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nectardaddy · 4 months ago

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everyone needs to read this right mf now! PLEASE!

try again

part 0.4. NEXT TIME

"the playground seemed so big when they were younger. and now they’re here again, 10 years later, and it looks small. their world is bigger than just this playset now. the metal that forms the foundation of the structure is still a shiny, vibrant red, but the cracked, faded plastic shows its age. where has time gone? 'who are you now?' she wants to ask. as a kid, time goes by slowly, and you tell your parents you can’t wait to grow old. they tell you to enjoy your childhood, but you never believe them. and even now, she’s not sure she does. she's not old, but old enough to know time goes by fast. since their meeting in her office, she’s reflected more on how she’s grown up. she doesn’t miss her childhood– she likes the freedom that has come with adulthood, but at the same time, it’s slowly weighing her down. she’s old enough, that she can no longer spend her summers relaxed in a quiet house, laying in bed all day with the door open while both her parents are at work. she can't spend the nights stretched out on her back, against wet, dewy grass, looking at the stars with him while staining her favorite shirt. now she has responsibilities to take care of every day, and any little mistake can no longer be taken back. she’s an adult now, and no one is there to pick her up when she falls."

content warnings + notes: calling atsumu a little cupid whore (/lh), drinking, y/n is having a crisis, pay attention to unsent messages :) very long written part... oops </3

she downs the last of her glass in one go.

it’s cheap whiskey, and she hates the taste. it’s probably the worst she’s ever had, but the burn down her throat is a little pleasant.

completely going against her plan to drink something light, she decided she would need some liquid courage if she was going to do this. her hands are splayed across the cold bar counter as she stands from her chair, mind buzzing a little as she grounds herself.

akaashi doesn’t notice her absence in his drunken state, but iwaizumi does. kita looks up as well, but remains seated, keeping akaashi company after nodding to iwaizumi who stands up.

“where are you going?” he asks following her out of the bar, pushing past a few groups of people in their way. he's not asking it like he's accusing her of anything, he just sounds concerned.

but he doesn’t need to worry, and she faces him as they make it out. “going to see omi,” she practically sings the answer, her voice careless as the nickname spills out of her mouth before she even realizes it. it comes too naturally to her, and the thought ruins the nice numbness in her veins from the alcohol. instead, she starts to feel the guilt build up again.

iwaizumi still stands in front of her, arms crossed, matching her own stance. “you’re going to see sakusa?” he repeats, brows raised.

“mhm,” she hums, shifting from one foot to the other. her shoes are starting to bother her, too. she'll probably take them off as soon as iwaizumi lets her go.

“where?”

she sighs, starting to feel restless just standing there. the warm lights and ruckus from inside the bar invite her back in, and so does the pull she feels in the opposite direction down the street, where she'll see him. “an old park, can i go?”

“no, hold on,” he stops her before she can even take a step, “you’re going to go meet a man you haven’t talked to in years after a single interaction at a park this late at night?”

“yes?” she quirks a brow at him, “it’s an old park we used to go to a lot. it’s not far from here and i know him. i’ll be okay.”

“i’m not saying sakusa’s going to do anything to you, but i’m not letting you walk there alone. especially when you’ve been drinking. let me make sure you get there safely and then i’ll leave you, deal?” he proposes, and she sees how much he cares in his eyes. they’re a pretty olive green and despite how sharp they are, there’s so much love in them. it reminds her of her own eyes, and how she feels when she looks at sakusa; her head starts to panic in alarm and get defensive, but at the same time, her heart slows down, as if telling her he's safe.

she knows iwaizumi makes a good point, and there’s nothing wrong with having a little extra safety, or a human purse. “fine,” she sighs, “but only if you hold my shoes.”

their walk to the park is silent, but it’s a peaceful silence. she’s walking next to him barefoot, feeling even shorter than before. he questions her a few times, to make sure she actually knows where she’s going, and she insists that she does. she’s had a little bit to drink, yes, but she’s not drunk. and she's confident she could still find her way to this park blindfolded. she’s walked these sidewalks hundreds of times, ran to this park from every direction and route possible. it was always their spot, whether they lay in the wet grass or sat on the playset. the memories of being with him back then make her feel a little grim, and iwaizumi looks down at her, noticing.

“you okay?” he asks, nudging her shoulder closest to him with his arm.

“yeah,” she sighs, watching the way her shoes clank against each other in his hand with every step they take.

“what’re you thinking?” he asks, still looking down at her and she looks back up at him.

“i just don’t know what i’m doing,” she says, trying to voice her feelings while she turns to stare back ahead of them. “what are we gonna do? what does he like doing now? what if i’ve changed and he doesn’t like who i am anymore? i'm so scared of disappointing him.”

