#i HAVE had thoughts about this for the longest time too

[matchpointfaist]

college best friend! art x reader °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

three days passed after the party, after the kiss, and art didn’t so much as text, call, or reach out in any way. you were hurt, confused, slightly anxious at the loss of contact, but more than anything, you missed him.

you missed his stupid jokes and the way he smiled like you were the funniest, most brilliant person in the room. the way his arms lingered when he hugged you goodnight, the way he rambled on and on about tennis and potential matches and probability for going pro next year. the way he’d sit patiently while you studied or read, even though you knew he was bursting at the seams to do anything but study. you missed your best friend, plain and simple, and you hoped that he missed you too.

his long awaited breach of silence finally came on the fourth day, early that morning, around the time you were sure he was getting ready for his morning job. it was simple, to the point, a text that quickened your heart rate unreasonably so; ‘can i come over later? miss you.’

‘of course you can.’ you replied in an instant, already making space on your bed for him to lounge, subconsciously making sure you looked okay, that your sleep deprivation and worry weren’t broadcasted too clearly on your face.

he was there thirty minutes later, a soft knock at the door pulling you from your thoughts, jarring you and exciting you far more than it should’ve. “coming!” you called, straightening out your clothes before pulling the door open, fighting a sigh of relief at the sight of him.

four days was the longest you’d gone without seeing him since the two of you met, which seemed sort of pathetic to think of, but you’d grown accustomed to spending all your free time with him. “hi,�� he smiled, less enthusiastic than usual, but a smile nonetheless, “can i come in?”

as if nothing happened, the two of you sat on your bed, and you tried not to let your eyes linger too long on his lips; your mind wandering to the way they’d felt on yours.

“i guess i should apologize,” he broke the silence that had settled over the room hesitantly, “i shouldn’t have kissed you without asking first. we were drunk, and i was an idiot, and i’m so sorry, and you can be mad at me but i miss you, and,”

you cut him off with a laugh, shaking your head, “shut up, art. don’t be sorry, okay? it was sweet, it was-“ your cheeks flushed, “it was good, i promise. i miss you too,” he blinked in surprise, a slow smile spreading across his face, and it struck you then that you’d do anything to keep him this way. happy, awestruck, content.

“it was good?” he asked softly, like he was afraid if you repeated it you’d change your mind, “i could- i mean, we could kiss again, if you wanted, i just didn’t wanna assume, and i didn’t wanna overstep,”

this time, you cut him off with your lips over his, just as he’d done at the party. he tensed, ever so briefly, before melting into you, kissing you and smiling against your lips and tracing his fingers up your spine, pulling you into him and warming you so thoroughly you were certain you’d never felt anything like it.

you settled in his lap, curling your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck as you kissed him until you were breathless, until you had to pause and rest your forehead against his, giggling slightly, giddy on affection.

“i’ve wanted to do that for so long,” he exhaled with a soft, breathy laugh, “you really have no idea, i- i’ve thought of you, like this, for so long,” “yeah?” you kissed him again, unable to hold yourself back, hoping you could show him that you felt the exact same way.

it was cliche, falling for your best friend. it was reckless and silly and so unbearably young of you, but you didn’t care. with art, it felt like you’d known him all your life. maybe even before that, in some alternate past life, maybe you’d been in love with him before your souls were even in these bodies, here in this dorm room. the statistical probability of meeting him, out of everyone in this world, was so slim, but you truly couldn’t fathom feeling this way for anyone else.

no one could come close to him, you were sure of it. he made you feel so alive and so at ease, so completely certain of yourself, so confident that this was the right thing to do. you’d never felt anything more right than kissing him, actually. it was like all the little pieces fell into place, and suddenly you knew exactly what to do, exactly where to place your hands, exactly how to move against him.

his hands made their way up the back of your shirt, tucked underneath the material, hot and smooth against your skin as you kissed him, and you were startled as a soft moan passed from your lips to his as his hand brushed a particularly tender spot on your shoulders, leaving chills on the delicate skin.

he smiled against you, pulling away to look at you from his seat underneath you, his eyes wide and admiring. “do you want me to stop?” he asked almost timidly, “we don’t have to do anything else,”

“wanna do this,” you said without a second thought, pausing to pull your shirt over your head, shivering slightly in your bralette. his cheeks reddened, and you felt him stiffen beneath you, hard between your thighs. “you’re so beautiful,” he exhaled, gently reaching out to trace over your ribs and chest, so featherlight and tender it almost brought tears to your eyes.

it was quicker after that, all of your clothes in a pile on your floor, pulled off between breathless kisses and murmurs of admiration from the both of you. art was all muscle under his shirt, his chest rippling with movement, and you were reminded of just how strong he really was as he picked you up, repositioning the two of you and laying between your thighs, kissing you from this new position with a power he didn’t have before.

“art,” you mumbled against his lips, pulling at his hair gently, “d’you want me on top?” his breath visibly faltered, and he looked you over, his eyes dark as he took in the sight of you laid out beneath him. “want you however you feel best,” he said quietly, pressing a warm kiss to your chest, and you sat up as you heard him laugh, felt the hot exhale of his breath against you.

“what?” you asked, suddenly self conscious, crossing your arms over your bare chest, and his eyes widened at the motion, like he was confused. “oh, no- i just, i can’t believe we’re doing this,” he smiled, gently pulling your arms down, kissing your cheek, “can’t believe i finally have you,”

he kept kissing you as he moved closer between your thighs, his fingers finding your clit with an unsteady hesitation, but he relaxed as you hummed in pleasure, your eyes falling closed. “feels good,” you murmured, tilting your head up to kiss his neck, arching into his touch, “god, art, that’s really good,”

only a few minutes and he had you practically writhing beneath him, whimpering and moaning and suddenly so embarrassingly desperate in a way that a man had never had you before. after he was sure that you were comfortable, that you were ready, he rested the palm of one hand on your cheek as he slid into you, his face all hazy with pleasure, a quiet groan leaving his swollen lips.

“oh my god,” he buried his face in your neck, resting his hand on your hip to hold you tight to him as he fucked you, and you were acutely aware of the way he shook like he was holding himself back.

you were a mess of breathless moans and messy kisses, your hands in his hair and his hands on every inch of your skin and taking pauses just to look at each other, to take in the beautiful simplicity of this; this, between you, this love that had been growing for months that you’d both been too shy or scared of just plain stupid to admit.

he made you come before he’d let himself finish, his mouth swallowing your moans as you trembled around him, digging your nails into his toned back as he fucked you through it, panting against your neck and praising you so softly you thought maybe he wasn’t even doing it for your benefit.

when he finished, your name spilled from his lips in a broken moan, and you wished you could capture it forever, play it on repeat whenever the mood struck. he was so doting after, cleaning you up gently, kissing you and taking breaks to laugh, to smile with the sort of giddiness you’d only seen on him after he won a match.

you fell asleep there, despite you both having classes that day, too caught up in the serenity of it all to leave your dorm room. when you woke up from your nap, art was still there, his expression peaceful as he lay curled up in your pink bedsheets, your stuffed bear under his arm. when he finally woke up, he laid in your lap as you read the study material for the class you both missed. later that night, he fucked you again, taking his time and kissing every inch of you, his movements so slow and careful that it warmed you all over. you knew you loved him far before that, but it finally came from your lips as you came undone for the second time, and when you both calmed down, he made you say it again just to make sure you meant it.

and oh god, you did.

[jaggedamethyst]

tandem

alternate timeline jayce talis x f!reader

content: after an explosion, jayce is sure he’s somehow rewinded time and saved you. instead, he’s been transported to a new timeline—one where he’s dead.

warnings: 18+ minors dni, smut, unprotected p in v, soft sex, edging if you squint, oral (f!receiving bc jayce is a munch in my head), a single spank lmao, angst, canon typical hextech danger, mentions of death, mental health, character death, jayvik is real so if you think im implying something���im not…they loved each other your honor. thats a fact. not proofread im too lazy.

word count: 6.2k

notes: omg…my longest one shot so far (I think) enjoy!! i’ll be back soon (maybe) with more but this is a one shot don’t ask me for anymore i can’t be extending everything into multiple parts bc yall are GREEDY!!! (with love of course)

- amethyst 💟

main masterlist

⭑･ﾟﾟ･*:༅｡.｡༅:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　✿✼:*ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑

You refused to say or acknowledge that Jayce was dead. That couldn’t be true. The man that you’d grown to love wouldn’t be so careless as to step into a battle field and sacrifice himself to stop his lab partner. No, you thought, the Man of Progress would never. The accomplished scientist wouldn’t have—knowing the variables of such an action—leave you. Not deliberately.

Time was insanely delicate and Jayce always said as much. There was never a second to spare, a minute to waste. Yet, it felt that since he’d made such an inconsiderate choice—you were forced to watch yourself drain entirely.

You were never good at telling time. Sure, you could glance at an analog clock and decipher the hour and minute hands’s significance. The passage of time, however, was a struggle.

���Okay, I should be back in about an hour. Is that okay?” You would always assure Jayce, despite both of you knowing it would take you longer.

He’d humor you every time. “That’s perfect. I’ll be here when you get back.” Always with a warm smile, before turning to his work—always his work.

You weren't good at telling time, but you knew it’d been a long time since you last saw him. Even longer since you held him, felt his scent whip past you in a persistent breeze. You’d recounted the last time you saw him so vividly in your mind—physically kneeled over in distress at a mountaintop. The thought of running to him, saving him, had crossed your mind and left it just as quickly as it appeared. You figured that of all people he’d be safe with Viktor; Jayce loved him. How shocked you'd been to realize that maybe it wasn’t reciprocated—that maybe Viktor had hated Jayce. So much so that he’d take him away. In fact, maybe it was you that he despised. That he smiled at the thought of ripping Jayce from your grasp. Every thought swelled in your mind, the only way to make sense of the inexplicable.

At the end of the day, you weren't there. Standing at the base of all of the destruction meant you weren’t there, but a distance away from them. Perhaps this was the only way they could commit themselves to each other as partners, them and only them.

So, you’d been left out, and every day you craved being loved so intensely as to die together.

You shrugged the thought off, cleaning up Jayce’s forge for him. Wiping the dust and sweeping away the mess was your own way of maintaining it for him—since he’d have to return at some point. Busying yourself with organizing his workbooks took the most time. He was so sporadic; he would doodle and scribble with no rhyme or reason. He would leave tools just out of his grasp, but littering the floors that had now become impossible to walk on.

I have to make this perfect, you’d think. For him.

So you did. Every week you would commit to tidying his space. What started as an intense job seemingly dwindled in necessity. Eventually, there wasn’t much left to do. The realization that there was truly not much reason to be here hurt so bad. The only part of Jayce left had again been taken from you—and it was your own fault.

Without thinking, a few months passed. So much had occurred that you let the thought of Jayce come less frequently despite the pain in your chest lingering consistently. He’d still appear, though, fluttering through your brain in flurries that left you sobbing.

That’s how he found you—crying in his noticeably changed workspace.

Jayce scrambled to you, ignoring your hunched over form. The awkward positioning of you sitting down, leaning on your knees and into your hands didn’t matter to him. He let his arms yank you toward his chest before you could even register his presence.

“My god,” he spoke into your neck. A hand rubbed up and down your back. You froze at the contact. Not only did you not hear anyone come in, you were sure this was a dream. In spite of your adamance to never indulge in shimmer—there was no other explanation that found you. Surely this pressure was your imagination. There was no way the familiar smell of Jayce swelled around you. Not after all this time.

He noticed your stiffened body and pulled back. His eyes looked between your own; there was a familiarity that instantly broke him.

You spoke through his tears, clawing at his shirt now. “I don’t understand—how?”

“I made a mistake. Like I always do.”

“No,” you shook your head. “Not a mistake.” You attempted to correct him. How could something that bought Jayce back to you be a mistake?

“One minute I was…I’d been helping Heimerdinger.” He nodded, assuring himself. “The next I’m here.” He paused before whispering. “God, I thought I lost you.”

You shook your head, mind immediately rushing to a similar thought. “I thought you were gone for good. That Viktor-“

“Viktor? What happened to Viktor?”

You froze, taken aback by his question. An event that was so tormenting for you hadn’t even been of significance to him? Had he not remembered his own death? More importantly, did he not recall the inherent pain of it being at the hands of his partner?

