#rings a bell but can't recall

[dg-fragments]

Its been a while how have you been random stranger :0

Not sure how long it has been, and well I've been alright, here and there, a bit all over the place too, but that's how it goes at times.

How about you? And who might you be?

[cheesus-doodles]

Letters

Yandere Rollo

Masterlist | TWST Masterlist

‎

i like my repressed christian boys a lot if yall can't tell ;-;, couldn't pass up on this....tr will be back on schedule next!

Rollo Flamme never imagined himself as simply ordinary. He had always been destined to be extraordinary, committed and focused, willing to put in the work to achieve perfection. Yes, there was no doubt that there were ways to go to meet his goals, seeing as his fire lily plan went up in flames on first contact with that wretched Malleus Draconia and his Night Raven buddies despite his months of meticulous planning and careful scheming.

Yet here he was, walking at a speed Rollo hoped didn’t divulge how fast his heart was pounding away, your letter carefully tucked away deep within his robes, pressed right up against his chest. Green eyes concentrated on nothing but his next step, his poker-face and overall reputation as the Student Council President a god-sent for keeping unwanted attention away as he cut a path through the school towards his room, hands clasped in front of him as they always were. 

Outside the gates of Noble Bell College, Fleur City was as lively as ever, the hustle and bustle of a city coming back to life under the gentle evening sun echoed throughout the conversely silent campus as people enjoyed busking in the remaining sunlight after a long day of work. It was an exceptionally cool day too, the white-haired boy noted to himself, the breeze sweeping down the hallways and bursting forth into the open air strong enough to lift the ends of his robes.

A respectful mumble of “Rollo-kaicho” rose from the scatter of students milling around as he walked past, though nothing that a returned nod of acknowledgement couldn’t settle.

The peacefulness that blanketed the stately campus as the sun sank further and further down the horizon reminded him much of the night of the Young Mage’s Social ball, and more so, you. Rollo could recall that particular evening with perfect clarity, the sights and sounds replaying again in his head as the purple-clad mage made his way indoors, the old wooden door swinging shut behind him with nay a creak, shutting out both the wind and the sounds of the city.

‎

His own footsteps were the only sound ringing across otherwise empty corridors as the boy turned the situation he had found himself unexpectedly stuck in over and over again in his mind. It had never been his intention to fall over his own set trap, yet how was it he did so anyway despite all his wariness and discipline?

This had all begun as a plot for revenge right after he had been bested, by villains no less. It would be hard for Rollo to even admit that he had come to terms with the beating he received several months ago, let alone the night after it happened, and his next plot had already begun to hatch the moment you swept into view dressed in your masquerade costume, accompanied by none other than Malleus himself. From everything he witnessed, it was clear that the Draconia housewarden cared greatly for you, and dare he guess, maybe even had some unexpressed feelings for you. 

Not that he hadn’t noticed you before that night, but it was certainly the first time that he had come to realize just how central a place you held among the Night Raven College students, and how crucial a card you would be in his next plan to wipe that smug smirk off of that wretched fae prince’s face.

The night of the Young Mages’ Social ball had been surprisingly ordinary, given what had just happened. He had been exhausted and dead on his feet, even if he showed no sign of it outwardly; the orderliness of the hall that he painstakingly cleaned after the last fire lotus had withered was a welcomed sight. Alas there was no time for sleep, not that it would matter given his already heavy eyebags. But despite his state, you had instantly caught his eye at the start of the ball, quietly huddled towards the back of the Night Raven group, trying your best to look anywhere but at him or at the rest of the crowd as you and your friends were singled out as the saviors of Fleur City. And it was obvious that you were feeling even more out-of-place as the dance began in earnest, though whether it was from the crowds or just general awkwardness, Rollo could not say.

Taking his leave from the merrymaking, the white-haired Council President could find no surprise within him when he found you sitting alone later outside of the hall, enjoying the peace and quiet that had fallen over the city with the arrival of night, looking up at the blanket of stars, a glass of what looked like juice in your hand.

“May I join you?”

You had jumped at his words, though you did settle quickly upon realizing it was just him for reasons unbeknownst to Rollo. “By all means,” you replied, waving him down to join you. After all, he did just try to essentially kill your friends and all mages in general. Perhaps you knew something he didn’t, the purple-clad student mused to himself, subtly watching you from the corner of his pale green eyes. Or perhaps you were just presumptuous, given you hadn’t been affected as badly as the rest.

The dark sky was clear of clouds, the dark of space dotted with twinkles as far as the eye could see, the moon hanging alone amidst the barren sky; an alluring sight for weary souls - and judging from how discreetly you had excused yourself from the social, you definitely were tired. 

A pause as Rollo took a seat a respectful distance from you. “Too much?”

You nodded. “Too much.”

Whatever it was, you seemingly held no ill will towards Rollo, simply accepting his quiet company. And so the two of you sat in comfortable silence as the young mages danced and laughed the night away just a stone’s throw away. The minutes melted into hours as the world continued to turn, though the calmness of the reality around him was a far cry from the turmoil of thoughts within his head. 

When the night started to grow old and the cacophony of noises began to die down, it was as if an unheard bell had gone off, and you reluctantly stood, empty glass now in hand - your friends were bound to come looking for you should they notice you were missing. And with you leaving soon and that night being the last one you were spending at Noble Bell College, it was finally time to launch the first phase of his plan.

”I would like to write to you,” Rollo started, immediately cringing internally as the words left his lips, but there was no going back now. “If it is alright with you.”

He held his breath as you considered his request, your head cocking to the side as you contemplated. “Sure, why not?” You shrugged, shooting him a light smile, your hair gleaming in the waning moonlight. “Goodnight, Rollo.”

Exhale. And that was that.

‎

But now here he was, Rollo mused, eagerly anticipating the opportunity to read your letter alone. Has his plan gone astray? He shook his head, attempting to clear his thoughts of you, just till he could be alone. For all his routine and self-discipline, you were the one temptation he couldn’t seem to get squash down.

Coming to a pause at the fork in the hallway, the Noble Bell Council President paused. The last thing he wanted was to be interrupted tonight in the midst of his much-needed analysis of your letter, so against the burning desires of his heart and the weight of your letter heavy in his robes, he forced himself to take a detour, his feet carrying him down sparse corridors towards the councilrooms. It was easy to spot his Vice President still hard at work amidst the otherwise empty room, scouring through a stack of papers at his desk, head down and pen scribbling away.

A quiet clearing of his throat was enough to get the attention of the occupant inside. “Rollo-kaicho!” Said student rocketed up from his seat, hurriedly adjusting his slipping striped cap. “What brings you here at this time of day?”

“I wanted to check in before I retired for the day,” replied the white-haired boy, giving a courteous glance to the rest of the unoccupied desks before returning his gaze to the other. “Is there anything I should know about?”

The Noble Bell Vice President stuttered for a moment, lost for words and wrecking his tired brain in an attempt to find what to say. “I-uh-“

Pulling out his celestial-patterned handkerchief, his movement just barely managed to cover the disgusted look that fell over his expression, eyes narrowing and eyebrows furrowing as the stench of magic overwhelmed his senses, though Rollo still managed to keep his tone neutral. Even if he was the one to initiate contact, that hardly made a difference with his nausea. “It’s fine,” the magic-adverse mage managed to grit out without a hint of distaste, his tone as neutral as it always has been. “Please have the points ready for me tomorrow morning.”

“Of course, Rollo-kaicho. I apologize again.”

‎

Finally being able to lock his room door behind him brought a relief much like cold water over hot iron, ending the depraved pulsing in his mind that the mere presence of the envelope in his robes against his chest brought on with every passing second. Tossing the heinous paper carelessly onto his well-worn table top, Rollo instead hurriedly picked it back up again, pale green eyes scanning for any further damage he had caused, though fortunately there was none to be found.

Letting out a sigh of relief, the white-haired boy settled into his chair. Now, to satisfy both his curiosity and anticipation.

Trembling fingers carefully peeled open the envelope, revealing a slightly yellowed, unevenly folded paper much to Rollo’s chagrin - he would have much preferred if you used a perfect white piece of paper, quality stationery instead of this random piece you must have had left over from your homework, and if you had folded it the same way he did all this time. But he supposed he couldn’t expect that high a standard from you, given the riff-raff of mages you found yourself in the company of. As he gently freed your letter from its paper enclosure, his sensitive nose caught a whiff of a familiar scent, the smell probably having lingered on from when you first mailed it out.

The light fragrance of your favorite shampoo, Rollo deduced, bringing the paper up to his nose. He recognized it, no matter how faint it was. You must have just finished showering when you wrote and sealed the letter if the aroma still endured. A breath of fresh air amidst the rank odor of magic and mages.

And then he began to read.

Dear Rollo, the letter began as it always did, those two words enough to have his heart skip a beat like nothing else could. But this time, the next few that followed were even better. Your letter came late, and it was sorely missed.

Line by line, you spelled out your daily ongoings, your interactions with your fellow schoolmates, your inner thoughts. Rambling about anything and everything that came to mind, thoughts spilling out without filter straight onto paper. About how Grimm (that filthy magic cat) nearly failed his test again and about how Deuce and Ace got into their latest spat of trouble with their housewarden Riddle. About how Jack and Epel were like to work with on your history project, and how you felt about one of your lunches being stolen by Leona.

Just like that, the minutes slipped through his finger, and with a pang in his heart, Rollo came to the end of your letter.

He placed the paper down on the paper, taking a breath.

How was it that he could feel so attached to another person through a simple piece of paper? How did you ensnare him so effortlessly, bypassing his hard-fought discipline as if it didn’t exist? Did all this mean that his revenge plot against Malleus had already gone awry?

‎

The night was cool and quiet, the moonlight that shone through his stained glass windows bringing the Noble Bell Council President back to that fateful night. A light gust of wind seeped in through a small crack, creaking the old wooden panels in the floor as it blew through his room. 

Your writing had improved, Rollo noted, as per his guidance in his previous letter. You were using a ruler to ensure straight lines, and your handwriting had neaten greatly; a far cry from your first reply to him, the memory of those scrawling letters that ran up and done and every-which way except straight across the paper still causing shivers to run down his spine. That was bad.

Carefully and painstakingly refolding the paper, Rollo stood, returning it to its envelope before moving to stow the letter within his secret compartment above the fireplace, with previous letters neatly arranged upright according to date received. His fingers lightly brushed past all your correspondence with him, his chest fluttering at your willingness to speak with him, his mind already churning with how and what he should reply to you. Would you be interested in perhaps coming back to Noble Bell? Maybe he should visit Night Raven College? Even if that blasted Draconia was there, it would be worth it just to have some private, personal time with you, the white-haired mage calculated, his hand tapping an unknown rhythm across his desk that he now leaned against.

‎

There was no point in denying his obsession with you, not at this point - it had been awhile since you started to occupy his every waking moment and thoughts, and being as organized and detailed as Rollo was, he could pinpoint the exact moment when he began to spiral. Sure, his first letter had been full of nothings, meaningless pleasantries and stories that he polished to perfection over the course of a night of restlessness. But what he got back was your heart on your sleeve, your mind like an open book for him to pick apart and examine.

As things turned out, the more he picked, the more he found. Questions he sent always came back answered, with you evidently letting slip more than you intended to originally say, sometimes directly and sometimes when he read between the lines. 

A single line in your third reply to him was all it took to begin his unending slide. 

You were from a different world.

The more he sat on it, turning it around and round in his mind, the more his chest grew warm, and you began his center of focus. Even the mere passing pondering of what you were doing now was enough to grip Rollo’s entire being, to have his heart rate increase and his thoughts to jumble. After all, in this foul, tainted world, there could be no purer person than someone who came from a place where no magic exists.

You were perfection embodied. 

In a twist of fate, you turned out to be pure, a shining beacon amidst the foul-smelling heathens. A gift from the heavens, a blessings from the divine meant for none other than him, that no one could properly appreciate except for him. Sure you weren’t the most orderly, and you did have your moments where you were occasionally wowed by magic, especially the inhuman feats from that wretched Malleus Draconia, but you remained untainted despite your constant proximity to the taint of magic that surrounded and cloaked you as if a heavy fog. Never indicated anything more than a passing interest in the magic that your companions wielded and an admiration that Rollo was sure he could rid you off. All you needed was time away from those mages, spent instead in his company.

‎

Stepping away from his desk and moving now towards his personal bathroom, Rollo came to the answer he had been looking for as the boy moved to undress himself for a nighttime shower. It had been in front of him all this time.

The answer was no. 

No, he hadn’t forsaken his plan to wield you against Malleus; sure the exact details had changed as the months went by, but everything he did was as he had schemed. Just that now, you didn’t have to be a means to an end, you didn’t need to be just another casualty wrecked up amidst his crusade against the villains. Stealing you away from the fae prince would be one of the largest blows he could deal with to that condescending prick, the beginning of his downfall - the excitement tingling at Rollo’s arms as he imagined the crestfallen expression that would twist Draconia’s face, the streak-free bathroom mirror reflecting the pale green eyes that lighted up in callous pleasure.

It would be glorious.

But for now, Rollo determined, schooling his face back into its usual neutral look as he turned to step into the shower room, what he needed to concentrate on was his next letter to you.

[violetarks]

"they don't love me like you do!"

anime: jujutsu kaisen

character: gojo satoru

summary: despite the countless valentines day offers he receives, satoru will only ever accept one confession. but you're confessing... to his best friend?

warnings: g/n! reader, they/them pronouns used, high school! au

"please accept these chocolates, gojo!" says the girl in front of him. satoru casually pulls down his glasses enough to see the red, heart-shaped cardboard box.

"oh, uh... thank you." he awkwardly says. this girl was two year below him, judging by the colours of her indoor shoes. he didn't even know her name. "this is... a surprise."

"i've liked you ever since orientation day. i hope you like these." she says with a nervous grin. she's stiff as he takes them out of her hands, standing up straight to stare at the tall man. "thank you for always being so funny and helping everyone you can."

"ah, you're welcome." he says, tucking the chocolates and the letter taped to it under his arm. luckily, the lunch bell had rung and everyone should've been off to enjoy their break. "well, i'll... see you around."

"b—bye, gojo!" she calls, waving at him as he walks the other way. he gives a kind smile before he turns the corner, dropping it immediately.

on the way to class, multiple other students watched him as he carelessly skimmed through the letter before stuffing it in his book bag, ready to throw it (and the others) away once home. valentines day was this week and it was two days before it today. yet satoru had received tons of confession letters and date proposals, none of which he had the intention of accepting.

plopping down in his chair, he groans, hanging his head, "ugh! i hate being so loveable..."

suguru rolls his eyes, outting his book down. "here we go again." he grunts, shaking his head.

"seriously! why can't i be left alone around valentines day?" he questions out lout, pulling his lunch box from his bag.

shoko bites into her sandwich as she listens to him. as she swallows, she retorts, "maybe it's because you flirt with every living being on earth." satoru sends him a pointed look. "so how many letters today?"

"seven." satoru responds, knocking his bag.

"and?"

"none of them were from y/n." he sighs out, picking up his chopsticks.

"wait, y/n?" suguru pipes up, putting his juicebox down, "as in y/n from class d?"

the blue-eyed boy raises a brow, halting his movements. "uh, yeah? l/n y/n." he recalls to his friend, tilting his head, "what? i've been talking about 'em for the past three months—suguru, have you been listening to me at all?"

"oh!" the dark-haired boy chuckles, nodding his head, "i know y/n. we're in the same literature class."

satoru stares at him in disbelief. the other students surrounding them are in their own little world, but the three of them didn't even mind them hearing if they tried. shoko continues to eat her food while suguru shrugs at his friend.

"are you kidding me?" satoru gasps out, waving a hand in the air, "i've been trying to get with them for three months and you tell me this just now?"

"you should've been more specific, man." suguru retorts, waving it off, "anyway, you gonna' ask them to be your valentine?"

satoru sighs loudly, hanging his head back, "i don't know... we only share bio together, i bet there's a lot of people who have asked them to be their valentine. they probably won't even accept mine."

shoko purses her lips and stretches her arms. "i don't know about that." she claims, "you're a pretty guy and everyone knows you. i doubt they'd pass up the chance to revel in that popularity."

"... thanks, shoko."

soon enough, the bell rings and the day goes on.

the next day, satoru notices something in your hand during biology class.

"whatchu' got there, y/n?" he asks, peaking over your shoulder. he sat behind you, enough room to see the handwritten letter you were writing.

"satoru!" you jump a little, covering the page. he furrows his brow. "it's, uh... i'm just writng something."

"is it... for valentines day tomorrow?" he inquires, curious to who was the lucky person. but you were still hiding it from him!

"no, of course not." you were lying, he could tell by the way you look to the left. a pout falls on his lips. "it's notes. for another class."

"oh... okay." he responds, a bit disappointed. why would you lie to him? he sits back in his chair, writing down some paragraphs from the textbook mindlessly. he saw the way your elbow quickly shifted, you were writing faster. your head was down too, never looking up. you were so concentrated.

he's known you for a couple of months now. you bumped into him on the way to school, and you admitted to him that you were a bit lost since you didn't live around here. satoru, being the gentleman he is, offered to escort you. you thought he was some creep (he tried reaching to hold your hand and when you jerked away on instinct, he played it off as it being the wind).

but once realising you two shared some classes together, you grew fond of him. you knew of the countless students throwing themselves at him. both older and younger. he was the school heartthrob. it's a shame though, only your smile could make his heart race like he makes others do.

when you gave him your lucky pen when he told you he didn't study and he was freaking out, you had this kind smile that made him think 'i don't want anyone else to see this but me'.

and he noticed that you awkwardly took it back from him, looking away as he clasped your hands tightly in the filled hallway and thanked you. your reactions were just the cutest...

when the bell rings, you perk up, putting your 'notes' in a suspicious looking envelope and signing it off with something. you stand up and satoru is quick to walk by your side when a classmates holds his arm to talk.

"huh?" satoru grunts, furrowed brows.

"gojo, i... i wanted to give you this." they say, holding out a teddy-bear saying 'be my valentine!'. satoru frowned when he took it. "you don't have to answer today... just let me know tomorrow, please."

as they continue to talk, he sees you exit the classroom. the letter sits comfortably in your palm, and you look left, right, before walking off. satoru is electrified.

"okay, thanks!" he says, running out of the classroom while he clutches the bear in his hands.

weaving through the crowd, he looks for the top of your head. after more and more people pass him, staring at the teddy and whispering 'who gave that to him this time?', he spots you turning the corner, a nervous look on your face. he mutters out apologies as he bumps into people heading to their next class.

the hallway you're in now is empty. you stand in front of a classroom door, waiting. notably, suguru's math class.

satoru stands at the end of the corridor, behind the corner, as the classroom door opens to reveal his best friend, geto suguru.

"suguru!" you call, smile. your shoulders are straightened, you hold the letter in front of you. not scared to show him...

"oh, y/n, hey." he responds, grinning as well. the comfortability around you two was so strange to see. "what's up?"

satoru feels like he's buzzing out. he can't hear everything you're saying, but you look a bit excited yet anxious. he hears your sweet voice speak to his best friend with such kindness that he's jealous. sure, suguru was attactive and nice and he definitely didn't feed into the popularity like satoru did, but...

why did it have to be you who was interested in him?

"please, take this." you say, handing him the same letter you had before. except this time, satoru sees the 'g.s' on it. 'geto suguru'. and you take out a box of his favourite snacks to hand to him. "thank you for everything, again. you're the best."

suguru takes it with ease, seeing how you looked at him. his gaze softens as he takes the treat as well. "you're welcome, y/n. anything you need, i'll help with." he puts the letter in his own bag before slinging am arm around your shoulders. "now, what're your plans for after?"

he was blatantly asking you out now! right after satoru told him he had feelings for you! such betrayal!

you two walk to the other end of the hallway, in the direction of your literature class. satoru slumps against the wall, furrowed brows and lips pressed into a thin line. after a second, he pushes his glasses up and lets out a slow exhale. he could get over this...

"gojo! may i please have a moment of your time?"

"wait no! me first!"

"gojo, can i talk to you?"

"please accept these!"

or maybe he couldn't.

valentines day was today and you danced into school with such confidence. you had a bouquet of flowers in your arms, chocolates of the sweetest kinds, and a bag of new perfume that you knew your crush would like.

you were so excited.

satoru, who was walking a few people behind you, was not.

he saw the amount of passion you put into the holiday, and it made him sick to know it was for his best friend. the guys was in such a bad mood, he ignored suguru and shoko's calls this morning to meet up and walk to school together like usual.

satoru clicked his tongue, thinking about how dramatic the whole valentines day idea was. really, who needed it all anyway?

in homeroom, he can hear your class (which is next to his, across the hall) start whooping and cheering when you walk in. and he knows it's you by the chants of your last name being heard. he sits in his chair in anguish.

