls out his wallet to pay and your eyes drop automatically to the way the damp tee shirt clings to his shoulders and dips in at his waist, down to where his hip bones…

The sound of the chair scraping along the floor makes you snap your head up to meet his eyes, blue and clearly amused to have caught you ogling him.

He sits across from you, stretching his arms out on the table, and takes his time doing his own, totally blatant, inspection.

You raise a brow.

“Little chilly for a run, isn’t it?” you say.

He shrugs and takes another sip of his drink.

“Let me guess though, as usual, you’re not cold at all.”

He aims a smile at you, ignoring your teasing remark.

“So,” you start, trying again, “what are you doing here?”

His eyes sparkle and he leans forward to push the book in your hands upward, positioning it so he can see the front cover.

“Lookin’ for you doll,” he says simply before reading the title.

“Enjoying your romance?” he asks after, his smile growing wider.

It’s your turn to shrug and you place your bookmark inside the book and close it.

Under the table he stretches his long legs out in front of him and brackets each of his feet against yours, the sides of your legs touching.

“Well?” he asks again.

“I just started it. The tension is building…you know a slow burn, but I think it has potential.”

He stares at you, relaying so much in his expression: just like us?

“Want to get some dinner later?”

“Actually, I have plans,” you tell him.

His expression falls just the tiniest amount.

“Plans?”

“My brother and Marie have a wedding to go to and I promised I’d watch Samantha.”

“Babysitting!” he states. “Now that sounds fun.”

You give him a look and start to gather your things.

“I need to do a few errands before I head over.”

You stand and hook your bag over your shoulder before pushing the chair in. He stands and reaches forward to untwist the strap.

“Ok.”

You stand there, the obvious question (and tension) hanging between you.

“Do you want to babysit with me?” you ask. “Even though I’m sure you’ll find it totally boring.”

“I’ve hung out with Sam’s kids a lot. They’re fun.”

Your eyes widen slightly, and you watch the smooth line of his throat as he swallows.

“Soooo…you want to come?”

“Why not?”

“You might be bored out of your mind.”

His smile melts your insides.

“Maybe doll, but wouldn’t it be more fun if we’re bored together?���

“Are you sure?” you ask. “There will probably be tea parties, and dolls, and a makeover.”

He follows as you head toward the door and holds it open.

“Thanks,” you say.

He smiles. “I’m sure. It’s nothin’ I can’t handle.”

“Ok, great!”

“So, what time?” he asks.

“Five. And you have to bring pizza and let her do your hair if she asks.”

“You know…and I can’t believe I’m saying this, you’re a great babysitter.”

You wiggle your toes, feet propped up on the coffee table and still drying from the bright pink nail polish Samantha painted on.

Bucky grins at you from across the way where he’s sitting with Sam at a small table, in an even smaller chair, in the middle of what appears to be a very fancy tea party.

His usually soft, floppy hair is spiky now, tied up by bright hair ties in about ten tiny, crazy ponytails.

He leans toward Sam conspiratorially and shoves his thumb in your direction. “I told you she thinks I’m great.”

Sam slides some decorative barrettes into his mess of hair. “And you said cute.”

“You mean you said you’re cute,” you explain, eyeing Bucky. “I never said such a thing.”

“I never said you said it…” Bucky counters and politely thanks Sam when she gives him more tea. “But I know you’re thinking it. Especially right now.”

He throws you a little wink.

Sam smiles at Bucky then at you.

“I think he looks cute!” she says sweetly.

You stand and walk over to them, kissing the top of Sam’s head and without thinking, brushing a finger over a piece of Bucky’s hair that’s come loose.

“Well, you definitely get points for being a good sport.”

You expect him to shoot back with some snarky comment about “points” meaning a blow job or something, but instead he just says, “I’m havin’ fun doll.”

“Do you want more tea?” Sam asks you.

“No thanks baby. It’s getting late and I don’t want to drink anymore. It might keep us up.”

“Well,” she starts with some sass, “I’m not tired.”

She turns back to her dolls and then adds, “and I want to keep playing with Bucky. Don’t you think he’s nice?”

Bucky snickers and you lightly smack the back of his head but before you can answer Sam she continues with another addition to Bucky’s lovely attributes.

“And cute?”                                     

You kneel down beside her, smoothing your hands over her cheeks.

“He is nice,” you say.

“And?”

Her sweet voice once again has some sass.

“And cute,” you add with a roll of your eyes.

Bucky’s eyes light up in triumph and you can’t stop your smile.

“It’s late. Let’s get ready for bed.”

Her lip sticks out and her eyes grow wide.

“But I’m sure Bucky can come back and play again soon. And I’ll bet we can get him to read you a story before bed.”

That seems to placate her for the moment, and she says, “we’re going to watch Moana. He pinky promised.”

You turn to Bucky. “You pinky promised?”

He gives you a heart stopping smile.

“Guess we’re watching some Moana before bed,” you concede.

Sam agrees to pajamas and teeth brushing before the movie. The three of you settle onto the couch, Sam in Bucky’s lap and you, at her insistence, next to them. Right next to them. You’re all three crammed into one corner and she allows him to take out the hair ties and barrettes with little fuss if he promises to wear his Barbie necklace and never take it off. Ever.

Bucky agrees steadfastly and Sam beams up at him, resting her head on his chest and reaching for his hand.

He’s solid and warm at your side, and it takes a few minutes to get her settled, but soon she’s snuggled up and rather pleased with herself.

Her hand looks positively tiny in his and you keep blinking down to it, marveling at how much bigger he is than her and how absolutely soft and gentle he’s being.

You try desperately to pay attention to the movie. You love Moana. But it’s hard to follow along amid the internal crisis you’re having over his holding her hand and snuggling with her. It’s not sexy. Not sexy at all.

Some time later, Bucky’s voice breaks into your thoughts: “I think she’s out doll.”

You look over to meet his eyes, and in the low light flickering from the TV he’s all sharp jawline and lush lips. The ends of his dark lashes glow against the screen.

“Is she asleep?” he asks you.

You blink out of your stupor before you understand what he’s asking and lean forward to check. Sure enough, her eyes are closed, her breaths soft and even.

“Yep, out like a light. Nice work.”

“I do make a pretty good bed,” he smirks. “But I’m sure the two slices of pizza and cookies did most of the work.”

“No really, “you whisper. “This whole night…you’re amazing. You waltz in here with dinner and cookies and your dreamboat smile, all sweet and charming. You made this whole thing easy. Well done Barnes.”

“You think I’m charming?” he says, and grins.

The light from the TV accents the way his face softens then he smiles, and you have to look away.

“Is that all you took out of that whole thing” you ask.

“I also got sweet, dreamboat…easy.”

You laugh, rubbing a hand over your face. “Of course you did.”

Bucky chuckles softly and rearranges Sam on his lap.

“But really, this was fun. “Sam is a real cutie, and you know I love hangin’ out with you.”

You swallow and try to make sense of what you’re feeling, wanting to explain it to him.

A beat of silence passes between you, and he looks over at the TV. You know you’ve been quiet too long when he clears his throat and shifts next to you.

The air between you is crackling with charge and you’re finding it difficult to deal.

He leans in and tilts his head to look at you. You shift forward and he’s so close, close enough that you can feel each breath and count the tiny patches of gray hairs that line his cheek. His eyes drop to your mouth and back up and he’s asking if this is okay, giving you time to close the distance or pull away.

You want to kiss him.

It takes the smallest effort on your part before you feel him, the barest brush of his lips, the slight catch in his breath against your own. He smells like the six chocolate chip cookies he ate after dinner, and your mouth nearly waters, imagining how good he’ll taste.

Without thinking you close your eyes and part your lips and…

Sam makes a small sound in her sleep and says your name.

You and Bucky exhale like you’ve been holding your breath, before he sits back, pushing a hand through his hair.

“Am I an awful person that I would have given her a thousand bucks to sleep for ten more minutes?” he asks.

Your heart is pounding in your chest, and you laugh. “Only ten?”

He stares at you, watching you settle back against the couch. After a few minutes you feel his finger brush absently along your wrist.

You wonder if his fingers itch like yours whenever he’s around, or if he feels the same tug-of-war inside his chest.

Unable to control the nerves firing rapidly inside your brain you make your hand move, keeping your eyes straight ahead and focused on the TV while turning your palm over and twisting your fingers with his.

He tightens his grip.

Sam is softly breathing with her head resting against your shoulder and after only a few moments of hesitation, you feel Bucky do the same.

The weight of him next to you, so strong and warm, feels comfortable and safe, and soon your eyelids droop. You sink farther into the couch and Bucky, falling asleep to the sounds of The Rock singing, “you’re welcome.”

It can’t be too long after when the front door opens. You vaguely hear footsteps and blink several times before you can make out your brother standing in front of you, holding his phone in his outstretched arm.

“What are you…are you taking a picture?” you ask, voice groggy.

“Do you have any idea how cute you two are?” he asks, looking at this phone before turning the screen toward you.

“That’s super-creeptastic bro.”

You feel Bucky stir next to you and he sits up with a start.

“Relax Barnes,” you brother says. “I’m not gonna beat you up for catching you with the babysitter.”

You realize that you and Bucky are still holding hands, and you pull yours away, ignoring the way you can still feel his palm against your own.

“Really creepy,” you say, gently handing over Sam to your brother.

“How was she?” he asks, smoothing her hair.

“An angel, like always. But she might be marrying Bucky. So, there’s that.”

Your brother laughs. “She could do a lot worse,” he says, then motions that he’s going to put her to bed.

You say goodbye and Bucky walks you out to your car. You stand across from each other, pretending that you didn’t just barely kiss and that you weren’t holding hands. Regardless, things feel calm and safe.

It’s dark and you fumble for the door handle, opening the car to set your bag down inside. When you turn, Bucky takes your hand, looking down at the way it fits in his.

“I had a lot of fun doll. Thanks for letting me hang.”

“Are you kidding? This was the best. Thanks for coming.”

It looks like he’s about to ask you something but then thinks better of it and instead leans in to place a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“Text me when you get home, yeah?”

“Sure,” you answer.

On impulse, you cup his face and stretch to place the lightest kiss on his warm lips.

Stunned, he just stands there, watching as you step back and fight a smile.

His eyebrows slowly rise.

“Doll, you just kissed me.”

“Only a tiny kiss.” You smile up at him and notice the way his eyes flicker to your lips.

He doesn’t move away and instead takes a small step forward, pushing your back against your car door.

Your hand comes up from your side, moving along his chest and around to grab the back of his neck.

“Doll?”

You pull, stretching at the same time and bringing your mouth just a breath away from his.

“Are you…?”

“Just kiss me?” you whisper.

Your fingers tangle in the hair at the back of his neck and you trail kisses along his jaw, soft and hesitant.

His illusion of restraint shatters and he takes your face in both hands and with a groan, presses his lips against yours. He tilts your head, feeling the clench of your hands in his hair, and steps closer, sliding his hands down your back.

He tugs you as close as possible, lining all your softness up with the hard planes of his body.

When he pulls back he’s breathing heavily and he cradles your face in his hands, softly brushing his thumbs over your cheeks.

“Can I…?” he murmurs against your lips.

“Do you want…?” you whisper at the same time.

He smiles and it’s so sincere, crinkling the corners of his eyes and making you swoon.

“Yeah. Yeah I do doll.”

He kisses you again, his lips lingering before he asks, “my place or yours?”

[theesteppenwolf]

More Lucanis rambles because I’m still thinking about it and got nothing better to do :P

I am not here to tell anyone how to feel but putting words into peoples mouths who criticize the Lucanis romance (or Lucanis in general) for being unsatisfactory by saying;

“You don’t know what a slow burn is/ it’s because you expected zevran / you don’t get it he’s traumatized/ you just wanted something spicy and didn’t get it so now you’re mad” etc.