Examining him left you to pick up on details you didn’t at first. The last time you’d seen Jayce, you thought, he wasn’t himself. In the fleeting moments of imagery in your mind, his hair had grown—facial hair as well. His crooked smile had been riddled with cracks of dryness. The shoulders you once loved, that would stand tall, now slumped in determination. All of these things weren’t like the Jayce in front of you.

Wrinkles and dark rimmed eyes were nowhere to be found as you looked back at the man. Slowly, you reached up to cup his face.

“You’re not him, are you?”

Jayce’s face twisted. You watched his eyes flicker down and light up in recognition, or rather lack thereof. Your clothes weren’t the same as they were just a moment ago.

Your question echoed in his mind, and he realized that no… he wasn’t him. He was Jayce, of course, but not yours.

Your fingers pulled back, relinquishing the relief you’d felt. Moving to stand was a battle of its own. Somehow you tricked yourself into thinking the man you loved had returned to you. It was foolish, really.

“No, please-“ Jayce reached out. He looked down at you, confusion riddling your gaze. “Please don’t leave.”

“This is just like you.” You deliberately avoided eye contact, a sincere smile creeping up on your face. “You’ve always been so smart. The smartest man I know.” Wringling your hands, you continued. “Makes sense Jayce Talis of all people would find a way to clone himself.” You paused briefly, finally looking at him, “And I’m guessing this is because of Hextech?”

A nod. You knew it.

“Do you hate it as much as she did? My work?”

She. You figured that there would be another you out there—hoped she’d been important to him.

“I don’t hate your work.” You spoke quickly. “Odds are, neither does she. But look at you,” a hand panned up and down his body quickly. “Look where you are. I think we have a right to be cautious of what it can do. What you can do.”

It was him who sat then, letting his knees buckle. “You should be--cautious, I mean. Hell��you should be scared.” An image of the last thing he saw flashed in his mind—you lying still on the floor. Blood seemed to drip from your head and seeped into your clothes. It was his fault. He hadn’t kept you safe. He hadn’t done a proper job at telling you the risks, he thought. So when you arrived with a warm smile, and was met with an explosion—Jayce could only blame himself. His version of you had been so eager to check on him, as she always did. If only she’d known how volatile Hextech could be.

You watched tears appear in his eyes. Even now, knowing that this wasn’t your Jayce Talis, you couldn’t see him in pain. More importantly, you couldn’t separate the love you had for him.

“I’m not scared.” You kneeled down and reached your hand out again. This time you didn’t marvel at the man, but comforted him. Letting the pad of your thumb fall just under his eye—you wiped away the single falling tear that had appeared. “I couldn’t ever be afraid of you.”

You’d always been so in synch and the same was true now. The rise and fall of your chests mimicked one another. His hands snaked up, too, gripping your forearms as they brushed against him. Slowly, he made his way up to fold his hands into yours and squeezed. Both of you knew, without saying, that there was an undeniable magnetism.

Your eyes flickered between his facial features—all so independently beautiful despite them working together to make his perfect face. He watched your stares in admiration. Even with his version of you, he would let your eyes trail over him. You knew that he was aware and yet the two of you let it go unspoken. The similarity of your action made the distinction slip away; there was no other Jayce or other you…only both of you here, right now.

You spoke softly first, “I missed you…so damn much.”

He held onto your hands still, “I only lost you for a second and even that was too long.”

Both of you moved slowly, savoring the moment. After all, it could be gone in an instant.

The brush of his lips over yours caused your breath to leave you entirely. A warm breath flew into you as Jayce parted his mouth, working on a lip of yours at a time. You returned the soft pressure with a similar vigor—gasping at him sucking on your lips.

Allowing yourself this pleasure felt wrong. Sure, he was Jayce—but you knew that he’d never be yours entirely. The thought caused you to break, pushing Jayce away.

A hand covered your mouth, a gasp escaping you. “We shouldn’t.”

“But-“

“I can’t. I’m sorry.”

He licked over his lips in embarrassment and lowered his head. He nodded, silently running his hands up and down his pant legs.

You continued, breaking the silence. “We should get you home. That should be our focus.”

“Focus,” he repeated plainly. “Right—home it is.”

But for him, home was pain. To be home was to acknowledge the euphoria he felt levitating in his office to only have you be lifeless the second later. Returning to his timeline meant jumping back into his pursuit of progress—upholding an image he wasn’t quite sure he could fulfill. Being back there meant he had to face you, the remains of you.

You went to stand, wiping your face clear of the daze simultaneously. “This is everything you—that he left here. Feel free to use it.” You circled a nearby table, adjusting a book that wasn’t quite in place. “It was a mess before…figured I should tidy it up a bit. Sorry if it’s not exactly how you’d like it.”

Jayce followed you, examining the oddly neat assortment of writing, sketches, and tools. He looked down at you and held your gaze on him, “It’s perfect.”

You nodded silently—a fulfillment in you at the thought that you’d done this right. “I’m gonna go.” You quickly broke the eye contact and stepped out toward the door. “You know where to find me if you need anything?”

“Yeah.”

You quickly left without another word. Jayce and you would interact like that often in the weeks that followed. It wasn’t uncomfortable, not really. There was little room left for full conversation, rather longing stares and stolen glances from each of you when the other was trying to not pay attention.

Jayce was as he’d always been—consumed by his work. As much as Jaycee tried, you would always be second place to Hextech, possibly even third most after Viktor—but he made sure you were a close runner up.

Reluctance was the only feeling you knew these days. Inherently, you felt Jayce should go home—go back. It meant the presence of him would cease to exist again, though. As much as you wanted to do the right thing the yearn to have Jayce back was even stronger. You needed him here.

So you stuck with reluctance. A smile would stay plastered on your face, but inside you were aching every time you were asked for help. Jayce, Ekko, and Heimerdinger had somehow reunited here as well and insisted on working together to get to their respective timeline. On the outside you were the picture of a friend; you simply seemed willing to help with whatever they needed. Jayce could tell, though, that you weren’t okay. He knew you better than anyone—it proved to be a burden sometimes.

You busied yourself as you always did, finding something to clean around Jayce’s work area after they’d departed for the day. It went unsaid, but the knowledge that the disarray would be nonexistent by the next day fueled Jayce, Ekko, and Heimerdinger. The trio would work tirelessly for hours daily; the fatigue was apparent on each of them. The least you could do was straighten up the mess of the past few work days.

The sound of the door behind you creaking open and closing softly caught your attention. It didn’t stop your sweeping. You didn’t have to look to know it was Jayce—there was a certain rhythm about him. In instances where a drawer would open and slide shut in your peripheral, you could decipher whether it was him or not. The constant tapping of a pencil signified his concentration. A well timed shuffle always made his presence known. Even though he wasn’t the man you’d grown to know, the echoes of him lingered.

You weren’t sure if that made it hurt more or less.

“Please,” Jayce stepped closer to your turned back. “You don’t have to clean up after us.”

You shook your head, keeping your back facing him, “It’s okay. I want to help-“

“You’ve already done enough.” Jayce softly tugged on your arm, stopping your sweeping motions. “You do so much around here.”

Wiping a hand over your forehead, you nodded up at him. “Okay,” you sat the broom aside, “Okay—I’ll stop.”

“Good,” Jayce smiled at that, allowing his hands to drop from his hold on your arm. “You need the rest as much as any of us.”

“Well, you have been hard at work—and I’ve been the designated housekeeper.” You chuckled dryly, pinching in the sarcasm. Sitting in a nearby chair—you avoided eye contact—intentionally probing for information. “Speaking of—how’s it going? How much longer until you guys can get home?”

“I’m not in any rush.” Jayce glanced over at you, sitting across the table. He secretly had been pleading that you’d look at him. Somehow of everything, denying him the sight of you hurt him most. He continued with a whisper, “There’s nothing for me back there.”

Your head shook again, this time toward the floor. “I’m sure that’s not true.” He shrugged, without looking you knew he did. “And don’t give me any of that sad shit…you’re great at what you do and that’s why people look for you.” You squeezed your hands together before looking at him. He’d already been staring at you, holding a breath at you finally speaking more than a few words to him. “You have a lot to get back to, even if it’s not me.”

He stiffened at that, immediately remembering your body sprawled on the floor. He urged forward then. “Why don’t you understand how meaningless this all is without you there to see it?”

“Because I have seen it—beyond this.” A hand tapped the table without thought, “I’ve seen you…and I’ve seen Viktor…I saw this at the worst it could possibly be.” You paused and blinked frantically. “Despite all of that—regardless of how awful it feels to lose you…I know it’s worse for a timeline to not have you at all.”

Jayce shook his head, “I’m not that important—that significant.”

“You are and you have to know that.”

“How can you be so sure of that, of me?”

“Because everything good about the Jayce I knew exists in you.” Looking at him through this was a lifeline, a tether to the man you’d lost. He would never hear you uplift him again, so you could only make sure this Jayce knew. “I’ve never known a better person.”

Jayce’s eyes flickered down as they had before, tempting him with a sensation sweet enough to spur him on for days. The sweetness of your touch had been motivation enough to keep working. He thought, hoped, that somehow he could feel that again one day. His mind begged him to cross that line but he couldn’t.

“You’re like her, too, you know?”

“Stop-“ you smirked a bit.

“I’m serious. She’d probably say exactly what you said in this moment—I like the thought of you being the same in all timelines.” He looked away and spoke much quieter. “Makes me hopeful that we’ll always find our way to each other.”

Your body tingled, lit up by his words. There was an inherent need for him you couldn’t deny. The lack of difference made it hard for you to fight off the desire for him—to be held by him at the very least.

Unsure of which hand moved first, the two of yours somehow became interlocked. Jayce pulled you by your hand, allowing your chair to glide over to him. You watched as he lifted your hand and faintly kissed over your knuckles, then fingers. A second hand followed, holding your hand with a persistence that showed he’d never let you go. He nuzzled your ball of hands into his cheek, allowing his eyes to close at the feeling. Hesitating, you slowly let your other hand reach up to his face and wipe the strand of hair from his temple. You then mirrored his actions, pulling his hands toward you and softly pecking over them.

You let your hands fall between you—still interlocked. That familiar feeling of reluctance stabbed at you again, this time at the prospect of letting go of him, even if only for a second. He watched you, chest slowly rising and falling in time with yours.

He couldn’t bite his tongue any longer—not when he finally had the chance to say what he wanted to since he saw you.

Jayce whispered your name, “I’m so in love with everything about you.”

“Jayce-“

“I know,” he interrupted what he knew you would say. “I know you’re not her…that I’m not yours.” He inhaled with apprehension, scared by your eyes on him. “But could we forget…just for a while?”

You understood his perspective—the inability to see the person in front of you as different from who you knew. To be honest, you didn’t want to, not now. Biting the inside of your cheek, you nodded slowly.

“Yeah?” Jayce was stunned by your response, but refused to waste anymore time.

He pulled you in again, letting your chair glide closer to him as he slid off of his own. The softness with which Jayce let his hands run across your thighs, over your hips, and up your torso was nothing short of electric. He pleaded with you silently, a look that said he wanted to do everything—coax whatever he could from you. You’d never deny him.

Jayce rested his hands, stilling them in your lap. Him bowing his head surprised you—the sudden lack of eye contact specifically.

“I love you, you know?”

“You mentioned that-“

“I just wanted you to hear it again…understand,” you noticed the way his voice had dropped and slowed with every word. “Because you might forget in a few minutes…days…but I do.” He looked up at you again while simultaneously moving to take your shoes off, then to undo your pants. “I’ll never stop.”

He didn’t leave time for you to reply, swiping his fingers over the outside of your underwear. He blinked, enticed by the hisses you let out at the soft contact.

“Take these off.”

You stood and swiped the pile of your clothes further away. Looking down at him was a sight you hadn’t been blessed with in a while, it made you suppress the very adamant pulsing of your lower stomach. He maintained that eye contact, letting you slowly remove the last barrier between you.

“Sit down.” He tapped the chair—urging you to move faster.

Jayce hardly let you fully sit before grabbing your legs and lifting them on his shoulders. The sudden motion had you grasping at the table for stability—the urgency of his tongue knocking the wind out of you.

The sound of his name dripping from your lips could've made him cry, but he settled for you instead—his goal to have you completely unwound.