"satoru, morning. finally." shoko says, sitting down as well. she grins, bitting the popsicle stick between her lips. "where are all of your valentines presents?"

"stuffed in my shoe locker and under my desk." he claimed, opening the top of it to showcase the blaring red and pink gifts. she picked at one pocky box, munching on the biscuits. "how about you?"

"i got a couple letters and cookies in my locker." she claims, shrugging her shoulders, "lots of 'em are from the badminton team. i don't know why."

satoru shrugs as well as soon as suguru sits down in front of him. the blue-eyed students scoffs, looking away.

"good morning, satoru." he says, noticing his friend's behaviour, "what's got his panties in a twist this morning? does he know we called him a hundred times?"

"i dunno'." shoko says, looking out the window to the school garden. "ask him."

"satoru, what's wrong? didn't get enough presents this year?" he teases, leaning in his chair to poke his head, "wake up late?"

but satoru angrily swats his hand away. the raven-haire boy blinks curiously before satoru glares at him. "why didn't you tell me you were interested in y/n?" he asks, hurt.

shoko looks back to the two boys, seeing suguru just as confused as she is. "you're into y/n?"

"what? no! who said that?" suguru retorts, hands up in defense, "i'm not interested in dating y/n, swear on my life."

"that's a lie!" satoru accuses, pointing a finger against his friend's nose, "shoko, i saw him and y/n all... all... familiar yesterday after period 2! he had his arm around them!"

"suguru..." shoko warns.

"wait wait, that's—you got it all wrong." suguru groans, now understanding. he digs through his bag and pulls out a piece of paper. "here. open it."

satoru pushes away the paper reading 'g.s'. "no way! i'm not reading y/n's love letter to you!"

"ugh! just open it!" suguru grunts, shoving it onto his desk.

satoru begrudgingly takes it and gently opens the letter, not wanting to rip it. once his eyes fall upon the page, he confirms that it's your handwriting.

'thank you for being the sweetest boy to me. i am truly honoured to know such a beautiful person, inside and out.'

satoru wants to barf.

'sitting near you in biology really helped me to understand you, satoru. you're not only a pretty face, but a world-class sweet tooth, a sucker for romantic cliches and a cologne-collector.'

satoru thinks this is the most beautiful thing he's ever read.

he contiues to read, expression changing, letting shoko and suguru understand his thoughts. the girl looks to the other boy, who shrugs his shoulders and rolls his eyes.

"i'm confused." shoko states, tilting her head.

"y/n isn't confessing to me, they're confessing—"

"y/n is confessing to me! me, satoru!" satoru exclaims, waving the letter around like a maniac. everyone else in the class was suddenly a listener, peaking at the trio. they were interested in finding out what the one confession that resulted in this reaction was. "oh my god, oh my god!"

suguru nods his head. placing a hand on his shoulder to calm him down. "yes, yes, they are. i was meant to give you the letter this morning to read before homeroom, but someone was pissy." he scoffs, shaking his head, "so i had to go and tell y/n that plans had changed."

"you... helped y/n plan this all out?" satoru mumbles, "but you didn't even know!"

shoko chuckles, staring out the window again.

"i just said i wasn't paying attention so you didn't think i was snooping. which i was. and i only told you i knew y/n so you wouldn't get any ideas, like this." suguru circles the air with his finger, deadpanning at the clueless satoru, "you think anyone would do this without definitive proof the other person liked them?"

satoru continues to read the letter you wrote for him before his eyes land on the ending. "'please meet me at the school fountain before homeroom ends.'" he murmurs out, blinking, "suguru—"

"you were meant to go two minutes ago." his friend sings out, standing in front of shoko's desk. he points out the window, much like other students were doing in their own classrooms. "you should..."

when his friends turn around to him, satoru is already one foot out of the door. he's rushing downstairs (down three flights of stairs, actually) with your letter clutched in his hand. he almost flies into a couple teachers on the way to the garden, only for their attention to be caught by students opening the windows and pointing outside.

when he rushed through the doors to the garden, you're staring at the floor, still holding the flowers and gifts you brought to school with you. taking a moment to gather himself, satoru runs fingers through his hair and fixes his glasses. the pair you've complimented a thousand times.

satoru walks closer to you and when he catches your eye, you stand up straight and smile.

"satoru." you chime, not missing the thousand pairs of eyes that were following your every move. "good morning. happy valentines day."

you hold out the flowers to him. it's set in a nice box, and the treats are in a gift bag. when you give it to him, your smile is awkward but hopeful.

"happy valentines day, y/n." he replies, taking it from you. he sits down on the fountain edge, and you follow along. "i'm so sorry, i... i don't have anything for you."

"no, no, no." you retort, grinning, "it's fine. this was a surprise for you, anyway."

he sighs, "no, i'm sorry... please, let me make it up to you."

you laugh a little, placing a hand over his on his lap. the flowers were sat on the fountain with his gifts. "sure thing." you retort, "hey, suguru told me that this morning—"

"i'm sorry, i know, i just thought..." he begins, cutting you off. he looks embarrassed, heavy blush falling over his cheeks. "i saw you and suguru yesterday and you gave him that letter. had me thinkin' you were confessing to him instead of me."

you let out a small chuckle, making him gulp, "oh my goodness, i'm sorry, i didn't mean for you to see that. we were trying to be sneaky."

satoru's chest feels lighter, and he feels better just hearing it from you. he links his fingers with yours, facing you fully.

"ah, no it's fine." he tells you, the most purest form of adoration in his eyes that you can see from the top of his slanted down glasses. you grin softly. "listen, i have had a crush on you for months... and i was hoping that you'd go out with me. i want a chance to get to know you personally, away from any prying eyes."

you peer to the side, seeing the people watching you. they were practically hanging out the window, waving their hands and fighting to view the whole scene for themselves. cameras took photos and videos, capturing your moment with him.

"i'd love that, satoru." you say, scanning his face, "you're the best."

it only takes him a single second to reach his hand out and brush his thumb agaisnt your cheek. you don't freeze up though, only relaxing into him. he was the most inviting guy you've ever met.

"can i kiss you?" he asks, voice unwavering. his blue eyes are staring at your face with such kindness that it cannot be described.

you don't even say anything, only leaaning forward and pressing your lips to his. he's smiling against your lips, gentle hand caressing your cheek. your eyes flutter shut, holding his hand tightly.

cheers erupt from the school. screams and whoops from guys and girls alike. most students are heartbroken due to the obvious confession. nobody had even gotten that close to satoru. no one has been able to hold his hand, let alone get him to go crazy over a letter. you got him to race out of that classroom like a madman, and everyone was surely surprised.

the shouts die down as the kiss deescalates, many of the students sighing as they're forced to move on from the heart-throb gojo satoru.

when you pull away, satoru chases, leaving a gentle kiss against your forehead. your smile is wide and you pinch his cheek softly.

"you're such a drama queen, satoru." you say, standing up, "i was wondering why everyone started yelling and staring at me all of a sudden."

satoru stands with his presents, rubbing the back of his neck as he holds your hand. h goes to answer when a voice is heard from the fourth floor.

"the idiot took some convincing, y/n!" suguru shouts, waving his hand, "glad to know he's got some sense in him!"

"shut up, suguru!" satoru calls back, showing his fist.

"first period is about to start, you two!" the principle says through a window on the third floor, "this is all heart-warming, but you've failed two of ms kinoshita's classes, gojo!"

"r—right!" he retorts, pacing to the school entrance as people begin to 'ooh' at him. he looks back at you, smiling the brightest. "let's go out after school today, yeah? i'll buy you as many sweets as you want."

you chuckle, kissing his cheek, "my hero."

[a-leg-without-fear]

Sweet

sin sin sin sIN SIN THIS IS SIN. please enjoy pleasuring our dear college!matt

Ship: Matt Murdock x Female!Reader

Rating: 18+ (pure filth, truly)

Wordcount: 2.7k

Warnings: smut, sexual situations, foreplay, some depressive thoughts (because i apparently can't write anything without them)

Warm.

Soft, warm, gentle, sweet. Sweeter than anything he’d tasted. Like dew that’s been licked off a cold strawberry, or the fragrant scent that wafts through the air outside of flower shops. A delicate and tender sweetness. Subtle, comforting, like the smell of home after being away for years. Such sweetness could make Matt lose himself, letting himself drift away on a current of fond smiles and warm embraces. He would allow himself to drown in the sweet taste, even if it was the last drop to pass his lips before he drifted to the ocean floor.

At the sudden loss of the warmth, the tenderness, the sweetness, Matt’s throat let out a whine of annoyance. His body moved of its own accord as he scrambled to reconnect himself to the source. Fingers tangling in silken hair. Hand bunching in a tank top. Teeth nipping at a plump, pink lower lip.

“Matt,” you sighed. The words cascaded past Matt’s tongue and down his throat, carrying a breeze filled with cherry blossoms in their wake. He could distantly feel delicate fingertips brush at his jaw. A tingling warmth trailed behind the gentle touch, only fueling his need to swallow as much sweetness as he could.

“Matt, honey. Breathe.”

Matt’s eyes fell open as he pulled away from his brief reprieve. His senses came crashing down like a cave in. All he could see was a haze of swirling oranges and reds that filled every inch in sight. Streaks of flame and blood painting the college dorm room like a canvas on fire. His cotton shirt was too tight, too scratchy. The humid air settled in his pores like an unwelcome visitor. A sudden cacophony of noise spilled into his ears through the crack under the door and the thin material of the walls. He blinked a few times to reorient. 

The first inhale he allowed himself felt like a punch in the lungs. Gone was the taste of strawberries or cherry blossoms, the feeling of warmth and comfort. A sharp tang of stale alcohol plunged its way into his sinuses and left him reeling. Notes of old, worn carpet and water-damaged ceilings shoved their way through to stand side by side to overwhelm thought and feeling. Matt screwed his eyes shut, trying to recall the smell of flowers that flowed like water down his throat.

“Hey, I’m right here,” you whispered, your melodic voice brushing aside the sounds assaulting Matt’s senses. Your soft hand rested along his jaw and brought his forehead to yours. Matt could feel your breath fan across his face. Warm and gentle and sweet.

“I… I’m sorry,” Matt said. He felt naïve. The world was harsh and cold and unforgiving. He shouldn’t have let himself get carried away by the allure you unintentionally provided. The sweet ambrosia that flowed from your lips could never compete with the torrential downpour of too much all around him.

“Sorry for what?” you asked. Your fingers brushed strands of Matt’s dark hair away from his face, then trailed their way down his cheek to rest on his collarbone. 

Matt opened his eyes again in a desperate attempt to see you. See anything. But all he was met with was the clouded reds and oranges that submerged the world beneath a pool of blood. 

He tried to focus on where your face would be, using the brush of air currents along your seated body to understand where you were on the bed. Your head was cocked, hair falling in front of your kind eyes. Matt could tell you were looking at him. From the way your heart calmly beat behind your ribs and the pheromones that surrounded you like an aura, Matt assumed you were happy. Content.

“I got caught up in the moment,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. You chuckled at his bashfulness, the sound ringing like a small bell around Matt’s head. Hopefully he could deflect from his lapse in awareness. Of course he had to be blind and easily distracted.

“That’s not a bad thing, you know. Just gotta remember to breathe,” you said. Matt scoffed playfully at the jab. He let his hands drift down to your waist, tucking his fingers beneath the bunched-up hem of your shirt.

“I don’t know, you seem to like it when I prevent you from breathing.”

Your breath caught in your throat as your heart leapt and your face heated. A flash of the intoxicating scent that was distinctly you floated from between your legs. Matt could feel his own arousal swirling like a whirlpool in his stomach. An uncontrollable tempest begging to be released over calm waters. Despite how desperately he wanted your clothes off and you beneath him, he pulled his mouth into a cocky grin while his fingers worked their way up to your bra.

“What’s wrong? Feeling embarrassed? Or are you just remembering how good it felt when I choked you?” he purred.

That got you riled up. Your chest started heaving as your skin grew hot and clammy over your entire body. A fresh wave of wetness and delicious scent warmed the inside of your thighs. You swallowed heavily and Matt could practically feel the way the muscles in your throat moved.

But you hesitated. Your fingers stopped their soft stroking along his sensitive skin. Your breath halted just behind your soft lips. Matt’s brow furrowed as a frown tugged at the edges of his lips.

“You okay?” he asked warily. Matt forced his hands to cease in their uphill climb and placed them on your hips. Anxiety gripped at his chest. Did he misread the situation? Misread you? Did he make you uncomfortable? God, what if you finally realized you’d made a mistake in dating him? It was bound to happen, sooner or later.

“Can I be on top tonight?” you asked, as though that sentence didn’t hit him like a ton of bricks to the stomach.

“W-What?” Matt spluttered.

“These past few times you’ve been making me feel good. Really good. I want to try to return the favor,” you explained. Your nails began to pick at a stray thread on Matt’s shirt collar. Matt’s ears picked up on the uptick in your pulse. Were you… nervous?

“If you don’t want to, that's fine, you can be on top. We can also just kiss if that’s more what you’re feeling today. I don’t want to make you feel weird and-”

“Sweetheart, slow down,” Matt said, interrupting your fast-paced tangent. Your mouth clamped shut as a deep breath filled your lungs. Matt grabbed loosely at your shoulders, thumbs rubbing back and forth on your bare skin, as an easy smile fell over his face.

He gave you a few seconds to catch your breath then said, “You can be on top. I just wasn’t expecting you to ask.”

In all honesty, he wasn’t expecting you to ask. Matt’s life was a never ending learning curve of discovering that love was not guaranteed. His mother left before he was a year old, his father died when he was nine, his mentor, Stick, abandoned him at the first sign of affection. He learned long ago to not expect anything from anyone. That was the first lesson Stick had taught him. 

And yet, against all odds, here you sat. An enigma if ever there was one. Offering your affection on a silver platter at Matt’s feet. A clear sign of trust, of devotion, of love.

“Okay,” you said. A relieved smile broke out across your face. You tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear as you cleared your throat. Matt’s heart raced in time with yours. His fingers began kneading in the soft flesh at your hips.

“Lie down for me,” you said. Four words, spoken softly with the gentleness of a feather, yet they struck Matt in the chest like a wide haymaker. A sentence that carried the weight of authority and a gentle caress all in one. Suddenly all he wanted to do was follow instructions.

In a flash he had his head on the pillow, arms at his sides, breathing at an alarmingly fast rate. Anticipation burned its way through his veins and clouded his senses. The world outside the dorm room faded away. Like a memory retreating into a dense fog. Loud voices down the hall quieted into nothing, the humidity in the air evaporated, his shirt felt like the softest silk, and the scent around him. God, all he could smell was you. Your breath was like the first day of spring, your skin like rolling hills of green grass, your hair like soft strands of pure sunlight. Matt’s world was, yet again, sweet.

“Let me know if I’m making you uncomfortable,” you breathed, your lips suddenly brushing against his earlobe. Matt would have jumped had he not been so relaxed beneath your comforting presence. Your sense of calm had washed over him like a warm wave at low tide. 

“I will,” Matt replied, having to use what remained of his mind to form two coherent words. A soft hum of acknowledgement rustled the baby hairs by his ear. He had just enough awareness to track you as you pressed a soft kiss under his jaw. 

A sigh escaped his lips as he tilted his head back against the pillow. You smiled against his skin, rewarding the accommodation by pressing a firmer kiss into the soft skin beneath his ear. Tendrils of goodgoodgood shocked their way through his veins from where your lips connected to the sensitive skin. His breath hitched as he let his eyes fall closed.

“Good spot, I take it,” you said through a smile Matt could hear. Matt barely got out the word “yes” before you licked a broad swipe up his neck and ended at that sensitive spot. Matt’s back arched as a groan kicked its way out of his throat. His hands fisted into your tank top out of pure instinct, practically begging the source of his pleasure to stay put. Another pass of your tongue stoked the embers in his abdomen into a bonfire, flames licking their way over his damp skin.

“Sweetheart, please,” Matt begged, the words a whisper on his parted lips. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was begging for. All he knew was he never wanted you to stop. 

Blunt fingernails traced the exposed skin beneath his shirt. Matt’s hips bucked up, chasing the light touch. The muscles beneath his skin jumped as you slowly, so slowly, started pushing his shirt up. It was agonizing, the feeling of your nails lightly scraping along his stomach. Each finger lit up thousands of nerve endings, each nerve ending pushing him further and further toward the edge of a steep cliff.

You pressed a soft kiss to the shell of Matt’s ear as you whispered, “Arms up, Matt.”

You could tell him to kneel at your feet for the rest of his life and he would.

Matt did the best his melted body could to help you take his shirt off. The two of you were a mess of limbs and cotton for a moment before you were able to pull the infernal garment away. Matt’s arms fell beside him like two sacks of grain. Palms as soft as calfskin ever so gently glided down his bare chest. You made sure every divot and round muscle got the attention it deserved, caressing Matt like he was the finest lace. When your pinky brushed against his nipple, a sharp hiss escaped through his teeth.

You hummed, hands retreating in their path, fingers dancing along the edges of Matt’s nipples. Matt choked out a moan, baring his neck as his back arched into your touch. Your tongue made another pass of his throat as feather-light glances of your fingers across both of his nipples chased the last coherent thoughts from Matt’s mind.

“Fuck,” Matt groaned. Every millimeter of his skin felt like it was aflame. Fire left in the wake of your gentle touch. Burning away all sense and reason until all that was left was Matt’s writhing body.

He was close. Embarrassingly so. Matt clung to the cliff’s edge by his fingertips, each kiss and caress prying his fingers off one by one. His hips moved of their own volition. He was bucking into your thigh like a dog in heat. Whines and moans flew from his glistening lips while his hands scrabbled against the sheets.

With your hands still toying at Matt’s chest, you shifted in his lap until the warm heat between your thighs settled over where his shorts had tented. A slurred string of curses and your name spilled from between his teeth. His wild grinding now dispersed your scent in the air around him. And God, there was so much. It settled into every inch of Matt’s skin until he could taste it on his tongue, feel it coat his lungs as he breathed it in.

“Sw-eetheart,” Matt choked out. He could feel his fingers falling away from the cliff in rapid succession. The precipice below him seemed to climb up the cliffside until it was just beneath his feet, tempting him to let go and plunge into its depths.

The final nail in his coffin was when you nipped at his neck, teeth closing around where his pulse flowed strongest. The air in his lungs leapt through his throat in one big gust. His unseeing eyes rolled back in his head, hands grabbing at anything in their vicinity. 

Matt’s final grip on the cliff fell away, plunging him into warmth and gentleness and sweetness that surrounded him like a strong embrace. Held him tight and wove its way through every muscle in his body. A shock of white hot pleasure rolled through him like a steam train. Starting in his groin and washing over him in wave after wave of fuckyesgoodfuckkeepgoingdon’tstop. He could barely register how loud he was over the roaring in his ears. His heart pounded against his chest like an animal behind bars.

Your lips found his again and everything clicked into place. Matt lapped at your mouth like he was drinking his first glass after a month in the desert. The sweet nectar that you produced flowed down his throat and prolonged his orgasm. His hips rocked up into yours, chasing a heat that he could feel in his bones. Hands, trembling, bunched themselves in your shirt and pulled your chest flush to his.

It took several minutes for the aftershocks to calm down. Every breath, every twitching muscle made his overwhelmed senses go haywire. In his mind, the world around him was a swirling cloud of bliss. All he could hear was your breathing, all he could feel was your heartbeat against his chest, all he could taste was strawberries and cherry blossoms. He let his fingertips trail along your exposed shoulders, zeroing in on the feeling, bringing himself back to reality.

When you felt the movement, you lifted your head to look at him, “Back with us?”

A tired smile spread itself over his lips. Matt opened his eyes, the effort to lift his eyelids like lifting a dumbbell, and let his empty gaze land somewhere on your face.

“Yeah, I’m here,” he sighed. You responded by giving him a quick peck on the lips. Matt grumbled, brow furrowing, then guided your chin back up to kiss him again. You chuckled against his lips, a whisper of “ridiculous man” absorbed between your mouths. Matt relished in the familiar sweetness before letting you pull away.

“I take it you enjoyed that?” you asked. Matt gave you a solemn nod, at which you laughed. He shifted beneath you so he could attempt to meet your eyes.