Is completely disregarding the fact that his lack of reactions and lack of content actually led people to believe he is bugged. Most DA fans didn’t expect spice or steam or whatever but they did expect an effective story, one they didn’t get.

This is at the end of the day a visual storytelling medium and implication will only get you so far, if i have to start thinking up entire plotlines in my head to make sense of the story or relationship progression then they failed at good storytelling. If i have to write paragraphs of explanations that the game doesn’t even remotely touch on then that isn’t a slow burn, it’s just a lack of content and poor pacing.

If he is traumatized and reluctant because of it you have to give me a scene where i can actually read that. If he is awkward and doesn’t know how to react to flirting you have to exaggerate to an extent for people to tell. If there is longing and angst give me banter that reflects it.

A romance in a game should give me some kind of deeper personal insight into a character and if i have to do the writers job and in my head think up those insights then the actual romance is mostly moot. I’m not saying give me all the details i’m saying at the very least give me a jumping point, some info buried in the game i won’t get otherwise. His romance fails at this.

Mary Kirby was fired yes and it’s awful what happened but unfortunately the product still remains and it leaves a lot to be desired for a big amount of people. When players are straight up going back on saves to romance someone else it’s a real problem. For me, it soured my first playthrough, especially later when i saw how Davrin and Emmrich had content, convos, specific romance outings and at the bare minimum actually had a noticeable reaction to flirting dialogue.

Again I’m not telling anyone how to feel, if it works for you that’s awesome, but to disregard his obvious lack of content by calling other fans basically stupid is incredibly disingenuous.

I love his character, loved it since The Wigmakers Job and he is still my favorite after my first playthrough. I think the beginning of his romance was very promising and the end is great but everything else is missing I’m sorry. His romance was not well executed and i honestly don’t think his character really was either. (But i won’t vent about that right now)

I know what a slow burn is, i was not expecting Zevran, i did not want a steamy romance. I wanted a well executed story and i didn’t get one. I am critical because i think it could’ve been great, i still love the game and i am not shitting on it, his character or other fans i just hate wasted potential.

[countingdots-tc]

TEACHER/STUDENT BOOK RECS

*if you want me to add a forbidden romance list, let me know*

𓃠 This is a list with links to books that have teacher/student, age gap, and experienced/less experienced themes that I have read! These are in order from most recommended to least recommended based on my opinion.

𓃠 This will be updated as I read more! Think something should be added to the list, then let me know!

𓃠 To find the Age Gap/TeacherxStudent Movie list, click on the link on my pinned post!

⭐️= highly recommend/changed my life

😇= no smut

🌶️=contains smut

💦=read to really get your rocks off

highlighted=warning

PROFESSOR/COACH BOOK LIST

The Unrequited by Saffron A. Kent-⭐️😇

ProfessorxStudent & mental health themes

Cute little poet embarrassingly falls for her grumpy professor. Beautiful slow burn and perfectly describes what it feels like to want someone and not feel enough for them. She is such a realistic female lead and reminds me a lot of y’all 😂. This is THE teacher crush community book. If you don’t read anything, read this!!

The Professor by Invi Wright-⭐️🌶️

ProfessorxStudent

Cute romance by young, new, and self published author. Very relatable female lead. If you enjoyed The Unrequited, you will like this book for all of the same reasons. Quick and easy read, only 240. She isn’t perfect, she’s clumsy, and I wouldn’t even say she’s socially awkward, she’s just a normal college student in her early 20s. She’s a fun narrator. This author has a lot of potential and her writing will only get better.

Gabriel’s Inferno by Slyvain Reynard-⭐️😇

ProfessorxStudent

Such a good dark academia book. Beautifully written and actually has a movie adaptation. I would definitely recommend this if you want a realistic couple but a bit more serious. Characters have so much depth

Off Balance Series by Lucia Franco- 💦

CoachxStudent

Warning: female lead is age of consent NOT legal age.

If you want something really forbidden and fucked up, read this. If you want the MOST insane sex scenes, read this (MINORS STOP). I really don’t even want to add this series to this list but for the girls who wanna go there, have fun. I started this when I was still in high school, read the 3rd one as an adult, it’s not as easy to read now. Take that info as you please. With that being said, it’s one of the best writing and plots I’ve ever read. Lucia Franco is 😍

The Professor by Skye Warren-🌶️

ProfessorxStudent

Also an ex-boyfriend’s dad book! This book was amazing! Read it in a day and immediately pre ordered the second. The plot twist in this book made me throw my phone! Narrator/FMC is a bit less relatable for me. Has a secret society plot! Potentially brooding Professor

The 4th Degree by Nikki Castle- 💦

CoachxStudent

Warning: parent death & parent w/ chronic illness

Coach is so broody but has a big heart, he just doesn’t like to show it. FMC has so much depth and is really mature for a 19 y.o. Coach is a quiet character with a dirty mouth. Doesn’t talk much but when he does??? The tension between them is chefs kiss. Not too much a a slow burn. “Will they, won’t they, will they, won’t they” vibes.

Lessons In Sin by Pam Goodwin-🌶️

TeacherxStudent with 18 Y.O female lead

Troubled rich girl gets sent off to a catholic boarding school and falls for the asshole Dean of the school. Smut is pretty good, plot works. I’m not going to say it’s bad, I think whether or not it’s enjoyable depends on the person. It wasn’t bad, I just wasn’t obsessed. If you’re just trying to live vicariously through her (aren’t we all), then it works!

Teach Me by L. L. Ash-🌶️

ProfessorxStudent

Really good start, and I do mean GREAT start… I just feel like the sex scene came too soon (Ch. 9/32) and it threw me off but I also like SUPER slow burns. It’s still a good book. I enjoyed the male love interest, Professor Harlo. They’re cute together. Grump and Sunshine.

Dark Notes by Pam Goodwin-

TeacherxStudent & themes of abuse

Probably DNF-ing

AGE GAP BOOK LIST

Something In The Way Series by Jessica Hawkins-⭐️😇

Sister’s Boyfriend/Husband & “I saw him first”

Most beautiful romance series I’ve ever read, best written books by Jessica Hawkins. I recommend all of her other books. Lake is 16 when she first meets Manning but nothing sexual happens between them for another 3 books until she’s in her 20s. Beautiful slow burn with characters full of depth.

Sinner by Sierra Simone- ⭐️💦

Brother’s Best Friend & religious themes

Amazing character creation and mapping. These characters feel real! This book is about “teaching” a girl about sex before she becomes a nun. It’s not just a bang bang, hump hump book. It has heart and it really good. If you enjoy religious themed romance, you may enjoy Priest by Sierra Simone too. I didn’t 💀

Birthday Girl by Penelope Douglas- 💦

Ex’s Dad

Most popular forbidden romance so whatever you’ve heard about it, dump it. This might be the most tame book on this list. Pacing is good, well written main character. Insane amounts of smut but it doesn’t drive the story forward so feel free to skip it if you get tired.

Love Unexpected by Q. B. Tyler- 💦

Ex Stepdad & parent death

This book is HOT! However after the first few scenes, I got a bit tired of the smut. Well written enough female lead with a rushed ending. However if you just need something to read and not despise it, it’s good enough.

Strictly Off Limits by Jessica Hawkins-🌶️

Dad’s Best Friend

Jessica is my favorite author so I’m a bit biased but she definitely isn’t a smut writer. This novella would’ve been better without smut however it isn’t super present and doesn’t really drive the story forward so don’t feel like you’re missing anything if you skip the smut!

The Doctor by Nikki Sloane- 💦

Ex’s Dad

personally didn’t care for this book, smut starts off way too quick and I’m more of a slow burn girl. It is a novella yet, it was still too quick. However! You may love it <3

𓃠 If I’m not reading fast enough for you and you want to see what I will be reading in the future here is my Amazon TBR, have at it!

𓃠 If you want to see a more organized bookshelf of what I’ve read, here is my Goodreads!

[celestie0]

gojo satoru x reader | fake marriage au [18+]

in holy matriphony drabble no1. new neighbor

ᰔ pairing. fake marriage au - neighbor&realtor!gojo x nurse!reader (ft. choso x reader & suguru x reader)

ᰔ drabble summary. you visit your new next-door-neighbor's house to welcome him to the neighborhood only to find issue with the fact that's he's insanely hot (note to any potential new readers: you can read this before starting the main storyline if you'd like!)

ᰔ main storyline summary. gojo satoru is your extremely annoying next-door-neighbor who you're pretty sure is the most insufferable man you've ever met. given the fact that you exclusively work the night shift at a chaotic emergency dept, just got broken up with your boyfriend of seven years, and have been taking care of your sick mother ever since her multitude of diagnoses, yet somehow your neighbor is the main source of stress in your life should speak volumes. but when your mother's medical bills start to skyrocket to more than you can manage, and you learn that said neighbor of yours has the best private health insurance plan in the country, you ask him to enter a matrimonial agreement with you for the spousal benefits all in the name of saving a few hundred thousand dollars. but you'll have to see if suffering cohabitation w him is worth any amount of money.

ᰔ genre/tags. fluff, smut, angst, enemies to lovers (sort of), annoyances to lovers (that's more like it), small town romance, fake marriage, next door neighbors, lots of bickering, suburban shenanigans, slow burn, mutual pining, gojo likes to play house but you don't, hatred for the american healthcare system, gojo always forgets to mow the lawn, jealousy, an insane amount of profanity, mentions of cigarettes, depression/anxiety; btw gojo in this fic is in his mid 30s n reader is in her late 20s

ᰔ warnings. reader in this fic has a sick mother w alzheimer's & cancer so there is secondary medical angst!!

ᰔ words. 2.4k

a/n. hiiiiii welcome to this first ihm drabble!! i just had an idea of writing a small scene of when ihm gojo & reader first met so :0 cracked this out in an hour. hope you enjoyy!!

nav. ch1 :: ch2 :: ch3 :: ch4 :: ch5 (pending)

There were a great deal of possibilities you had expected to see when you rang the doorbell to your new next-door-neighbors house, but none of them were quite what you had ended up seeing at the front door when it had swung open.

Perhaps it could’ve been a newlywed couple, looking stressed beyond belief with thin lines under their eyes over the agony that comes with moving into a new home with a partner. It could’ve been a teenager, possibly a broody one, because your parents moving the family out to some random town right in the middle of your high school years would’ve made any kid emo. Or it could’ve been an old wrinkly man, grumpy and a little sore to the eyes and entirely too irritated by someone ringing his doorbell because it fucked up the frequency transmitter on his hearing aids.

Instead, when the door flew open, your neck craned up to meet the eye contact of the most stupidly hot and handsome man you’ve ever seen in your life. Well, at least certainly in all of this smalltown in Dayton county. They don’t build men like that here. With stunning blue eyes that stare deep into yours, hair that’s boyishly shaggy yet looks so soft at the same time, tall, muscular, broad shoulders. And the soft cotton of his pajama long-sleeve shirt with the matching plaid pants clinging to the curves of strong biceps and thighs has you full-fledged staring at this—…dare-you-say, incredibly husband-material of a man.

You almost forget you have a boyfriend for a second. And, for the record, your boyfriend is a sexy piece of ass too (Choso if you’re reading this please know that I love you very much and Gojo would have to fight a feral bear to steal me away from you). But, god, was it a crime to find another man attractive occasionally?

He blinks at you, eyes wide like he was equally as shocked to take in the appearance of you. You’re also sure the last thing he expected was a visitor right now at 2:33pm on a Tuesday, but you had finally seen all the UHAUL trucks pulled up in his driveway and the men moving furniture into his house leave the neighborhood, so you felt now would be a good time to introduce yourself.

“Hi,” he finally says to you, rubbing the back of his neck like it’s sore, “uhh…can I help you?”

You’re momentarily speechless. “Oh! I’m—” you take a pause to breathe because words are suddenly unspeakable without at least a gallon of air in your lungs, “I’m y/n, I live next door.” You point to your house. “I just saw you moving in and so I…wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood!” You hold out the paper plate wrapped in tin foil that you were holding. “I made some pumpkin bread for you.”