One of your hands landed on his head and clawed at his hair, searching for relief while he let his entire mouth open over you. The sensation bordered on painful but the twinge of sweetness kept you teetering on the edge of wanting more. The feel of your nails scratching over his scalp had Jayce right with you, a constant pain feeling comfortable for him but making him need you even more.

You looked down, not at all phased by the wrinkle in Jayce’s brows. He took everything seriously, needing to be the best at it. You’d never told him but he was. The way Jayce would mold his fingers into your skin and leave every inch of it burning was unlike anything you’d ever experienced. The finesse with which he’d drop an inch or so down, torturing you with his constant sucking as his nose brushed over your clit at just the right tempo…it was as if he studied. There wasn’t a single person who could tell Jayce Talis that he wasn’t the best—truly golden—and he made sure of it.

“Jayce,” your voice dragged, fearful of the sounds he could elicit if you spoke any faster than this. “More…please.”

He considered slipping in his fingers, knowing you’d be throbbing around nothing about now, but decided against it. He was truly greedy in that way; he wanted to savor every drop of you for him fully.

“I will sweetheart,” he spoke into you, letting the vibration work you up. “I will…just be patient okay?”

You nodded with your eyes screwed shut, attempting to convince yourself that you could take a sensation so good but not exactly the release you needed.

He wanted to be softer with you, show how much he adored you, but simply couldn’t. Jayce was truly starved, kissing and licking over every crevice and inch of skin in front of him. The pressure had you shaking and sliding more off of the chair—the lack of handles not at all helping. You noticed your hands paling at your finger tips, grasping so hard on the table and him for stability.

“I’m-“ you hissed at the constant rubbing of Jayce’s nose over your clit. “I’m gonna fall.”

“Hm?” Jayce breathed into you, not paying attention to your body slowly finding less of the cushion of the seat underneath you.

“The chair…fuck…I can’t-“

He stopped abruptly, kissing at your shaking thighs before pulling away. He slid back on his knees and quickly searched around the room. He sucked on his teeth, not having found exactly what he was looking for…but he genuinely couldn’t care less. You watched him intently, craving the heat of him on you again. The feeling of yourself dripping, mixing with the cool air, allowed you a sort of reprieve. You missed the feeling of him, though, and he knew it.

Jayce shrugged, moving to undo his top few buttons on his shirt. He slid down, letting his back hit the floor. The movement was unashamed—without any hesitation.

He waved his hand, gesturing for you to get down from the chair. “Come here.”

You paused, so many questions and ideas hindering you from moving to him.

“I don’t care,” He knew what you’d say, try to get out of this. “Sit on me right now.”

You wanted to be conscious of him—how uncomfortable this could be. But when he was so adamant and looking at you the way he was…and when you remembered how your Jayce had made you feel…

“Fuck it.”

You slid down from the chair, at first settling comfortably over his clothed groin. He was begging to be free of the confines of his pants, and you would allow him the relief soon. How excited you would be to finally have him in you. The man was owed as much.

Using his shoulders for leverage, you trailed up him, letting the mix of him and his work glide over his chest. The distinction in his pecs made you hitch and pause, sensitivity catching up to you. Until now, Jayce had kept his hands away—fighting the urge to ignite you again. Physically he was strong but mentally he could be so weak. He couldn’t wait. Not anymore.

You didn’t bruise easily, but the strength with which he grasped you surely would leave marks on you for the coming days. He yanked you to him, nuzzling himself just between your thighs and left no space for you to move. He immediately started in on you, his groans muffled but you surrounding him.

He loved the warmth of you—in whatever way he could find it. This undoubtedly was his favorite, completely drowning in you. He would be okay if this was the last thing he ever did, it’d be okay to satisfy you with his very last breath.

You began to writhe on him, finding the apex of nose and letting that pierce into you. He felt you, moving his face up and circled to match you motion. You began to stutter your motions, overwhelmed by him hitting every spot in just the right way. He noticed you slowing, and instinctively swatted at your ass to keep you going.

He spoke, his voice stifled by the weight of you. “Don’t stop.”

You wouldn’t, couldn’t if you tried—the feeling was too good. Your fingers fidgeted, shockwaves running through you but the idleness becoming too much. A single hand reached over, the chair Jayce had been on becoming a lifeline. The other slid on your own thigh and peeled Jayce’s grip away. He let you guide him, sliding his had underneath your shirt and pushing your bra to an awkward angle but relieving some of the tension in your aching nipples.

“Should I-“ you interrupted yourself, overwhelmed by every sensation happening. “Can I?”

Your Jayce could be greedy, not wanting you to finish around anything but him. Not sure if the one beneath you was the same, you had to ask—you were on the precipice of eruption.

“Not yet…please?”

He sounded so sweet, so different from the feeling of him ravishing over you with every inch of his tongue and mouth.

“But I’m almost- I’m not gonna last.”

He slowed his motions, sucking and kissing over you as he pulled away and relaxed his neck. He tapped you, signaling for you to move back. You fumbled, shaking over the man. Jayce held you firmly, guiding you just beside him. He watched you lean on the leg of the table, your back finally resting.

Jayce sighed, the work area truly was quite desolate save for a few chairs and that wouldn’t do. He quickly undid the remaining buttons of his shirt before gingerly laying it out on the floor. His pants were next, finding their way into a ball and placed in a pile with your clothes. Inhaling, he looked at you and found you staring into space.

“You alright?” He was wary of your dazed look.

You didn’t let an extra second pass, immediately locking in at the sound of his voice. “I’m good…you?”

“The best.” He smiled, sliding his hand into yours. He kissed your hand again, ushering you toward the makeshift blanket and pillow he made for you.

Looking up at him made you feel the tether the two of you had. You smiled to yourself, realizing how true it had been, that you found each other in every universe. If you had any say you’d never let him go.

“I love you, you know?”

Jayce smiled at the recollection of his statement. Holding himself in his hand felt sickening, opposing how sweetly you sat beneath him. He huffed—unadulterated yearning shining at the tip as he began to leak for you.

He didn’t reply, not needing to. He did slide into you though, allowing you time to adjust to inch additional inch he pressed into you. He could feel the tip of him hitting the spongey spot already. He lowered his head to your shoulder, overwhelmed by the heat emanating from your body.

You reached around, cradling his head and resting another hand on his back. The tension in his muscles persisted, flexing even more so as he began to pull in and out of you. He refused to move from you, loving the feeling of your skin on him from top to bottom. Jayce was slow…sweet in the way he pumped into you and held you simultaneously. Settling into your touch let him kiss all over your neck, ear, and shoulder. He’d even made a note to peck you over your temple and ease the creases the feel of him made on your forehead.

You were caught up in the moment, thoughts filling your mind of all the loss you’d experienced. This was enough for you now…but what about later? What happened when this was over?

Jayce continued his movements, writhing forward and back. You fought to let that be the only feeling that pierced your body but it was hard. You clutched him harder which made him only snap into you with a certain insistence.

Him hitting inside of you in repetition had you shaking, limbs locking at the overwhelming agitation. He kneaded at your legs again, squeezing you and sucking into your shoulder as he froze with you. Jayce would always finish alongside you, even forcing himself if he could. The traits of the sweet man you knew inherently found its way to your intimacy—him wanting to stand beside you through anything.

Despite how much quicker they’d been now, your chests still moved together. You gasped in between struggled inhales, trying to level your breathing.

Jayce pulled out of you, making both of you whine. He collapsed beside you, not at all caring that his bare body was splayed on the floor.

Without thinking you spoke quietly, looking toward the ceiling. “Please don’t leave me again.” A deep inhale from you resounded in the room, “Please.”

Jayce glanced to the side of him and looked at you, grimacing at your words.

The air between you shifted as Jayce turned his head. He looked away, shaking away a thought he clearly had.

You called out the indecision on his face, it boiling anxiety in you. “What?”

He sighed and turned his head to the distance, “The machine’s almost ready.” His hands found their way to his stomach, folding over it in apprehension. “Ekko says it should be a few days, if not sooner.”

You froze at that. You’d been so stupid.

“I’m sorry.” Jayce sat up to get a better look at you. “I didn’t mean...gosh, this is just awful timing.”

“No, it’s okay.” You nodded, “You deserve to get back home.”

The truth was that you’d been used to it—the feeling of being left behind. You prepared for this. So while it hurt for the days to pass by with an incomparable speed—you didn’t let it show, couldn’t.

The sight of Jayce working alongside Ekko and the professor was the hardest to endure. It seemed your mind tricked you into thinking every small action was him acting on a desire to leave you. An adjustment here, a calculation there—he was ready to make his escape. It was because of this you missed the way he looked at you. A somber aura surrounded the man and only worsened when you deliberately avoided him. Busying yourself hurt the both of you, and yet everything still went unaddressed.

Heimerdinger made work of some cables to the side of you before speaking up. “We should be good to go as soon as you all are ready.”

Ekko nodded, looking over at Jayce with a knowing look. With a flick of his head, he motioned to you. “Go ahead, talk to her.”

Without a word, Jayce nodded and stepped down to make his way to you.

“So, I guess…this is it?”

You nodded as you did often, “I guess it is.”

“I’m sorry…for how this happened.” He watched you turn your head away from him, hands coming up across your chest. “I want you to know that I meant everything.”

Your tongue pushed into the inside of your cheek, “I know.”

Jayce swallowed, not sure of what more to say. He settled for taking your hand in his, kissing over the back of your palm. The recollection of the gesture allowed you to smile, finally.

Heimerdinger interrupted the moment, “We should be going as soon as possible. This technology is fragile and we have one shot at it.”

You let your hand fall, pulling back from Jayce and turning toward Heimerdinger in a swift motion. Jayce turned, then, moving to stand beside Ekko on the platform.

You stood entranced by the sight of Jayce, and him by you. The two of you held eye contact, savoring what would surely be the last time you would see each other. Time was sweet now, passing in such slow progression that Jayce was awarded the view of you for just a bit longer. His brows furrowed suddenly, causing your head to snap to Heimerdinger.

Ekko called out in front of you, slowly lifting from the floor and levitating on the platform. “Heimerdinger, what are you doing?”

The sight of the scientist plugging in the machine gave you pause. He yelled over the whirring sound of the machine, “It has been a pleasure…to help you both get home.”

“Wait!”

Without a moment more, Heimerdinger swiftly pushed the plugs together—a ripple sending through the air. A blinding light flashed as the figure of the short scientist in front of you fizzled into thin air. The gust of wind and power knocked you off of your feet and across the room. The sound of the room dimmed, all feeling in your body hard to process. You head throbbed, rang. Trying to decipher how the explosion had occurred so fast left you weak. You physically couldn’t move. Yet, the room continued to swirl around you.

Jayce watched the orb forming around him, the web of the Hextech pulling him and Ekko further into the air. He was frantic, triggered by the sight of you hurt. There was blood. Her head, he thought. Gosh, her clothes. Not again.

He fought the technology, pulling himself toward you as hard as he could. Jayce ignored the calls of Ekko, who urged him to be careful. None of it mattered—only you.

Your hand shook, then, finally showing Jayce a sign of life. With every ounce of energy you had, you moved to lean up, a hand urging Jayce to stop. He watched you, hurt but alive, with tears brimming at his eyes. He could tell you were fighting, mustering what was left of you to crawl toward him.

He couldn’t hear you, but watched your head bob and your lips mouth to him.

“It’s okay.”

The webbed ball that floated above the room continued its movement and in a sudden whip, left the room completely black.

The prospect of Jayce, or the lack thereof finally became realized to you. Not once, but twice, he’d so quickly came and went. The pain was impossible to endure. You were thankful, though, that the ringing in your head came—even more so that it seemed to dissipate now. The end was coming—finally a resolution to the internal battle you’d waged alone. A conclusion was on its way, and you smiled at that…letting it consume you.

In their original timeline, Jayce and Ekko had been spit out in the exact moment they were plucked from—left to face the reality of the explosion. Jayce was first to acclimate himself, searching the room for the familiar body on the floor. He ran, with every remaining urge in him he rushed to you in spite of his fear.

He grabbed and shook you softly, his silent pleas for you to wake up transferred to his searching over you. Jayce grabbed your head, turning it to observe the injury—it looked bad. He searched the room, looking for anything to help.

A small vibration below him paused his movement, his eyes looking down immediately. You coughed, pushing out the smoke that had filled your lungs. The sudden pressure of Jayce falling over your chest made it impossible to move an inch.