“Did you like it?” he asked tentatively. He fiddled with the hem of your shirt as he waited for your answer. He hadn’t done anything for you, he just laid there and made you do all the work. What kind of boyfriend was he? Not to mention you didn’t even touch him. A few grazes of your fingers over his chest and he was done for.

“I loved it. It was fun to figure out what buttons to push,” you laughed. The tinkling tune of your laugh erased any negative thoughts Matt retained about the experience. He let his smile return, holding you tighter to his chest.

“Give me a few minutes and I’ll return the favor,” Matt said, letting that seductive edge find its way back into his voice. You shuddered on top of him. Your thighs clenched instinctively around his. You blew a stray strand of hair out of your face, attempting to mask the want clearly written on your skin.

“3 minutes, then we’re back in business.”

“Deal.”

HUGE thanks to the Murdock Tuna Team for being the inspiration for this fic. i have them to blame for the filth that fills my head on an hourly basis.

Murdock Tuna Team 🐟: @vigilxnte-shit @pastafossa @yarrystyleeza @ecxlipse @sunflowersandsapphires @amphitrite-5 @fuckyeahpommelstrike @mar-thewriter @zomtart @what-i-call-men

[aeruia]

⌕. WIND BREAKER

⟳. WHAT ARE WE ?

suo hasn't been treating you differently to others yet you think it’s unusual which led to you going insane from all the thinking you did when in the end you two end up being together.

pairing/s : suo hayato x gn!reader

warning/s : lowercase intended , childhood friends to lovers troupe RAHHH ( idk if this is a warning but ill still put it )

word count : 2.7k

note : i only read this once and i think i used the " you " and other words repeatedly but i tried my best on searching other terms 🥲 and me still centering everything when it’ll just be mess up on pc or laptop 😭

꒰ masterlist 𖦹 wbk masterlist ꒱

suo hayato has been your childhood friend like literally. you guys were friends in the age of five or six you can’t remember but you and that man have been friends for like decades. well, practically you both grew up together just by how close you two are.

he’s the only man closest to you other than your father. he’s similar to a brother figure and you only see him as that yet the brown haired man’s action says different. thinking about his actions late at night has made its way into your night routine.

what was your night routine during the time you never questioned his actions? it’s simple — you eat, do your skincare, brush your teeth and go to sleep. nowadays, you just lay in your bed staring at the ceiling recalling every interaction you had with that man. there are also days you can't hold it and scream at your pillow because of how kind he is to you.

it’s normal and you're only thinking that and making it deeper that it shouldn't have because what if there’s an actual meaning in there and you’re just brushing it off? these thoughts never fail you to stay awake at night.

your alarm goes off as you hit it to turn it off, you feel a little bit groggy as you force yourself to sit on the edge of your bed, rubbing at your eyes to remove the sleepiness you’re feeling. “ gosh, i feel more tired than usual. ” you thought to yourself as you stand up, making your way on the bathroom to wash your face.

luckily there wasn’t any school today or else you’re cooked knowing yourself you’ll doze off in the middle of the class. you cursed suo as if it was his fault that you didn’t get enough sleep. ever since you started thinking his actions have more meaning — it made you more delusional.

delusional that he likes you, you don’t even know what is his motive for that or maybe he’s just fucking around, you have no clue plus it’s messing up your mind. letting out a sigh while you dry your face up using a towel leaving your bathroom to prepare your breakfast and that you can leave to roam around the town besides you need to restock up your fridge too.

you slip on your shoes and your bag slinging it on your shoulder as you lock your apartment door.

the sun shines on your face making you squint covering your eyes with your palm while you look down squeezing your eyes shut because of the sun directly hitting your eyes.

you straightly made your way into the café that kotoha runs wanting to have a drink before walking to the market.

“ hello, [name]! how are you? ” you heard kotoha ask when you’re literally just about to step foot inside. “ i’m fine, thank you for asking. ” kotoha nodded, satisfied with your answer as she set down a plate she was just wiping a minute ago.

three minutes later, kotoha placed your usual drink in front of you as she continued to wipe the plate she put down earlier. the door opened the bell rings signaling that someone stepped inside the café and it was just the trio. sakura, nirei and suo.

“ oh! kotoha and [name], hellooo !! ” he greeted both of you and smiled as kotoha greeted him back. the brown haired girl greeted the three of them as sakura and nirei sat next to each other while suo sat next to you.

suo propped his elbow as he rest his chin on his hand before smiling at you. “ what are your plans for today? ” he asked. he always asks you what are your plans once he gets the chance to talk to you. “ walk around the market, my fridge is almost empty. ” you replied. suo looks at you and nods. “ i’ll tag along. ” he said giving you a close eyed smile.

you raise one of your eyebrow as you looked at him and looked at nirei and sakura who was chatting with kotoha. “ we just finished patrolling. ” he said when he noticed you were looking back and forth to say that “ suo, you’re hanging out with your friends. ”

“ oh! wouldn't they mind if i steal you from them, then? ” the brown haired boy shook his head left to right. “ i’m sure they won’t — right sakura and nirei? ” he asked as he looked at the two boys while sakura looked at him as if he was angry when he literally just don't get it. “ huh? oh yeah, it’s alright! ” nirei said when sakura is still puzzled. “ what are you guys say- ” he tried to chime in but got cut off with nirei just saying that sakura also agrees.

“ see? they wouldn't mind. ” the smile on his face never faded as you nodded sipping on the drink that you almost forgot about.

you finished your drink as you thanked kotoha before leaving money on the counter as you waved them goodbye, suo doing the same.

“... is that why he asked if it’s alright? ” sakura asked while he eats his omurice. nirei and kotoha nodded in sync.

you were glad suo tagged along or else your hands are full of fruits, vegetables and meat. you were buying a lot so it will last you for a month so you can avoid leaving your apartment to buy the ingredients you need if you’re craving something.

“ ahh, you’re buying a lot are you planning to lock yourself in your apartment? ” turning around to face suo as you blinked at him. “ obviously not, i can’t live without interacting with someone. ” you said, turning your back against him as you buy an ice cream. “ do you also want one, suo? ” suo declined your offer as you just shrugged and thanked the old man who was selling the ice cream, taking a spoonful of it, consuming it.

the vendors or the elders that are in the same place you two are also have been mistaking you and suo that you two are together so whenever you decline or suo decline it they will say that it’s a pity you and him aren't together since you two look good together.

every time you hear it you can't help but sigh internally because you’re confused about how you see him and also confused about how he sees you, you were in your own world thinking about the things everyone said to you and suo.

if he didn't pull you out of the way you would have been hit by a kid who was paddling fast like they were in some kind of race.

“ you never change [name], ” he said as he release his hold on your wrist. “ don’t zone out like that. ” he added making you let out an apologetic smile, leading him into a bench. “ let’s take a break for now then let’s go to my apartment. ” you said. both of you sitting at the same time.

you take a spoonful of the ice cream again, consuming it as you repeat it and in a second the cup of ice cream is finished. “ wait, ” suo said making you look at him as he places down the plastic bags on the ground before he takes out a handkerchief, wiping the corner of your lips making you surprised your hand moves in its own putting a hand on his wrist, making him stop his movement.

“ why are you doing this? ” you start, your hand still on his wrist as he tilts his head to the side. “ just, what are we suo? ” you finished, looking at him there was a glint in your eyes that suo couldn't understand what it is. “ what do you want us to be? ” his question made you huff taking your hand off his wrist.

this man got you in a chokehold and that annoys you because why does he have such a huge effect on you? did he put you in a spell or something?

he puts down the plastic bags on your kitchen counter while you look at your list everything is checked out except for " a carton of ice cream " written with a red pen. you wanna ask suo if he wanna tag along to go to an ice cream store together.

“ looks like you got something on your mind, ” looking up to see him standing in front of you, his hands on his back. “ are you able to go with me to the ice cream store? i’ll buy you an ice cream too! consider it as a reward for helping me. ”

the both of you walked into the ice cream store as you shivered a bit because of how chilly it can get inside the store. you quickly goes to one of the ice cream freezer, sliding the glass as you grabbed an ice cream that was stored in a tub and an ice cream that was in a cone.

the brown haired boy only stared at you — having a hard time picking which flavor you should get. “ suo, what should flavor should i get? ” you asked him, showing different flavors of the ice cream. “ that one. ” suo replied, pointing at your favorite flavor at all times.

nodding at his reply putting the other flavors back to the freezer as you closed it. “ what about you? what ice cream do you want? ” you asked, suo taking the ice cream out of your hand, walking into the register to pay for it.

you stand there stunned as the tall male gave a smile leaving with a small thank you.

he left your apartment as you sighed in relief. you let out a silent scream, putting both of your hands on your head before running into your room.

what happened today just made you wonder about it more. when suo asked “ what do you want us to be? ” just keeps repeating over and over again like it’s on loop. do you want to be his? or do you want to stay friends with him? that thought made you stay awake all night.

you were looking at the ceiling again having a staring contest with it — you’re in a predicament that looks like you can solve easily yet it’s hard.

suo is a mysterious person. everybody knows that including you, of course. you’re no exception when it comes to that, that man can read you like an open book when it comes to him? you can’t exactly pinpoint his exact feelings seeing that he always have a smile on his face.

“ what do you want us to be... ” you recalled what he said as you smiled, kicking your feet under the sheets. just what will you do without him? you two aren’t even together and here you are blushing and kicking your feet.

the next day, you feel your eyes can't open temporarily because of how tired you are feeling. at the same time, you forcefully opened your eyes looking at yourself in the mirror. there’s a bag under your eye, a clear sign that you didn't get the sleep you want.

today, you’re feeling extra insane from all of that thinking you did last night. “ maybe hanging out with suo today will fix everything? ” you asked yourself, taking your phone out texting suo quickly.

spoiler alert — it didn't fix everything or maybe it did?

now, you two are sitting outside of a small cafe, a drink infront of you while on suo have nothing but just water.

“ well.. i expected you would only drink water so i brought teacakes. ” you stated, placing a box in front of him as he gave you a bright smile. “ ah, how thoughtful of you. ” you brush it off saying that he deserves it.

“ suo! ” someone called out, both of your head turning to who it was. a blond hair boy and a black and white hair boy walk towards to where you guys are sitting.

the blond hair boy scratches his cheek with his index finger while the two toned hair boy has both of his hands in his pocket — the one they all have in common is they all wear furin jackets.

“ oh, uhm are you on a date.. ” the blond hair asked nervously not wanting to interrupt as suo shook his head which made him sigh in relief.

“ don’t get the wrong idea, me and suo are just friends! childhood friends to be exact. ” you explained with a smile. seems like he’s rubbing off on you by how you smile more often.

you continued to sip your drink while suo talked to them for a bit. not long after they had walked away to do their own thing, suo’s eyes are fixated on you again. you ignored it by looking at your side which is inside the cafe.

“ how come, you’re always like this with me? ” you blurted out a question while he bites on the teacakes you had brought him. “ i know you’re aware of your actions. if you don’t stop i’m close to falling for you. ” you said in a joking manner as he just smiled in return.

“ i’ll wait for that day. the day you’ll fall for me. ” he said as he showed you a smile — a smile that’s so breathtaking, if they challenge you to look at him like this, tell everyone you’ll be out there with a huge amount of money.

you’re probably overreacting it or is it just you but he looks more handsome than usual?

“ let’s go, it’ll probably get dark later. ” his voice grabbed you out of your train of thoughts as you nodded, standing up and taking the drink you failed to finish.

as usual, suo walks you to your apartment. you mumbled a thank you, as you ran quickly inside your apartment slamming the door.

you rubbed the back of your neck, feeling embarrassed at what you said back there in the cafe as you sit on the floor, leaning on the door. it’s confirmed, suo hayato will be the death of you.

days turn into weeks and weeks turn into months. you can’t handle the feelings you have for him. you always tell yourself that if you’re ever friends with someone it should only stay as friends however that’s not the case here anymore.

day by day the only thing that you have in mind was suo it was always him. it was like his name was imprinted on your brain. you could never go on a normal day without thinking about suo.

inviting suo into your apartment wasn’t in your to-do list yet you still did it, therefore you two were sitting on the floor across from each other. rambling about your school and things you had seen when you were out.

and that’s when you did something stupid next thing you did was ramble about how you like him so much and that you still think about what he said when you two were in the cafe. to top it off you weren't even drunk, you never even had a single alcohol in you.

“ to answer your question about what do you want us to be, i’d like us to date. ” you noticed the silence when you finished talking.

“ well, that took you several months to answer my question. ” he teased and laugh which made you embarrassed.

“ don’t rub it off my face! you wanna go on a date with me or not! ” you said heat rushing up to your cheeks. suo finding this adorable as he lifted his hand to pinch your cheek. “ i’ll go on a date with you, my treat of course. ” he said, pinching at your cheek making you scrunch your nose before pulling away his hand.

months had gone by after that date you two had. it was memorable for you.

you were eating ice cream again while suo wipes the side of your mouth to clean the ice cream that remains. you finished the ice cream again in no time, throwing it into the nearby trash can before glancing at the man in front of you.

“ what are we? ” the question you asked when you’re so puzzled about his true intention. suo laugh “ we are a happy couple. ” he answered, as you giggle like a kid that got something they want.

you convinced yourself that those sleepless nights. the nights you wouldn't even get a blink of sleep because of the constant thinking you do because of him.

date posted : 063024

[reve-writes]

—dense; kaz brekker.

ʚ kaz brekker x reader | grishaverse | 2,2k words. ʚ you're a bit clueless as to why the dirtyhands do the things he does, like call you schatje and pay you to steal something when he clearly doesn't need to. ʚ fluff. ʚ a/n maybe ooc kaz im sorry. more at the end!

Ketterdam is a marvel from afar, a pretty little flower offering promises of its nectar—new life, new opportunities, debauchery—only to catch you in its trap and swallow you whole. All the way up on the clock tower, roughly centralised in the port city, the Barrel is nothing more than bright lights emanating from bar signs and glittering roofs.

The bell rings, reveberating to signal the change of the hour. It's time to work, finally.

Your boots thump as you make your way down the spiraling concrete staircase, paying attention not to step on the chunks flaking off of the edge. Whoever was responsible for building this was clearly cutting cost, the concrete is about as fragile as clay.

A painting. It is an annoying job to do on your own, but your contractor offered a lot of Kruge for it—perhaps too much, but if Mr. Kikkert is willing to scrape his pockets for it, then you're more than happy to accept. It is more Kruge than you would ever need for a while, so you won't have to scrounge for scraps in this Ghezen-forsaken town. Moreover, it's been a while since your last job and you're frankly not doing too well.

You step lightly over the rooftops, hopping from building-to-building with sure, steady steps. You have done this for most of your lives, to avoid being stomped into the vile muck at the bottom of the Barrel, you learned to hide near the skies.

Where the painting is being kept isn't far from the Canal, just on the rows of overpriced apartments for rent. You were told that it was housed on the third floor of the corner building. Everything is going well. Your journey is uninterrupted and the stadwatch aren't on alert.

Until you spot him.

The familiar curve of his black hat. The high collar of his coat. The shining leather of his gloves.

Brekker.

You strut towards him as if you are neighbours crossing paths on your evening walks. When in truth, his Crow Club is on the other side of the town and you never come to this area without reason. You call his name sweetly. His head whips around immediately, finding you in the dwindling foot traffic of the street.

He says your name in a warning tone, suspicious of your being here.

“What? Can't I come and see an old friend?”

Brekker scoffs. “I don't know. Can you, schatje?”

You almost turn around and leave when you hear the term of endearment. He knows it gets under your skin—it always does. Your heart skips a beat or two and your train of thoughts gets interrupted whenever he calls you that. He means it as a jeering nudge and your head is wholly aware of that. Your heart, though. What a fickle little thing.

“A bit of a walk from the club, isn't it?” you say, falling into step next to him as he turns the corner towards the apartment building. “I assume you must be up to something.”

“Ah, but I'm always up to something.”

“I can't say I disagree,” you snort. “You don't happen to have a job around the area, do you?”

He halts, his cane knocking against the stone pathing. He turns to look at you and your elbows brush against each other. “Do you need anything? I have important matters to attend to.”

You bring a hand to your chest exaggeratedly, feigning a frown. “How callous. Call me schatje and throw me aside. Is this how you treat everyone, Kaz?”

“Only you, mijn schatje.”

You roll your eyes, unsure how to behave. Huffing, you say, “Stop calling me that.”

“I was under the impression that you liked the nickname.”

Oh, you do.

“I'll be going now. I've something to do. Stay off my job,” you warn. “You still owe me literal crown jewels from last time.”

Kaz's neutral expression shifts into fond nostalgia as he recalls the incident you're referring to. The crown jewels in question were under dispute by a pair of soon-to-be divorcees. One of them hired the Crows' help. The other called on you. One thing led to another and the item ended up in Kaz's hands and you went home empty-handed.

“I won that fair and square,” Kaz retorts. “Your current job wouldn't involve a certain painting, would it?”

Judging by his smug thin smile, you know that he knows.

“Tell me it isn't what you're here for.” You sigh exasperatedly. “Stay off of it, Brekker. I can't afford to lose another job.”

You think to be threatening, bluff your way out and tell him you'll tear down his Crow Club if he gets in your way, but you doubt it will work against the Dirtyhands. After all, you're one person and he has the whole Dregs behind him.

He looks at you with a raised eyebrow for a moment and for that terrible moment, you think that he may be there for the same reason you are, but he shakes his head lightly. “Fortunately, schatje, no. Stop looking as if you're going to murder me in my sleep.”

An involuntary smile blooms. “I wouldn't dream of it, Kaz.”

“Go on, then,” he says. “Be careful.”

You bite the insides of your cheeks to keep from smiling. “You too.”

With that, you part ways with Dirtyhands, entering the building. Your acquisition of the painting goes smoothly and the deal is closed swiftly a few hours later. It's too easy. You know it is. You're missing something.

Miss something, you did.

You push open the door to the Crow Club carelessly. The loud chatter mixed with atmospheric radio surges to meet you as you push your way past sweat-slicked bodies and drunken patrons. Your eyes dart back-and-forth, trying to spot the familiar curve of his black hat or the shiny glow of the head of his cane.

Jesper spots you from one of the open gambling tables.

“If it isn't my favourite thief,” he says, inclining his glass towards you. “Fancy a game?”

It isn't until you stop by his table that he sees the downward slope of your frown and the sharp glare you're giving. He instinctively sits up straighter, taking his shoes off of the corner of the table.

“Where's Brekker?” You ask, to-the-point, without indulging in your usual chit-chat whenever you visit.

The other three patrons on the table freeze—sensing the tension on your shoulders, too. They look between you and jesper, both confused and intrigued to know more. What is Ketterdam if it doesn't have rumours and secrets whispered about?

Jesper's brow furrow. “Are you okay? What's going on?”

To Jesper's knowledge, you and Kaz are on friendly terms, despite the frequent bickering. Hell, he assumes you're more-than-friendly, with the way Kaz gives you a nickname—an endearment, to be specific. Is it possible that you're going through a lover's spat?

“Brekker, Jesper. Where is he?”

A familiar rasp cuts through the rowdiness. “Here.”

Your head whirls around and you shoot an accusatory stare at the source of the voice. You stomp your boots as you make your way towards him. As you pass by him, you tug on the sleeves of his coat.

“We need to talk.”

“Hold on, schatje,” he says, still trailing after you. His cane knocks against the hardwood of the floor. “About what?”

You make your way up the stairs, to the second floor and swing the door to his office open as if it belongs to you. He has an eyebrow raised when he enters after you, closing the door behind him. He leans back against it, waiting for you to speak whatever it is that's on your mind.

“Kikkert,” you snarl. “You paid him to pay me.”

“That's quite a conclusion. How did you come to it?” His voice is level, not betraying whether or not you've spoken the truth.

You're pacing in front of him. “He says, and I quote, ‘If you're so close to Brekker, why doesn't he ask you himself to do this?'”

His eyes furrow and he runs a hand through his combed hair. He sighs, holding a hand up in a you-caught-me gesture. “Kikkert clearly has no idea what discretion means.”

You glare at him. “Do you think this is funny?”

He seems taken aback. “I don't see why this is a big deal, schatje. It's a job. You're paid. I get the painting. What's wrong with it?”

“Why are you doing this, then? Pay me for something you clearly are able to do yourself? Hell, whose painting was it? Was it yours? Did you pay me to steal from you?”

He doesn't reply, but the way he shifts his gaze away from you let's you know. It's as clear as a verbal admission.

“It was yours. That's why you were there. From your safehouse, wasn't it?” You stare at him in disbelief. “Is this amusing to you? I'm sorry if I don't quite see it as such.”