The corner of his mouth curls up slightly, eyebrows raising pleasantly. “Oh, that’s really sweet, thanks,” he says with a tone that suggests he’s surprised by the hospitality and you briefly wonder where he’s moved here from. He takes the plate from you and balances it on his palm.

An awkward silence.

“Uh, did you wanna—” he points his thumb over his shoulder to behind himself, “did you wanna come inside?”

You blink at him.

“I mean, the place is kind of a mess right now, but—”

“Yes,” you cut him off.

He smiles at you, relaxed now compared to that hesitance from before, and he uses his back to push the door open more while stepping aside for you to walk inside, and walk inside is exactly what you do.

The house is a little cold, with no heater running, and incredibly empty. It’s pretty much the exact copy layout of your house, as all houses in the neighborhood are, except the color tones within this one are much brighter. The foyer is crowded with stacked cardboard boxes, some open and some not, with styrofoam sprawled all across carpet and hardwood, and you take a moment to admire the seafoam green loveseat pressed flush up against one of the walls.

“Got it on Facebook Marketplace,” he tells you, and you glance over at him to see him watching you assess his furniture, “lots of surprisingly good finds on there.”

You smile at him and stand up straight.

“I’m Satoru, by the way,” he says, leaning his shoulder against the door now before crossing his arms, “sorry, I don’t think I introduced myself to you earlier.”

“Ohh, no worries. You’re probably tired from moving in?” you ask, trying not to feel awkward in this essentially-a-stranger’s house.

“Very,” he laughs.

“What made you move here?”

“Oh, just, uh, my job. My family’s out here too, so figured it’d be nice being a little closer to them. But I was in a bit of a rush to close on something out here, so I just bought the first place I could find.” He peers in towards the house, eyes darting across his empty dining room. You notice slabs of deconstructed wood are leaned up against the wall. “But it’s nice. Neighborhood’s nice too.”

“Oh yesss we have wonderful people maintaining it!” you tell him.

He flashes you one of those smiles again. “You’ve lived here a while?”

“Yes! I was born and raised here, actually,” you say and then point a finger in the direction of your house, “that’s actually the only house I’ve ever lived in.”

His eyes widened. “Wow, that’s rare.”

“Yuppp. Just my mom and I now.”

“Oh, is your mom the one that was out gardening yesterday?” he asks. “Pulling out weeds on the edges of the driveway?”

You sigh. “Yes. That’s her. Er, at least I’m pretty sure it is, because I always tell her not to garden anymore, but she never listens to me.”

He lets out a well-meaning scoff, and you wonder if he’ll ask you more questions about it, but he lets the conversation settle into a silence instead. You discretely steal a glance at his left hand when he untucks it from his crossed arms to scratch at his jaw, and you notice there’s no wedding ring on his finger.

“Do you want some coffee?” he asks.

You blink at him. “Oh, I—…sure.”

He leads you into the kitchen, which you notice is mostly set up with all the appliances out on the counters and glass cabinets filled with ceramic sets of mugs and plates. He has an espresso machine set up in the corner of the stover counter, and you follow him right up to it.

“Woooow an espresso machine, I’ve always wanted one of these.”

He flits his gaze to you with a smile on his face before he grabs the handle of the portafilter, twisting it to release it from the machine, and then he presses some button that pushes steam out of it. “It’s worth it if you’re a daily coffee drinker.”

You sigh, leaning your elbow on the counter as you watch him. “Oh, I survive off of coffee, please. I work as a night shift nurse at the ED over on Main Street, so I need all the caffeine I can get.”

“You’re a nurse? That’s good to know,” he says, measuring out beans on a small digital scale. You turn to face him a little more, entirely intrigued by the process now. “If I’m ever in a life or death situation, can I give you a call?”

“If you’re still able to give me a call, then you’re not in a life or death situation.”

He gives you another one of those smiles, a little cheekily lopsided this time, like he’s really enjoying this conversation with you. It’s probably something that’s pleasantly mentally stimulating to his exhausted mind as he’s likely spent the last three days or so talking to no one except the UHAUL truck people and the melancholic memorabilia within his boxes of stuff. It was as easy as any small talk could be, this conversation, and it’s coming a little too naturally for your own liking as well.

He puts the beans in the grinder, and you hear a whirring sound as they are ground into fine particles that release a rich aroma of bitter into the air.

“This seems awfully tedious. I take back my desire of wanting an espresso machine,” you comment, pushing your knuckles into your cheek now as you perch yourself up by an elbow on the counter.

He laughs as he sifts the grounds into the portafilter, breaking up any clumps, and then he twists it onto the espresso machine before placing a mug underneath it. “Yeah, there’s a steep learning curve with it, but once you perfect it, it’s pretty easy. A lot can go wrong that can affect the quality of the shot though, for sure.”

“Like what?” you ask, a little too interested.

“Uhh, you can over extract, which leaves kind of a bitter taste, or under extract, which makes it taste sour. Usually depends on the ground size or the tamping. Plus, when you switch beans, you’ve gotta experiment on the settings all over again.”

You hear the whirring of the machine plus the delicate steady drip of the espresso into the mug. “I have a headache just listening to that. Why bother at all?”

He nods his head slowly, glancing at the watch on his wrist, and after a set amount of seconds has passed, he turns the machine off then peers into the mug. “Well, taste it and see if it’s worth it,” he says, handing the mug to you.

You take it from him, the fragrance of coffee immediately making your mouth water. And you take a delicate sip of the coffee, a slight bitterness hitting your tongue followed immediately by sweetness from the crema that has your eyes widening.

“Oh. Oh wow. Incredibly worth it,” you say.

He laughs. “Milk? Sugar?”

“Gosh no, I’ll just have it like this, please.”

You both chat a little bit more as he makes himself a cup too. You notice that he has his coffee black, as essentially an Americano, which he pours over ice in a shiny glass even in the cool of autumn. 

Apparently he’s a real estate agent, selling properties a little out further than the county line, in more posh areas than here. Like all those cliff-side homes you see when you’re driving further out of town and always sigh to yourself wondering if you’ll ever get to live in a pretty house like that someday. 

His parents live nearby as well as his younger sister’s family and he has a niece who’s four years old. And you want to ask so badly if he has a family of his own as well, but if he did, wouldn’t they be here with him? 

“Holy shit this is amazing,” he says through a muffled mouthful of the pumpkin bread you brought for him, “you made this from scratch?”

No. You used a pre-made mix. “Oh gosh, yes, I’m something of a little baker, if you will.”

He nods, letting out an indulgent sigh as he chews, eyes shutting close tightly in satisfaction of the taste and you find it amusing. He has a physical build that you could only assume requires an immense amount of discipline, but it’s kind of cute to see he’s somewhat weak for sweets.

You glance at the time on your phone. “Ah, I have to get going. I need to take my mom somewhere, but um, it was really nice meeting you! Hopefully I’ll see you around in the neighborhood?”

He nods his head, “oh, yeah, definitely.”

Your cheeks warm a little.

He walks you to the front entrance, and you briefly glance out the window into his driveway. “Oh. There’s a boat.”

He walks up right next to you, his arm pressed against your shoulder as he stands close, and you note that he smells so nice, like shampoo and clean laundry. The softness of his pajamas brushes against your skin and it makes you borderline dizzy.

Choso would be pissed off to the nines if he knew you were feeling things for your next-door-neighbor. Cut it out already, you think to yourself.

“Oh they finally brought my boat in,” he comments, “sweet.”

“That’s yours?” you ask, turning to face him in surprise, “it’s huge!”

“Yup, just bought it,” he says, shoving his hands in his pants pockets as he walks up to the window to peer out the blinds. “A beauty, she is.”

You roll your eyes. “It’s not a she, it’s an it.”

“To you, maybe. But to me?…she’s so much more than that,” he says, but there’s some self-regarding hint of satire in his voice.

“Uh-huh,” you say, slipping your shoes back on at the door. “It’s kind of…lengthy though. Where are you going to park it?”

He shrugs. “Probably right out there. Where it is right now.”

Where it is right now?!?! The hull is dangerously close to the entry of your driveway. There’s no way that would be agreeable with you. How are you supposed to pull your car in?

“Um. I’m pretty sure I’d have difficulties pulling my car in if you parked it there,” you tell him politely as he opens the door for you and you step out onto the concrete step of his front entrance.

You turn around to face him and see him squinting his eyes at his boat with inspection of your concern. Sorry for sounding repetitive, but it's seriously shocking. The way he looks. The way that small little expression—his eyes narrowing, brows furrowing, bottom lip slightly jutting out, all paired with the haphazard way his hair falls over his eyes—makes you stare at him like he’s some Grecian sculpture. It was a little concerning.

But, at the end of the day, attraction is merely cognitive, is it not? A social construct, if you will. Something that can go away just as easily as it comes, and then arrive once more as easily as it went away.

A pattern you’ll eventually realize a lot with your new next-door-neighbor, Gojo Satoru.

“Nah,” he says, “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

[end of drabble]

a/n. alternate universe where they fuck on the marble countertop of his kitchen island on first encounter pls

🏷️ @tremendousbouquetflower @semra4 @noctuaism @gojonegs @reinam00n

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@hermizery @manyno @idiot-juice-enthusiast @fairyflorasworld @teramisuyhin

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taglist is closed

[myinterestsvary-writes]

Yeah, I’d still want TamaHaru scenes in making Tamaki fully fall in love gradually but it not being reciprocal because Haruhi doesn’t reflect on her bonding moments as much because they don’t hold as much weight to her. He isn’t her type (she just doesn’t find him attractive, unlike Mori who she’s shown clear attraction to from the start) and she can’t get past how annoying he is similarly to her suffocating father but likes the newfound appreciation she has for him, seeing some similarities between him and her. She has childhood traumas regarding her mother, and that’s the primary thing that pushes her into becoming her best self - as shown in canon with her wanting to become a superhero lawyer. Not only by being inspired by a good friend, such as Tamaki (though he and everyone else are welcomed influences as she comes to enjoy the club more). She slowly comes to genuinely respect and like him as a person but resists his charms to the end which as a result makes Tamaki like her more than before and he gets even wackier trying to force intimacy between them until Mori starts interfering as he gains more independence and self-awareness. It becomes a gag that Tamaki is in hysterics and wants to do something but is utterly terrified of Mori and Honey and then eventually the rest of the Host Club as they come to support MoriHaru. The twins more easily give up because it’s Takashi, not Tamaki. He lives with his role as the punching bag as shown in canon until he admits defeat and maturely reminisces on his first love as he unravels his trauma. He stops calling Haruhi his daughter (or doesn’t, I don’t care, whichever is funnier) and supports MoriHaru too seeing that it’s good for the both of them as he always just wants everyone to be happy after all but he doesn’t for once make a big show of that epiphany to them at least until he’s asked why he’s acting differently. He is selfless but lbh it’s for selfish reasons 😭

Bonus:

He reflects inwards on why he calls Kyoya his wife/mother of his children. The KyoTama is unresolved as Kyoya’s feelings are ambiguous and he starts another cycle of unrequited hell. 🤣

I was wondering, how do you think the ohshc manga would've gone if Moriharu was the canon ship as it was supposed to be? Like what would Mori's character arc be like? Would've Mori gotten a sad, dark backstory Like Tamaki? How would the confession scene look like? Would Tamaki (and Hikaru) ever be truly able to get over it (I mean he would be dramatic as always but it would've made a good arc where he gets more matur or something I assume)? I'm curious to hear your thoughts:)

I apologize for the wait Anon, this big brain question needed a big brain answer and I didn't have a big brain for a while. Now I will try to tackle it as I empty out my inbox.

If Mori x Haruhi were canon I feel many aspects to the story would change. The love-interest focus would shift to Takashi instead of Tamaki but I feel like their love story's arc would be more centered around Haruhi's arc before they finally fall in love.