You let your head fall back, relieving the pressure of the impact your skull had made to the rogue piece of concrete. Jayce shook into you, sobbing over your body.

“What happened?”

“There was an accident,” he gasped into you and fought for air. “An explosion.”

You sighed, the sudden collision of your body making more sense now. You let your hand rub over Jayce’s hair, softly comforting him.

“It’s okay.”

main master list

(note: someone asked me for clarification…yes…reader died 😭 HOWEVER—the version of you that was in the explosion in jayces timeline survived. he only saw her briefly and believed she didn't live at first. when he and ekko get transported back, we see the parallel of the explosion/you saying its okay. i added a few more words in there so I hope it makes sense!! ty for reading)

[fangdokja]

ANNOUNCEMENTS (especially for horror + psychological readers)

Good news, everyone. 😊 I'm officially not mind blocked anymore with horror + erotic horror + psychological + thriller content.

Yeyy. I'm officially back to writing my stories for the actual yandere long-form content. Still extremely BUSY, but at least I'm not mind blocked anymore. I will still be incorporating dark humor content like my recent posts in other future stories. But just informing you all about the good news, since I know a number of you are waiting for actual horror content.

I have an upcoming explicit erotic horror story for Yandere! Author in "Whispers In The Dark" this Valentines Day entitled:

🔞"You like happy endings? Too bad. I don’t write those."

But I'm currently writing for long-form horror novellas. Not sure, but hopefully I'll be able to post a new chapter next week. Surprise though on what it is, because I always write and jump from one story to another.

Also we're approaching 2k followers, and I haven't posted my 1k special wahh. Sorry. Actually, I saw the results.

Actually, if you look here, you'll notice that I've always had the Yandere! Reverse Harem in "A Heart Devoured" ever since way before a lot of novellas:

It's been in my drafts the longest, because there's a lot of things to edit. I wrote a lot, literally Parts 1-4 serving as the intro arc. And I know it's good. But I've been debating for the past time if I should just restart everything due to how many edits that need to be done. I've also improved a lot from before. So... yeah. I decided, I'll restart instead and make it even more horrifying :)) Sorry it's taking a while. Thought I could finish it, but I know I could do better so yeah.

Me to my writing: Get that shiz out of here. *horrified author noises*

This is just a preview of how my writing looks before most edits and formatting. Yes. I write like one would write paragraphs and run-on sentences. It's what I do in research as well. Anyways, I know I could do better, so I'm going to restart from scratch. Also those descriptions are horrifying in a "seriously use your thesaurus, dude. did you seriously use the term 'biggest'." *slaps self*

Anyways, I'm also shocked with how many people are reading my stories. And if you read everything, how...? I appreciate it, but man so committed. haha. Thank you though to all you, Readers. Also low-key don't know if I'm doing well. I'm literally just here to write and improve my skills lol.

For those who wanted the incest harem, I've actually been writing this upcoming story in "Forbidden Fruits". I'm about 40% done with the first part of the novella to set up the lore of the story:

♡ Characters Included. Yandere! Grandfather, Father, Older Brother, Twin Brother

Thank you everyone for being so patient with me. I really appreciate how committed and understanding you all are huuuu. Really.

Also, I guess everyday is a surprise to most of you all considering my schedule is basically making me write and post whatever the fudge I want. Regardless, I'm happy to welcome all you new Readers, and to all my veteran Readers, thank you for all the patience thus far.

And to everyone? Thank you. I'm honestly happy with just writing and sharing. The fact you're all kind enough to do more, well I have no words to express my gratitude to you all. Whether you're a lurker or love to comment, please continue to enjoy and relax in this LIBRARY.

Also, I made a new masterlist to give you all recommendations based on what type of yandere you like, or what kind of plot you want.

[maddie0101]

chapter one: unspoken feelings

summary: reader worries for Dean, who seems distracted. After a rough ride, Dean eventually caves and tells the reader what’s been on his mind.

warnings: minor injury, worried reader, bull riding, cowboy!dean, idiots in love, soulmate tattoo introduced.

word count: 2.3k

series masterlist next chapter

The air at the rodeo grounds was thick with dust, sweat, and the unmistakable scent of leather. The stands were packed and the energy of the crowd was humming. The announcer’s voice crackled through the speakers, barely audible over the cheers and chatter of the locals who had come to witness the rodeo. Tonight was going to be a good night you thought, but something in your gut caused your hands to tighten around Whiskey's reigns.

It wasn't that you were nervous about your event, you knew you'd do great, but it was Dean who worried you. He'd been acting weird lately. Everytime you'd talk to him, he seemed to be lost in thought. Sure he was still your cocky, sarcastic, and kind best friend, but his mind seemed occupied and his shoulders seemed too tense.

As you cast a glance toward the chutes, where Dean stood among the other riders, his expression was unreadable beneath the brim of his well-worn Stetson hat. Your gaze drifted over his side profile, taking in the strong lines of his jaw, defined and angular. His lips, plump and kissable and freckles sprinkled across his cheeks and nose that you couldn't see but knew they were there.

You'd known Dean since you were kids. You'd immediately clicked when little you threw a punch at a kid when he tried to make fun of Dean.

Dean was instantly impressed that a small girl with pigtails defended him. He'd honestly been taken aback. At first glance you'd looked so cute and innocent but after seeing that, Dean knew he had to keep you around. But as it turned out, he lived on the ranch right next to yours.

The two of you were inseparable. Growing up, you'd do everything together. You eventually met Dean's parents.

Mary was like a mother to you. You always looked up to her, considering your mother had passed before you could ever build a relationship with her. John who was kind of like a second dad to you. He was always kind to you but something about the way he'd teach his boys sat with you wrong. And lastly Sammy, Dean's younger brother. Sam was always someone you would talk to when Dean was gone or exchange thoughts on a book you'd read. Dean would always say that the two of you were nerds for reading but you'd only flip him off and ignore his teasing.

They became family to you, but there was something you’d fought for the longest time.

You were deeply in love with your best friend, and that was a problem.

You'd never meant to fall face first, no way to catch yourself from falling. It hit you one day like a ton of bricks. Sure, you'd always thought that Dean was attractive but one day while he was flirting with one of the many girls that caught his attention at a rodeo, your feelings quickly became clear.

You had feelings for him, but the more you thought about it and him, the more you realized that you didn't just have feelings for him; you were in love with him.

You were quickly reminded of the present when your favorite pair of green eyes locked onto yours. Dean shot you a nervous smile, only people who would know him well enough could detect. You could tell something was off, but you couldn't pinpoint what.

Weaving your way through the crowd of cowboys and stock handlers, you ignored a few of the bull riders looking you up and down, not noticing how Dean's jaw ticked. Dodging flailing ropes and the occasional stomp of restless hooves, you finally reached Dean as he was rolling out his shoulders.

“Hey, cowboy.” You nudged his boot with the toe of yours. “You ready for this?”

Dean’s lips curved into a slow, lazy grin—one that you knew all too well. “Always, sweetheart. But I think the real question is, are you ready? You sure you won’t eat dirt on that first barrel?”

You scoffed, crossing your arms. “Please. Whiskey and I have this down to a science. You, on the other hand, are about to strap yourself to a ticking time bomb. Maybe I should be the one questioning your life choices.”

His grin widened, but there was something else in his eyes—something unreadable, making your stomach twist. Something was up but you shoved the feeling down.

“Be smart out there, Dean.” your voice dropped slightly, no longer teasing. “Eight seconds. That’s all you need.”

Dean exhaled through his nose, nodding. “Eight seconds,” he echoed. But his gaze lingered on you, as if there was something more he wanted to say.

The chute gate clanged open, and Dean’s name was called over the speakers causing the two of you to back away from each other.

"Good luck, De." You sent him a soft smile before you stepped back, watching nervously as he settled onto the massive bull. His gloved hand gripped the rope and as Dean took in a deep breath, he glanced over to you, shooting you a smile.

The animal beneath him was already twitching, muscles bunching like a coiled spring ready to explode.

You waited nervously by the other cowboys as the clinking of the bull hitting the metal gates sounded through the arena.

You didn't hate that Dean was a bull rider per say. You just didn't want to see him hurt, or worse. It was an extremely dangerous sport but once Dean got on a bull for the first time, you knew he was hooked. He was an adrenaline junky after all.

Suddenly, the gate swings open, catching you off guard, and all hell brakes loose. Dean shoots out of the chute, his body moving in perfect sync with the bull’s violent twists and lunges. The crowd roars but you can barely breathe.

Six seconds.

Seven.

Suddenly, the bull lunges with a fierce, violent twist, and Dean's grasp slips free. He slams into the ground with a painful impact, his body tumbling and rolling, narrowly escaping the thunderous crash of the bull’s hooves as they pound the earth where he once laid.

You were paralyzed with horror at the chaotic scene unfolding before your eyes. For a brief moment, time seemed to stand still—the sounds of panic ringing in your ears. But then, instinct took over, and without a second thought, you found yourself sprinting away, your heart racing and adrenaline surging through your veins.

You barely heard the roar of the crowd as your boots hit the dirt, your pulse hammering in your ears. The world around you blurred—nothing mattered except getting to Dean.

By the time you reached him, he was on his side, pushing himself up on one elbow, his hat lying a few feet away, half-buried in the dust. His face was twisted in a grimace, one hand pressed to his ribs as if testing for something broken.

“Dean!” You dropped to your knees beside him, your hands hovering over his arm, his shoulder, his chest—desperate to help but afraid to touch in case something was seriously wrong. “Are you okay?”

He groaned, blinking up at you, his expression dazed but not panicked. “Damn,” he muttered, coughing once before giving you that infuriating, lopsided grin. “Hell of a ride, huh?”

Your stomach twisted, the initial rush of fear giving way to frustration. “You idiot,” you breathed, shoving his shoulder lightly before gripping his arm to steady him. “That bull almost stomped you into the ground!”

Dean exhaled sharply, wincing as he sat up further. “Wouldn’t be the first time,” he said, attempting to brush the dirt off his shirt, though it did little to fix the mess he was in.

You shook your head, exasperated. “You weren’t all the way in it tonight, Dean. I saw it.”

Something flickered in his expression—there and gone in an instant. He looked away, rubbing a hand over his wrist before muttering, “Just got in my own head, that’s all.”

But you knew him too well. There was something else. Something he wasn’t telling you. Something that distracted him.

Before you could press him further for an answer, the medics reached the two of you, giving Dean a quick once-over before helping him to his feet. He waved them off with that same easy-going charm, insisting he was fine, but you weren’t convinced.

As you made your way out of the arena, you stuck close to his side, chewing on your bottom lip.

“You sure you’re okay?” you asked again, softer this time.

Dean glanced down at you, and for a second, his cocky mask slipped. He looked tired. Hesitant. Maybe even… afraid.

Then he forced a grin, nudging you lightly with his elbow. “You keep worrying about me like this, sweetheart, people are gonna start talking.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart wasn’t in it. Something was off with him. And you were going to find out what.

After your race with Whiskey, which you won, you and Dean leant against the gate watching as people cleared out of the stands and started heading home.

You and Dean sat in silence for a bit before you studied him, making the knot in your stomach tighter. "You weren't all the way in it tonight," you spoke quietly, still worried what had him so distracted. "What's going on with you?"

Dean hesitated, glancing away before running a hand over his wrist. His voice was quieter when he spoke. “Finally got my tattoo.”

Your breath instantly hitched.

His soulmate tattoo.

You searched his face, but he didn’t offer anything more. Not even showing you where or what it looked like. A sharp pang stabbed at your ribs, but you forced yourself to push it aside. You had to be happy for him, he's going to find his other half soon.

“Guess that means you'll find her soon, won't you?” you asked quietly, trying to keep your voice even so he couldn't hear the way this broke a part of you.

Dean’s jaw ticked, but he didn’t answer. He only let out a sigh before running his hand through his hair.

"Yeah, I guess so." Dean whispered, causing you to wonder why he was so quiet and saddened about it.

"Dean that's a good thing." You tried uplift the mood. "Why are you not excited about it?"

For a second, he didn’t answer, just watched the night stretch over the quiet town. Then, finally, he turned to you, something raw flickering in his eyes.