“Schatje—”

“I told you to stop calling me that.”

You can't wrap your head around Kaz Brekker's thinking process. He pays someone to pay you to steal a painting he already owns. What's his plan in the long run? To embarrass you? Hurt your pride? Is this some sort of ploy to rope you to be indebted to him?

He sighes. “You were struggling. I only wanted to help.”

“Dirtyhands doesn't help people. You don't run gangs the way you do charities,” you retort.

Is that all you see him as? The demjin? The one who's willing to stain his hands for the right price? Is there no other version of him in your eyes?

“You're forgetting the man behind the monster here,” he says softly.

“Am I?” You approach him, leaving a little over two steps in-between the two of you. “Who exactly is the man behind Dirtyhands then?”

He pushes himself off of the door, taking one step forward. The thump of his cane practically echoes in the room. The hustle bustle of the Crow Club is nothing more than a muffled sound. There's a sudden tension in the air—the same one that hangs over you whenever he calls you his schatje, but this one is heavier due to your lack of light-hearted banter to parry.

“Do you really not know?” he asks, as if the question is staring at you in the face. As if it's the most obvious thing in all of Kerch. His stare is heavy, dark irises acting like magnets that pull you in. He scoffs, “You really are dense.”

“Well, enlighten me, Brekker! None of this is making a lot of sense to me.” You let out a frustrated huff of breath. Your hands move wildly to stress your points. “You know what? Whatever it is, I don't want to know. Just — quit doing it. I'll never take another job from Kikkert. I'll stay away from your damned club and all your friends. I'll stay away from you. I'm a capable enough thief without your pity, Brekker. I don't need it. You can shove it up your—”

His gloved hand wraps around your wrist as it's flailing in the air. Your speech immediately comes to a halt and your eyes widen.

“You are impossible,” he says.

You snort. “And you aren't?”

“At the moment, no,” he retorts.

His stare is intense. It isn't until then that you realise you've taken a step forward during your rant, decreasing the perfectly amicable distance and turning it into a heart-thundering one.

“It wasn't pity,” he says. “You're capable, I have never doubted that, but even the most capable ones struggle sometimes. My intention is to help. Trust me on this. I know you're too prideful to accept any, so I paid Kikkert.”

“But why? Why bother?”

“Why?” He blinks, sighing loudly before continuing. “Why? Have you ever stopped and thought, for a moment, that I've been calling you schatje. Do you think that was out of pity?”

You bite the insides of your cheek and shake your head. “It was something else.”

“Has it ever crossed your mind that it's because —ghezen forbid— I may actually harbour fondness for you?”

You blink once, twice. Kaz thinks he much prefers breaking into the ice court than having this conversation right now. His hand trembles when he brings them to brush your cheekbone lightly. He lets out a relieved sigh when you don't pull back. Your hand wraps over his gloved one, the leather cold on your skin. You lean into the touch.

“I thought it was one-sided,” you say finally. “I'm quite fond of you, too, you know.”

“You do a horrible job of showing it.”

“Says you,” you argue. “Just—don't do it again. Let me handle my own problems, Kaz. I'll let you know if I need your help.”

He hums in agreement. “You'll let me know.”

“I will.”

The two of you jump apart abruptly when there's a loud knock.

“Boss?” Jesper's voice sounds muffled through the door. “Everything okay? I hope ___ hasn't murdered you yet.”

“I haven't,” you answer, half-chuckling. Turning to look at Kaz, you say, “It's funny how he doesn't assume you'll murder me instead.”

Kaz shrugs. “He knows I can't.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Can't or won't?”

“Both,” he answers. “Can we not talk about murdering each other after what just happened?”

Heat rushes to your cheeks. What just happened is you practically professing your little (well, maybe not-so-little) crush on him.

“So, is Kaz okay?” Jesper shouts again.

“Fine,” Kaz answers. “You can go back to your table.”

[ ]

i wanted to write something cute. schatje is taken from google and inspired from a kaz fic i read that used 'schatz' as a nickname. the plot is slightly ehhh? because it didn't really end the way i intended it to and i didn't proofread (when have i ever?). i was hoping to turn it into a two or three part series, but this is what we've ended up with & im quite happy with it. thank you for reading!

[hellfirecvnt]

Preoccupied

Lee Russell x Fem!Reader pt. 4

Summary: A plan is hatching, sure. You and Lee can't stay focused. What are you two thinking about?

Warnings: ***Sex, drunk sex, drunk driving is bad but don't lose the plot here, riding

Notes: I'm changing the plot and timeline and shit so it's more fun to read and so I don't rip off other writers!

Read part one here. // Part two here. // Part three here. // Part five here.

Monday morning pries through the window like the hands of a thief as it snatches away your blissful sleep before your alarm. You sit up in your bed and extend into a long, pleasant stretch. You pull your blanket around you and a certain lingering scent of cologne takes over your senses. You close your eyes and relive Friday night.

"Do you wanna come back to my place?" You're unsure what possessed you to be so bold. Lee raises his eyebrows, a sly smile spread across his lips. The car ride is full of palpable tension, you nearly chew your lip clean off. The second you two drunken fools step out of the car, his lips are on yours. Desperate hands cling to any part of your body he can grasp.

Lee pins you to the car, and soft moans escape from both of you as you move your heads in sync. You trip and fumble over each other as you make your way to the door, nearly entirely without breaking the kiss. You finally get the lock unhatched and burst through the front entrance of your home. You both stumble inside and finally, your faces separate, only to catch your breath. Lee stares at you, carefully studying the features of your face as if he's not sure if this is real or not.

You lead him to your bedroom and lightly shove him so he sits on the bed. He watches you with a buzzed grin, amazed by you. You plant another long, hungry kiss on his lips before lowering to your knees in front of him.

"Oh... Oh!" He's excited by your initiative, watching as your delicate hands unfasten his belt and work to free his still-swelling erection.

You blink yourself out of the memory when you hear your alarm go off.

"Oh, fuck!" you exclaim aloud, shaken from your blissful reminiscing. After silencing the alarm, you get ready for the day. Lee Russell consumed your every thought all morning. Something about your inability to know how that night ended for him makes you nervous to see him today. All you know is he was gone by Saturday morning when you woke up. You're not sure how to feel.

You park your car and release a stressed sigh. There's no getting around it. If last night was a drunken mistake for Lee, that's just something you have to accept and move on from. Preferably fast. You step in the door and greet the other staff as you pass by. Just as you're about to round the desk and take your seat, the young teacher from the other day approaches you.

"Hey, Y/N," he chimes, more familiar than you recall giving him permission to be.

"Hello, Mr. Hayden," you speak with a tone meant to hint at your disapproval of his overly friendly manner.

"Some of the teachers were talking and they said you got drinks with Gamby and Russell," he laughs. "I'm so sorry, that must've been hell." He's not wrong, you recall Dr. Brown pissing on a cop car.

"I happened to run into them there, yes. I left before they did, though. Thank you for your... Apology?" You knit your brow and attempt to disengage from the conversation.

"Well," Bill steps in front of you again, demanding your attention. "I just wanted to let you know, me and the other teachers do payday drinks every Friday. You're welcome to come. It might be a little better... Conversation wise." Mr. Hayden laughs at his own quip and you stare straight faced.

"That won't be necessary, Hayden. Ms. Y/L/N is in good hands." Lee appears from nowhere, slipping a long, nimble arm around your shoulder as he stands next to you. "Let's all get back to work, shall we? Bell's about to ring." He sassily bobs his head, staring daggers into Bill Hayden. The teacher glances at you and then back to Lee before rolling his eyes and heading to his classroom. The bell rings just a moment after he rounds the corner.

"Lee Russell, to the rescue." You smile up at him as he frees you from his close-knit grasp.

"Good morning, darlin'. You sleep well?" He tilts his head playfully, subtly looking for the answer in your eyes.

"Like a baby," you laugh, nervous from the way he's looking at you. He's fighting tooth and nail inside to keep his behavior professional, only because apparently Super Intendant Haas plans to make a surprise visit after Dr. Brown "mysteriously" put in her resignation letter after meeting with her early this morning by the train tracks.

"Don't look at me with those big doe eyes, sweetheart. You know Haas can't see me with an underling. We'll both get fired."

"An underling? Harsh. You were the one under me," you joke, quietly, taking your seat behind your desk. You lean forward, keeping your eyes locked with his, pushing your breasts together as you pull your blouse down to tease him. Lee's eyes widen for just a moment as he glances down to your chest.

"Keep it in your pants, Y/L/N. I'll make it worth your while." He winks before disappearing into his office. Behind that door, Lee closes the wide sets of blinds, closing off visibility inside his small, glass-walled office. In the dim light, he leans back in his chair, a distressed hand readjusting his pants as his mind drifts off to memories of the weekend.

Your large, shining eyes glare up at him from where you kneel with one gentle hand wrapped around his shaft. Your hand sits perfectly still and yet his breathing is still shuddered, just seeing you touch him like this. His eyes roll back as you begin to work your hand up and down with a firm grip. You smile, proud of the reaction you're getting. You take it a step further and lick a firm stripe up his length from base to tip.

"Jesus Fucking Christ," he groans, reaching a hand down to wrap a fist in your hair. You position your pouting lips at the tip of his cock, leaving gentle kisses before allowing him into your mouth. You bob your head up and down, occasionally taking a new position to take him deeper and deeper into your throat. He's well endowed, and tears prickle at your eyes as you push yourself to your limit trying to please him.

He holds the fist of of your hair firmly, forcing you into a rhythm of his choice. When he pushes you too far, you moan in protest against his skin. The vibration is enough to send him over the edge right then.

"Shhh, shhh," he whispers. "Can't believe this dirty little fuckin' mouth of yours." He throws his head back, basking in the warmth of your mouth for a few seconds longer before roughly pulling you away from him altogether. "Get on the bed, sweetheart."

A hard knock at Lee's office door returns him to reality. He's quick to grant entry to whoever waits outside and in walks Super Intendant Haas.

Back at your desk, you're on the phone with an inquiring parent and Gamby zooms past you.

"Shut the fuck up, Y/L/N, I'm in a meeting!" he says, lightning fast, as he beelines for Lee's office door. The three men have their meeting and you can't help but glance back at the closed blinds every so often, wondering what they're talking about. It's obvious to you that Belinda is done for, her entire reputation lies in the volatile hands of Lee Russell. So what could be going on behind that door?

When the three men finally emerge, all is quiet. Neal and Lee usher Haas to the door and bid him a pleasant farewell. You wait patiently for either of them to speak up as they approach your desk, but they're just grinning from ear to ear.

"Well, Y/N. Looks like our efforts weren't in vain-" Lee starts, but Gamby excitedly cuts him off.

"You're looking at your new principals." He says proudly.

"Principals? Like with an 's'?" You clarify, having never heard of an arrangement like this before.

"We're co-interim, temporarily." Lee leans against your desk. His favorite pastime. "He's gonna send some guys to 'keep an eye on things' until they appoint a new principal that isn't that sorry cunt, Dr. Brown."

"So it seems you two need babysitters, huh?" You laugh, teasing them. Just then, the doors open and Haas re-enters.

"Mr. Russell, Mr. Gamby. I need a moment." He leads the two men to the main office, luckily for you, you can hear into that office. It's muffled, but since the blinds are open, you're able to read their lips to make up for what's too quiet to hear.

Haas sits at the principal's desk and exhales a breath of stress. Gamby and Russell quickly take their seats and listen.

"Dr. Brown's situation is... Upsetting." Haas drones on.

"Oh, no..." You whisper, seemingly catching on before the Vice Principals.

"Belinda Brown has taken a job as the neighboring district's high school principal." The news hit the two idiotic men like a ton of bricks.

At the end of their meeting, Lee and Neal usher Super Intendant Haas to the door. They wave him off with reassuring smiles that drop the second he's out of sight.

"We are so fucked, Gamby!" Lee wails.

"Shut up!" Neal barks. "I just need time to think!" Both men beeline for the office. You follow them inside the large Principal's office and close the door behind you.

"What's the big deal? She's not your boss anymore." You ask, perplexed by all the drama.

"She's going to make our lives at North Jackson a living hell! You saw the way she maneuvered that ball game! We're fucked!"

"Calm the fuck down, Russell. We just need to convince her to move cities." Gamby starts working out a plot. "Maybe we head up in her neighborhood at night, fire off a few rounds to keep the property values low." He uses his hand to mimic shooting into the air.

"Mr. Gamby... No..." You place a friendly hand on his, reeling him back from that preposterous idea.

"It's not like Russell's helping us!"

"I am trying, motherfucker!" Lee falls silent again for just a moment. "She's a mom. She isn't gonna want to stay somewhere that doesn't feel safe for her kids."

"Okay, let's shoot at her kids."

"Gamby!" You and Lee both scold him at the same time, shutting him down yet again.

"Let's stage a robbery," you say as a light bulb illuminates above your head. "Get into her house, rough it up a little, and get out. What kind of mother would keep her kids in a neighborhood like that?"

Your two bosses consider your plan, weighing their options. You watch the rays of the sun shift through the multiple windows, time seems to be slowing down in this moment of intense stress.

"That might work," Lee mumbles, already seeming to calm down, relieved by this idea.

"You want us to break into her home? That's against the law." Gamby looks at both of you, disappointed.

"So is shooting at her fucking kids, numbnuts." Lee slings a stray piece of paper at Neal and he swats it away.

"Fuck you, I'm not robbing anybody." The morally confused man stands firm.

"We don't have to take anything, we just have to barely rough the place up and convince her it's not safe to raise a family here. Don't be a baby," you taunt playfully, but as usual, he can't seem to take it that way.

"I'm not being a baby. You're a fuckin' baby. Don't fucking- everybody just shut the fuck up! We'll get in, get out, and never speak of it again, alright?" Gamby essentially relays the exact same plan back to you. You roll your eyes, agreeing just to shut him up.

A few days later, that Friday, North Jackson is to have a game against Belinda's new school, Percival. She's always made it a point to attend every game her school plays, but she will definitely be attending this one.

"Tonight's the night, Y/N," Lee takes his perch, leaned against your desk.

"Tonight is the night, Mr. Russell." You nod sarcastically and charismatically.

"You sure you want to get entangled in all this extremely sexy danger?" He straightens his tie. You laugh at his joke, but mostly you're just happy to see him. Happy to talk to him.

"It was my idea, Lee." You laugh, furrowing your brows.

"And what a good idea it is, darlin'." He disappears to follow behind Gamby, making whatever rounds they've dubbed as their new duty since becoming Principals.

Through no fault of your own, your mind begins to wander. You desperately crave a redo of your night with Lee...

You do as he says, climbing into the bed and waiting patiently for him to undress you. He starts with your shirt, slipping it from your body and tossing it to the side. Next, he makes quick work of your bra, all the while pressing his lips against yours. His soft hands trail softly up and down your body, igniting goosebumps across the planes of your flesh. You moan under his touch and he's amazed to have this effect on you.

He finally removes your skirt and panties before tossing his own shirt to the side. For payday drinks, he's dressed casually. His long sleeve t-shirt that he'd kept rolled up to his elbows had you weak in your knees the first time you saw him in something other than his work clothes.

His jeans barely make it down his legs before you're physically pulling him onto you. He's standing against the bed with you perfectly lined up at the edge. His cock twitches with anticipation as he stares down at you completely splayed open for him to take. His mind is completely blown.

"Tell me what you want, sweetheart," Lee whispers, buzzed with alcohol and lust.

"I want you, Lee. I want you to fuck-" That was all he needed. He slowly slides into you without warning. He's careful, drawing out his stride as he sinks deeper and deeper inside you. Loud, song-like moans pour from your lips as he begins to form a rhythm pumping in and out.

"God, you're so fucking tight," he grunts as he thrusts, tossing his head back as waves of intense pleasure wash over him with each slap of his skin against yours. "Like a fuckin vice grip." You grasp hopelessly at the blankets on your bed, pulling yourself forward so Lee can slam into you harder.

"Oh, god!" You wail, all of your senses magnified by the drinking. The feeling of his fingertips gripping your thigh as he fucks you feels almost as orgasmic as the fucking itself.

"Shh, baby. I know," he whispers with a sly grin, picking up his pace. You release a loud, whining moan before sitting up and pushing him away. He withdraws from you and you pull him onto the bed. Once he's positioned, you climb on top of him, straddling his waist. You rise on your knees and reach a hand down to his throbbing erection to guide it to your needy pussy.

Slowly, you lower yourself onto him, pleasure shooting through you like lightning bolts. You adjust your knees and begin lifting yourself up and down on his shaft. You place two hands on the wall in front of you, above his head, and arch your back to skillfully lift your ass and fuck your aching cunt against him.

Lee hooks his hands where your thighs meet your waist and pulls you so you slam down on him even harder with each thrust. Vulgar sounds of pure pleasure spill from his lips as you ride him to his climax. His mouth hangs slightly open, brandishing his brilliant teeth. His dark brown eyes roll backward for just a moment before he locks his grip on your hips, holding you in place as he fucks up into you at a rapid pace.

"Lee!" You cry, quickly approaching the point of no return. He doesn't let up, and you can't hold back the loud, desperate moans and wails as he fucks you through your high. Just as you're coming down, he slams into you hard. His strides become less than steady and then finally, he thrusts inside you to his hilt and stops. You feel his cock twitch inside you, warmth fills your cunt and spills out down his shaft. You look at him with fear and urgency as his cum drips out of you.

"You don't gotta worry about that with me." He winks, allowing his head to fall back into the pillows, still rock hard inside you.

"Ms. Y/L/N? Are you okay?" Mr. Hayden tears you from your steamy memory and you realize your face is beet-red.

"I'm fine, actually. It's hot up here. Allergies are terrible. I will fucking kill you if you ask me about it again."

"What did you just say?" The man knits his brows.

"I said I didn't really hear you, could you ask me that again?"

"I don't think that's what you said at all..." He walks away slowly.

(There will be one ((or two)) more parts! Coming soon!)

•••

Taglist: @therest-stillunwritten // @its-in-the-woods // @justme12200 // @sixx-writes // @littlenosoul // @itsyellow // @blackwoodtree // @hiddlebatchedloki

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

Um, if you’re taking Twilight requests, what about Edward lying about being a virgin and having never loved anyone before Bella? A past vampire lover shows up out of the blue and is upset that Edward has moved on? Maybe they separated because she didn’t want to do the vegetarian diet? But then she changed her mind because she was lonely and missed Edward. So she shows up asking the Cullens to let her join and teach her the diet in the hopes she and Edward can get back together. Carlisle can’t turn her away (maybe he turned her after Edward) and so she stays but it’s awkward for everyone. So you have this love triangle with the ex, Edward, and Bella. But Bella also still has her thing with Jacob lol. So it’s kind of a love square. And Bella feels insecure about this new woman showing up and it puts a strain on the relationship with Edward and the Cullens.

I just find it hard to believe Edward didn’t have an interest in anyone at all in 80+ years after being turned. It would really suck being the only single in a house of couples.

Pairing(s): Edward Cullen x Vampire!Reader, Edward Cullen x Bella Swan, Jacob Black x Bella Swan

Warnings: love square, mentions of blood (human and animal), hurt feelings, cheating?, longing, both bella and edward are sexually frustrated lol, past relationships mentioned, might be a two parter 🤷🏽‍♀️

Words: 2761

He can't help but think of her when the smell of jasmine filled the air. Bringing him back to a moment in time that he saved specifically to reminisce on when Edward found himself alone. He could practically feel the gentle breeze tousle his bronze hair. Her laugh ringing in his ears as clear as church bells. The only thing that ruined the memory was recalling the smear of red on her smiling face. Red of human blood.

Pulling himself out of his revery, Edward realizes that he'd been sitting at the piano for a possible hour, staring off as he dissociated. He hadn't thought of her in a while.

Must have to do with Bella's new perfume. It reminds him of-

The pinging of his phone has him sharply inhaling, abruptly remembering the physical world he's almost rudely thrown out of his own mind.

Bella's name shows up on his screen. That's right, he's supposed to be picking her up for a date in five minutes.

Edward scratches his head, pondering how long he'd exactly been there.

Quickly dashing to his keys, Edward is out the door in seconds. Dwelling in the past served him no purpose. His life was finally starting to move forward.

Well, there were a few halts along the way. Mainly one that went by the name of Jacob Black. A massive thorn in his side.

Damn it all that Bella even reciprocated the mongrel's feelings, despite her protesting. No doubt Bella loved Edward, that still didn't mean she didn't love Jacob too.