Takashi had a relatively normal childhood with Mitsukuni. He didn't suffer through unfortunate circumstances and traumatic events like Tamaki. However that doesn't mean he has nothing to offer. The main arc's focus would be on Haruhi considering her childhood traumas. This would allow Takashi to be her supportive aid throughout her self-reflective journey until one day she realizes he's been by her side through it all and that she slowly but surely fell in love with him.

The way I see it, Haruhi would still learn to enjoy life to its fullest thanks to the host club. She doesn't have to marry Tamaki to learn this lesson. The host club being her close friends and dragging her along in their adventures would help her learn that life is more than working hard and achieving goals. However, while her friends are having fun and getting into mischief, Takashi is there by her side protecting her, keeping her company, giving her a sense of calm amidst the chaos, carrying her when she gets tired, actively paying attention to what she likes/wants, and accompanying her while she explores at her own pace. Takashi would offer her safety, security, and a sense of independence while with her without judging or mocking her. He would genuinely enjoy her company and she would enjoy his.

This would allow them to spend more time together, helping them both to come out of their respective shells in trusting each other with their thoughts and opinions. They both love history so they'd probably have many discussions revolving around that subject before they eventually venture into more personal and intimate territory; discussing their families, their childhoods, their likes/dislikes, their fears, their desires, and so on.

In doing this, Haruhi is having fun with the host club, learning to enjoy her life again, and gaining a wonderful friend through Takashi. He'd help her learn to rely on him as well as others, he'd keep every promise made to her, and his kind nature and strong character would bring her comfort and strength.

Haruhi doesn't need her love interest to completely renovate her way of thinking and living. While Takashi is wise and would help Haruhi make better decisions in her personal life, he wouldn't want to change her. His personality naturally compliments hers so there wouldn't be a need to change either person to build a relationship.

While Haruhi is learning to trust in others, allow their aids in her times of need, and to enjoy her life again, Takashi is also learning to grow more independent from Mitsukuni and into his own man. Granted, they're already their own persons, especially in the manga, and don't have a strong dependency like the twins, but in falling in love with Haruhi and growing closer to her would encourage Takashi to act more selfishly for his own interests.

Takashi not only puts Mitsukuni first but also his friends. This is why he canonically didn't pursue Haruhi, he didn't want to step over his friends. If he were to seriously purse Haruhi then he would also learn to prioritize his own happiness, stepping out of comfort zone in the process. I feel Mitsukuni would root for him all the way since this would be a big important step for Takashi and his personal growth, to essentially put himself first for once.

As for the other's arcs; although Tamaki's arc is pushed from the spotlight I feel his dilemmas would still be resolved, it just wouldn't be the main focus on the story. Hikaru and Kaoru's arc would act similarly the same as canon. Hikaru and Kaoru confess their love to Haruhi and are still rejected by her. Perhaps Hikaru still pushes her to confess her love to Takashi, even more since he trusts Takashi as his mentor and knows she's fallen in love with a good respectable man. Perhaps Kaoru and Mitsukuni connive sneaky plans to push the couple together since they can't help but create drama.

Perhaps there's a scene where Hikaru's anger in being rejected would force him to confront Takashi, demanding to know why his mentor has "overstepped him" and this leads to Takashi finally defending his desire to purse his own happiness with Haruhi, that he is entitled to happiness as quiet and impassive as he is. That his stoic nature doesn't default him to sacrificing an entire future with the woman he loves. And in that, Hikaru sees how his senpai has grown, making him realize that perhaps Haruhi is good for him.

As for the confession scene, I'm not entirely sure what it would look like but I'd like to imagine it'd be a spur of the moment ordeal. No planning, no rehearsing in front of a mirror. The scene I keep coming back to is Takashi comforting Haruhi during a thunderstorm. At this point in their story, Haruhi has grown to trust in Takashi and doesn't feel awkward finding comfort in him when the sky erupts with thunder. Takashi knows how to soothe her fears, gently playing her hair with his other arm wrapped around her middle while her back is pressed to his chest. She sits between his legs and his shirt unbuttoned to cover her shoulders as they rest in a dark corner of an abandoned farmhouse waiting for the storm to end. His chin naturally rests on her head, completely encompassing her to act as her shield. As the rain patters on the corroded roof above them, completely lost in her warmth and the feel of her safely tucked in his arms, he whispers his confession. At first he's unsure if she heard him above the storm raging outside and a part of him hopes she didn't, but after a few long silent minutes she surprises him by nuzzling her head into his shoulder and saying she loves him too.

[leftythehelpingtankengine]

The Princess, the Pea, and the Beast

Chapter 1: Grief

Word Count - 1.1k

Also available on AO3 & WattPad

Summary: In an attempt to provide aid to a runaway princess, Luigi gets himself mixed up in an arranged marriage to a prince of a neighboring kingdom, what he doesn’t know is that a certain evil king also plans on having the princess’ hand in marriage regardless of whether or not (s)he’s partial to it. Will he find a way out of this, or will he end up falling for one of them? (or both >;))

Content Warnings: none yet

It took Luigi about half a day to reach the castle, the sun could be seen along the horizon peaking over soft, lush green hills that seemed to stretch on forever. His attention was on the castle ahead of him. Princess Peach and her handmaiden, Toadette, were already at the gate waiting for him. They wasted no time ushering him inside, leading him to an empty room. Peach walked to the center of the room while Toadette closed and locked the door behind them. 

“Alright Princess, I’m here, can you please, tell me what’s going on now?” Luigi said following the princess to the center of the room. 

“I need you to attend an upcoming ball for me, I must leave the kingdom posthaste. I’m needed elsewhere, some personal issues have arisen and can no longer be delayed. Toadette will help you make sure you’re well-prepared for the ball and any other situations that may occur in my absence. I will be writing you as soon as I arrive at my first stop, the Flower Kingdom, in Sarasa Land, as I promised to keep you and Toadette updated.”

“Princess, you’re still keeping us in the dark, why can nobody know about what we’re doing?”

She was nervous, so she took a second to think before responding, “Mario would try to stop me, he wouldn’t approve of it. I cannot risk anyone preventing me from doing what must be done. I apologize to both you and Toadette for being so vague, but please, trust me.”

Luigi sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Going against his better judgment, he decided to trust her. He dropped his stuff onto the ground and turned towards Toadette who was now approaching him.

“Alright, what first?”

Toadette spoke up, “We need to get you fitted to Her Highness’ garments, we have also prepared a wig and a cover for the lower half of your face. Follow me, Sir Luigi, the Princess will wait here for when we’re finished.”

Toadette took him by the hand and hurriedly led Luigi to the Princess' chambers. The garments Luigi needed to try on were lying on the bed, seemingly prepared before Luigi’s arrival. Toadette instructs him to change into the chemise and she’ll take his old clothes to his other belongings and then lace his corset. Luigi went behind a dressing screen in the room and handed Toadette his clothes. 

He was left alone to think about what he’d gotten himself into, getting himself in the chemise and stockings. He was beyond embarrassed, he couldn’t bear looking at himself in the mirror on the opposite side of the dressing screen. He knew he would have to at some point but chose to wait until he was in the full disguise. Unfortunately for Luigi, Toadette returned motioning for him to sit and lift his arms. She made quick work getting the corset on him and then promptly lacing it. 

“So, what do you know about the ball, Toadette?” Luigi asked, breaking the silence.

“I know that it takes place on the Winter Solstice and it’s held in Her Highness’ honor. And… that we’re going to need to do something about that mustache…”

“Absolutely not, this is where I draw the line-”

“Sir Luigi we don’t have a choice, you can’t use a fan all the time to conceal the lower half of your face.” Toadette was stern.

“I want answers from the princess before we discuss this any further.” Luigi stood up and marched to the door, irritation and fear plastered to his face. 

Toadette chased after him, calling out in a vain attempt to get him to slow down or stop. Luigi threw open the doors to the Princess’ bedroom and found she was nowhere to be seen. His face paled and Toadette, panting behind him, was confused until she caught up to him.

“Oh… oh no.” Toadette gasped, her hands covering her mouth.

Luigi turned towards Toadette fighting tears, “Toadette. I’m done playing mind games with you tell me EVERYTHING.” Luigi’s voice cracked.

Toadette shrunk, “All I know is that since she was pulled aside and notified of the ball, she hasn’t been the same. I don’t know what about it has got her so worked up, she said the ball was celebrating the Winter Solstice, however, I doubt it now. I swear I know nothing more, she’s been unusually distant as of late. She was just here! She was here when I dropped off your clothes.” she sounded like she was one second away from crying.

Luigi frantically began looking for the belongings he had brought with him. Gone. All of it was gone.

Luigi is overcome with panic, “She deserted us… She-”

“Sir Luigi, we must get back to the fitting now that the princess is no longer here.” Toadette regained her composure, the gravity of the new situation donning on her.

Luigi did not attempt to resist and followed her to put on the rest of his new clothes. 

He looked at himself in the mirror while Toadette laced the back of the bodice and adjusted his wig. It was uncanny how much he resembled the princess.

“Sir Luigi, we must remove your mustache now. Do you know what they’ll do to us if they find out we let the real princess disappear?” Toadette’s tone is stern and serious.

“How are you going to explain the nose?” Luigi scoffed, folding his arms.

“We can say you were stung or bitten by something if anyone asks, now hold still, I don’t wish to nic your face.” She responded quickly.

It seems she had thought everything through, she turned him to face her and began to prep his face for shaving. Luigi was still fighting against it until she brought out a blade. He froze and she took the opportunity to shave his mustache off in two flicks of the wrist.

Luigi whipped around and began mourning once he saw a clean-shaven face staring back at him. He crumpled to the ground clutching his face, silent sobs racking his body.

“I do apologize, Sir Luigi, it had to be done. I’m hoping you will not have to do this for too long. The princess ordered me to make you look the most like her, including mustache removal.” Toadette apologized, her voice was sincere and remorseful. 

She took this as her cue to leave as Luigi didn’t respond. After hearing the door click shut, he couldn’t silence his sobs any longer. He moved to the bed, his crying filled the now empty room.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN: hey sorry its been so long I'm working on the requests and the next chap, ive been super sick and busy ;( I hope you all are having a great day/night <3

<<Prev / Next>>

[lalunanymph]

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 — sylus

୨୧ meeting him meant the end of your innocence and ignorance

✧.* warnings: suggestive, hunter/prey dynamic, sylus has issues™, mentions of death, mentions of blood, making out, finger sucking, just sylus being a tease

✧.* this my chemical romance edgelord looking ass evil man has got me by the cl!t </3 i cant stop the sylus brainrot help

The sole of your mud-splattered boot splashes into a puddle of filthy water, soaking the hem of your Hunters’ pants. 

Hot breaths spill from your parted lips, and you glance back, full of panic, trying and failing to catch the barest hint of a shadowy figure spilling closer towards you.

Nothing.

But, that doesn’t mean you’re out of the woods yet. 

Doubling your speed, you tighten your grip on your gun, feeling the hard handle slipping between your clammy hands. 

“Damn it,” cursing under your breath, you make a sharp turn, and find yourself face-to-face with a wall. Using your Resonance, you feel for the potential threat, breaths rising and falling sharply as your watch beeps your coordinates back to your anxious teammates.

The second your whereabouts were exposed, you feared what the repercussions would be for allowing yourself to be drawn into such a risky mission. 

Captain Jenna has already warned you not once but twice for going after Onychinus on your own. 

Defying her once again, you fear it would be the last time you would ever hear her sharp words or firm tone. 

A crunch of leaves overhead startles you, and you swivel with your gun raised, eyes darting everywhere in the vicinity. The smell of rubbish burns through your nose, and coupled with the sharp sting of your sweat, it nearly makes you sick with nausea. 

Panic infuses through you, rendering you mute and unable to move when you hear a slow, dark chuckle emanating from the shadows.

He appears, dressed in all black, strands of silvery hair falling right into his deep eyes; your worst nightmare coming to life. 