“I don’t know what to do with it,” he admitted, voice rough. “The tattoo, I mean. What if she pulls me away from everything and everyone I love? All because of fate? Sounds like a load of shit to me."

Your stomach twisted again, but you forced a smile. “I'm sure she wouldn't pull you away from things you love and the people you love, Dean. If anything if she truly loves you, she'll love to see you do things you love and be around the people you love.”

Dean sighed again before turning to look at you. He studied you like he wanted to say something more, but whatever it was, he swallowed it down.

The moonlight spilled through your window, casting soft silver streaks across your ceiling as you lay motionless, lost in thought. The distant sounds of the ranch—the soft rustling of the wind through the trees, the occasional nicker of a horse—should have been comforting, familiar. But tonight, they only made the quiet in your room feel heavier, thick with thoughts you couldn’t shake.

Your fingers absently traced the smooth skin of your wrist, wondering if that’s where it would appear. Or maybe it would be on your shoulder, your ribs, somewhere hidden and waiting to be discovered.

The thought sent a shiver through you.

You had grown up knowing that one day, when you turned twenty-five, the mark of your soulmate would find its way onto your skin. A symbol, a design, something entirely unique—one half of a whole. Somewhere out there, someone had the other half, the missing piece. But your twenty fifth birthday came and went, with no sign of your tattoo appearing. It wasn't supposed to appear exactly on your twenty fifth birthday, but you hoped it would. Some people didn't get their mark for up to ten years after. You always hated the fact that it could take that long but there was nothing you could do about it.

Dean had turned twenty five almost a year ago, a few months before you did. He hadn’t been happy about not receiving his yet, but eventually forgot all about it up until now. You thought he would've been happy to get the mark but the way he acted tonight, it was like he dreaded what was inked into his skin.

Your chest tightened as you turned onto your side, gripping the blanket a little too tightly.

He hadn’t shown you his tattoo. Was he ashamed of it? Did he know who it matched to?

That was what had gnawed at you all night, the way his expression had shifted when he mentioned it. The way he had looked away, almost like he was afraid. Dean never held back with you—until now.

What did it all mean? Why was he acting like this?

A part of you wanted to ask him outright, to demand to see it, to get some kind of answer. But another part of you—the part that had spent years treading the delicate line of your friendship—was terrified.

What if it wasn’t you?

What if the universe had written a different ending, a different name in the stars?

You swallowed hard, trying to shake the thought. But deep down, the truth remained, settling heavy in your chest.

You wanted it to be Dean.

More than anything, more than you’d ever let yourself admit.

(Plz read v )

author’s note: hey guys! I’m super excited to share this series with you and hope that yall enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing!

I’m sorry the first chapter is so short but it’s only setting everything up, I promise! (We have to get through the boring stuff first lol) The rest of the chapters will be longer than this one, I can promise yall that!

Also, if you hadn’t seen my latest post, I’m going to be updating every Wednesday now, instead of Thursday. I will change the dates on the schedule as well.

buckle up babes, because this is only the beginning. Hope you guys like a lot of angst and angry!dean lmfao.

tags:

@i-love-ptv @lieutenantchaos @hollywoodxrose @pressedwater @aylacavebear

@bonbonnie88 @lori19 @muhaha82

If you would like to be tagged please leave a comment and I’ll add you to the list!

Also, special thank you to @aylacavebear for helping me with everything! I appreciate all the advice you’ve given me and your kindness. 🩷

[lovely-parasite-04]

Iced Coffee, Detective?

Agnes!Agatha Harkness x Fem!Reader

Prologue

Part 1

SUMMARY: Y/N makes it to Agatha's house expecting an hour or two of entertainment and instead finds herself in more "trouble" than she prepared for.

WARNINGS: Mention of a gun, Agatha being Agatha

NOTE: This was a long time coming, lol. I got a lot more interaction than expected, and I was so excited! However, for the longest time I didn't know where to take my little blurb and had this part halfway finished just collecting dust. I also was feeling partially guilty for picking this back up when I have scholarship essays to write but heehee oh well that will happen when it happens. ANYWAY I hope you enjoy and if you have thoughts, feel free to share :)

Walking through the neighborhood to get to Agatha's house, I made it a point to avoid looking at the plot of land Wanda Maximoff had decided to take over during her time here. There was no longer a house there, and the concrete foundation that was left had graffiti all over it. I think it's the first of anything I have seen vandalized in Westview. Despite the words overlapping and being hastily spray painted onto the small structure, I didn't need to know what it was all about; there was nothing nice written in all that mess about the Scarlet Witch or her actions in Westview.

Agatha's lovely house was to the right.

  It was a very cozy house on the outside, with beautifully green bushes almost blocking the front windows and what looked like the outside of a bay window to the left of the door. Overall the property looked shockingly plain to hold someone so...not plain. Who knows what I would find on the inside.

  What was I even doing here, anyway? I don't have to be here. There was absolutely no obligation to follow through with Agatha's summoning. She would have forgotten about it soon enough. But now I'm in front of her door after my shift to...what? To be questioned about someone - who I'm certain is imaginary - I lied about knowing? To entertain Agatha and then in turn myself? To maybe get a little insight on this curse of hers? To see her play "bad cop" with no "good cop" to save me?

  Jesus, just knock on the door.

  I raised my hand, shaking my loud-ass thoughts away and deciding to wing it. Suddenly the door swings open and I almost "assault an officer." Agatha catches my fist before it lands in her face, "Woah! Watch out there, kid." Her hair was still up but a little rattier like she'd just been napping - if her clothes were anything to go by. A Star Trek T-shirt that's two sizes two big, velvet sweatpants, and purple fuzzy socks.

  I couldn't help a giggle escape me and I blurted out, "Did you just wake up?"

  "You were supposed to call before you came in. I could have been out following a lead, or in a meeting."

  "Oh, lucky timing I guess." Right. Stick to the script. Even if you don't have a copy of said "script" for yourself. This would be an actor's worst nightmare.

  I have to clear my throat to remind her she's still got my wrist held above my head, and then I swallow at the thought.

  "Seriously though, the door is glass. You didn't need to knock." She drops my wrist and immediately turns on her heel into her house - I swear I see her start to yawn, but then maybe being under the spell is exhausting. I know after the town was liberated, I stayed in my bed for days just recovering. The door was definitely not glass, so she must have heard me pull into her driveway and watched me through the window. At least now I have a little clue to what she thinks her "prescient" looks like. An office with a glass door. Neat.

  I mentally smack myself knowing now that she watched me stare at her door for so long. I can't be embarrassed for too long though, because entering Agatha's house was like entering a new world - and not one I expected. The dark wood and light green walls gave an earthy cozy feel to the living room and the sofa looked old and comfy. I catch sight of a wall covered in random pictures of grass and flowers with red yarn connecting them every-which-way. Agatha pulls a funky looking arm chair up to her coffee table, gesturing for me to sit on the sofa. I comply - I was right about the couch - and I notice the head of a garden hose lying on the table in front of me.

  "Sorry," Agatha takes it and puts it into the side of her pants? "There shouldn't be any need for that, right?"

  No way that's what she's using for a gun.

  "Um...no, ma'am."

  "Great. Goooood." She smacks her lips and pulls a Manila folder out of nowhere, switching it between her hands almost to taunt me. Her eyes haven't left me since I arrived. "We'll get to this in a second. First, tell me about how you knew the girl."

  Uh-oh.

  My hands were suddenly damp and I did my best to rub them off on my own pants, looking around as if that'd give me a clue to what my relationship was with this fake victim. Then I remembered the pictures of flowers on the wall. "I-We were gardeners. Together. We gardened together...all the time."

  Agatha's eyes squinted and her lips pursed, "Interesting." That was the worst lying I had ever done, but how could she not believe me? Wouldn't her mind just make something up to go with her narrative anyway? "How did you two meet? Garden club?"

  "Sure."

  "Oh really? And who else was in this club? Probably a bunch of other old ladies."

  "Woah. Rude."

  "Moving on." She suddenly stands and drops the file she had in her hands and I choke on air as she bends over to pick it up. The velvet sweatpants she's wearing have the word "Naughty," bedazzled on the butt. This is definitely entertaining. If someone knocked me out right now and woke me back up to tell me I dreamed all of this, I'd believe them. She whips back around and offers the file to me, "Let's take a look at this file, huh? Sound like fun?"

  Fun. For sure.

  I take the file from her hand, now unable to take the image of her bedazzled ass out of my mind, while she circles the couch and leans over my shoulder. I'm perfectly still as I feel her cheek a hair away from mine. I can smell her shampoo, I think. It's mostly a clean smell with a small floral hint to it.

  Great. Now I'm taking in the notes of her scent. I can't fall for the town hero/cook/ancient witch. What would that make me? The idiot? Definitely some sort of idiot. Then it hits me that she is unfortunately exactly my type: older, brunette, and a little deranged. I'm toast.

  "Go ahead." She whispers in my ear. Dear god. "No need to be scared. There's nothing in there you can't handle."

  Taking a deep breath, mainly to slow down my now rapid heartbeat, I open the file. Inside are some bills addressed to someone named Ralph Bohner - tragic last name - and a couple blank papers. I pretend to take it in but have no idea where to go from here, so I look back at Agatha. Big mistake. Her mouth is now a hair away from my mouth.

  My neck nearly breaks from how far and fast my head shoots back, and I guess Agatha thinks she startled me because she chuckles before standing straight again. "Just as I thought..." What? What does that mean?

She comes around the couch and her hands are shaped into finger-guns with her two index fingers pressed against her lips in a thoughtful manner. Until she's leaning over me, her arms supporting her weight against the back of the couch on either side of my head. Her face is centimeters away from mine. I know I'm blushing but I'm praying to whatever's out there that she can't see the red under that spell of hers. She cranes her neck past my face to be right by my ear again and whispers, "I know it was you."

Huh?!

  "I don't-"

  "Pretty interesting reaction you had to my file there...only a guilty killer would act that way when faced with the cold. Hard. Truth." She yells the last part and I knock my head into her arm trying to lean away from it. Pushing herself back up straight, she looks down her nose at me and gives half a chuckle and god do I have butterflies right now?! "I'm afraid I'm gonna be taking you in now."

  Taking me in? What does that mean for her? What will that mean for me? I've been found guilty? For a crime that doesn't even exist by a cop that's not even a cop. This has gone too far. I need to get out of here. I'll make it out of here and go home and never mess with the town cook again. I can't get tangled in this - what am I meant to do?

  I slowly start to scooch to the edge of the couch with my hands up in surrender. "Aw man, that sucks. Well listen, Ms Harkness - Detective! Sorry, Detective Harkness. I..I have homework that is due tonight and damn look at the time. It's been fun-" Making the most coherent excuses I can think of knowing damn well she's only gonna hear what she wants to, I slowly stand and begin to back away when her own hands shoot up. Before I can do anything at all, red fuzzy handcuffs are around both my wrists. I choke on air while Agatha stands there completely serious. I really hope these are meant to be regular handcuffs and don't belong to her. I don't think I could handle it otherwise.

  "You're not going anywhere, toots."

  Now I'm really toast.

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

[sad-soup-and-chaos]

My monthly drabble.

My current favourite Sukuna Mafia boss AU. but with a tragic swing.

18+

Mention of violence, sexual assault, death, suicide. Long. Pain no comfort. Not proof-read.

IF ONLY...

The holiday season was a dreaded time of the year for Sukuna. The business went well, of course, with so many clients seeking easy pleasure and their high. But it also meant that people were unnecessarily cheerful and self-centered. As always he was suddenly short on men and had to deal with some of the clients himself.

The worst, the longest week of the year. He felt so genuinely exhausted. In such a need of rest and relief.. but the thought of any usual hooker he used to go to made his stomach churn with disgust. He was done with cheap people for the week.

He stood in front of his HQ smoking like some hobo, not the most dangerous boss of the most infamous yakuza family. "What a dreadful weather" he thought watching the grey sky, dump cold seeping into his bones, making him shiver.

He needed to think of something. Something less distasteful.. more sophisticated. To feed his empty soul and ease his irritation. His eyes fell on an early XX century poster of a geisha advertising some beer in an antique shop across the street.

A geisha. Now that didn't sound half as bad as it usually would. They were classy, beautiful, artistic. They had strict etiquette and didn't mingle with their clients.

Perfect.