Perhaps that was why he was thinking so much about her as of late.

The lights in your hotel room are all turned off. Didn't matter if they were on. Your vision was clear either way as they watched the subtle movement of shadows cast by what little light streamed in through the blinds.

Your dinner lay still on the bed next to you. Nutrients drained from it. Usually you tried not to make a mess when you ate. If you had enough time in the day (also if your prey was easy on the eyes) you'd work on a way not to kill them. Only take a bit of their blood then dash off while they slept. Nothing too gruesome, though they probably question the healing slit on their wrist when they awoke the next morning.

Tonight, unfortunately, took a different tone. An atypical type of desperation filled you to the brim, screaming at you to consume every part of the man who you had your teeth sunk in. You wanted to rip him to shreds and actually eat the meat that clung to his bones. It terrified even you.

You sigh and finally withdrew yourself to the bathroom. There was work to be done. The blood on your face dried a long time ago.

What were you even doing with your immortal life?

Day in, day out, everything felt the same. Especially the gaping loneliness you'd been feeling.

In your beginning days of immortality, you'd quite enjoyed it. You discovered all sorts of new things you could do with your powerful new body. And you liked discovering them with Edward.

Back then it was just the four of you for the longest time: you, Edward, Carlisle and shortly after Esme. Then you and Edward went off together on your own for a couple of years.

You wished you and Edward had never strayed from Carlisle. At the end of it, you realized that you didn't want to go back. You wanted to feast on human blood and not shy away your power.

Young and dumb, that's what you thought of your past self now. Decades later and you were now seeing the repercussions of your actions come to light.

You missed having a mate to travel the world with. Someone to turn to late at night to keep you company. You miss Edward's gentle caresses that coaxed your attention his way.

The blood of humans wasn't worth it anymore.

Losing track of how many years it had been since you checked your private PO box, you honestly weren't anticipating anything. The only one who knew about it was Carlisle. He'd begged for some form of contact information before you split from his coven. Fatherly responsibility was the root of it. His second vampiric creation.

A part of you is delighted to find two slim envelopes collecting dust. The first one was dated over a decade ago. They'd been in Alaska apparently and met other vegetarian vampires. Most recent one only several weeks old. In this one he gave you an exact address in Washington.

You stare at Carlisle's hand writing. Getting choked up, you put the letters in your bag. It was quite the journey you had ahead of you to get to Forks.

In the blink of an eye, Edward leaps away from Bella at the feel of her fingers digging into his shirt in an attempt to deepen the kiss. They'd been playing this push and pull game for some time now.

"Bella-" He sighs in exasperation and runs a hand through his tousled hair.

Bella's brows furrow in return, a pout rising on her lips as she sits back on her bed again but at a distance. She'd heard him repeat himself so many times about being careful with her. How she's so fragile compared to him. Like she didn't already know of her delicate mortal body. Just a few months ago James nearly broke every bone in her body.

"I know!" She hadn't meant to sharply snap at him. Edward was just trying to protect her like he always did. A steady exhale flares through her nose as she rests her head against the back board of her bed. He constantly left her craving more of his touch.

Like any man, Edward desired physical contact. With Bella that desire was too much. Too dangerous. The forbidden fruit that Edward must resist by any and all costs.

The first and last girl he'd taken to bed was. . .

What he could never tell Bella was that he wasn't a virgin like he had told her. After all, he had been alive for decades. Being a virgin for that long was implausible.

He traced where the golden rays of the sun hit your skin. In the presence of light, your skin reflects like a million sparkling stars. You're trying to fix the headboard of your bed that both of you broke during your love making.

"We can just buy a new one." Edward chuckles, his fingers run up your bare spine causing you to shiver. The headboard wasn't the only thing both of you accidentally demolished. Bedsheets were torn to shreds, feathers from the pillows dusted your hair, even the mattress creaked ominously.

Your brows are creased in a small pout. "I hope this doesn't happen every time we have sex."

At your words, Edward felt something in his stomach unfurl and warm. Happy to hear that this wouldn't be the last time he got to touch you.

When you catch him staring, your frown turns up into a coy smile. "What're you looking at?"

"You."

"Obviously. But why?" You ask that like you weren't still naked as the day you were born.

He coaxes you back into his arms, little resistance from your part as you rest your head against his chest. "Because you're painfully beautiful."

Edward wasn't just buttering you up. When he said that, there was undeniable warmth and adoration that dripped from his tone. He was smitten. You'd never had any man regard you in such a way that made you feel vulnerable. You trusted Edward with your most vulnerable self.

He smirks when he reads your thoughts. Gently, he tilts your head back so that he can capture your lips.

After you, Edward thought he'd never fall in love again. Not as intensely as he had with you.

Bella came extremely close. But because she was human, Edward was limited in how he can show his affection. Even holding her hand, Edward had to reign in his supernatural strength. The slightest amount of his real strength could break her entire hand.

Without reading her thoughts, he could feel her annoyance and frustration. She desperately wanted to take things to the next level like any healthy teenager would. Bella desired to experience the physical aspects of their relationship. Were he human or even like Jacob. . . Edward would be more than happy to let himself fall into his temptations.

That just wasn't so.

The drive back home was a silent one as Bella stared out the window. As of late her attempts to get intimate in him were becoming more and more frequent. Along with her desire for Edward to change her into a vampire. He didn't want to change her just because it would make their relationship easier. That was still a last case scenario that he kept in the back of his mind. She didn't view her humanity the way Edward and his family did. It wasn't something to carelessly throw away. None of them had a choice in the matter. All were on the brink of death when Carlisle turned them. They would not have willingly given up their mortality.

Edward tried multiple times to convey this to Bella. It would go in one ear and out the other. Normally Edward didn't mind stubborn women. You were as stubborn as a bull during arguments. The two of you literally butting heads to get your point across. Those arguments never mattered in the end. There'd only been one argument that truly tore the two of you apart. Your very last argument.

Getting within a five mile radius of the Cullen house, Edward nearly slams the brakes of the car when he listens to the minds of those in the house. One whom he couldn't quite believe he was hearing.

Bella felt the swerving of the car. She glances at Edward with concern. "A-Are you okay?"

His grip tightened on the wheel, the flimsy material bends under his fingers.

He was hearing YOUR thoughts.

Esme refused to let you out of her hug.

Helplessly, you glance around the room; your gaze landing on a smiling Carlisle.

"Welcome home." His smile is heard in his words.

Finally Esme pulls back, her hands flying to your face to turn it this way and that. "Have you been eating enough? Oh look at your clothes. Alice, can you get her some new clothes?" You notice how her face flinches with nervousness when her gold eyes meet your red ones.

"I'm fine, Esme." You giggle and lower her hands away from your face to give them a reassuring squeeze.

"Clearly. Look at her eyes. She's been feeding on human blood." Rosalie needlessly points out. Yeah, you didn't really miss her. You had no idea what her mate saw in her besides the pretty face. Emmett was a bear of a man with the personality of a stuffed animal. You hadn't yet met Alice, Jasper or Emmett. When you left it was only Carlisle, Edward, Esme, Rosalie and you.

"I know that'll have to change if I want to live here again." You murmur defensively. "I'm ready now. Human blood isn't worth being alone anymore."

Esme's smile beams and once again she smothers you in a bear hug.

"Esme, give her some space. We don't want to scare her off." Carlisle pats his wife on her shoulder. Even Carlisle couldn't stop smiling. He'd sent that letter so long ago that he doubted you'd even read it.

"By the way. . . Where's Edward?" You curiously ask. Everyone appeared to be home except the one face you really wanted to see.

Instantly the room goes deadly silent.

"What?"

Carlisle grimaces and glances at his wife who was equally unsure of how to tell you. "There's something you need to know."

Your eyebrow quirks up. "Oh?"

He couldn't continue. The door swings open. No one had heard the sound of Edward's car entering the driveway or heard his hurried steps up the porch.

When the two of you lock eyes, the rigidness of his frame slackens and his honey eyes glisten with that same fondness he'd always had for you. He breathes out your name like it's a sacred phrase. You were even more beautiful to him standing there than the day he'd lost you.

You feel it to. That instant pull of your heart as it attempts to escape from your chest to jump at Edward. Your entire body vibrates with the intense urge to be close to him.

You would have run to him. Had it not been for the human girl at his side.

The rose tint your world had taken on faded in that moment to reveal the drabness of this brunette that stuck to his side. Her own brown eyes wavering in your presence.

Now highly conscious of Bella's existence next to him, Edward hastily makes introductions. "Um, Bella, this is (y/n). (y/n), this is. . . Bella."

Alice groans. "Way to go Ed."

"What's going on?" Timidly asked Bella who was still staring at you. She didn't like the way you and Edward had stared at one another like star-crossed lovers come together again. Bella hated how he'd said your name with such veneration. For so long Bella possessed Edward's sole attention. She was loathe to relinquish any of it.

Jasper and Emmett averted their eyes from the train wreck that was occurring.

Being blunt as usual, Rosalie steps in. "They used to date too."

Bella's eyes widen and with an expression of betrayal flicks to Edward. "Date?"

"Well, probably more than simple dating from the sounds that would come out of their room." Rosalie's tone was that of boredom. This was old news to her but new news to Bella. News that shattered her perception of everything around her.

"Rosalie!" Edward snaps at her.

She rolls her eyes. "Everyone was taking way too damn long in saying anything. What? Doesn't Bella deserve to know?" Rosalie looks at you while pointing a finger between Edward and Bella. "They're dating now."

"Yeah, I kinda got that." You glare at the blonde who was unaffected by the daggers thrown at her. Really, you were angry with the human girl. A human with the man you'd called your mate for so long. Jealousy licks the walls of your stomach like white hot flames.

Edward stands in front of Bella. "You're the one who left me." He whispers but everyone can hear it.

Bristling, you turn your back on the two and back to your adoptive father. "Where did you say my room was?"

"You told me you never had sex before!!" Bella can't help the shaky quality of her voice. Anger and hurt overwhelmed her. Tears bubble along her lower lashes. She keeps as far away from Edward as possible. "What else haven't you told me? O-Or lied to me about?"

"Bella-"

"And you still love her! No! Don't try to deny it. I heard you say her name when you first saw her. Everyone did Edward!" Maybe that was the worst part of it. That Edward still held a flame for you. She had so many questions. How long was it after their separation did Edward meet Bella? Why weren't they still together? Clearly you were staying if you'd asked Carlisle where your room was. For how long?

Did you intend to take Edward from her? Would you hurt her?

"I shouldn't have lied to you. I'm sorry, Bella." And he was. Edward never thought you'd come back to him after all those years apart. Boy he was royally fucked though.

Because he was still in love with you. That much was evident. The knowledge of you being just down the hall was driving him crazy. Something deep inside of him was begging to be with you.

Meanwhile on your end of the hallway, you're doing the best you can to not break everything in your room. He was right. Damnit he was right. You were the one to leave. Unable to accommodate to the vegetarian lifestyle. You gave up Edward for the high that human blood offered you. It would be unfair to expect Edward to pine for you. You should've taken into thought that maybe he'd moved on.

The backs of your eyes burned with the urge to cry. Unable to produce tears, all you can do is wrap yourself in blankets and let the dark swallow you whole.

[wangxianficfinder]

Fic Finder

Aug 3rd

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1. Hi can you help me find this fic ?

So it was set during the Sunshot Campaign, vivid war setting, a lot of explicit sexual content,a long fic I think but definitely more than 10k. It was about Wangxian getting too during the war. I remember only some bits. LWJ asked JC for permission to get married or something of the sort and JC got mad because he thought LWJ was joking but started to negotiate with LXC when it became apparent he was not. Before the final battle WWX promised LWJ that they won't die.During the final battle LWJ got hurt and seemingly died and WWX lost control and made a giant earthquake that collapsed Koi Tower with JGS inside. LWJ was kind of dead for a while but his spirit stuck around (I don't remember why really just that maybe it was part of some spell?) and WWX managed to resurrect him but he needed to regain his memories slowly.

FOUND? The dreamers. by orange_crushed (E, 17k, WangXian, Dreams, Dreamsharing, Spells & Enchantments, Canon Divergence, Oral Sex, Penetrative Sex, War, Canon-Typical Violence, Sunshot Campaign, Temporary Character Death, The Character Dies But Does Not Stay Dead Trust Me, Resurrection, Suicidal Thoughts, Loss of Identity, Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst with a Happy Ending, Injury Recovery, Trauma, Memory Loss, Memory Magic, War Is Hell Etcetera, I Promise The Characters Do Not Stay Dead and Will Absolutely Be Okay, Masturbation, Fantasy, Very Brief Mention of Burial-Mounds-Era Cannibalism, Major Character Death... but only for a minute honestly!!, Awkward First Times, Marriage Proposal)

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2. I'm looking for a fic where Wei Wuxian wasn't killed at the attack at Nightless City but taken captive by the Jins. It's discovered that, to escape the loss of his loved ones and the abuse at the Jin's hands, that he's grown a new core while dreaming and can now dream cultivate. He even manages to bring back Jiang Yanli. I can't find it and hope it hasn't been deleted. Any help tracking this one down would be greatly appreciated!

FOUND? Dream a little dream of me by Moominmammashandbag (M, 60k, WangXian, NHS/MXY, Prison, Hair Washing, WWX thinks he is dreaming, Hurt/Comfort,vFluff and Angst, mentions of torture, MXY deserves love, Mention of dismemberment, Coming Out, Plotting and scheming, animate body parts, goose, and supporting avian cast, Anxiety Disorder, Anxiety Attacks, Reincarnation, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Incest, Do not fuck with NHS, Dreamwalking, Angst with a Happy Ending, I have read chapter 118 of MDZS ergo I regard JGY as a villain, JC is not a villain, just flawed, JZX Lives)

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3. looking for a fic that's set during the sunshot campaign, after wwx leaves the burial mounds and is found by lwj and jwy. all I recall is one chapter where jwy attacks wwx and endangers wwx. lwj rescues wwx and takes him to the medical tent, and then confronts jwy. I believe the fic author provided two versions of lwj's confrontation w jwy, one of which is a full on physical fight. does this ring a bell? thanks! @potatokunst

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4. hi, i vaguely remember reading a fic where wwx runs around the lan sect political hall in front of the other sect leaders threatening to strip to defuse political tensions HAHA i dont remember the name of the fic but if you could find that that would be great! thank you so much :)

FOUND? Kingfisher Feathers by anonymous (E, 165k, WIP, WangXian, A/B/O, Alpha LWJ, Omega WWX, Rut Sex, Knotting, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Palace, Royalty, Everyone Lives, Married but one of them doesn't remember it, Amnesia, Historical Inaccuracy, Harems, but not really because we all know lwj only ever sees wwx, Emperor LWJ, War Hero WWX, Collars as a status symbol, Eventual mpreg, Bonding, Claiming Bites, Mutual Pining, Breeding Kink, hints of dubcon cos the whole situation is kinda icky, trope-typical sexism, Dubious Consent, Angst with a Happy Ending)

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5. Hi! I am looking for this fic:

Wei wuxian either goes back in time or loses his memory. But it is back in burial mounds. And he has lost any love for Jiang Cheng. His golden core starts to come back to himself. Jiang Cheng comes to burial mounds demanding an explanation and wwx is rude as he doesn't have that brotherly love anymore

FOUND? 💖 Return to Sender by Thesaurus_with_no_words (M, 72k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, BAMF WWX , WangXian Get a Happy Ending, YLLZ WWX, Golden Core Transfer Fix-It, Not Everyone Dies, canon JC characteristics, Temporary Amnesia, Partial Memory Loss, Literal Emotional Manipulation, Unreliable Narrator, Unreliable Narrator WWX, they are all unreliable ok, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon typical horror and gore, Slow Burn)

FOUND? The Core Issue by Hauntcats (T, 21k, WangXian, Angst with a Happy Ending, Not JC Friendly, Canon Divergence)

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6. Im looking for this fic please let me know if you can find it

I don't remember a lot of it but in the end there is a battle and lwj and wwx are together and all the sect leaders are also on the battlefield. They can see that there is another flute and xichen finds out its jgy and su she responsible for it.

FOUND? 🔒 Living by WithBroomBefore (G, 15k, WangXian, JC & WWX & JYL, Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Not Everyone Dies, POV LWJ, WWX Lives, JYL Lives, Family Feels, Siblings, Crying, Lots of it, Suicide Attempt, just the one though, everyone goes to Lotus Pier, plot happens offscreen, Healing, Sad with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Minor Character Death,nmostly just hugs and weeping and healing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hugs)

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7. Hello! I have another fic finder request for you. I think wwx is a prince of the royal family that rules of gods/goddesses. I think lwj might've been mortal, but I'm not sure. I can't remember exactly how wwx and lwj meet, but I think they promised each other that they would marry. lwj then goes home and finds out that his marriage has been arranged - turns out it was wwx's family who got too excited and asked behind his back. I think wwx goes to find lwj in a tent(?) and tells him the truth before the wedding happens. Sorry it's kind of vague. Thank you everyone!

FOUND? cloudy autumn heaps the sky by anatheme (T, 23k, WangXian, Fantasy, Universe Alteration, Secret Identity, Dragon LWJ, Fox WWX, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Timeline What Timeline, wwx is a little older here, wwx piling gifts on lwj and encouraging hoarding tendencies, Sharing a Bed, Literal Sleeping Together, Arranged Marriage)

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8. Hi! This is fic finder. A modern au where WangXian an ex. WWX works as a model and LWJ is a parfumer. LWJ got a job for YZY. When he goes to the meeting, he sees a bilboard that has WWX on it. Then he messed up the meeting. WWX and LWJ then work together. LWJ places got blown up. WWX asked LQR to sponsor LWJ. Thats all thank you! @idontknowwhattowriteforusername

FOUND! 🔒 heart notes by spookykingdomstarlight (E, 92k, Modern, Fashion & Models, Slow Burn, Angst with a Happy Ending, Mutual Pining, Reconciliations, Family Drama, exes to friends to lovers, Second Chances, Breaking Up & Making Up, Flashbacks, POV Alternating, Perfume, Fire,bminor injury, Perfumer LWJ, Model WWX, just this once CSSR lives, LWJ's past mistakes come back to haunt him, the inherent eroticism of perfume and the application therein, a little bit of pining while fucking, shockingly enough this narrative does not rely on misunderstandings to fuel the plot)

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9. Hello!! Could you help me find a fanfic where wwx travels back in time as a ghost(? some people cant see him) and he stumbles upon lwj and lxc when they were kids, and he starts taking care of them like giving them treats and comforts lwj & lxc when they lost their mother

Thank you ! <3 @reredamancy

FOUND! Waiting by Morgana_avalon (G, 46k, WangXian, LXC & LWJ, Short Story, LWJ is five year old, LXC is eight year old, LWJ as a boy kneeling in the snow at the jingshi waiting for his mama to return, brothers looking out for each other, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, canon divergent but also canon compliant, Mystery, Mysticism, Chenqing, didn't know the name of Lan Zhan and Lan Xichen's father when I started writing this, Bichen, happy endings!, The Qilin, Author has no clue how to use birth/courtesy names correctly, Based on the TV-series and not the novel)

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10. Hi sorry to bother y'all, I am looking for a fic I've lost, (I need to learn to Bookmark them with Tags I can remember), and I need help finding it.

A) Basically WWX gets taken in by the Lans because YZ traumatized him to be afraid of Lotuses and Purple? I can't really remember but he gets to stay with LWJ because of it.

B) Mingjue after death gets turned into a talking head/loud goose and the cultivation world looses it's head.

Thanks so much for your all's effort in this blog! (^_^♪)

10A)

FOUND!🔒 this body yet survives by RoseThorne (T, 54k, WangXian, WIP, No War AU, Recovery, Trauma, Dissociation, Courtship, Courting Rituals, Near Death Experiences, Attempted Murder, Eventual Happy Ending, Panic Attacks, Vomiting, Siblings, Protective Siblings, Soup, Triggers, Protective LWJ, Protective LQR, Yúnmèng Siblings Dynamics, Bad Parent YZY, POV Third Person, POV LWJ, reference to poisoning, reference to assassination, Reference to chronic illness, reference to infanticide, Depression, Minor Injuries, Painting, Gift Giving, WWX Has a Fear of Dogs, Good Sibling JC, Good Sibling JYL, BAMF WWX,, Jealous SS, WWX Protection Squad)

10B)

FOUND? Dream a little dream of me by Moominmammashandbag (M, 60k, WangXian, NHS/MXY, Prison, Hair Washing, WWX thinks he is dreaming, Hurt/Comfort,vFluff and Angst, mentions of torture, MXY deserves love, Mention of dismemberment, Coming Out, Plotting and scheming, animate body parts, goose, and supporting avian cast, Anxiety Disorder, Anxiety Attacks, Reincarnation, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Incest, Do not fuck with NHS, Dreamwalking, Angst with a Happy Ending, I have read chapter 118 of MDZS ergo I regard JGY as a villain, JC is not a villain, just flawed, JZX Lives)

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11. I cannot for the life of me remember this fic although I'm sure it's a time travel fix it. The scene that has been stuck in my head is:

During the sunspot campaign (?) jzx admits he wants to marry jyl, and wwx and jwy sit down to negotiate the terms (it is implied that they're going to take him for everything he's got and he's going to let them). Just then mianmian bursts in towing a very confused jgy who then realised what's going on.