“There you are,” he seems to purr, deep baritone dragging through each syllable; hammering in how defenseless and trapped you were. “I never thought I’d ever see a day when a Hunter finally becomes the hunted.”

Sylus—head of Onychinus—approaches you with a slow smile spreading across his striking face. His tall stature and fitted clothes, in every shade of black you can imagine, is exacerbated by the crow perched right on his shoulder, its blood-red pupils widening at the scent of your fear. Despite the dangerous aura surrounding him, he could easily pass as a gentleman walking down the streets of Linkon City—eccentric and grinning. 

“You’ll never get away with this.” 

Your words, meant to be a threat, only serves to amuse him further. 

“Oh? Isn’t that what every good guy says?” Approaching you closer, he doesn’t pay any mind to the nozzle of your gun digging right into his chest. He knows you can’t shoot him; you still need your answers. “And then, inevitably, they all turn out to be wrong.”

A flash of red. Your arm seizes and goes limp, the gun in your hands tumbling to the ground; pained cries reverberating across the alleyway. The crow on his shoulder caws, flapping its wings in excitement. 

He grabs your face, digging his nails into the fat of your cheeks. “Pretty little hunter,” Sylus coos again, and this time, pushes you to your feet, controlling your movements with his Evol so you have no choice but to be the puppet at the end of his strings. 

Your legs spread without your consent, and your back meets the wall. 

Sylus watches, those sharp eyes ever mysterious and waiting. He doesn’t lunge or immediately savor your helplessness; letting you stew in your panic and loss of control. 

“Wh-wait,” you splutter. “Don’t do this—”

“Is this not what you were hungering for, my little hunter?” As he speaks, he advances towards you, every heavy footfall spiking fear in your chest. “You knew what you were getting yourself into when you tried to pursue me. So,” he stops in front of you, bending down close enough for his breath to touch your cheek. “Why the hesitation now?” 

“How do you know about my heart condition?” you demand, referring to the encrypted video he sent you a few days ago meant to lure you out into the open. “No one else knows that besides my grandmother.”

Sylus arches one dark brow, cocking his head to the side to truly study the mutiny on your face.

“And how are you so sure your grandmother was the only one with such classified information?” 

This asshole. He was never going to give you a straight answer. You had walked right into his trap.

Trying to move your limbs was futile. You were fully under his mercy. 

The stench of your entire situation grows harder to ignore. You replay every single moment which led you right in this situation. 

A shady video sent straight to your Hunter’s Watch. The dark background and the modulated voice whispering how you can get your answers if you meet him right at the docks at exactly one in the morning. Ignoring Xavier’s concern and Jenna’s suggestion for you to take a partner. Nero, who usually supported your crazy ideas, was for once hesitant when he inspected the video. They never expected you to take this on by yourself—for you to act this recklessly.

And tonight, you would die without any of them knowing the truth.

You want to shout, to tell the entire world that the leader of Onychinus is right in front of you. But, you cannot find  your voice. 

Sylus is close enough for the sharpness of his cologne to fill your nostrils. You can barely move your hand to press the alert button on your watch; your movements are restricted by this dangerous Evol you don’t think you’ve ever encountered.

“Tell me, why do you seek such answers when you do not know the magnitude of their implications?” 

His voice is saccharine sweet, condescending to a fault. 

Scoffing, you turn your face away, unable to look him in the eyes long enough.

“I guess… I want to know why my grandmother and Caleb had to die.”

The admission feels like a punch to your gut. To anyone else, your voice remains steady and firm. But, it took a special sort of psychopath to hear the tremble at the tailend of your sentence and yet, choose to laugh.

“Ah. Yes. I can answer that one for you—Onychinus did not cause the death of your grandmother and friend.” Nothing about tonight’s encounter could prepare you for what he has to say next. 

“You might want to look a little closer to home.”

Closer to… home? 

The confusion in your eyes is his aphrodisiac, and his nostrils flare; getting off on your distress.

“The Hunters,” he clarifies; tone like a teacher speaking down to a toddler. “Don’t you think it strange that they never investigated what happened to your family? Or, did a postmortem on your grandmother’s remains?” 

He’s speaking circles around you, intentionally messing with your mind. 

And yet, a seed of doubt begins to take root. You have to physically clench down on your fists to stop from lashing out at him; Jenna’s sympathetic expression, the doctors who told you that there was no feasible way they could glean what happened to your grandmother and Caleb without at least 85% of the body intact.

An accident. An anomaly. That was how they classified your family’s demise.

You weren’t even allowed to have a closed coffin funeral for them. 

His thumbs touch your cheek, swiping the tears away in a gesture far too intimate for a man who was meeting you for the first time tonight.

“Ever since I first saw you, you’ve done nothing but invade my thoughts.”

Your back melts off the wall and meets the ground, his entire weight pressed on top of you. He has you right under him with nowhere to go, and you can’t even call for help, those long, elegant fingers sliding right into your mouth, forcing you to suck on them.

“My pretty little stubborn Hunter,” he whispers. 

You know the look in his eye; the one men would get when they’re crossing the threshold of claiming the object they’ve been seeking for years. It’s the same look in Xavier’s eyes whenever you accidentally graze his thigh, or how Zayne’s expression visibly darkens when you call him ‘doctor’. It’s the same look Rafayel gives you when you say you want nothing more than to be by his side forever.

Desire.

And fear. 

Sylus swallows hard, and you’re surprised to find his touch faltering. Those magnetically dark eyes could engulf you whole, growing closer and closer until you’re forced to close your own eyes; his lips the first spark that sets your entire world ablaze.

Devouring you like you were oxygen in a deprived world, Sylus kisses are brutal and hard, nipping at your lips, forcing his tongue into your mouth so you have no choice but to choke on your own spit. A dark shadow flits overhead, its caws filling the night air with rampant euphoria. 

He is too forward… this is going much too fast…

“Do you not like it when intentions are made known to you?” He tugs at your bottom lip, smirking at your faltering expression when you realize you’ve spoken those words aloud.

You struggle against him, trying to turn your face away, but Sylus will not relent his grip on your cheeks. 

“Why?” you gasp. “Why are you treating me like this when we both are on different sides?” Struggling to push him away, you’re overtaken once again by his mouth moving down your jaw, caressing your pulse point and traversing down the column of your throat. Kisses which feel more like a possessive mark.  

“Who said we were any different?” He murmurs, and you have no choice but to voice out your disbelief.

“I’m a Hunter. You’re an illegal weapons seller. My job is to stop you—oh.” 

He kneads your hip roughly with one hand, expression open with want. You can’t formulate a single coherent thought, your vision purely dominated by the halo of his silver hair and those deep, impenetrable dark eyes. 

“No,” his deep voice intones, sending shivers up your spine. “You have no idea. We are more similar than you think.” 

Holding secrets you weren’t aware of, Sylus didn’t know where to start; how to make you believe him.

So, he settles for pinning you against the ground, your wrists held above your head and your body trapped under his bigger build.

“Heed my words, little Hunter,” he whispers, and there’s a look in his eye, an unfathomable emotion you wanted to unravel but it was gone the second you dared to look closer. “Do not trust what you think is the truth.”

Before your eyes, he dissipates to smoke, small flecks of blood landing on your cheeks and parted mouth. His raven caterwauls, inducing goosebumps across your entire body as it spirals into the night sky, disappearing from view.

You turn onto your hands and knees, spitting out the blood, wiping it off your cheeks with frantic swipes. 

Someone calls your name, and you don’t realize how badly you’re shivering until a warm embrace engulfs you.

“Oh, Y/N,” Xavier exhales, bringing you closer to the streetlamp light so he can scrutinize your face. “Are you alright? Are you hurt?” 

Thumbing the blood from your face, you nod, murmuring, “This isn’t mine.”

 Xavier opens his mouth, about to ask you what exactly happened when your Hunter Watch went off the grid when Jenna pushes through the alley, her gun at the ready, mouth set into a grim line.

“Y/N. You’re safe.” 

Accepting Xavier’s outstretched hand, you stood up with his help. Jenna shines a flashlight on your face, momentarily blinding you.

“Is that your blood?” she demands, sounding like she was a second away from giving you the lecture of a lifetime. 

You grimace, and Xavier tightens his grip around your waist.

“Captain, we should take her back for an inspection—”

“Agreed,” Jenna cuts him off, then narrows her eyes as she leans closer. “Is that… a mark on your neck? And your lips—they’re quite swollen.”

Slapping a hand to your mouth, you shake your head, hoping your wide, pleading eyes will get them to drop this. Next to you, Xavier stiffens, those blue eyes going glacial as he sweeps them all over your disheveled frame. It’s unavoidable that he comes to such assumptions based on your appearance. 

But, rather than lashing out in jealousy, he reels it in, choosing to steer you back towards safety.

“Whatever happened, you can tell us later. We need to get you checked up.”

His grip digs into your skin, and you don’t know what to say once the inevitable interrogation comes up.

How could you divulge all that Sylus had said without putting Xavier in a predicament between trusting you or being loyal to an organization he serves well? 

If what the Onychinus leader said was true, you couldn’t trust Captain Jenna either. 

And Tara…

Everything dear in your world begins to blur, infecting the foundations of your love for the people you trust; making them crack and crumble. 

Xavier, Jenna, Tara, Nero… did they all know what happened to your family but refused to tell you the truth? 

You had no idea how to react; you couldn’t wrap your head around such a betrayal if the truth were to come to light.

You think you could probably destroy the entire Organization with your bare hands if what Sylus said was true. 

Abovehead, somewhere in the trees, a raven caws—a harbinger of worse things to come.

a/n. save me emo edgelord crow boy save me .... reblogs and feedback are appreciated !!

©️ all works belong to lalunaymph. do not copy, repost, translate or share across any other platform

[jks1uv]

𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑁𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑊𝑒 𝑀𝑒𝑡 (𝑎𝑓𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑎 𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔, 𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒) ; leon kennedy | one-shot |

summary: you meet leon again on quite the interesting night, after many years of his abrupt disappearance.

pairing: fem!reader x re4remake!leon + bartender!reader x richman!leon.

trope: estranged friends since childhood to potential lovers.

genre: the great gatsby au + fluff + slow-burn romance.

warnings‼️: leon's taller than reader + mention(s) of alcohol consumption + a few minor details alluding to fights + a brief misogynistic encounter w/ a sleazebag but it’s the 20’s so.

word count: 2,137.

random disclaimerrr!: i saw an edit of re4remake!leon on tiktok for the first time & i was like “who is this fine, handsome, young man⁉️” & it was love at first sight. happy reading! ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ ♡ © 2024 @jks1uv

────♡♡♡────

Crystal chandeliers that cost much more than your life hang gracefully from the ceilings. The Mahogany floors are polished and filled with servers and performers taking their places and preparing for yet another grandiose night.

Of course it was only a matter of time before the guests came into the mansion, but you liked to enjoy the moments of calm before the inevitable storm. It was kind of like rehearsing before a big play.

Albeit you played an insignificant part, everything had to be perfect for the night to still be the talk of the week.

Perhaps you thought too soon as a rush of water had flooded into the gates of the mansion and through the doors, evidently starting up the long-awaited party.

Music and laughter filled the obnoxiously large space of white and mahogany.

Servers were offering all kinds of delicacies and drinks to the guests, and they were living for it.

The dancers were wearing flashy colors like a blazing orange and a fiery red with a tint of navy blue. Large feathers drape their necks as they sit on the circular cages hanging from the ceilings.

How did they even get up there?

It reeked of alcohol and inferiority.

The women are wearing scandalously short skirts and revealing clothing. They have a drink in one hand and a man in another.

But you admire them. You admire their courage and carefreeness to be with whomever they like and do whatever they like. You admire their confidence as you don’t know if you’d be able to wear what they wear and speak how they spoke.

Everyone seemed to be having so much fun, you admit you are a little jealous.