His hand reached for his phone and he googled locations offering geisha services. He groaned. Some looked like cheap imitations, he would probably end up drugged with an old ugly hooker... some looked too flashy for his taste.

And then.. he came across a site of a teahouse in the outskirts of the city. The site was minimalistic. A few photographs of the place looking almost ancient. No pictures of the girls. No flashy advertisements of their skills.. Just the address. But something about it felt strangely authentic and mysterious. Tsk.. too intriguing to pass by.

He checked the route and a few moments later he was driving his overpriced sports car towards the location. In less than half an hour he parked outside the teahouse.

A sign above the old heavy door Tamatori hime

The jewel-taking princess, the famous lady Tamatori who stole a precious pearl from a sea dragon. What a name.

He pushed against the heavy wooden doors and came inside the comforting warmth welcoming him in. He was met with an unexpected sight. Wooden walls with calligraphy and ink and an old elegant woman in a kimono sitting behind a low table. "Welcome, traveller" her voice was calm and almost soothing.

"A tea for one.." he muttered, his voice lacking his usual sharpness "and a companion for the evening"

The old woman hummed. "You won't find what you seek in any rooms here." she said calmly. "But you might.. if you enter the Pearl garden behind the house."

"That is.. if our jewel will accept" she added, her voice slightly thoughtful. Then she lowered her eyes, took a brush, placed a piece of handmade paper on the table and put the brush into the ink on her table.

Sukuna felt confused and slightly irritated. He had the money to buy the whole house, the garden, all the staff with their families together. "And what is the difference between the ones in the house and garden?"

"The women in the house.. will not satiate your hunger and fill your emptiness" the old woman said without lifting her eyes at him. The brush masterfully leaving ink on the paper.

Her words. Her audacity. The way she didn't even look at him yet dared to say those words.. It made him all even more irritated. But the old woman drew with such elegance he didn't have the heart to burst out yet.

"And how do you know, that the one in the garden will satisfy me?" he scoffed

"I don't." she said making him scowl even more "I am here simply to welcome the travellers who decide to enter our establishment. And help them choose one of the rooms" she said the black ink slowly forming a kanji for pearl. "And you, traveller, should go to the Pearl garden" she said softly.

"You make an empty assumption, woman" he scoffed hardly keeping his temper in check. "What happens if i don't follow your advice?" he almost hissed.

And then to his genuine surprise he heard a giggle from behind the wall on his left. Such a pleasant sound, so light.. but so strangely mocking. Was it a coincidence? His eyes darted to the left only to see an ink drawing of a small traditional teahouse over a pond with a garden beside it.

"It is not advice. It is a mere suggestion. It is your choice whether to follow it" the old woman said and took out a small wooden stamp.

"I know a mockery when i hear it. But I doubt you will tell me who it is.." he said coldly referring to that melodic giggle "Then let me hear another suggestion of yours. WHY.. would i enjoy the company of your jewel?"

"Shinju" the old woman said. Her voice still calm and unaffected by the spite in his voice. Was she referring to the name of the person behind the wooden wall.. Shinju.. a pearl. Or was she simply referring to the legend of lady Tamatori after which the house was named?

"Because, she is the crown jewel of this place. And if she accepts you.. and you don't enjoy it.. It only means you are too dead inside already. And no one else would be able to change that" the old woman said leaving him completely speechless. She then proceeded to put the stamp into red ink and pressed it onto the paper before her.

He was so shocked, so utterly confused. How dared she? How dared they?! Didn't they want his money? Weren't they afraid.. that the only words that escaped his lips sounded weak and defensive "I am not dead inside" he muttered despite himself.

The same giggle rang through the wooden wall mocking him. Mocking his words. Mocking his reaction.

"Then why are you here on this dreadful night if not to warm up your soul?" the old woman asked calmly. She took the handmade paper with the calligraphy in her hands and gently blew over the ink.

He blinked. He felt so confused, so utterly taken aback by all that was happening that he found himself muttering "What is that supposed to mean?" his eyes shifting between the old woman in front of him and the cursed wooden wall. "I am here for the company of a beautiful woman. Nothing more and nothing less. Stop making assumptions!"

The same cheerful giggle "It is not a brothel, kakka.. it is a teahouse" the cheerful voice so sweet so sultry so.. mysterious and intriguing.. It made his heart flutter despite the utter irritation he was feeling.

"We have no oiran. We have tea. The brothel is right behind you, across the street" the voice from behind the wall added.

This voice. This sweetness. Its melody. The slightly mocking tone. So infuriating yet so intriguing. He was Ryomen Sukuna, the yakuza boss notorious for his bad temper and his cruelty. Yet despite himself.. "I do not need a cheap woman. I need a woman worthy of my time!" he squeezed out

"But are you worthy of hers?" the voice asked and giggled.

He stood dumbfounded. His hands trembling with powerless rage. He closed his eyes. No need to burst in front of some useless women.

And just when his eyes closed.. he heard a sound so familiar, yet distant. A thud of a folding fan being closed. Then a series of shonji doors opened somewhere to the right. And the heavy entrance wooden door opened behind him bringing in a whirlwind of sharp cold and snowflakes.

His eyes opened instantly, a cold unpleasant shiver running down his body.

The old woman before him straightened herself and held the paper with the calligraphy of a single word for him. Shinju. Pearl. He was given a choice. He was pushed into choosing between the unknown mystery of the Pearl garden behind the teahouse.. and the exit.

Sukuna had a deep scowl on his face. But he didn't hesitate. He grabbed the cursed piece of paper and marched through the open shoji door to the right of him. He was so determined he didn't even hear the soft steps of the old woman behind him who went to close the wooden doors.

Sukuna simply walked along the endless corridor, the maze of shoji doors opening and closing behind him. The alluring mocking giggle still ringing in his head pushing him further, taunting him, playing with his exhausted mind. He didn't even notice that the shoji doors behind him kept closing, cutting him off from the exit.

The maze suddenly ended in a courtyard with a karesansui garden looking haunting in the winter cold. His eyes darted around not seeing anything of importance. He turned around to go back to finally ask questions, to demand.. But then the last shoji door closed before his nose leaving him alone in the empty garden. He groaned and kicked the shoji.. and looked around again. And then to his surprise he saw a round Chinese moon gate to another part of the garden with nothing but the darkness beneath it.

Without much choice he walked to the gate and stepped through. The second he did.. the stone toro lanterns suddenly lit all over the place suddenly revealing a neat stone path and the garden it led through. His legs moved on their own, his eyes hungrily drinking in the peaceful landscape until they stopped on a small teahouse over a pond. The same one from the ink drawing he had seen on the wall of the house making him suddenly pause his confident stride.

And there.. on the side of the lake stood a stone pagoda-like pavilion with a stone table and a woman sitting on one of the stone stools. She was wearing traditional attire with a luscious fur collar. A small stone stove beside her with a pot of boiling water.

He was so shocked by the sight staring at it, completely srill. A stray snowflake hit his cheek reminding him of the horrible weather outside. Waking him up from his daze.

He started walking to the pavilion his eyes never leaving the woman. The closer he came.. the less confident his stride became, until it came to a halt yet again. He stood a few steps away struck by her beauty. She looked so delicate and pure. Was he really worthy of her time? He started to doubt it.

"Good evening, traveller" her voice greeted him like a gentle melody caressing his soul. "Would you entertain me with a game of Go?" she asked so softly. Her calm eyes looked at him. And for once, or rather for the second time this very evening he felt no judgement coming from them.. but also no fear.

Sukuna would have spoken if he could find his voice. But he was almost afraid to hear how it would sound. So he silently nodded and sat on a stone stool opposite to her. He realised, this game of Go should be the test by which the woman would decide if she accepted him as her client. But at this moment he just knew that for the first time in his life he would fail, he would lose pathetically, too captivated by her beauty, by her aura.. by everything she was.

"Please, have some tea, traveller. The weather is rather unpleasant tonight" she offered and put a simple clay cup before him, then poured a herbal tea that was simmering on the stone stove beside her. His eyes darted to her gloved hands despite his better judgement.

They sat in silence for a few moments. All of his confidence, his arrogance gone for good. He blinked trying to move.. to speak.. to do something. Yet all he could muster was a nod. His hand reached for the cup and he made a sip. The herbal tea slightly bitter, yet refreshing and strangely fitting for the cold night. He put the cup down and silently placed a marble on the stone board between them.

Her delicate hand reached for a marble of her own.. but naturally it slipped from her glothed hand. She softly clicked her tongue and took the glove off, then placed her marble as well. His eyes darted to her hand. It was too delicate for such cold weather. What a strange thought.

They kept playing for some time in complete silence. "Can you tell me your name?" at least her name.. His voice came out strangely gruff and almost shaky.

"You already know it" she answered softly.

"What?" he muttered his eyes darting away trying to understand what she meant. And then he remembered the calligraphy, the name uttered by the old woman.

Shinju. The pearl stolen by lady Tamatori, the jewel kept in the secret garden behind the teahouse. "You are Shinju" his eyes lifted to her face.

She softly nodded placing another marble on the table. Her hand. It looked so pale now. She must be cold in this horrible weather.

He felt an urge to take this delicate cold hand and warm it in his own big warm hands. An urge to touch her and make sure she was warm. But she was a geisha. Someone he shouldn't touch. He gritted his teeth, his eyebrows coming together. Instead he put a marble of his own. Its click too loud in the silence of the winter garden.

To touch the hands, to warm them. But was he even worthy of her time? He was losing pathetically, and by an embarrassingly big margin. But even not this.. Was he, the Ryomen Sukuna, the coldhearted criminal whose hands were covered in blood and violence, was he even worthy to sit in the presence of this pure beauty? He had to remind himself for the mptieth time that she was a geisha, he shouldn't be even considering such acts.

Her hand put another marble on the stone table. It was so pale, it looked almost translucent. Before he could stop himself his hand grabbed hers almost rudely. Her eyes lifted in small surprise. Her hand was so cold, almost as if he was touching a corpse. He blinked.

And then he reacted. His coat was down in no time and wrapped over her. He scooped her in his arms and carried her quickly along the strong path and into the teahouse over the pond.

Her eyes were slightly wide and never leaving his face.. while he was looking straight forward. He knew the consequences of touching a geisha. He was ready to pay any fine. To pay thrice, ten times the price. To be forbidden from every teahouse around Japan.. But he wasn't ready to see her reaction.

He somehow slid the shoji door and stepped inside. He quickly slid it closed to cut off the cold air. And then he lowered to his knees not to spoil the clean tatami floors. He swallowed and lowered her gaze to her still not quite ready to see her face.

He maybe had thought that she would go mad, scream, scold him, or even slap him. But instead she giggled and opened her folding fan. "Welcome to my home, traveller". He sat there completely dumbfounded. Shouldn't he.. Shouldn't he be chasen away? Shouldn't he be forbidden from this place? His thoughts ran a thousand miles per hour.. yet his head felt completely empty with how utterly shocked he was. He finally realised that not the game of Go was her test.

But then.. she kneeled beside him and started to unlace his shoes. "You.." he tried to speak

"Mmm?" she hummed

"You don't need to do that" he finally squeezed out.

"I don't need to.. but I want to." she answered with a small smile. It wasn't mocking or condescending. It was a calm peaceful smile. She took off his shoe and then moved to the other one. He stared in complete dibelief. Staring silently at her like a complete idiot.

"You see.. there is a secret behind the Moon gates of the garden" she said "The girls inside the house are geishas. But I am not." That meant that she was not bound by the etiquette of the geisha. And she indeed did what she wanted.

She then placed her hand on his elbow as if to help him stand up. "You seem exhausted, traveller. And what is a better thing for an exhausted traveller than a warm bath?" she smiled. He swallowed heat rising to his cheeks. He was.. He was so many things. So opposite to her. And here she was holding his elbow in this manner.. He rose himself and nodded silently, now towering over her small form. "Please, follow me then" she bowed her head slightly

"Is there a name, you would like me to use, traveller?" she asked as she led him along the corridor.

"Sukuna" he squeezed out quietly not quite trusting his own voice.

"Sukuna." she repeated as if trying it on her tongue. His name sounding so so gentle all of a sudden. They entered the bathroom. Warm fragrant fog, a big wooden round soaking tub with a small fireplace below it. She turned to him "Would you like me to help you undress, Sukuna-sama?"

His heart went to his throat. He was unable to react for a whole minute and then slowly nodded.