I thought it might be paper moon but they never broke their bethrothal. I've gone through my bookmarks and still can't place the scene. Please help!! @theladypeartree

FOUND! Lynchpin by ShanaStoryteller (Not Rated, 103k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Time Travel, Fix-It)

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12. Hello there! I need help i am looking for a fic it was an Alien Invation au i think? Lan Wangji is in the Military with his brother Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue. They were trying to fight some of the aliens but Lan Wangji got seperated and met wei wuxian who was a scientist. There was also Jiang Cheng and Wen Ning. Hope you can find it please! Thankyouu! @lynthecat

FOUND? Deleted "Son Of A Soldier Boy" by FireAwayy. The cached link for chapter 1. If they want to read the rest of the fic they will have to search each chapter to find the cached version. I did check the Wayback Machine but the fic isn't available there (but here is that link too if interested: https://archiveofourown.org/works/41843295 ) // Number 12 for yesterday’s fic finder sounds like “Son Of A Soldier Man” by FireAwayy. They deleted some of their fics a while back including this one. The fic is not available on the wayback machine but you can access it, chapter by chapter, through cached search results. I haven’t been able to find all the chapters but I imagine some more sleuthing can dig them up. You can follow this tutorial for info on how to access cached pages. Note that Google Chrome no longer caches links, so you have to use an alternative like Microsoft Bing (ext for Chrome available) to access. 

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13. For fic finder: My apologies if I recently sent in this ask: this fic has been on my brain for the last few days and I can’t remember if I already wrote in about it or not! It was a modern au about pro e-sports. The different sects are different gaming teams in this fic. WWX was accused of cheating a few years back and had to leave the Jiang team. LWJ, captain of Lan team, eventually finds WWX again and asks to enter a competition with WWX, and I think together they can pull off some kind of special move in-game that shows they have incredible teamwork or something. The fic reminded me of the danmei novel God Level Summoner, but I think the general theme of “fallen champion player gets back on his feet and wins the league” is pretty common in esports stories. 

NOT FOUND! Love OP Please Nerf by LikeTheTide (T, 13k, WangXian, WIP, Esports, Gamer AU, Modern, Gaming, Mutual Pining, Friends to Lovers, screw top and bottom whos the tank and whos the squishy dps, Slow Burn) Based purely on synopsis, could this be 13?

FOUND! 【为梦想而战】for this dream, i'll fight by paradisetrain (M, 27k, WangXian, JYL/MM, Modern, Gaming, Gamer AU, League of Legends, Video & Computer Games, Gaming Jargon, Social Media, Internet Hate, cancel culture, Hacking, Cheating Scandal, Internet Scandal, Bad Parenting, Parent Death, Loss of Parent(s), Family Issues, Family Feels, Healing, Falling In Love, Threatening unborn babies, Death threats to unborn babies, Blackmail, Implied Incest, Canon Typical Incest, Between JGY and QS, Illegal Activities, The game is League of Legends but with different names, Why do people on the same team all have the same surname?, just because, featuring:, WWX Goes Back to Gusu, WWX's canonical self-worth issues, LWJ's unconditional support of WWX) #13 might be this one - I've not read it, but my bestie says it might be the one.

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14. Hello! I'm looking for a fic that's is a university au, maybe lwj pov? In this fic, lwj is selectively mute and took a semester off from college to learn sign language so that he could communicate solely through that. When he meets wwx and his siblings, they can all speak with him because Madam yu is deaf and they know sign language because of her. I think wangxian meet at a cafe where wwx works? At some point point lwj is forced to make a speaking presentation in on of his classes and he prerecords a video to show in class instead due to his anxiety, also somewhwere in the story jiang cheng helps him through a panic attack. I swear I have looked all over AO3 for this fic, but I haven't been able to find it, so there's a chance it might have been deleted, but I hope you all can help!!!!! @kavlobebeki

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15. Hello, thank you for all your help! I am now looking for a fic where Wei Wuxian was raised as Jiang Cheng's whipping boy. This was a common practice among the gentry except for in the Lan clan. JC grew up and he tried not to do anything that would lead to WWX being whipped in his place but during the Cloud Recesses lectures Jin Zixuan demands WWX be whipped and JC can’t really stop it. Lan Wangji tried to intervene but Lan Qiren held him back saying not to get involved in other sect’s conflict. I think Meng Yao was also a designated whipping boy for Huaisang, possibly all the whipping boys for all the young masters also attended the lectures as manservants? I would love to read this again, if anyone can find it! @gloriousclotpole

FOUND? the price of a home by JemTheKingOfSass (T, 13k, JC & WWX, Whipping Boy AU, Pre-Canon, Canon verse events, TW details in top Notes of any chapter when necessary, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, the price of a home [podfic] by esbielle)

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16. I'm looking for a fic where the Lan are the most powerful sect, or maybe they were royalty, and take over Lotus pier because Lan Wangji thinks Wei Wuxian has very impolitely spurned his marriage proposal, only for it to be revealed that Madam Yu did it. @mullk6

FOUND? Warrior Prince by QteCuttlfish (M, 4k, WangXian, Rape/Non-Con, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Angst with a Happy Ending, Alpha/Omega, A/B/O, Omega WWX, Alpha LWJ, Implied Mpreg, Not Canon Compliant)

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17. Hi can you help me find a wangxian fic where wei wuxian either runs away after the golden core transfer/did not participate in the war and works at an inn? He ends up finding and rescuing the wens and they work at the inn with him. Then lan wangji found him and so did jiang cheng at the end. @fjcfanatic

FOUND? The Taste of Home by For_the_Love_of_Bichen (E, 49k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Coffee Shops & Cafés, Bar/Pub, inn owner WWX, WWX never learns demonic cultivation, Human WWX, canon compliant up until the golden core removal, set in mdsz world, Fantasy Medical Procedures, Medical Procedures, Golden Core Transfer, Blood and Injury, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Feels, canonical kinks, Anal Sex,bAnal Fingering, Oral Sex, Bathing/Washing, Dual Cultivation, LWJ & WWX Have a Breeding Kink, WWX Has a Rape/Non-Con Kink, mild cnc kink, mentioned cnc kink, no actual cnc play, Mild Breeding Kink, Drunk LWJ, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Slow Burn, Possessive LWJ, First Time, LWJ Has a Praise Kink, WWX Has No Golden Core, WWX Has Self-Worth Issues)

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18. Hi, I really hope you find this fic! It was WIP which I found only a few months ago. I think it's Jiang bashing altogether because the last chapter ended with Jiang yanli giving tea to Jiang fengmian saying she will take care of something. I tried the "Jiang yanli is not an angel" tag but I cannot find it. Can you help me with this one please?

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19. For some reason scrolled by this fic when browsing through someone's bookmarks and now cannot remember whose, so must turn to you once again! Time travel by Jin Zixuan. Judging by the summary, I think he comes back to awareness in the middle of the fight with Wei Wuxian at Cloud Recesses; he wonders about the fact that he's sure he was bleeding out just a moment ago, then about the fact that WWX suddenly looks a lot younger but still very angry. @linderel

Had no idea that there would be several fics with that premise but then again, perhaps not surprising! Sadly, none of the three suggested for #19 so far sound right. I'll probably still read them at some point.

additionally, about #19: I'm fairly certain that the summary mentioned JZX bleeding out or something, which none of the suggestions have. I also went back to dig through several authors' bookmarks myself but alas, no luck yet; not even any of the suggested ones has popped up

NOT FOUND 一寸光阴一寸金, 寸金难买寸光阴 by orphan_account (G, 11k, JYL/JZX, JC/WQ, WangXian, WIP, Time Travel Fix-It, JZX Tries, JZX Has Friends, (frenemies really but still), Canon Divergence, Temporary Character Death, JZX-centric, Reconciliation, Everyone Lives, Socially Awkward JZX, Second Chances, Cloud Recesses, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Cloud Recesses Shenanigans, Pining, JZX can see the love, Matchmaker JZX, did he sign up for this? no but he's gonna try anyways)

NOT FOUND Brittle Steel Slicing Through by meyari (T, 19k, JYL/JZX, WangXian, Major Character Death, Sunshot Campaign, War, aftermath of war, PTSD, Warning: Jin Guangshan, fuck that guy, murder as a method of problem solving, murder as a flirtation method, learning to communicate for idiots, Time Travel Fix-It, Jin Murder-Babies FTW, Fluff and Crack)

NOT FOUND 🔒 Rise of the Peacock by JustAWanderingBabbit (Not Rated, 70k, JZX & JGY, JYL/JZX, 3zun, WIP, Canon Divergence, Re:Birth/Transmigration, Drabble to Full Story, JZX is all grown up in a boy's body, Time to save the world, Or at least save JZX's chest cavity, I just love saving JGY, Definitely NOT Untamed timeline, Reasonably intelligent gamers, The Jin Brothers are a team, Attempted Sexual Assault, unwanted sexual touching)

NOT FOUND With you, I can fight the World by Weiyingbestboy (G, 2k, WangXian, JYL/JZX, JC & WWX & JYL, JZX & WWX, Everyone Lives, Time Travel Fix-It, Canon Divergence, JC is so done, JZX and WWX Friendship)

FOUND! 🔒 long bygone burdens by humancorn (T, 17k, JYL/JZX, JZX & WWX, Time Travel Fix-It, Time Travelling JZX, Pre-Sunshot Campaign, JZX-centric, JZX Tries, JZX & WWX Friendship, Wife Guy JZX, He's doing his best ok, Canon Divergence, mentions of corporal punishment) So none of the fics suggested for #19 were right but I finally braved the search function and found it myself! I think I skipped it because it wasn't Wangxian content 😅 Anyway, it was this

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20. hello! for the next fic finder, i’m looking for a fic where lqr ends up being able to hear wwx’s thoughts. there’s this distinct scene where lqr is traumatized by wwx jerking off to thoughts abt lwj. thank you!!

FOUND! Judge Softly by Chrononautical (E, 32k, WangXian, LSZ & WWX, LXC & LWJ, LXC & LQR, LQR & WWX, Accidental Voyeurism, Masturbation, Non-Consensual Mind Reading, Oblivious WWX, WWX Has Self-Worth Issues, Cloud Recesses, BAMF WWX, Genius WWX, sex makes WWX stupid, LQR Tries, It may be more accurate to say LQR learns to try, Suffering LQR, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, Post-Canon Fix-It, mostly web series with a few influences from the broader canon, Ghosts, Angst with a Happy Ending, Gusu Lan Forehead Ribbon, Teacher LQR Mutual Pining, Longing, Playful Sex, Use Your Words, Canon-Typical Violence, Switching, Virgin WWX, Love Confessions)

~*~

[notthefirstfallenangel]

Memories I

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, mention of injury, amnesia

Summary: You had your memory wiped after a messed-up mission. All that you remember is your childhood and fragmented glimpses of your teenage and adult years. Poor Simon, your would-be hubby, is left to pick up the pieces when you can't even recall his existence.

Words: 1.7k

A/N: I've had this story in the works for some time now, but only recently got around to finishing and publishing it. In that timeframe, I've seen some wonderful stories from other authors that share some similarities with mine. If you're one of those authors, please know I'm not trying to steal your ideas🤍 I hope you guys enjoy this piece and that it provides a unique perspective despite the possible similarities!

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4

The room was quiet, save for the rustle of leaves blowing through the windows to a slow rhythm, a song of the wind. It was not melodious or gentle. It was a dirge heralding the beginning of the storm. 

 The hospital room was clean but bare. There was no furniture, books, or colourful pillows, nothing to ease the quiet. All that was in here was a narrowed hospital bed, a small table beside it, and a chair.

The air was dried and sterile; it smelled of chemicals and a hint of decay that a hospital was always haunted by. 

Simon leaned against the doorframe, his powerful frame illuminated by a shaft of light from the hallway. He wore a tight black hoodie, dark blue jeans that hugged his thighs like a second skin, and black shoes. 

 Simon’s voice was low, velvet-like, and he looked directly into your eyes as he spoke, “Hey, sweetheart.”

You sat up in bed, wearing a hospital gown, no makeup, no jewellery. The only thing that popped out on you was the PICC on your left arm, a tape holding it in place with a trickle of blood that had soaked through. 

Your face was washed in the hospital’s flickering fluorescent light, and your eyes were cold and calculating, like an owl on the hunt. You didn’t say anything — you just watched Simon. 

 “How are you feeling?” his voice was a low rumble; his words were slow and measured.  

The chair cracked as he sat, the wood groaning in protest to hold his weight. 

 “Your wounds? Any pain?”

You blinked slowly but didn’t answer. Instead, you gazed at the ceiling, letting your eyes wander around the room. Your face was passive, your thoughts hidden.

Simon sighed. “I know you don’t want to talk.”

He waited for a reply, his breath holding as he stared into your eyes. The seconds seemed to drag on endlessly until he spoke again, his voice barely above a whisper. “But...can you remember anything yet?”

He held his breath once more, almost afraid of the answer.

His tone was quiet, but his eyes were like deep pools of emotion, begging for understanding even as he kept his expression neutral. The slight twitch of his cheek indicated a level of tension as if he was holding back an outpouring of feelings that had been brewing inside him for days.

It was something that he asked every day, with the same inflexion and the same intonation. As the two-week mark approached, you grow accustomed to the sound of Simon’s voice, the feel of his presence. For those brief moments each day he spends with you, it is just the two of you. But despite his daily visits, you didn’t recall a single thing beyond your name and childhood.

Your eyes trailed over his face, trying to make sense of it, wondering if it should ring any bells — but there was nothing... No memory, no feeling, no recognition, no nothing. It was as if a faceless, empty void was talking to you.

He watched your lips press together, forming a thin line and heard the resigned sigh that escaped you.

“I've told you: I’ll tell you if I remember something.”

The corners of his mouth twitched with a weak attempt at a smile.

“Right. Okay.”

Simon stayed still for what felt like an eternity, his weariness apparent as he stared at your face. He had been doing this for two weeks – visiting every day – and yet nothing changed.

A long quiet stretched between the two of you. He slouched in his seat, exhausted and angry. Days had passed since you emerged from the coma—and yet, you still couldn’t remember a thing.

“This must get dull,” he said after a moment. “Me coming here like this every day, asking the same questions over and over.”

You looked at him sadly, your hands fidgeting in your lap. His gaze was intense as he spoke, his words soft and full of longing.

“We met in Moscow on a cold winter evening. I remember it like it was yesterday. You had just come out of the Bolshoi Theatre; you were undercover as a baroness.”

Simon took your hand; the touch was warm and reassuring against your own, no matter how cold and distant you were towards him. He peeled back your sleeve to reveal the scar running down the length of your arm. “You got this wound that night, right here. You were caught in a crossfire.”

He waited for an answer, but all you could do was shake your head in sorrow.

With a disappointed sigh, you murmured, “No...I don’t remember.”

He spoke softly but sternly like he was disciplining a child. “Sweetheart,” he said slowly. His voice held just the right amount of disappointment and hint of authority — something you had become accustomed to over the past few weeks.

His words made your face instantly stern; your eyebrows knit together in a frown, and your nostrils flared.

“I told you, I don’t remember!” you barked at him. A strange combination of rage and grief welled up in your chest and spilt over into your voice as you shouted out the following words, “What am I supposed to do? I’m trying here!”

Your skin was flushed with emotion.

He exhaled slowly, leaning back in his chair. The more he tried to explain himself, the angrier you became.

“I’m sorry...” he murmured. “I just want you to remember what we had,” he spoke softly, “all those moments we shared. I know you’re doing your best...but it’s hard for both of us. Please, let me help.”

There was a faint look of hurt but also resignation in Simon’s eyes.

“You come here every day, asking me to remember, and it doesn’t help!” you said, your voice full of frustration and anger. “Do you think I like this? Do you think I like having forgotten years of my life?”

Your whole body was rigid with stress and tension. You were tired of the constant questioning as if you could simply choose to remember by the snap of a finger.

Simon flinched, the sharp rebuke a painful reminder that he can’t control the situation, and he can’t fix what he can’t understand.

You glared at each other, icy daggers slicing through the air. Your fury was palpable, and his sorrow so heavy it weighed on his shoulders like an invisible cloak. The air between you sizzled with tension, and both were waiting for the inevitable explosion that was about to come.

But then Simon took a deep breath. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

You were a stranger to yourself. A stranger to your fiancé, your life, everything you once knew.

You used to look at him the way he would look at you, with pure and limitless love. But in that moment, you saw only fear and confusion in yourself. You looked at him and saw a stranger, a man you once loved but could not recognize.

He uttered your name in a whisper, almost afraid of what you would say. He reached out his hand, but as soon as his fingers grazed your arm, he felt you tense and recoil away. You had the same eyes as before, but it was like looking through a window into someone else’s life. Your eyes were wide with fear, your expression blank and unreadable—the only emotion present was anxiety. You grasped the sheets tightly, your knuckles turning white as you held onto them for dear life. He could sense that you were about to yell at him in frustration again.

The door opened, and a petite nurse in her forties stepped inside, alarmed by all the fuss. Her gaze was stern and commanding as she surveyed the room and all its medical equipment. As she drew near the bedside, her gaze softened. She placed one hand on your forehead in a soothing gesture. “Calm down, dear. You mustn’t upset yourself now,” she murmured. Then she turned to Simon, her gaze hardening once more. “Visiting time is over for you. It’s time to go now.”

” Just-,” he protested, trying to think of something to say that might convince the nurse to let him stay for a little while longer.

The nurse’s face was a mask of stern disapproval as she glared at him. Carefully consulting the chart, she stated in a tone that indicated this would not be questioned: “It is imperative for her health that she remain at rest and undisturbed.”

He reluctantly stood up, feeling as though he had been dismissed like an unwanted schoolboy sent home for misbehaving. He wanted to stay, to be there for you in whatever capacity he could, but he knew he had no choice but to obey the nurse’s command.

You looked away, your cheeks burning with shame. You felt the weight of your mistake as you tried to make sense of the situation.

He stayed still and silent for a moment before his lips brushed your forehead. “It’s okay,” he whispered, the warmth from his breath sending a chill down your spine. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”

He walks out slowly, his head down and his shoulders heavy. His thoughts were consumed with apologies he could never voice. 

As Simon’s footsteps faded away, you were surrounded by an oppressive silence. The beeping of the heart monitor seemed to get louder and louder. You wondered what time it was, how long until you could run from the room and the nurse, the needles and artificial lights and their cold. Your eyes darted around the cold, sterile room, taking in the harsh glare of fluorescent lighting and the unyielding machines with their wires and tubes that seemed to take up most of the space.

The muscles in your neck and shoulders tightened with anger as you realized how quickly your temper had gotten away from you, pushing away the one person who wanted to help you regain your memories. But it soon subsided, leaving you with nothing but a profound feeling of emptiness and helplessness. You let out a shaky breath, hating how small and powerless you felt.

“I wish I remembered,” you whispered.

[ginnsbaker]

fic: if i bleed (you'll be the last to know) (3/?)

Part summary: Leigh develops an unhealthy habit as she hits closer to rock bottom

Pairing: Leigh Shaw x Fem!Reader | Word count for this part: 5.370 | Warnings/Tags: Some hetero stuff | A/N: Things will pick up after this part. I think there's going to be a total of 6 parts, but let me confirm that in the next update :)

Masterlist | Part I Part II | Next

-

Leigh is ten minutes late. 

It makes sense. Her willingness to attend this meeting was surprising, because if you were in her shoes, you doubt you'd have agreed to it. Listening to the entire history of a relationship can be exhausting, and it's hard to imagine what it feels like to hear about one that arguably should never have existed.

But just as you're about to think she's bailed or intentionally left you hanging, you spot her sprinting toward the cafe from across the street. She's a mess—hair soaked and sticking everywhere, face bare, missing its usual touch of makeup. But even like this, Leigh doesn't look much different from her usual self. You can't help feeling a bit envious of that.