You wonder what it’s like to be so rich, you’d never have to worry about making ends meet or how you’re going to afford to pay for luxuries like a great school or bills for the house. Maybe even go out to dine with some friends and sport a good fashion of coats and scarves and hats and heels.

You can only imagine.

────♡♡♡────

It was ten past two, and yet the liveliness of the party never faltered. Instead, it grew exponentially!

There’s a redheaded lady in an olive-green dress who is the singer for tonight. She’s accompanied by a male piano player in a classic black and white tuxedo.

“Well, hello there.”

The sound of a man snaps you out of your thoughts.

He was staring at you with his beady green eyes. You had to stop yourself from chortling in his face as the shininess of his head distracted you momentarily.

“What... can I get you?”

You finish your statement with the fakest smile you could offer. Your lips pursing upwards in disgust at the foul stench coming from his body. (Or was it his mouth? Definitely an unappetizing cocktail of both.)

He bares you his seemingly unbrushed teeth; his eyes look you up and down and a trail of uncomfortableness rises on your arms.

“I want you to come with me, doll.”

Uncharacteristically, you roll your eyes at his cheap take and your jaw clenches.

“Sir, I asked what I could get you. Not who.”

You knew rich people were snobby but this? This was new and it is ticking you off. His cocksure attitude made you want to smash the bastard’s face in.

He scoffs and has the audacity to look at you in annoyance.

“You’re a woman; you don’t get to deny me.”

The prick then raises an arm in an attempt at grabbing your wrist when someone intervenes. The stranger grabs his arm, pining it behind his back and locks him in place.

“To think what you lack in manners would be made up by your wealth.”

Sarcasm is your native tongue so you couldn't help but look to see who your knight in shining armor is.

This is this sound of another man and he sounds much younger. His voice is a bit deep and grave. It sounds kind of (very) attractive if you’re being completely honest.

He decides to step out from behind the plump-fitted imbecile and my God you think. The shock that fills your being from head to toe would be enough to bring Frankenstein to life.

His name departs from your lips before you could even register it in your brain. As if he’s a language you’ve now learned to master.

“Leon?!”

You couldn’t believe it.

The boy who left the West Egg in the midst of seventh grade for the East Egg was back?

And he was a man now… an insanely attractive man.

His hair is a dirty blonde; swept up and back with some gel. Two strands of hair are peeking out on the right end of his forehead. His eyes are sharp and a cool shade of blue. Leon’s skin still has that beautiful milky tan, his all-black tuxedo frames his bulky figure well.

He towers over the older man, your guess of his height being just about six feet. He wears a smell, an alluring one at that; a well-worn leather mixed with honeyed whiskey.

God damn you might as well turn into a bulldog with how much you’re drooling.

You hope nobody (Leon) caught your shameless ogling (he didn't, thank fucking god).

Leon looks to be just as agitated as you were with the older and much shorter man. He throws a temper tantrum over the taller (younger, handsomer, better-) man getting in his way.

“You outta stay out of grown folks’ business, kid. And let go of that arm while you’re at it.”

Leon raises an eyebrow in a way that was challenging the man. In a way that was mocking him; take her if you can.

But before things got even uglier, an outrage of women began to circulate the room. Some are screaming at their men for blatantly flirting with other women, others give in to their jealousy and scorn the other woman. Some of the men look like they’re going about to brawl with their so-called “best friend”.

It appears as though liquor really does the bring out the best and worse in people.

Chaos ensues like a zoo of wild animals. Food, drinks, and punches are being thrown from left to right.

Cleaning this up is going to be a nightmare but at least this wasn’t Mr. Gatsby’s place. He’d have you and the rest of the cleaners here up all night until the next afternoon.

Leon lets go of the jabbering baboon and grabs your hand from over the counter to help usher you out.

The older man moves forward, mouth open to protest but Leon throws a swift jab under his jaw and knocks him out cold. Your neck snaps up at him in shock and you see a mischievous glint in his eyes. A playful smirk creeps up his pink lips, and he winks at you.

This is going to be an interesting night.

────♡♡♡────

Leon takes you out to the front yard where the fountain is still spewing water. A blanket of dark velvet overtakes the sky and you’re serene.

There's a quiet chattering of crickets, a calm, cool breeze brushes by here and there.

He’s still holding your hand and when you look down at the action, he lets go and shoves both of his hands into his pockets while clearing his throat out of embarrassment.

A cloud of light pink dusts his cheeks.

Cute.

You make your way to the sidewalk of a once busy road, the dim moonlight serving as your source of sight as those damned streetlights are out.

You’re itching to talk to him, say anything. You look at him and ask.

“When did you get back?”

He eyes the night sky and says, “About a few days ago. I was just in town to catch up with my folks.”.

He looks at you during that last part. You look back down and nod.

It was (SO. FUCKING.) awkward: the silence.

You didn't know what to say.

Well, that’s swell Leon! It’s been a while and you’re still as good looking as I remember. Would you like to catch up some time?

Ridiculous.

So, you prompted for small-talk by asking what the time was. He replied with, “A quarter past two.”.

You exclaim at your loss of time perception. “Wow, it’s been that late already?”

He just nods as if it were obvious. “That’s why I’m walking you home.”

Your heart swelled at his gesture. It was comforting to know that even after all these years, he was still that sweet-natured boy you used to play with. He was still your Leon.

“You a gentleman to all the ladies?” You half-heartedly tease.

He chuckles at this and shakes his head. “Only my favorite ones.”

He meets your eyes and grins, and what a gorgeous sight it is. It's enough to make a girl's heart throb.

“I never forgot about you, Y/n.”

You look up at this and his eyes make you feel nervous instantly. You feel bare underneath his gaze, the intensity making your heart pound. You can’t bear it anymore; you look away.

Your face feels hot, and your stomach feels funny. You deeply inhale and exhale to calm your racing heart.

He's still staring.

To mask your (poorly hidden) flustered state, you attempt to make light of your condition.

“You might as well take a picture of my face, it'll last longer.” You look straight ahead and say (barely) coolly.

He stops walking, making you stop. He reacts like he did something so offensive and rude, he didn’t even notice it.

You fiddle with the pendant of your necklace, still refusing to look at him.

“I’m sorry- I didn’t even realize…” He trails off, awkward.

Staring is rude but because of how much of a gentleman Leon is, you’re far from offended.

“You- you were staring at me like-”

You cut yourself off. You didn’t want to get your hopes up and make a fool out of yourself if he wasn’t even doing what you assume he was.

“Like… what?”

He takes a step forward carefully, gauging for your reaction. His action causes you to instinctually look up at him.

Leon dips down to meet your height and a lopsided grin takes over his features.

Oh, he’s a smug son of a bitch now. His eyes gleam with an undying sense of amusement and there’s a ghost of a smirk on his lips. He tilts his head to the side, nonverbally teasing you at your loss of words.

He's looking at you in a way your pasts did; curiously.

There’s something he put in the atmosphere that feels like he’s trying to make up for all that time he spent away and the only way he sees you is through the lens of his pre-teen self.

You haven’t seen his face in years so how did you recognize him at first glance, just like that?

Maybe I’ve always missed you.

His eyes soften a bit, that ghost of a smirk vanishes away as the corners of his lips lift only in the slightest.

“I missed you, too.”

You blink a few times; your lips are slightly apart as his confession grounds you to Earth.

Did he just…? He heard that?! YOU JUST SAID THAT??!! OUT LOUD??!! Wow! How embarrassing!

You groan softly and close your eyes, rubbing your forehead but he just smiles largely and chuckles at your discomfort. Not in a way to shame you, never that. In a way that says, you never have to hide your affection from me.

You just couldn’t help it. The corners of your lips turn upwards as there’s just something about this boy, his aura, that just leaves you helpless.

His laughter dies down and he look to his right. His shoulders droop a bit and he looks down, his shoe digging into the dirt under his feet.

“I’ll, uh... I’ll see you tomorrow.” He says, a twinge of disappointment in his tone.

You turn around and don’t even realize you’ve made it to the front of your house.

“Oh.” You say lamely.

You walk up the stairs with Leon following closely behind you and you unlock your door. You pause before turning the knob, something makes you stop.

He bites his lip in anticipation, waiting for you to say something and you do.

You turn around and say, “I’m glad you’re back home, Leon.”

His face lights up, like this is all he’s been waiting to hear. Like he’s been waiting to hear how you feel.

He nods and tries to hide the giddiness in his bones (he fails miserably).

“Goodnight, Y/n.”

Before you slept; you prayed to see him more often. There was a lot of catching up to do.

[millersfinest]

the thing in your chest that beats ³ | e.w

santa barbara!ellie williams & ex-firefly!reader

wc: 5.3k

mini-series: california | oregon | idaho (you’re here) | wyoming

blurb: you put up a good fight with those rattlers, but it wasn’t good enough—all it got you was strung up near a beach where the sun scorched you dry. abruptly, their set-up gets fucked by their own prisoners, saving your life by only a thread. but the wrath that lingered under your skin was immense, and you’re not the only one to experience that phenomenon. when another damaged soul encounters your brittle state; the dreams that put you in a tough position manifest into reality. along with a few extra miscellaneous things…

cw: angry!r, slow-burn romance, proximity trope, both reader and ellie on a path of redemption, afab body parts mentioned, vulgar language, some joel references, inner guilt, use of ‘y/n’ and ‘woman’, ellie has a panic attack, shambler appearance (ew), and for the fun part… SMUT, switch!reader, oral sex, fingering ( :P ), barely any dirty talk because this is a loving experience y’all (and i don’t really know how to write that lmao), ellie might be a little ooc but i just perceive her to be this way idk.

note: to start… if anyone needs anyone to talk to after hearing the results of the election, please don’t be afraid to direct message me. especially my fellow american queer/trans friends. we are truly in some tough times right now. i hope this chapter can serve as some sort of distraction for what’s going on. as always, enjoyy!

Idaho

Welcome to the Gem State, the sign read when you passed the state line into Idaho a few days ago. The place you’ve been dreaming of was getting closer and closer—that feeling of relief was near! You could feel it bubbling in your stomach, enriching the nerves that ran under your sore muscles.

Since Oregon, you and Ellie had barely shared a full conversation. It’s only been small directions, or helpful interjections with infected, or even, guidance in getting around potentially dangerous people.

This time around, you harbored most of the frustration and anger. Wrath wrapped itself around you once more, forbidding you from wondering what her inquiries meant—what bringing up Honey meant. Ellie tried to service you the best she could, trying to make up physically for what she couldn’t vocally. Resuming her position as your caretaker, but that only made things worse.

The wounds and weaknesses of Santa Barbara were healing but were being replaced by new ones. Surface cuts, sprained ankles, and scorned hearts. Ellie could ask you nothing without the pitch of your voice raising an octave. It wasn’t anything like the character she knew you to be.

Or the months you spent together thus far meant nothing—she never actually knew anything about you.

The annotated map relied in your hands as you approached an administrative building. You had spent the previous night planning the route, instead of engaging in small talk with your partner. You were, somehow, still trying to prove to Ellie that you didn’t need her. Indulging in an individual competition of: who does it better? It was a drastic understatement to call you a competitive person. And her incessant need to make up for the misfortune of her curiosity wasn’t helping.

“Here’s the firm…” You mutter, immediately trotting to the front doors. American Falls Firm. Pulling at the handle, you realized it was locked and barricaded from the inside. Huffing, you folded up the map, sliding it into your backpack. “Looks like we gotta find another way in.” Dusting your hands, you began to survey different sides of the building. She followed behind you, keeping an eye out for lingering infected and any other inhibitors.

Humming to yourself, you squinted at the broken window above you. Turning your head, you peered at the auburn-haired woman who’s back faced you. Your Beretta resided in her hands as she kept a keen eye on the surroundings. Ellie didn’t mind doing that job because it kept her mind from wanting appeal to you. It kept her from wanting to beg for your forgiveness. After all, this was just her doing you a debtless favor. She shouldn’t have been so attached to you anyway.