She smiled softly. Not mocking. Not judging. A small genuine peaceful smile almost as if it was her pleasure to take care of him. She approached him and started unbuttoning his shirt. Her movements attentive almost too careful not to touch him in any way. Almost reverent. But most importantly.. unflinching in the face of his impressive height, his big muscular form, his scars and tattoos.

It was so strange. They all flinched. The escorts, his fake girlfriends, gold-diggers, even the expensive professional hookers would flinch eventually. But not her. She removed his shirt. Unbuckled his belt. His pants dropped onto the floor so now he was left only with his socks.. and his boxers on.

"May I?" she asked softly "Or would you prefer to do it yourself?"

To his dismay he answered before he could stop himself "You may" And gods, his face never felt so hot.

She bowed her head politely and lowered to remove his socks. Then went behind him to give him at least some sort of privacy. Her hands gently tugged on the hem of his boxers. Then she very carefully slid them down.

He forgot how to breathe turning a new unexpected shade of red. And quickly, maybe a way too quickly stepped into the wooden soaking tub, sat down, allowing the water to cover his body.

"Would you like some tea and snacks? Or maybe liquor, Sukuna-sama?" she asked

Sukuna-sama. "Both" he blurted out before his thoughts went astray at the sound of his name paired with this honorifics coming from her sweet mouth in that voice of hers. "Tea and sake"

She bowed her head politely and left the bathroom. She returned soon. Sat two cups for him and a small plate of snacks on a wooden tray and.. put it onto water allowing it to float towards him. "And do you like music, Sukuna-sama?"

"Music?"

"Yes. To be more precise, guqin music. I am not very good with shamisen. But I could play you the guqin if you would like that.. of course." she said

"Yeah.. I'd like to hear it"

"Thank you" she smiled.. Grateful for being able to play for him. He wanted to stop her. He didn't deserve it. Her gratefulness, her care, he wasn't worthy of her time and effort. But she was already gone from the bathroom.

A few moments later she settled on the floor, a black old instrument in front of her. Her long fingers lowered to the strings and a melody started flowing through the warm fog of the bathroom. A gentle whisper of the times and memories that were so familiar but had never happened. The melody wrapped around him, so melancholic making his cold heart ache with unknown yearning, with a longing he had never felt before.

After a long long time he had lost track of the melody softly died out leaving him strangely disappointed. "Would you like me to help you wash, Sukuna-sama?" her gentle voice asked

His eyes went wide open. How many times would this woman render him speechless? Before he could dwell into it he simply nodded.

She went behind him. And held his head gently so she could pour water over his hair without allowing it into his eyes. He tried not to move too much feeling strangely restless. She added the shampoo and started carefully washing his hair allowing him to get used to the feeling of her fingers between his locks. And then started massaging his scalp. His body froze and then slowly eased into the feeling. The feeling of being cared for. Maybe for the first time in his life.

She then washed the shampoo away and continued to wash his body. Every muscle. Every crook, every crevice. Constantly asking him if she could, if he felt fine. So considerate and respectful. He forgot his stress, forgot his troubles, forgot the world outside this small warm bathroom. The world outside of her hands.

It was late night or rather a very early morning when she finished. Washing him. Applying oils to his skin. Feeding him. Helping him in and out of clothes. She was helping him one last time. Buttoning his shirt up. He felt a strange tightness in his chest. Watching most non-chalantly her every move, as if trying to memorize it forever.

An hour later he was in his penthouse. And went straight to the bed falling asleep the second his head touched the pillow. He hadn't slept so well for gods know how many years. And woke up the next morning.

"Make me a reservation in Tamatori-hime establishment" he said gruffly to Uraume upon entering his office. He already missed her touch, missed her very presence.

"Tamatori hime? Wasn't it that brothel that burnt in a fire 10 years ago?" Toji mused. Sukuna's heart stopped beating at these words.

"Tsk, it was a teahouse with geisha!" Gojo rolled his eyes.

"Oi, same shit" Toji groaned

"No it isn't! You are such a brut. Sometimes I wonder how you even a Zenin" Gojo huffed

Sukuna was deaf to their bickering. The words repeating in his head *the house that burnt ten years ago*. But he had been in that house *the day before*

"Uraume, make me a reservation" Sukuna repeated.

"Boss? You are pale" Geto hummed. His men suddenly stopped bickering and turned to look at Sukuna. "I will check"

"Oh" Geto muttered "Now I remember, it has become an urban legend"

A what?

"Yes, I do remember too" Uraume hummed deep in thought. "They had this geisha who wouldn't accept every client"

Yes. It was her. Shinju. Their crown jewel. His.. pearl. But why did his men speak in Past tense? He had been with her a day before. Sukuna felt a strange uneasiness creep into his body.

"And one day she refused some big yakuza boss" as the words kept reaching him the air kept getting incredibly stuffy. "He called his men.."

"Or.. I now remember"

Sukuna couldn't even discern the voices of his men anymore, feeling his own pulse drumming loudly in his head. A plitting headache beginning to rise in his head. For the first time in his life Sukuna felt sick and dizzy. "They returned and raped every single woman. And the geisha in question slit her own throat. They then burnt the whole place down to cover the evidence"

"Yeah, but some say, the Teahouse appears every year on the date of its demise and allows customers to enter"

"boss? BOSS?!" He didn't hear them anymore. He was in a daze. Slowly sliding onto the floor. His eyes unseeing. A beautiful face in his head.

If only he..

If only he could..

If only he could.. do what?..

"Mmm? You look.. sad?.. Don't worry, Sukuna-sama. We will see each other very soon." the sweet voice rang in his head before the darkness slowly filled his vision and his consciousness slipped away.

[anonair]

𝐅𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐔𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐌𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭- 𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐑𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐬 𝐈𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 2

GIF BY @Romanreigns

Female reader X Roman Reigns

Tag list: @cosmiccandydreamer @cutttteeee @potatosackk

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Tensions run high as the WWE Netflix debut kicks off with an electrifying opening segment. Unexpected confrontations shake the arena, leading to a shocking display of dominance and confidence. The crowd erupts as emotions and stakes reach an all-time high. Lines between reality and performance blur in a moment that leaves everyone questioning what’s next. The night ends with an unforgettable statement, setting the stage for what’s to come.

AN: nothing is ever proofread when I write anything long. So, if there are mistakes sorry.

----

It had already been a month since you and Roman told Paul Levesuqe that you would carry on with your romance storyline. The netflix debut was finally happening and Paul had requested that you and Roman open the show. Of course, you both did not deny. Fans would go wild, finally getting confirmation of the two of you still being together. 

Roman, who had previously been radio silent since the breakup, could not stop texting you. It felt good to have him back; it felt like you finally reunited with your best friend. 

A text from Roman caused your phone to illuminate the dark hotel room. Without hesitation, you reached for your phone. The text read: ‘I just feel excited to have my partner back. You and I made and still make a great team, even though you never really needed me. You’ve always been amazing. I'll see you tomorrow, Y/N.’ The subtle trace of flirtation that was embedded in the text caused the words to still linger in your mind. 

‘See you tomorrow, Roman. I can’t wait either.’ You responded. 

The anticipation for the debut combined with the words Roman sent kept you from sleeping properly at night. You found yourself constantly tossing and turning, which was not good, but at least you felt excited again. 

By the time you knew it your alarm went off, you realized you dozed off without realizing it. Thankful for the sleep your body allowed you to have, you woke up and grabbed your phone to turn off the alarm. You were slightly disappointed to not see a text from roman awaiting you, but you shrugged it off. Afterall, the two of you weren’t really back together– it is just an on screen romance now. 

You set your phone back down, pushing the blankets off your body and getting yourself out of bed. You let out a sigh, stretching a bit before you got yourself ready for your morning workout. As soon as you finished putting your shoes on, a text from Roman appeared. It read: ‘meet me in 30 for a morning workout?’ 

The simple words lit up on your phone sent the butterflies in your stomach flying. It had you questioning yourself; could you really keep it professional with Roman? Could you swallow these feelings and forget about them? The uncertainty kept you from responding fast. After 10 minutes of interrogation with yourself, you replied with a simple ‘yes’. Now that you had him back in your life, even if it were just for business purposes, the addiction to him grew again. The more you wanted to walk away from this arrangement, the more you dug yourself deeper. 

After what felt like the longest 30 minutes, you finally met with Roman at the gym. Roman opened his arms, gesturing a hug. ‘A hug?’ You thought to yourself before going in and giving him a big embrace. You melted into his arms, the smell of him consuming you. For a second, you didn’t want to let go. His scent, his embrace… it felt too intoxicating… it felt… like home. 

You let go of his embrace, not wanting to allow him in your inner thoughts. ‘Keep it professional’, you told yourself. To your misfortune, there was nobody in the gym. Every other performer was out at their preferred gyms, but Roman always knew when they gym would be empty. ‘Great,’ you thought to yourself, ‘nobody to ease the tension… thanks, Roman!’

“I am too excited for tonight. The fans are going to absolutely lose it.” He said, while grabbing a mat and gesturing for you to lay down. Great, he remembers your routine– you always started with dynamic stretches. This specific one, though, was intended for when you had a partner. Roman and you would always do partner stretches… It was thoughtful, but you were already hesitant due to the thoughts flooding your mind. Still, you laid down.

Gently, Roman got down on his knees and lifted your leg. Slowly, he pushed your leg back, stretching your hamstring. “Yeah, I think so too!” You replied, trying to make sure there was no emptiness in response. His chest was pressed against your calf muscle while his hands rested on your knee, holding your leg in place. You could feel your heartbeat increasing already; Romans touch was always so gentle, but something about it always felt sensual. You felt the heat rush to your cheeks, but at this moment all you could do was pray they weren't completely red. After 30 seconds, Roman switched to the other leg. This time, his hand was a little lower, grazing your upper thigh. 

Once you two stopped stretching, you could feel your heartbeat calm down. Finally, his hands were off you for a moment. You found yourself thanking God, but also craving more.

“Thank you for this, by the way. You didn’t have to stretch with me.” You said, getting up from the floor. 

He let out a chuckle, “I know you, you can’t work out without stretching. Besides, partner stretches are our thing– and they feel better.” 

The mixed signals he was throwing made you feel like you were going crazy; was he flirting? Was he just being friendly? You couldn’t tell, the lines started getting blurrier. 

The two of you finished dynamic stretches and then went on to start your workout. You hopped on the treadmill, ready to run your emotions out. Roman followed right behind you, giving you competitive eyes. “You can’t go faster than me or longer, so don't give me those eyes, sir!” You laughed, pressing the green button on the treadmill to start it. Roman copied, letting out a full laugh now. 

“I could outrun you any day, Hon'” he declared. 

The nickname almost caused you to lose focus. He was getting too comfortable again, causing you to fall into a pit of mixed emotions. You locked back in on running. Of course, you won. 

“Aww, man. We should’ve bet on that!” You laughed, turning off the treadmill.

After an hour and a half, you and Roman finished your workout and finally parted ways. Finally, you loaded up your tour bus and made your way to the arena. Every emotion in the human body was felt during that ride to the arena. However, you finally calmed down once you arrived inside. With a couple hours until showtime, you proceeded to get ready.

After hours of hair, makeup, and wardrobe, you were finally ready. You could feel your heart beating out of your chest as you searched backstage for Roman. Once you spotted him, it was like the two of you synced up; your eyes locked on to his. 

“New gear? I’m a little jealous.” He laughed, eventually getting to you and giving you a friendly hug. Still, his embrace made you want to fall deeper into him. 

“Of course. It isn’t everyday we get to open the show with a woman's match. I need to look my best.” You smiled, doing a twirl to show roman the full gear.

“I love black and hints of red, it really suits you, my tribal chieftess.” He jokingly bowed. You felt the heat back in your cheeks, but this time you knew they were red. There was no hiding it.

Soon, it was time to start the show. Roman gave you another hug before he went out and did his big opening entrance with Paul Heyman alongside him. Watching him work from the backstage camera, you prepared yourself to step out into the madness.

After everyone acknowledged him, Nia Jax paid a visit to Roman. The bit was that the bloodline had gone astray, with Nia Jax hating Roman for believing he was suited to make decisions on behalf of the family. 

“Roman… I am going to have to stop you there.” She said, making her way to the ring. 