She rushes into the cafe, attracting a few curious looks, but she barely registers them, her wide green eyes quickly finding you.

“Sorry I'm late,” she pants, struggling to catch her breath, “I got caught in the rain and then missed my bus.” The lie slips out effortlessly. True, it had rained, but the real reason was far more personal—something you didn't need to know.

You shrug off her apology with a smile, signaling the waiter for a menu for Leigh. “No worries, I'm just glad you made it,” you say.

Leigh gives you a quick once-over, then forces a smile and thanks you. Once her coffee order's in, she gets right down to it. “So, Matt,” she starts, her voice dropping to a whisper, “how did you two meet?”

You lean back, carefully thinking about what to say next. You didn't practice your answers ahead of time because you weren't planning to lie about anything. But you're wary of how you word things, not wanting to upset her. Being caught up with a married man is embarrassing enough as it is, and having to relay the details to his widowed wife only adds to it.

“Actually, our first meeting was totally by chance,” you say, bringing your steaming cup of tea to your lips. “I quite literally bumped into Matt one day. It was so brief, I barely gave it a second thought.”

You take a deep breath before continuing, “Then, about a week later, Matt showed up at my clinic with the same friend from before. It turned out, they were there for his friend's dog, who needed a check-up. Matt was just tagging along, helping out.”

Leigh’s face remains passive, making it hard to read. 

“The friend was the one who interacted with me the most that day. He even asked for my number, saying they were grateful for the help with the dog. I assumed he was interested,” you say, the memory coming back to you clearer now as you speak. “But, to my surprise, it was Matt who texted me later, not his friend.”

You barely manage to suppress the slight twitch of your lips, recalling how everything once seemed magical to you. Leigh on the other hand, takes a slow sip of her coffee, buying a moment to process.

“Who was that friend of Matt's? Do you remember his name?” she asks.

You pause, racking your brain for the detail, feeling its importance to Leigh. “Yeah, I think his name was Nick or something,” you say, scratching your head. Whether the name ‘Nick’ rings any bells for her or not, she doesn't let on. 

“Strange,” you mumble under your breath, but then shrug it off. “It doesn't really matter, he's not the one I—” You stop yourself just in time, realizing you're about to say something potentially hurtful about a situation that still feels raw, especially to Leigh.

Instead, you quickly pivot. “Anyway, that's how it all started. On the day of the dog’s follow-up, it was just Matt who came by. We struck up a friendship from there, and one thing led to another until he, uhm, asked me out for dinner.”

At this, you notice a subtle change in Leigh's demeanor. Her entire frame becomes more timid, the first real sign of emotion she's shown since this conversation began. 

You’re about to go on with your story when Leigh suddenly speaks up.

“So, you just said yes, even though he was your client? Don't veterinarians have professional boundaries?”

Ever since meeting Leigh, you've found it challenging to predict what might trigger her reactions—it's like navigating a minefield. Occasionally, you’d find yourself wondering what it would be like to know her without the complications currently defining your interactions. You think about the roles you both involuntarily play in each other's lives, roles neither of you auditioned for but somehow ended up performing.

You feel a lump form in your throat, and your gaze drops to your lap. “Well, he was persistent,” you say, feeling the need to defend your decision. Nevertheless, it sounds weak to your own ears. “But I made it clear nothing could happen until the dog's treatment was complete. And I insisted he'd have to find a different vet for any future appointments. It was... complicated.”

“I bet,” Leigh scoffs, crossing her arms. After a beat, she asks, almost too casually, “So, how quickly did you two... you know, have your first kiss?”

The question hangs awkwardly between you. You know you can’t answer it in any way you could avoid her judgment, so you just decide to spit it out. 

“First date.” Under Leigh’s scrutinizing gaze, it feels like admitting to a minor crime.

Leigh stares at you with unblinking eyes. “And how long after meeting him did this first date happen?”

You draw in a slow breath. “Three weeks,” you mutter. “It was last fall.” You add that bit, proactively laying out the timeline as if it could somehow soften the blow or make the situation less complicated. Leigh, however, looks like you've just knocked the wind out of her. She looks away, her expression shifting into something like shock or deep pain. Alarm bells ring in your head at the picture before you.

“Hey, did I say something wrong?” you say in a rush. “I mean, this whole situation is messed up, but if I—”

Leigh’s eyes are glass as they return to you. When she speaks again, her voice is so soft you almost have to lean in to hear. “Last fall... That's when I told Matt we should start trying for a baby.”

The words drain the color from your face. And suddenly, all the pieces of your story with Matt feels even more tainted.

You're not sure what your face gives away when you hear this news, but Leigh's expression quickly shifts from tearful to furious. “Stop feeling sorry for me,” she hisses. “I don’t need your pity.”

Leigh's tears start to spill over, and it's only 7:30 in the morning. It feels way too early for tears, especially here, in the middle of a coffee shop where the day is just beginning for most. You try to shrink into your seat, wishing you could make both of you invisible as the few other patrons start throwing curious, if not outright concerned, looks your way.

You never realized a simple conversation could cause someone so much pain. You thought providing Leigh with answers would help, but it looks like you're just making things even harder for her. Maybe keeping your distance from her is the kindest thing you can do.

“You know the worst part?” Leigh brushes away the tears that keep streaking down her face.

Clearly, she isn't looking for an answer, so you stay silent.

She makes sure she catches your eye before saying, “He agreed, and we started trying.”

-

Leigh catches her breath after wrapping up her class at the Beautiful Beast. 

She took a day off yesterday, immediately after talking with you, spending the whole day in bed just trying to sort out her thoughts and feelings. Surprisingly, wasting away for a whole day seemed to help, and her concerns gradually drifted back to her fight with Jules. It’s been days, and Leigh feels the urgency of reconciliation pressing on her. By this point, they should be on speaking terms again. By now, Jules should have let go of her anger, right? Leigh knows she can't afford to have her sister hating her. At least not right now. She needs her family, or what’s left of it—on her side. 

“Hey, Jules, got a sec? About the schedule…” Leigh tries, hoping work might be a safe enough topic to get her sister to acknowledge her existence once again.

Jules barely glances her way. Her hands keep moving, adjusting a strap here, aligning yoga mats there, as if the very act could shield her from having to engage. “Sorted. Check your email,” she replies, her voice cold and detached.

Leigh nods, awkwardly shifting from foot to foot. “Great, great... um, did you consider adding that beginners' workshop we talked about?”

Jules stops for a beat, and Leigh thinks, maybe she's going to drop it. But no, Jules resumes fussing over items that hardly require any attention. Then, without even looking up, she says, “Yeah, it's on the list. Anything else?”

Leigh tries to keep her cool, wishing Jules would just cut to the chase and tell her what needs to be done for all to be forgiven. 

Trying a different tactic, Leigh goes, “Hey, found a Starbucks card in my bag. How 'bout I grab us some coffee? My treat.”

Leigh’s trying. She really is. Why can’t they see that?

Jules just gives her that look, the kind that doesn't need words, and heads back to her desk. And there's Leigh, offer of a beverage truce just floating in the air, going nowhere.

Getting ignored really gets under Leigh's skin. Back in the day, Matt's habit of brushing her off would drive her to the edge. She'd respond with over-the-top demands or twist things around just to make sure he’d always pay attention to her. She didn't start off wanting to be that person, but looking back, she sees the lengths she'd go to just to keep his attention from straying. 

Unable to control herself, she heads straight for Jules, grabs her arm despite her trying to wiggle free, and yanks her into the backroom.

“What the hell is your problem?!” Jules explodes, not caring if anyone’s heard her outside.

They're both standing there, kind of shocked by how heated things got so fast. Jules’ shout might've turned a few heads outside, but right now, that's the least of Leigh's worries.

“How many times do I need to apologize, for you to get over this?”

Jules’ eyes are wide in disbelief, her mouth twisting into a sardonic smile, like she can’t believe what she’s hearing.

“You’re so fucking full of yourself, Leigh! This is exactly why I’m not talking to you,” Jules hisses, but keeps her voice down this time.

“What—”

“Do you even know what you’re sorry for?”

Leigh's initial scoff dies in her throat as she watches Jules' expression twist with hurt. “Yeah, okay, I said sorry about the crap I pulled the other day. I know I was out of line, talking about your past like that—”

Jules doesn't let her finish. “You weren't just being ‘out of line’, Leigh. You threw the worst time of my life in my face! Do you have any idea how hurtful that is? Coming from my own sister? From my own family? What, just to win an argument? To cover up for acting like a jerk at the club?”

Leigh goes quiet, but her face hardens, trying not to show how much Jules' words hit her right in the gut. What she said, laid out like that, it sounds…well, unforgivable.

“I'm trying, okay?” Leigh blurts out without thinking.

“Shouldn't be that hard to just be a decent human being, should it?” Jules shoots back, her dismissal sharp as she exits the cramped space, leaving Leigh reeling.

Under her breath, almost like she's talking to the walls, Leigh mumbles, “I'm really sorry…” It's quiet, almost lost in the room, but she means it the most at this very moment, even if no one's around to catch it.

-

Leigh clocks out from work, her day's fatigue hanging off her shoulders like a weighty cloak. Instead of heading straight home, she veers off her usual path, her feet bringing her to places that made breathing difficult the first few weeks after Matt's death. She's walking the same old route she always did when he was still around, back to when her home address was different and she'd pick up takeout from his favorite places along the way.

There’s the park first, the one where she and Matt spent countless afternoons sprawled on the grass, lying side by side as they watched the sky blush into shades of orange at sunset. She allows herself only a fleeting glance at the familiar paths and the bench they claimed theirs, feeling the same regret, the same hollowness as she remembers the good times they had there. 

In the back of her mind, she can't shake off the worry that maybe you've been here too, making your own memories with him. She doesn’t feel the surge of anger at this thought however. Instead, a part of her is almost willing to share these sacred memories if it means holding onto him in any form. She wants to believe that her jealousy has faded into a quieter acceptance that others might also carry pieces of him, pieces she's learning to live with.

Pulling herself away from the park, Leigh's walk inevitably leads her past Matt's favorite Italian restaurant—a quaint, cozy place where they celebrated most of their birthdays and, on occasion, anniversaries, especially when neither felt like cooking (which became an increasingly common choice in the months leading up to his accident).

She remembers how Matt's face would light up at the prospect of their rich, creamy carbonara and the tiramisu he claimed was unrivaled in the city. She recalls the numerous times she attempted to recreate the restaurant's tiramisu at home, aiming to surprise Matt at least once a month. Despite her efforts, if she truly wanted to indulge him, she knew there was no substitute for the real thing. So, on special days, or whenever she felt an extra burst of affection, she'd stop by the restaurant on her way home, picking up takeout. 

A waitress from the restaurant notices Leigh's lingering gaze and asks if she'd like a table. With a shy smile, Leigh declines, then pauses before finally deciding to order a tiramisu to go.

When she returns to her mom's house and eats the tiramisu alone, it tastes different. 

Leigh can't decide if the difference in the tiramisu's taste is good or bad, but that doesn't stop her. She finishes the entire slice in minutes. But instead of feeling full, it makes her feel emptier. Perhaps, it’s not the flavor that's changed; it's the experience of eating it without Matt's enthusiastic commentary, without him lighting up at the first bite or playfully claiming the last one, despite his generous offer to let her have it.

Suddenly, tears just start pouring out of Leigh as she sits there with an empty plate. She didn't see it coming, no chance to stop it or shove it down. Then, she finds herself laughing—a deep, throaty laugh—because she's grieved for him in countless ways, but this, crying over a dessert, has to be the most absurd. It's exactly the kind of moment they would have laughed at together.

Deciding that that would be her dinner, Leigh cleans up the small mess she's made and considers the evening ahead. But just as she’s about to sink into the couch for a quiet night, her phone buzzes, making her jump.

Seeing your name flash on her screen, she sighs, sensing a familiar bitterness creeping back in, disrupting the soothing moments she had just spent reminiscing about Matt. She lets it ring a few times more before picking up.

“Hi, Y/N,” Leigh says, managing to keep her voice steady over the phone.

“Hey,” you start, unsure how to break the ice after everything. Especially with what you’re about to say next.

“Listen, something happened today at the clinic. Someone came in looking for their lost French Bulldog, and they had a picture,” you pause to breathe. “Leigh, it looks a lot like Visitor.”

On the other end of the line, you can practically hear Leigh's heart skip a beat.

“Hello?” you ask, checking to make sure she's still there after she doesn't respond for several seconds.

“Are you sure?” Leigh’s voice cracks slightly.

“Yeah, I'm pretty sure,” you say softly, feeling a surge of empathy. “I'm sending you the picture now. Check it out and tell me what you think.”

You hit send and then wait for Leigh’s confirmation.

“It's him. It's definitely Visitor,” she says a moment later.

You're relieved but also concerned about what comes next. “So, what are you going to do?”

Leigh hesitates, and when she speaks again, she doesn’t give a direct answer. “Thank you, Y/N,” she says, and you pick up something in her tone. Something somber. 

“Everything alright?” 

But the line's already dead, leaving you staring at your phone, wondering what she is up to.

-

Leigh stands outside the community center, her hand lingering on the door longer than usual.  It's been weeks since she last came to a session. First, there was the shock of uncovering Matt's darkest secret, and now, there's the issue of the man inside, already looking her way, waiting to see her next move.

Danny appearing at her doorstep earlier in the week caught her completely off guard—and not in a good way. The moment she realized it was him, Leigh didn't hesitate to close the door in his face. After she shut him out, it escalated to the point where she threatened to call the police because he wouldn't stop pounding on the door and shouting for Leigh to let him in, insisting he just wanted to talk. His last attempt to get through to her fell flat when he flooded her inbox with texts and missed calls, pushing Leigh to the point where she blocked his number for good.

Despite the problem of Danny being here tonight, Leigh isn't willing to walk away from this just because of him. She's already given up so much lately, most recently Visitor—or Chico, as she found out his real name was—and his absence carved a fresh ache in her heart that she hadn't seen coming.

So, she takes a deep breath and pushes the door open, ignoring the smirk on Danny’s face as she proceeds to pretend like he doesn’t exist.

-

Somehow, after the meeting, Leigh ends up saying yes to a quick chat with Danny. He reels her in with the news that he submitted Matt’s remaining works—which he got custody of—to his publisher, and they were keen to publish them posthumously. 

Leigh can't help but throw in a bit of shade. “That's nice of you, doing something good for your brother, even if it's a bit late.”

Danny's face drops a little. Her words were sharp enough to hurt him, but he doesn't bite back or get in her face about it, which totally throws Leigh for a loop. After all the time she'd spent ignoring him, she had expected him to be at his worst around her.

And then he surprises her even more when he says, “Let me give you a ride home? It's the least I can do…”

Leigh arches an eyebrow. She didn’t bring the car tonight because Jules had a thing with Tommy, and she didn’t want to give her sister another reason to resent her. A ride from Danny beats the alternatives of walking or shelling out for a pricey cab, especially now that her phone's battery has given out, nixing the option of booking an Uber.

But this is Danny. Matt’s brother, and the guy she hooked up with because she thought she’d get back some semblance of her dead husband. After Jules pointed out how messed up it was that they'd slept together, Leigh's been all over the place. The rules around what they were doing either turned her off or, weirdly enough, made the whole thing more enticing, taboo and all. That's a big part of why she's been steering clear of him. Hanging out with Danny feels like reaching for a cigarette long after she's sworn off smoking.

Even with all that swirling in her head, Leigh ends up saying, “Sure, why not?”

Before she knows it, she's also agreeing to a drink at his place.

-

The second they step into his apartment, something inside of Leigh snaps. Acting on impulse, she grabs Danny by the collar and kisses him fiercely. She clenches his shirt in her hands, practically tearing it in her grip. Danny's initial surprise melts away in seconds, and then he’s kissing her just as hard, his tongue prying open her lips, taking control of the kiss right away. His hands find her waits, pulling her closer, practically already half-lifting her against the wall.

Leigh, caught up in the moment, begins to move her hips in a rocking motion against him. The action is effective enough to distract him from where he’s kissing every inch of Leigh’s neck, and he retaliates by suddenly pressing her more firmly against the wall, pinning her with his hips, their chests are tightly pressed together.

But as Leigh's fingers begin to fumble with the button of Danny's pants, he catches her hands gently and, panting, says, “Wait, Leigh, hold on for just a sec.” 

Leigh’s eyes fly open at his voice, irritation and impatience coloring them. “What?” she gasps out. 

He ignores the hard edges of her tone. He wants more—something real—and he's hoping she does too.

“I can’t do this again unless I know it’s going somewhere,” Danny says. He gently lets go of Leigh and takes a step back, trying to collect himself. It's a tough task, though, with Leigh looking the way she does—hair all tousled, lips slightly swollen and marked from when he got a bit carried away, her cheeks tinged with a warm flush. He could’ve made her come in the next two minutes, he’s sure of it.

At Danny's confession, Leigh can't help it; she bursts into laughter. The idea of him catching feelings now, of all times, seems absurd to her. As she laughs, Danny's jaw tightens, but he waits patiently for her to finish.

When Leigh finally notices the seriousness etched across Danny's face, her amusement evaporates almost instantly. The realization that he's not joking strikes her, and it doesn't sit well. Not one bit.

“What, you think because your brother's gone, you get to... what? Step in? Take his place?” she spits out, incredulous. “This is never going to be anything more than a quick fuck, Danny.”

In his desperation, he calls her bluff. “You’re lying.”

Leigh's reaction morphs into a cruel sneer. “If you're going to insist on something more, then we're just wasting our time,” she mutters, turning to leave.

Danny's not ready to let her walk away, not yet. He grabs her arm, and for a second, they're just staring each other down, a silent battle raging between them. Leigh’s resolve is impenetrable.

It’s Danny who cracks first, exhaling a defeated, “Fine.”

But Leigh's not having any half-measures. She whirls around, fire in her eyes. “Nope. Say it properly,” she demands.

With a sigh that feels like he's giving away a part of himself, Danny looks at her, worn and resigned. “This doesn't have to mean anything,” he says even if it’s the last thing he wants.

Leigh locks eyes with him, a storm brewing in her look. Just when Danny thinks it's better to just drop it, she throws him a question out of nowhere. 

“Did you know?”

“Know what?” Danny asks, genuinely puzzled.

“About Matt and me... trying for a baby when he... you know.”

“He... he never mentioned anything like that,” he says, feeling the pain she’s radiating. Leigh looks like she’s about to fall apart and all he wants is to be the one to gather her pieces and put them all back together.

No more words follow from Leigh. It's as if the question drained what was left of the conversation. Without warning, she surges forward, her lips meeting Danny’s in a bruising kiss, then she grabs Danny's hands, placing them firmly back on her waist. He gets the message loud and clear, and together they quickly shed their clothes, letting them fall in a heap around their feet. She comes about twelve minutes and thirty seconds later.

-

It's been eight days—not that you're keeping track or anything. But after giving Leigh the heads-up that someone’s been looking for a dog that looks exactly like Visitor, you were kind of expecting she’d at least update you if it really was him or not.

So, when a client strolls in later with Visitor, who's actually called Chico according to the file your secretary slips you, you're a little disappointed it's not Leigh showing up instead. It must have been incredibly tough for her to return Chico to his real family. She invested her heart, time, and not to mention her wallet, into that dog, caring for him as if he were her own.

Thinking she’d be relieved to know he’s in good hands, you send her a text to update her about Chico's visit to the clinic today. You mention how healthy and content he seems, yet you hazard a guess that he's probably missing Leigh too. 

She sees your message right away, and then leaves you on read.

-

Her thing with Danny turns into a late-night ritual, particularly after Drew fails to respond to her following their conversation, not even offering her a guest column in the weeks that followed their talk. Drew continues to invite her for coffee and dinner dates along with his fiancée, but he avoids the topic about the column, so Leigh stops asking.

The hookups are always a post-midnight impulse. She’d find herself sneaking out of her mother's house to meet him, driven by a mix of need and escape, or occasionally, by insomnia. After their moments together, she never lingers in Danny's bed for too long once she's found her satisfaction, eager to shower away his scent from her skin. 

Back at home, she ensures there's no trace of their deed by the time she slips into bed, allowing herself to sleep deep into the middle of the day. This pattern of nocturnal activity and daytime slumber has led her mother to adjust Leigh's responsibilities, moving her to take charge of the afternoon classes instead. This behavior earns her suspicious glances from Jules, but Leigh chooses to ignore them—if Jules isn't interested in reconciling, then she has no right to concern herself with Leigh's personal affairs.