“Hey,” You waved her over. “I need a boost.”

She met your eyes, nodding with firm lips. “Sure,” Slinging the shotgun around her body, she bent at the knee and cupped her hands low. Placing your hands on her shoulders, your irises danced over her features, briefly. Dirt attempted to blend in with the freckles over her nose, but they didn’t stand a chance—you knew the difference. Her olive eyes did well to avoid yours, feigning a look of impatience. “Up you go.”

Ellie boosted you up toward the window with all the strength she could muster. Fingers catching onto the edge of where the floor and window meant. Using your own strength, you pulled yourself into a room illuminated by daylight. Groaning under your breath from the stretch of your muscles. Crouching, you leaned back down to pull Ellie up.

Her hand attached to your forearm, crawling up the stone wall and into the room. Ellie hissed as she crawled inside, holding her wrapped ankle to alleviate some of the pain. Standing to your feet, you looked down at her with flickers of concern in your eyes.

The other day, she tripped over a thick fallen tree branch from the morning dew—spraining or straining her ankle, you couldn’t remember the difference. All you knew was that she hurt her ankle badly, but it wasn’t broken. Ellie wrapped it herself with athletic tape from your bag; with her back facing you in embarrassment.

“Can we keep going, or do you need a second?” You inquire, avoiding your eyes, dismissively. Like you didn’t care what her response was, even though you did.

“I’m fine…” She stood to her feet, wringing out her foot.

“You sure?”

“I said I’m fine…” Ellie grumbled, walking off to another side of the room.

It was a barren office that the both of you meandered through. Picking at the miscellaneous items that could serve you in any way. There were two desks that occupied the office; decorated with familial picture frames and old-world gadgets that made no sense to either of you.

Slowly, pushing open the door, the entire building appeared silent. Light peaking through broken and foggy windows, greenery growing inside and through the deteriorating structure. You found it rather beautiful that the earth was taking back what was hers—negating the infected, of course. Your fingers traced the vines that grew through the cement. Those plants were living despite opposition; everyone could learn something from that.

Breaking through barriers and walls, despite their resilience.

You glanced at the auburn-haired woman, keeping a safe distance from you, scoping out the place. “What’s the route out of here?” She asks, dragging her sneakers against the cracked floors. There was a slight limp to her gait, but made sure to walk as normal as possible when your eyes were set on her.

Blowing air from your lips, you respond. “The ground floor. There should be a stairwell around here somewhere.”

Usually, lower floors of abandoned buildings worried you. Infected find themselves huddled in their own corrosion. In darker, moister, places they intensified. Some merging to the walls, other growing boils of acid.

When your eyes set on a metal door that led to the floor you needed to get to, your heart pumped blood into your veins. Pounding in your ears as an alarm. Through the window, white flurries fluttered by, confirming the one thing you were concerned about: over-developed infected.

“Mask up. Spores.” You swing your bag around to dig for your mask.

Ellie did the same, with slight hesitation. “Is the this only way through?”

You nodded, tightening the strap around your head. “Yeah, if we still wanna knock off some time.” Opening the door, you armed yourself with the pistol that sat snuggly in the waistband of your jeans. The walls were adorned in the crusty corrosion of the sick, bubbling in corners. You frowned under your mask, stepping slowly down the stairs. Ellie following behind you with the same caution, shotgun drawn.

Errk!

Both of you stopped moving in the stairwell at the sound of a clicker. You swear under your breath, glancing at your partner. “We’ve got company.” She muttered, nodding at you to go forward.

Moments like this was when you relied on her the most, but you’d never admit it. It was nice to not have to endure circumventing infected alone. Ellie was your backup, and you were hers. Even if you were still upset with her—underground that didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was staying alive.

Navigating through the dark, with your lights flickered on, the both of you managed to stealthily kill the clickers wandering around. But when a pair of crusted hands leaped from the wall, pushing you onto the ground… Another beast was alerted.

With the sound of Ellie’s shotgun, a loud monstrous grumble rumbled from down the hall. You pushed the stalker to the side, scrambling to your feet. “Ellie, how many bullets do we have?” You asked her, adrenaline pumping through your body.

She checked the chamber, cursing. “Fuck! Three rounds.”

Picking up the pistol from the ground, you checked the magazine. Only a few bullets. The shambler began to stomp, approaching the two of you, increasing into a run. “We gotta go!” You grab her hand, tugging her a tight hole in the wall; tall enough for you to slip through.

Running into the room, you realized there wasn’t an exit. There was only a door, but it led back out into the hallway. The quick call you made to evade the boiling beast, was a mistake. Before you could even regret the decision, the shambler bursted through the wall.

Without command, Ellie began firing the shotgun. First bullet. Second bullet. Third bullet—she was out. It roared, releasing puffs of acid. You both dodged by the skin of your teeth, running around the room like frightened mice. Now, it was your turn to unleash pointless blows to the creature. Emptying the rest of your magazine into the bulbous creature did nothing but anger it. Somehow, it found a way to creep up behind you and Ellie, taking her by the throat.

“Ellie!” You exclaimed, voice trembling in horror. Her hands scratched at its arms, pounding to be set free.

A pipe leaned out of a wall as an escape route, a message from God—fate, prying at you. Using the strength of a scared shitless person, you yanked the pipe free, falling back onto your butt. Quickly, you stood up and began hacking at the thing. Sounds of effort and defensive fear leaving your lips. Dropping Ellie onto the ground, he turned to you, roaring. However, your hacking at his body didn’t stop until he was on his knees. Gurgles left his corroded and bubbled mouth, but you used it as bait to make your final blow.

Heaving over its corpse, your back hunched, the pipe slipping from your sweaty grip. She coughed, reminding you of her presence, slumped against the wall. Her breath began to grow heavy, hand on her chest.

“Oh, my God— Ellie!” You crouched beside her, unsure where to place your shaking hands. She attempted to crack a smile, to pretend she was fine, but she wasn’t. The imperative organ in her chest beat faster than it should have, knocking the wind out of her. She couldn’t breathe—at least it felt like she couldn’t.

Ellie was panicking.

“Hey,” You tried, deepening your eyebrows, sliding your hands from her shoulders to her neck, to her trembling jaw. “Ellie,” Her hand shot up to grip your wrist with vigor, looking into your eyes, intensely. “Ellie, it’s okay. You’re okay.” Your free hand pushed strangling hair from sticking to the plastic of her mask.

The grip on your wrist moved to the entrapment on her face. She began to claw at it, whining. “No…” You attempt to stop her fast, strong movements, but she shoved you away. “Ellie— no! What the fuck are you doing?!”

She peeled the mask off her face, taking the deepest breaths you’ve ever seen. Leaning back, your eyes watered, watching her gasp for toxic air. Ellie pushed the strands of her hair off her face, leaning her head against the cement of the wall. Her heart was settling, but then she looked to you. Olive eyes meeting your teary ones. “What the- what d-did you just do?” You stammered. “Ellie…”

You enunciated her name with such weariness that it made her feel guilty. Still, getting herself together from her panic attack, she felt the need to console you. But she didn’t have the energy.

Breathing heavily under your mask, you watch as nothing happened to her. She doesn’t convulse, choking on the toxic elements in the air. There was nothing different about her. Absolutely nothing.

“I can…” Ellie breathed. “I can explain later. Let’s just get outta here first, all right?”

Having no choice but to believe her, you stood to your feet. Reaching down for her hand. When you pulled her up, her ankle gave out on her. “Shit,” Ellie cursed, furrowing her eyebrows. “The harder they fall, huh?” She dryly chuckled.

You frowned, wrapping her arm around your shoulders.

Unamused, you found a way out of the ground floor. Unmasking at the first sight of daylight. You didn’t have to travel far with Ellie’s arm wrapped around your shoulders. The only place that was able to receive your weak bodies was a little bookstore around the corner.

It was clustered inside. Book aisles placed close together, where only a single body could shimmy through. A pair of metal stairs spiraled up the back of the store, leading to another floor of books. Dropping all of your things, including Ellie’s arm, you stalked up those rusty steps with hot tears welling into your eyes.

Ellie leaned against a bookshelf, pressing her lips into a line. Watching every harsh step you took, ascending up the stairs. Her own eyes began to fill with tears, glancing down at her shaking hands. Before they could fall, she harshly wiped her face and decided to busy herself. It wasn’t a bad time to take inventory.

Upstairs, you found yourself huddled in a corner. Hot tears streaming down your cheeks, weeping as low as you could. The tears falling down your face was a release of fright. You realized something on that ground floor that you wish you hadn’t. That freckled stranger you had come upon, or who had come upon you, in Santa Barbara was becoming a meaningful person in your life. Unbeknownst to you! Ellie had snuck up on you like a rodent in disguise.

That distant figure that once hovered in dim lighting who you didn’t trust has become so much more. You trusted her with your fucking life. And it only took a few months on the road.

Having barely recovered from the threat of that shambler, she snatched her mask off like it was nothing. In those few second, your heart beat so loud it stalled time. You thought she was going to die right in front of you, willingly.

It took you back to a moment in your past—the death of your mother. Before you reached Catalina Island, your mother sacrificed herself to ensure that you made it there. She gave you her mask to take the spores head-on. Promising that she’d hold her breath; at fifteen, you were silly to believe her.

Just then, Ellie’s gasps proved your immediate worries and fears wrong. She wasn’t going to die in front of you like your mother did. The viral spores on that floor didn’t kill her. Making you wonder: who the fuck were you traveling with?

Wiping your face, messily, you wander back down the rusted steps of the bookstore. You spot her with both of your bags opened, going through the supplies you had. Counting under her breath. When her strained eyes caught yours, she ceased all movement.

“You know,” She began, looking at the hand that was missing her pinky and ring finger, massaging her palm. “I think, that was the most you’ve ever said my name.”

You frowned, walking through the aisles, cheeks stained with tears. “What the fuck was that back there?” The sound of your voice was weak and frail.

“A panic attack…”

“I’m talking about the mask, Ellie. You breathed spores…?”

She licked her lips, averting her olive eyes. “I’m immune…”

A beat passed between the two of you, roping around your still bodies.

Ellie watched how your lips quivered, like you wanted to cry. The redness in your eyes made her frown. “I just— in the moment… I couldn’t breathe. I needed to take it off—“

“How do you know?” You abruptly ask. “How do you know that you’re immune? What if it just… I don’t know… Takes longer to develop in your system?”

“y/n…” She remorsefully spoke. “I was bitten when I was fourteen.” Ellie rolls up the sleeve of her jacket, pushing her tattooed arm toward you.

Pressing your lips together, you walk forward, taking her arm in your hands. Her forearm was covered in evergreen ink. Taking your hand, she guided your fingers over the eruptions in her skin. Abrasions. Hidden beneath the adoration of the tattoo. You never noticed this before. “I had a lot of time to know if this was real…” Ellie muttered, peering at you. Insecurity leaking from her pores.

You met her eyes, opening and closing your lips, trying figure out the words you wanted to say. “Who are you?” You examined the features you’ve come to know. “And don’t walk away this time— you have no choice but to tell me.” A chortle falls from your lips, causing her stiffness in her shoulders to loosen.

And so, Ellie told you as much as she could. She told you about how she got bitten. She told you about Riley. She told you about Joel and Tommy—about the fireflies—and about Joel, again. She told you about Dina and Jesse. And then, she told you about Abby. The familiarity of her name caused you to perk up. You knew of her from the resort; it was her and a little boy. However, the version she told you about aligned nothing with the version that you knew of.

“I went to Santa Barbara because I wanted to put an end to my suffering and Tommy’s— I wanted to kill her.” Ellie confessed, leaning her head back against the books pushed into the shelves. The two of you sat opposite of each other in a book aisle, knees grazing every so often. “I thought that would fix everything… But, when I saw her on that pillar…” She shook her head, running her hand through her hair. “For a second, I wasn’t going to do it. She led me to that beach, holding that kid, and I was gonna leave.”