“I am sick and tired of hearing you speak.” The crowd booed her, but she didn’t let it stop her. Paul Heyman was seen yelling at the referees to remove her, but of course, they didn’t. Roman looked at paul, gesturing for him to give her a moment to speak. 

Nia continues talking, “You think you are better than us. Who crowned you dictator of this family?” The crowd still booed her.

“I think you know who did.” As if on cue, the crown began to put their pointer fingers in the air, acknowledging Roman. 

“You’re not fit… you’ll never be fit. I think it's time for a new chief… Maybe a chieftess?” She laughs, cockily smirking at him. 

“And what deems you fit? The fact that you 

Roman’s smirk matched Nia's as he stayed calm, leaning into the role of the confident leader. He let the crowd react, then slowly stepped forward, a slight chuckle escaping his lips. With his piercing gaze, he locked eyes with Nia and said, “New chief? Chieftess? You wanna take the throne? You gotta be ready to run the whole show, and believe me, Nia, you ain’t ready for what it takes. But hey, if you want to keep throwing jabs at me, that’s cute... Just know, you’re about to be humbled.” He shrugged his shoulders, bringing the mic back down to his hip. 

“Don’t get it twisted, Roman. You might think you’re untouchable, but let’s not forget—I’m the one who can knock you down a peg or two. And you? You might have the title, but you sure don’t have the respect anymore.” She let the words sink in before locking eyes with him, and in one swift motion, her hand swung out to smack him across the face. The crack of her slap resounded in the arena, as she backed up with a confident, almost playful look. Paul Heyman, who went absolutely crazy, stepped in the middle of Nia and Roman, of course without touching her, he yelled for her to leave.

There was your cue. 

Romans music started playing, confusion painted on the whole crowd's face before you came running out. Bet the fans didn’t think you’d be here– let alone stealing Roman’s music; that was his idea, he thought it would symbolize unity. 

You rushed into the ring, your body gliding through the bottom rope with ease. You made it to your feet, Nia Jax attempting to lay a punch to your face. As you got to your feet, Nia Jax swung a punch toward your face, but you ducked under it, spinning around to clothesline her to the mat. 

As Nia laid there on the mat, you took the moment to taunt her, making the crowd go insane. They couldn't believe you were there, they couldn't believe any of this was happening! You stood tall over Nia before yelling, “Not today, Nia.” The crowd could barely hear it, but the camera’s caught it. 

“Guess the chieftess has to teach you some respect, huh?” You yelled, your words echoing throughout the ring. Roman stood back, a cocky smirk propped on his face. His eyes glistened while watching you work. You ran to the corner of the ring, waiting for Nia to stand up. 

“Oh no! I think she’s gonna do it, Pat!” Michael Cole announced.

“After a month off, she comes back like this? I think we are in for a promising return, Michael.” Pat offers his commentary. 

The crowd's volume went higher– something you thought would never happen before. You got ready, planting your feet and taunting Nia as she rose up from the ground. In seconds, you ran and speared her. You stood up, flipping your hair out of your face. Nia Jax rolled out of the ring, stumbling when getting up to leave. 

The crowd’s energy is still buzzing from your spear, and you use that moment to take control. With a fierce tone, you raise the mic to your lips, staring straight at Nia, who’s backing off, “You wanna challenge my man for the title of ‘chief’? You better show up with more than just talk and slaps. The only chieftess here is me. Better start respecting the name, Nia... or I’ll be the one making you bow down.” 

With a confident smile, you drop the mic, throwing a glance at Roman, who’s still watching, clearly pleased by the display. You take a moment to soak in the crowd’s reaction before going to Roman, you plant a strong kiss to his lips, something the two of you had talked about. The intensity of the moment felt perfect. The kiss felt electric, with thousands of fans screaming. You felt romans hand snake to the back of your waist, pulling you in. You could feel the sparks as your hands went up and cupped his face. You didn’t want to stop, but knew you had to. You both pulled back from each other, sharing an intense stare. You wondered if he felt the same.

Romans music started playing once more. You, Paul, and Roman made your way out of the ring. Hand-in-hand with him, you both strutted confidently to the backstage area. 

TO BE CONTINUED…

[rizzanon]

Hi, just wanna say love your work and I just wanted to spew out my thoughts about certain character dynamics because I think you’re writing is really interesting😭🫶🏾

The reader and Stephanie are an interesting thing to me because I feel like the real reason why the reader is so mad at Stephanie is because she thought out of all people Stephanie was gonna give her the support she needed to continue going if that makes sense?

Because she kind of gave Stephanie the faith that not that many people gave her. and out of everybody else she really didn’t expect for her to take her place at or at least not talk about it with her 

I feel like the reader in Tim’s relationship is interesting too because they got started at the same time and we don’t know (yet) how the reader felt about Tim replacing Jason. And even if she does feel some type of way about it, she still tried to collaborate with him but he kind of just blocked her out and she was like ok i can take a hint 

And with Dick’s, he’s known her the longest but he knows the lease about her. And I feel like her anger with realizing that everybody was somewhat correct about their doubts is going to be taken out on him for sure. And what makes it complicated is that I kind of see the reason why dick is so close to Damien is because he didn’t have as much going on at least before Bruce died. When he met reader he was grieving his parents . When Jason became Robin, he was fighting with Bruce. when Tim became Robin he was grieving Jason. and the one time not everything is happening at once and he sees a new robin they’re going to have a better chance at bonding.

Thank you for coming to my TED talk but also you can completely ignore this and I will truly understand because I feel like I am talking too much lol 😭🤍😭

no no it’s alright. i enjoyed reading your thoughts about the characters’ dynamics!!

for stephanie and reader, you could technicslly think in that sense that reader would have expected stephanie to show her the same grace reader did to her when stephanie was still spoiler. but it was more so on reader’s part that the two didn’t really have a proper bond since at the time her father “died” and she got benched because of her declining mental well-being and this ultimately leading to her being “replaced”. but yeah.

as for tim and reader, i did mention before in one of the backgrounds that initially, reader didn’t accept tim as the new robin, but she did soften up to it later on. though that didn’t really help close the gap between her and tim since there was no proper reason (at the time) for tim to be close to reader. (because unlike dick who was guiding him and helping him along the way whilst he was robin, reader couldn’t really do much for him, and vice versa)

and for dick, yeah it was definitely much easier for him to bond with damian, especially since this was during the time when bruce was dead and he had to take over as batman. and during this time, reader was actively disobeying dick and technically pushing him away whilst she was trying to prove that she’s alright (she was not) so it’d make sense why reader and dick’s relationship is strained i guess.

idk at this point i’m yapping LOL but thanks for your thoughts and input <3

[icecoldbeauty]

Your friends sound wonderful, happy to hear you've got people like that around for you! I wish I'd been able to be that close to others at my age. I'm thankful to have the friends I do now of course, they all mean a lot to me- but sometimes I just wonder if I might've been happier if I'd had even just one or two friends myself back then- if then I could look back on my childhood with more fondness than I do… I enjoyed my gym challenge and my league days and all, but I try to avoid thinking about anything before then really, because it wasn't good. I usually feel worse after looking back upon those memories than I had beforehand. Maybe it could've been different, but… well, I'd like to think that I still turned out okay enough in the end, and I'm happy with the way I am and people I surround myself with now.

I actually do think becoming famous did a fair bit of good for me as a person, but my goodness that couldn't ever stop me from despising some of the things that come with it- all the reporters and interviewers asking the most ridiculous questions on earth and writing even more ridiculous things about me, people invading my personal space and privacy, getting recognized everywhere, treated like I'm better than everyone else just for existing- I don't miss things like that at all. (Frankly I think I'm too afraid of what it could possibly say to check my own Wikipedia page, and I've now made so much more information public and easily accessible that could be put on there… I do NOT want some of the silly things I've posted to be on an article about me, no thanks, not going to find out if they're there!)

Wait, you're the only one that lives there? I thought my little island of 20 people was abysmal before this, but 'only resident' would top that on list of worst living situations for sure. In general I just think it's nice that someone else actually wants to hear me, haha! Not too many people are really jonesing to listen to a middle-age lady talk about her youth and whatnot. I almost wish I'd had someone willing to listen to me go on about some of these things sooner honestly!

Really, I've already spent so much time regretting that I'd kept it to myself so long- but that was also because I'd already convinced myself it was over, that I'd messed up permanently and would never get to go back or try again… In truth, I think a lot of it was just… me being scared, as silly as it feels to say. But maybe you're right and I should just… at least try. At least let her know while I've still got time to… Perhaps writing to her will be in order after this sends. Ah, crazy to think all I really needed all this time was a chance to talk about it and get a little push! I was really badly stuck in my own head about it all and overthinking it for the longest time, wasn't I? Alas, I always have had an unfortunate penchant for such a thing- and don't oft have someone around to talk me down from it anymore.

I almost wonder if it'd be more efficient for other regions like Kanto to use a similar system… Especially things like a seasonal Gym circuit and this whole endorsement idea, it actually does seem rather smart. Goodness, I'd have loved not having a year-round system when I worked in the League… Loved my job, but doing it almost every day all year is exactly as exhausting as it likely sounds! Also what is with so many world-ending plots happening during League battles?! The fact I've heard more than one instance of this now is insane and honestly almost comical. Are all the criminals plotting specifically to ruin some 12 year olds championship battles for some reason? How else does this happen more than once like that? Also, why are there so many criminals trying to destroy the world to begin with, I swear I've heard of this in every region by now- I'm starting to think that someone trying to commit atrocities and getting stopped by actual children IS a normal Saturday with how many times I've heard it! Insane it is, I'm glad the Indigo league didn't have too many incidents that level of crazy after Giovanni.

Oh yeah wait you're too old to know what inkay games is my bad

Oh, please, I’m only twenty-three.

[ he’s not old. don’t make that mistake again. ]

—💎

[stevethehairington]

thinkin about an It au with the older teens...

steve, eddie, robin, nancy, jonathan, argyle, and chrissy are all like super close friends as children, and they experience this Horror (upside down related, ofc).

they think they defeat it, think they're safe to grow up and to live their lives. they make a pact though, that it it ever comes back, they'll come back too.

only it wasn't actually ever dead; it just went dormant. for 27 years.

one of them stays behind (steve), just in case. the rest of them get out of Hawkins, only to get that call 27 years later. the call they've all dreaded.

cue all of them reuniting (except for one, chrissy maybe since she's canonically dead) over dinner where everything comes flooding back. they have to fight this thing again, and this time they have to defeat it.

(of course, steddie would be a thing here, and maybe ronance and jargyle too)

[idontmindifuforgetme]

Plans for tonight: studying physics and psychology and not being pressed about anybody’s dumbass son ‼️🎀🥂💕

[crossbackpoke-check]

it’s all the rest of what i want with you

connor dewar/brandon duhaime :: 8k

Summary:

“Brandon,” Connor says with a sigh. “There’s no baby in there.”

“Not yet,” Brandon says. Connor feels his stomach twist, almost like what he would imagine a baby kicking to feel like.

in these trying times of dewvorce, may i offer you 8k of pwp inspired by @stillfertile’s wonderful art which i had. several breakdowns about 🫶 anyway please enjoy!!!

[strawberry-cowmilk]

oh no somebody I do not want to know about my online presence might have found this account luckily I didn't find anything suspicious in my follower list but oh my god

[britneyshakespeare]

she snorts cocaine at dinner parties in beverley hills

she goes to church every sunday and has a repressed sapphic crush on her best friend

nevertheless they are as close as can be

[moonchild-in-blue]

Yeehaw territory is all of the USA, but mostly west of the Mississippi River (anything bought in the Louisiana Purchase that was considered the 'frontier') 🌿

@whataboutyouisamascot thank you for the history lesson! Unfortunately I have no idea where Mississipi is, and I'm way too sick to look that up, so I'm just nodding and smiling gratefully like an idiot 😃👍 <- not a thought behind those eyes

[goblin-enjoyer]

*draws something for the first time in a while. “Man I suck at drawing! Maybe go back to being good at it if I draw more!”

*doesn’t draw

*doesn’t draw

*doesn’t draw

*doesn’t draw

*doesn’t draw

*doesn’t draw

*doesn’t draw

*doesn’t draw

*doesn’t draw

*doesn’t draw

“Oh I got a neat idea for a drawing! Surely I have gotten better by now!” Loop post