Leigh doesn’t know how she got here, back at the beginning, in an ever messier situation. She can't stop fucking Danny, her emotions for Matt are a rollercoaster—she finds herself forgiving him and cursing him interchangeably a couple of times a day. 

She's astounded this is her life now, seemingly unable to talk herself out of decisions that pull her deeper into chaos.

-

A month later, Leigh becomes a distant memory. Following a series of tumultuous encounters, your life gradually returns to its normal rhythm—quiet, ordinary days filled with clinic work, attending to various cases, meeting new clients, and addressing the myriad issues of small animals. All of these tasks prove easier to deal with than anything involving Leigh Shaw.

The sole noteworthy event in your generally uneventful life lately was your latest visit to a physician for an annual physical exam. The blood tests revealed some numbers outside the normal range, notably elevated cholesterol levels. Consequently, your doctor advised you to integrate exercise into your daily regimen and to reduce your consumption of takeout meals, specifically pizza and Chinese fast food.

It’s a big sacrifice, considering your day usually flies by without much thought for food, except for dinner. It’s the one time in your day you actually look forward to. So, to hold onto that bit of happiness, you've been looking at fitness classes that are actually enjoyable and help burn those extra calories to keep you in shape.

Yoga stands out as the top choice for you, mainly because it all unfolds on a mat. You assume it'll demand the least amount of effort compared to the other options (specifically spinning), which all seem to promise nothing but pain and suffering.

Deciding to give yoga a shot, you choose Beautiful Beast, swayed by its stellar reviews. You secure a slot for a 6pm class, feeling pretty good about this decision.

That is, until Leigh Shaw walks into the said class, clad in a sports bra and tight-fitting leggings that highlight her toned legs. She’s busy on her phone, and without looking up, she walks to the front of the room. 

What are the chances you'd both be in the same class at the same fitness studio? The plot thickens when she pockets her phone and turns to face the class, gesturing for everyone to get their mats ready as the session's about to start.

You swallow hard. Leigh isn't here as a joiner—she's running it.

It takes about a quarter of the session for Leigh to notice you’re in her class. It's only while she's making her rounds, observing each student's camel pose, that her gaze finally lands on you. Struggling through your lack of core strength, you can't quite catch her initial reaction, but then she calls out your name. The surprise makes you gasp as she places her hand on the curve of your spine, just above the small of your back, and gently pushes you upward, deepening your arch. 

The stretch draws a grimace from you, but then she says, “Good, that's it,” and suddenly, you're determined not to let her down. You focus on the pose, on Leigh's instructions, and on not falling apart under her watchful eye. Leigh keeps everyone in the position a few moments longer than expected before instructing the class to transition into the child's pose for recovery. At her cue, your arms collapse, and you find yourself breathing heavily, grateful for the brief respite.

Something tells you it's not the high cholesterol that's going to be the end of you, but rather this yoga class and Leigh's merciless teaching style. 

-

You're all packed up and ready to leave, still reeling from what could easily be the toughest hour of your life, when someone calls out to you.

“Hey, Y/N.”

It's Leigh. Her tone is softer, more fatigued than you remember. She’s still in her gym clothes, looking like the workout barely touched her except for a few strands of hair sticking to her forehead. And somehow, she smells more like a rose garden than the gym floor.

“I didn’t know you work here—” you blurt out, almost apologizing. But before you can add anything else, Leigh just shakes her head, something like amusement in her smile, stopping you mid-sentence. Her smile, warm and a little teasing, eases some of the tension you didn't realize you were holding. 

“Are you a mind reader or something?” she teases. “Cause yeah, I was going to ask if you were following me.”

You’re quick to deny it. “I wasn’t.”

Leigh lets out a chuckle like she's getting a kick out of seeing you on edge. You shuffle your feet, still unsure if she’s trying to scare you off or welcome you to her tutelage.  

“Look, if it's weird for you, me being here... I can find another class,” you offer, the words tumbling out before you can think them through.

Her reaction is swift and a bit surprising, “Why would I want that? So you can duck out and be a rubbish yogi elsewhere and ruin my reputation?”

You’re taken aback by her response. Clearly, Leigh's not pushing you away; it's almost as if she's egging you on, daring you to stick it out. And if there's any hope of moving past this... whatever it is, leaving now because it might get awkward doesn't seem like the right move to make a fresh start.

“All right, I'll stay,” you find yourself saying, more to your surprise than hers. 

Leigh's got this look of triumph, chin lifted just so, when you agree to stick around. “See you at 5:30. Greenway Park,” she throws out casually.

You're there blinking, trying to piece together what she means. But before you can even get a word out, she's one step ahead. 

“We have to work on your endurance,” she clarifies. “Make sure you’re wearing real running shoes. No sneakers.”

[cowboywritersworld]

A Rhea Ripley x Reader, where Reader gets a new neighbour, she doesn't see her at first because of both their working hours and when Reader sees Rhea is finally home, she prepares her a cake as a welcome gift?

Welcome home

General Masterlist | WWE Masterlist | Rhea Ripley Masterlist

Characters: Rhea Ripley, Reader

Prompt: A Rhea Ripley x Reader, where Reader gets a new neighbour, she doesn't see her at first because of both their working hours and when Reader sees Rhea is finally home, she prepares her a cake as a welcome gift?

If someone would have told you, years ago, that at some point you would be neighbour with a famous wrestler, you would have laughed.

For sure you don't live in a small city, but it's still kinda in the suburbs, so you are delighted when you discover that the well kept house has been sold.

Since you work full time as a physiotherapist, you get home in the evening to a truck unloading a couch. Someone in the house is giving direction on where to put it, but you can't really recall where you heard it from. You sigh and leave your things in your hallway, before walking to their door.

"Hi, I'm Y/N. Your neighbor. Welcome here." Your eyes widen as your gaze falls on none other than Rhea Ripley.

"Oh, hi! I'm Demi Bennett, if you follow wrestling you know me from there." She smiles at you and damn, if that was a dream, no one should wake you up.

"Yeah... I am a huge fan. Would you like to come in and drink something?" You ask her: you are not sure what you can actually offer, but you'll find something.

"I would love to, but. I have to follow this and then be as quick as possible on the road. I'll be back in three weeks though."

~ 3 weeks later ~

You notice that Rhea has come back on a Saturday evening, deciding to prepare a cake. The next day you ring her bell, a huge smile on your lips and the cake in one hand.

"Hi Y/N!. Come in, sorry about the mess. Do you want something to drink?" Rhea is gentle with you and you actually don't mind having her as a neighbor, taking care of her house when she is not there.

"I can care less about the mess, don't worry. I baked a cake for you, as a welcome in this neighborhood. I know you moved here some weeks ago, but between your traveling and my work as a physiotherapist, it has been difficult." You chuckle, scratching the back of your head. "Some juice would be great, whichever you might have, of course."

"Oh you are a physiotherapist? I could surely take you into consideration, if I get injured."

She tells more to herself, but she actually doesn't understand how much those words mean to you. You eat the cake together on her patio, spending the next few days she is in town together, to get to know each other better.

[asha-mage]

One thing I can't stop thinking about ever since I finished Awakening is Robin's mother.

Because can you imagine the courage, the strength of will it must have taken to steal away her son from Plegia? To flee?

She was raised her whole life to believe in Grima, in the teachings of the Grimleal, she watched her country burn from the Crusades fought by Ylisse- watched Plegians slaughtered for their faith, watched their country impoverished and occupied. It's easy to imagine her as someone who hated Ylisse, who was a fervent believer in Grima, who leapt at the chance to help continue the Fell Dragon's bloodline with Validar.

And then imagine her laying there after the birth, holding her infant son marked with symbol of Grima and realizing that none of that mattered, not in the least bit beside this tiny life, beside her son. Her son who is their prophesied chosen one, who is the hope of generations of Plegians- who is destined to be the vessel of the Fell Dragon, the herald of the end of days, the bringer of vengeance on their enemies, the remaker of earth. Their messiah. Her messiah.

And it doesn't matter. Because it will mean his death. She dosen't want the rapture if it means he has to be sacrificed to bring it about, she don't want him to be the messiah because she knows that means one day he will be crucified.

And so she runs. She takes her infant son from the cradle and leaves behind everything she has ever known, and everything that might have been- a life as the mother of the messiah, a life of status and riches and comfort- and she goes to the one place the Grimleal will never think to look for them. She goes to Ylisse, where the armies still recall the screams of her people, where the faithful of Naga would cut her son down if they knew the least part of what he was. And she raises him there in secret, for twenty years living in hiding in the country of her enemies, because it's the only place her son will be safe. Because she loves him to much to let him be doomed by fate.

What must it have felt like one day, when he walked out the door and never came home? Did she search for him? Did she fear that the Grimleal had found them at last? Did she hear what happened at Southtown and wonder if he was among the dead: if all that, if twenty years of hiding and running and living in secret- had all ended in nothing more then a random bandit attack and bad luck? Or did she refuse to believe any such thing? Did she keep searching, keep wandering, unable to believe that the prophesied messiah would meet such a ignominious end?

What must if felt like when she heard that Plegia was going to war with Ylisse? Did she consider going back to the country she had abandoned, the people she had betrayed? Did she regret for a moment, that they would not have the vessel of Grima to lend them his strength?

And after the war what must it have been like, for every bell in Ylisstol to be ringing with victory, the new Exalt King riding back fresh from the field of battle, leading the triumphant procession of his soldiers....and beside him is her boy. Shoulder to shoulder, knee to knee as they ride side by side through the streets. Her boy with his silver hair and bright eyes gazing up at the Exalt King, the son of the man who crusaded against his mother country, with such love and devotion in his eyes as few people have ever witnessed. Was she happy? Disgusted? Horrified? Scared for him? Did it click then, the wild tales of the amnesiac strategist that the Shepherds had found in a field- rumors that had begun around the same time her boy had vanished?

Did she ever think about coming forward? When the wedding was announced? When Lucina's birth (her granddaughter, blood of Grima and Naga both, but her granddaughter first) was declared? When war broke out with Valm and her boy took command of the armies marching to defend Ylisse?

And why didn't she come forward? Did she fear sparking him to remember if they met again? Did she fear bringing out the truth with her mere presence? Shattering the strange fairy tale her son had stumbled into? Did she fear what the Exalt King would do if he learned his beloved groom was Plegian, let alone the blood of the Fell Dragon? What would happen to her granddaughter if the faithful of Naga learned she had both the Exalt's brand the blood of Grima? Did she stay in hiding to protect them both, even as the dead ravaged the land and the end of days drew closer, praying for her boy to find whatever happiness he could while he could?

Did she watch the Grimleal march to the Table and know the end she had struggled against had come? Did she see that massive dragon rise from across the horizon and know despair? Did she watch it die, it's skeleton fall to the earth, and grieve, even as the rest of the world cheered and sang of their salvation? Did she walk to that great corpse and weep from the need to lay hands on her son one more time- only to see others crying around the dragon's skull- the Shepherds not triumphant but mourning, calling out for Robin hoping against hope that he still lived? Did Chrom spot her, like a ghost, a phantom, on the horizon, just for a moment before she was gone again?

Did she go back to their hidden home, the place they had lived in secret among their enemies....and find a boy laying on her doorstep with his silver hair and bright eyes but no cursed mark upon his hand? Did Robin find his way back in that moment, to the connection he had forgotten, the mother who saved him from being raised to be a lamb for slaughter?

Did he open his eyes, and with Grima gone, finally remember her?

[d3ad-on-arriva1]

MY NAME IS MY NAME IS MY NAME IS CHARLES SECOND I LOVE THE PEOPLE AND THE PEOPLE LOVE ME SO MUCH THAT THEY RESTORED THE ENGLISH MONARCHY I'M PART SCOTTISH, FRENCH, ITALIAN A LITTLE BIT DANE BUT ONE HUNDRED PERCENT PARTY ANIMAL CHAMPAGNE?? SPANIELS I ADORED NAMED AFTER ME TOO LIKE ME, THEY WERE FUN WITH A NUTTY HAIR DO! IS TODAY MY BIRTHDAY? I CAN'T RECALL LET'S HAVE A PARTY ANYWAY BECAUSE I LOVE A MASKED BALL!

ALL HAIL, THE KING! OF BLING! LET'S SING! BELLS RING! DING DING! I'M THE KING WHO BROUGHT BACK PARTYING! KING CHARLES, MY DADDY LOST HIS THRONE AND KINGS WERE BANNED THEY CHOPPED OFF HIS HEAD THEN OLLY CROMWELL RULED THE LAND OLD OLLY WASN'T JOLLY HE WAS GLUM, AND HE WAS PROUD WOULD BE MISERABLE AS SIN ONLY SINNING'S NOT ALLOWED! WHEN OLLY DIED, THE PEOPLE SAID 'CHARLIE, ME HEARTY! GET RID OF HIS DULL LAWS COME BACK, WE'D RATHER PARTY! 'THIS ACTION'S WHAT THEY CALLED THE MONARCHY RESTORATION WHICH NATURALLY WAS FOLLOWED BY A HUGE CELEBRATION!THE KING OF ENG! NO SIN! TOO SING! OR ANYTHING! ALL SAY, I'M THE KING WHO BROUGHT BACK PARTYING! GREAT LONDON FIRE WAS A WHOPPER! IN MY REIGN, LONDON CITY CAME A-CROPPER! SO THIS KING DID WHAT WAS RIGHT AND PROPER FOUGHT THE FIRE, PROVED I'M MORE THAN A BOPPER I'M A FIRE STOPPER! MARRIED CATHERINE BRAGANZA SHE WAS A LOVE SO TRUE THERE WOULD NEVER BE ANOTHER WELL... MAYBE ONE OR TWO! LUCY WALTER, NELL GWYNNE MOLL DAVIES, BARBARA VILLIERS YOU THINK THAT'S BAD BUT HER NAME'S NOT AS SILLY AS...HORTENSE MANCINI! AS KING, I MUST ADMIT I BROKE THE WEDDING RULES BUT WHO CARES WHEN I BROUGHT BACK THE CROWN JEWELS? I REINSTATED CHRISTMAS MAKE UP, SPORTS AND EVEN PLAYS I WAS THE MERRY MONARCH THEY WERE GOOD OLD DAYS!

WHEN SAID AND DONE! KING CHARLES DID RUN! ENGLAND FOR FUN! I WAS THE KING LOVED BY EVERYONE MY SONG IS DONE! party anyone?

[destinywillowleaf]

we're calling it an "afterparty" because it's a party after we saved the world

(Sonic X Shadow Generations)

In which Blaze knows things no one else does, Sonic remembers what his friends tell him, and Shadow pays attention to people trying to kill him.

Light spoilers for Shadow Generations? Nothing plot-heavy, just a boss and related dialogue. Mostly under the cut to not clog up too much on mobile. these thoughts would not leave me alone so here they are

EDIT: now as a more fleshed-out fic on AO3!

(Parenthesis) are internal thoughts, [Brackets] are actions/descriptions.

~~~~~

Sonic: Hey, Blaze?

Blaze: [She turns to face him.] Hm?

Sonic: You said you were in that Crisis City place before.

Blaze: I did. (Where is he going with this?)

Sonic: Call me crazy, but it seemed like you really knew the city. But I don't remember running through anything like it in the Sol Dimension, and none of the other locales in White Space were from adventures you guys had without me. What's up with that?

Blaze: (Ah.) It's... something I've been wondering myself for a while now.

Sonic: Huh?

[Her eyes grow distant, looking beyond the trees as she retreads memories.]

Blaze: You're right. Crisis City was not in my world. From my best understanding, it was a future of your world. I wound up there not too long after our adventure together, and was forced to learn the environment quickly at risk of being incinerated by the flames of disaster. Alongside... a friend, we kept it at bay as best we could.

Silver: A friend?

Blaze: (You.) After one such defeat, we were approached by a... hedgehog who claimed to know how to stop it once and for all. According to him, a lone individual was responsible for the awakening of the flames. (If I had questioned him more before, perhaps we wouldn't be in this mess of forgotten memories now.) You, Sonic.

Sonic: Me?!

Blaze: That turned out not to be the case, but nevertheless we still set out from our time into the past - your present. We were in the Kingdom of Soleanna, around the Festival of the Sun, I believe. I know... my friend encountered you a few times, but I met you then as well. We eventually returned to the future to seal away the flames once and for all. I fully intended to sacrifice myself but when it was all done... I awoke back in my own dimension.

Sonic: Eh... it's kinda ringing some bells.

Blaze: Really?

Sonic: If you told me any of this yesterday, no, but I feel like running through those streets brought something back. I definitely passed by the kingdom at one point, but I don't think I remember meeting you there. [He scratches his head.] At the same time, I kinda remember meeting someone there...

Blaze: I see.

Sonic: Side note, any reason why're you being so vague about your friend? I feel like their name's on the tip of my tongue but I just can't place 'em.

Blaze: (Because saying anything now means admitting that I've known exactly who was in Silver's dreams and never told him.)

Shadow: If I may be so bold.

Blaze: Yes...?

Shadow: Everything surrounding this... Crisis City seems to have been forgotten. Lost in time, as it were.

Blaze: I suppose that's one way to describe it. I just wish I knew why I seem to be the only one to recall anything that happened.

Shadow: Regardless, you said it was a hedgehog who approached you and your friend about the one responsible for the flames.

Blaze: He appeared to be one, at the very least. (Come to think of it...) He actually looked quite a bit like you, and still spoke to us despite lacking a mouth.

[Shadow's eyes go wide.]

Shadow: Was his name Mephiles?

[Blaze freezes in place.]

Blaze: ...how do you know that name?

[Shadow looks away and clenches his hand.]

Shadow: He confronted me earlier, raving about restoring himself to the timeline. I had no idea who he was, yet he claimed to know me. [He turns, meeting her eyes briefly.] You are the only one to remember...

Blaze: ...because that timeline no longer exists. (Something happened to destroy it. Returning to my dimension must have protected me from having my memories affected. It's a miracle Sonic remembers anything now at all.) How did he manage to find you, then?

[Shadow shrugs and turns away, leaving Blaze to her thoughts.]

Silver: Hm....

Blaze: Is there something on your mind?

Silver: You and your friend were fighting some big fiery creature in the future together, right? [Blaze nods.] It kinda sounds like Ifrit, but that was me and Espio.

Blaze: (...I've kept it from him long enough.) It was Iblis.

Silver: Ibl—

[A look of recognition flashes in his eyes. Everything clicks into place.]

Silver: All this time... it was you? They–They weren't dreams or future visions at all?

Blaze: I'm sorry for not telling you sooner. (Not that I've had many opportunities to do so to begin with.)

Silver: I've never really felt like I belonged in my own future, even before I tried to change it the first time. [Silver lets out a tired chuckle.] I guess I know why now. And–And why I was there instead of anywhere else, and why it still felt familiar even though I didn't know where I was. Except, I guess, I did know where I was. Kinda.

[The party air is distant despite being so close, and the gap between them feels like a chasm.]

Silver: What was it like?

Blaze: The old future?

Silver: Mhm. What kinda stuff did we do besides fighting fires?

Blaze: Well...

~~~~~

if you're reading this part you're cool B) but seriously i think it would be fun for Shadow to be the only other person who actually knows Mephiles. Silver has shreds of memory at best, Sonic never learned the guy's name, and no one else even has a shot at remembering. even after generations Sonic doesn't remember most of what happened and Blaze can't help since she wasn't around for most of it. idk if anyone ever finds out that Sonic died during all that nonsense.

(also something about Shadow, the one guy notorious for having a shit memory thanks to Amnesia, being the one to know/remember stuff from a timeline that doesn't exist is just. inherently funny to me)

[lynxgriffin]

Hi! I followed this blog a few years back during Paper Trail (I still follow anthro-fractal), and I seem to recall you posting about a webcomic from years ago that I’ve been looking for lately and haven’t been able to find. If I’m barking up the wrong tree, I’m sorry. I believe you were reblogging it from the original artist. At least some of the characters were anthro (the main character was a blue reptilian woman, I believe). The only story arcs I remember were about bandits stealing the city’s water and a chaos god ending up in a robot character’s body after being released from a magical torrent file for an old kid’s show. There was also an intermission, which I remember included at least one character expressing attraction to Venom from the 2018 movie of the same name.

I’m aware of how specific and odd this ask is, but my memory of it being from your blog is my last and only lead. Once again, my apologies if I’m misremembering.

I am so sorry, but your description is absolutely ringing no bells for me. It might have been a different artist reblogging it. Sorry that I can't help you here!