Ellie blinked, remembering that empty feeling she felt on that day. Guilt crawling through her for something that was never in her control. You watched her speak, intently, with deepened eyebrows. “Then, I remembered. I remembered what she did— what she took from me, and I couldn’t let her go. I threatened that little boy, and I made her fight me. She didn’t want to, but I made her.”

“Did you kill her…?” You asked, slowly.

She chortled, wiping her teary eyes. “No. She took my fucking fingers, and I let her go.” The laugh she released was dry, and without humor. “It was like… Everything that I’ve done, leading up to that day, was all for nothing. All the people that I hurt— that I killed just to get to her… It was all for nothing.” Her voice cracked, tears rolling down her cheeks. Ellie couldn’t stop them this time.

You reached for her knee, caressing your thumb over the fabric of her jeans. She peered up at you, through her thick, wet eyelashes with a sort of surprise. Ellie didn’t think you’d stick around after hearing about her truth. You, a victim of the rattlers, empathizing with a murderer.

Before that, though, you were a firefly. You more than just a victim.

“How could I ever think of you as a bad person after what I’ve done?” She pressed her plump lips into a line, shaking her head. “That wasn’t what I meant at all… I was just trying to figure you out. I worded it all wrong— I’m sorry.” Ellie apologized with such frailty, you had no choice but to accept.

“Don’t be sorry, Ellie…”

“I’m beginning to realize I’m not really good with people.”

You squeeze her knee. “That’s not true. I think we get along great.” You shrug, attempting to lighten up the mood. Her lips curled at the corners, reaching for the hand on her knee, placing hers over yours. A silence bounced between you—eyes boring into each other’s, looking through each other. “I also think… You did what you thought was best…” You voiced, nodding affirmatively. “I probably would’ve, somehow, done worse.”

She scoffed, drawing circles on the back of your hand, absentmindedly. “Worse? You couldn’t have done worse.”

“You’d be surprised.” You lifted your eyebrows. “Not to beat a dead horse or anything, but as a firefly… When you’re told to do something, you do it.” Shrugging, you remove your hand from hers, crossing your arms. “I’m not a saint, Ellie. I’ve done loads of shit that I’m not proud of.” You looked down at your knees, frowning. “If some girl killed someone I cared about right in front of me… It would have been the last thing she ever did. Shit, I’ve killed people for less.”

You paused, eyebrows twitching. The image of a guardian angel came into your mind—Honey. “It should’ve been me in that house… In Santa Barbara.” Squeezing your eyes shut, tears began to fall down your cheeks once more. Angry, mourning tears. “It’s like… The Lord gave me second chance to do better— or was it fate? I don’t fucking know…”

Ellie blinked, having a severe déjà vu moment. Somehow the words spoken in her past, have managed to resurface. If somehow the Lord gave me a second chance at that moment, I would do it all over again. Spoken by your pretty mouth, instead of someone else’s. “I’d probably be just like Honey if it weren’t for you— dead. And I still don’t know what makes me worth saving, but I’m grateful. I’m grateful for you.” You sniffed, lips quivering while looking at the auburn-haired woman.

She swallowed, moving from her spot across from you to sit beside you. If only she had the courage to say those words to Joel. If only her resentment didn’t run so deep—perhaps, her guilt for his death wouldn’t be so strong. “Everything about you is worth saving… You’re like a lucky charm.”

You leaned your head back against the books, looking at her. “A lucky charm, huh?”

“Hell yeah! I mean, you totally whooped that shambler’s ass. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

Hitting her arm, you giggle, keeping your eyes on the bookshelf in front of you. “Seriously, y/n…” Her humored tone faded as she trained her eyes on the side of your face, urging you to just look at her. To meet her eyes as passionately as she wanted to meet yours. It could’ve been the vulnerability that pulsed around the room, but she needed to see you. Her body ached for touch—perhaps, your touch. Ellie needed consolation for her confession.

Finally, your eyes drift toward hers. Not realizing how close her body was to yours. Shoulders, arms, hips, knees touching as if you were conjoined by the hip. Her eyes were prettier close up. They were greener than the evergreen that grew up desolate buildings. The freckles on her damaged skin could be connected like constellations—how come you never noticed this before? You wanted to trace the scar over her top lip and the one in her eyebrow with your finger, not just with your eyes.

The only thing that could be heard was your uneven, nervous breaths. Ellie moved her face closer to yours, just enough to tease, to ask for your permission without using her words. Her olive eyes flickering between your lips and your eyes. Weakly, you nodded, chewing on the corner of your bottom lip.

Her hands settled on your face, pulling you to hers. Meeting her lips with your lips, softly and patiently. Placing your hands on her wrists, you pull away, analyzing her features. Full lips were parted, wantonly. Pushing forward, you resumed the kiss with more intensity.

Whining against her lips, you got onto your knees, kicking your leg over her legs. Settling on her lap, her hands moved to your hips, kneading them. Her lips beginning to trail down your jaw; they were wet and hot kisses, causing your hips to roll on their own. Pleasured sighs fled from your swollen parted lips, holding onto her shoulders. “Ellie— Ellie, are you sure about this?” You question, with your eyes fluttered shut.

Against the sensitive skin of your neck, she spoke. “Beyond sure…” She muttered, littering your neck with love bites. Then, she pauses, pulling back to look up at you. Her hands still on your hips, pulling them to a stop to get your attention. “Are you sure about this?” Her pupils were blown out, adoringly.

You massaged her tense shoulders, licking your lips. The sight of her made your skin warm and tingly. “I’m fucking sure.” You smiled, playing with ends of her auburn strands. Leaning down, you pressed your lips against hers again, with fervor.

The both of you needed this—human connection. Even if it was short-lived, or temporary.

Ellie pushed at the flannel over your arms, tossing it to the side. Then, it was your knit shirt. She rolled it up from your abdomen, you lift your arms so she could remove it. Lastly, was your sports bra. She pulled it over your head, eyes marveling at the sight before her. Her calloused hands ran down the bare sides of your back, lips trailing down your sternum.

Running your hands over her hair, she latched her lips around one of your nipples. Sucking and nibbling at the sensitive nerves. A moan escapes your throat, arching your back into her. Your hips buck on top of her lap, begging for her touch elsewhere. “My lucky charm…” She mutters against your skin, kneading your other breast.

You end up with your back on the hard floor of the bookstore. Your hands pulling off her clothes like your life depended on it. She pulled your pants off, leaving you both only in your underwear.

Ellie kissed you, again, pressing her chest against yours. Her knee slotted between your legs, pushing her thigh against your clothed core. You could feel her grinding against your propped up leg, moaning into your mouth. Calloused hand gripping the back of your thigh. Sloppily, your lips trail to the side of her face, airy moans releasing beside her ear. “Ellie, please, touch me…” Wantonly, you pleaded, clenching the roots of her hair.

With her hot lips against your jaw, nibbling at your ear, she obliged. Drifting her hand down the center of your bodies, rubbing you over your underwear. Propping herself up on her other arm, she peered down at you. A pout resting on your wet lips, narrowing your eyes at her. One-handed, she slides your underwear to the side, running her middle finger up your center. Spreading your slick over that sensitive bud awaiting her focus. Ellie chews on her bottom lip, watching you shudder under her touch. “Right there?”

You respond with the tremble of your thighs and the heaving of your chest. She cracked a charming smile, eyes hazing at the sight of you.

Slipping two fingers into your cunt, she moans with you, curling her fingers slowly. Your hands roam her toned stomach, squeezing at her breasts, but you were losing focus. “S— So fucking good— ah!” Pulling her fingers out of you, she lowered herself. Kissing the scars and bruises that littered your abdomen. Her movements briefly confused you, until you felt her mouth on the inner parts of your thighs.

She pulled your underwear down your legs, tossing them aside. Then, she was on you, mouth hot over your cunt. Suckling on your clit, thrusting her tongue into you—eating you like she was starving. Your mouth fell ajar, grasping at her hair for something to hold onto. “Fuck, Ellie!” You whine, bucking your hips toward her face.

Her olive irises looked up at you between your legs, glimmering with lust. Arching your back, feeling that tightness coiling under your muscles, a lewd sound comes from your throat. Something between a moan and a yelp.

Sooner than later, your release comes crashing over you. Like a breath of fresh air. Legs clamping around her head, pushing her closer to your heat. Her lips making out with your pussy, bringing you down from your high. “Oh, my God…” You mutter, massaging her scalp with your fingers.

She crawls up your body like a lustrous lioness, letting your taste yourself on her lips. Your hands gripped at the fat of her ass, biting her bottom lip with your teeth. Ellie gasped, angling your face with her hand, groaning against your lips.

Sliding your index finger under the hem of her boxer-short underwear, you yank them down. “Damn…” Ellie mutters, kicking off her underwear the rest of the way. “You’re quick.” She chuckles, as you flip her onto her back. Running your lips down her neck, biting her skin.

“I want you… Can you blame me?”

You gripped at her hips, but when she winced you stopped. Peering down at her hip bone, a stitching remained there. Red and a little irritated. “It’s fine. Keep goin’, please.” Ellie tried, reaching for your hand.

Lowering your body, you kissed around the irritated wound, gently. Ellie watched you, chewing on her lip. Holding onto her hand, you kissed lower and lower. Through the hairs over her mound, the inner parts of her thigh—lightly over her cunt. She twitched, bashfully trying to shut her legs. But your hands braced her thighs.

Breathing her in, you licked a line up her center, making eye contact with her. An airy sound left her parted lips, free hand tweaking her nipples. “Yeah… Yeah…” She chanted, rocking herself against your face. You lick at her clit before sucking it into your mouth, her hips jolting at the feeling. Fluttering your eyes shut, you spend time on her sensitive bud, messily. Your non-dominant hand still holding onto Ellie’s, her grip tightening every second.

Taking your other hand, you insert your middle and ring finger into her core. Looking up at her reaction, while you made love to her clit. “Fuck, yes!” She enunciated her words lustily, drawing them out. Popping her bud from your lips, you begin to curl your fingers. Her wanton moans bouncing off the bookshelves around you.

“You’re so pretty like this.” You whisper, mainly to yourself, as you gaze at her in awe. Ellie was always so rough around the edges, but under you she was different. Her scarred body shook under you, in pleasure. She was in her element.

She moaned your name, riding your fingers. The muscles in her abdomen clenching, the grip on your hand getting harder. Taking that as your cue, you began to make out with her pussy. Only bringing her closer and closer to that breaking coil.

When the sparks in her stomach bursted into flames, a string of curse words fell from her lips. Her back arching off the hardwood floor, fingers pinching her tits. Her slick was all over your mouth, as you crawled back up her body.

Hungrily, she found your lips. Pushing your bare bodies together, you lazily made out—winding yourselves down.

Orange hues of the sun setting peaked through the windows, and the empty parts of the shelves. A burnt orange cast, glazing over your bodies like a blanket. Your legs intertwined, arms draped over shoulders, wrapped around waists; you were comfortable like this. Ellie was comfortable like this.

Parting your lips, she peppered small kisses along your jaw, before laying her head on your chest. “There’s a couch upstairs…” You breathe, playing in her hair.

“You say this now…?” She looked up at you, fingers rubbing circles on your bare hips.

A chuckle fell from your lips, your thumb caressing her flushed cheeks. “Heat of the moment!”

She sucked her teeth, nuzzling her head into your neck. “Whatever, you filthy woman.”

“Hey! You’re the one who took my clothes off.”

“You let me take your clothes off.” She nibbled at the skin of your throat, squeezing the fat of your hip.

You pressed your lips together, amused, running your fingers down her freckled back. “We could go up to the couch now.” You offered.

Ellie shook her head, hooking her leg around yours to pull herself closer to you. “No, just wanna lay here for a while…”

And you did just that. Laid with each other until your backs ached enough to move to the couch upstairs. Only to resume the position on the itchy cushions until the sun came back around to drag you both back onto the road.