“you’re good enough as you are, y/n,” he silences her and she glances back at him in surprise. “don’t let a man change how you see yourself. you’re good as you are, and if he doesn’t think so, he can fuck off. there's no such thing as an expectation or a right way for you to act. he’s probably changed too, and that’s just how people work. did he text you or did you text him?”

she gives him a smile at his words, nudging him back with her shoulder as a way of thanking him, “he texted me.”

he gives her a grin at that, “he texted you? asking to see you?” when she nods he continues, "damn that's ballsy. he really wants you, y/n. and i hope he's a good person. i’ve seen him around and worked a little bit with him, he seems alright.”

she flusters a little bit at his words, “i’m sure it’s not like that. we just used to be very good friends, you know that. i’ve never stopped missing him, maybe he felt a little bit of the same way.”

he nods at her words, giving a hum in thought. they’re walking along the fence that’s been set up around the park, and she can see the entrance coming up, where a lone lamp post is lighting the way. “but you want him, don’t you?”

she knows he’s asking it in a romantic sense, and she does. she knows what she feels for him is more than just friendly, and she’s felt stupid for never being able to fall in love with anyone else because she’s been stuck on him this entire time. “i’m happy with anything,” she decides to say, “if we start hanging out again, that’s enough for me. i just want him to be a part of my life.”

they stop at the park entrance, and she can see the playset from here, just a bit down the path. “do you want me to walk you there? or are you’re fine from here? i think the walk helped you sober up a little bit, so i feel better about leaving you here now. just make sure you text me if you feel even slightly off, got it?”

“got it!” she responds with a smile, giving him a small salute as a joke. “thank you for walking me here, iwa. i'll be fine on my own now and i’ll text you when i'm walking home.”

he rolls his eyes at the salute but gives her a smile, “sounds good. i’ll check in with you then as well. i might come meet you halfway or who knows, maybe your guy will want to walk you home?”

he’s giving her another shitty grin that she’d like to slap off his face, and it’s her turn to roll her eyes, “whatever, iwa. see you in a little bit.”

she pulls him into a hug, trying to tell him all her feelings at once, thanking him for his advice and for walking her here, and he’s quick to reciprocate it, rubbing her back for a second before they pull away. he gives her her shoes and waves her off, making sure she steps onto the playground before he leaves, and she sees him.

tonight, it seems they’ll be sitting on the top of the playset, above a tube that connects one platform to another. she steps up onto one of the platforms first, dropping her shoes on it before clambering on top of the structure.

he offers her a hand after watching her (probably ungraceful) climb which she hesitates to take for a second. her heart feels like it's trying to escape her chest as she takes it, the contact sending chills along her skin.

“hi,” she whispers after she's sat down, stealing a glance at him, unsure of where to start.

“hi,” he says back, already looking at her. he looks better than when she saw him last, but perhaps that's just because today has been better for him. there are still bags under his eyes that she can see despite the lack of light around them, but she can also see that his eyes look brighter today. she wants to mention it, say she’s glad to see that he looks like he's doing well today, but she shouldn’t. it’s too early–

“you look good today.”

the words spill out of her mouth and she immediately slaps a hand over it. she had drank more after texting him purposefully, knowing that it would mess with her ability to reason and this was the consequence, although she wasn't sure yet if it was a positive or negative one.

he laughs in response, giving her a small smile that she hasn’t seen in years. she missed seeing it; she missed him.

“thank you,” he says, holding her gaze and she’s unable to look away, “you look good too. although maybe a little drunk.”

her cheeks are burning red and she feels hot despite the fact that she was practically shivering the entire way here, latching onto iwaizumi and his body heat. “no i– well– yes, i have been drinking but i didn’t mean it that way– i mean you do look good–” she has to take a deep breath, trying to calm herself down, “i meant you look happier today, sorry.”

he’s still looking at her, smiling. and maybe it’s a tiny bit bigger than it was before, and she smiles back.

she has no idea it’s because of her–that he seems happier today. he’s only just found her again after so many years apart, and yet he’s glad she’s in his life again. this is only the second time they’ve seen each other after so long, and she’s already had this big of an impact on him. and maybe it was due to atsumu’s influence, and the way that he kept bringing her up, and how it had been their entire conversation over dinner, but he didn’t really care. he was happy to be talking about her again, and to see her again. they had been so close, and it felt strangely nostalgic whenever he saw her, as if he was a child again, tossing and turning on a bed stand, sick to his stomach for home.

but he had been homesick for her this entire time, and he didn’t want to talk about her as if their time together had passed; he wanted to be close to her again. but only if she let him: “that guy you came here with, are you guys–”

“oh, no no no,” she immediately cuts him off, shaking her head before he gets the wrong idea. “he’s just a friend. my roommates and i went out to dinner today and then we went drinking. he just didn’t want me to walk here alone.”

he nods, feeling strangely relieved to hear that. “i just came from eating out with my roommates, too. i cut it short because one of them was being annoying.”

she hums in thought, a smile breaking out on her face, “hm, that can’t possibly be atsumu, can it?”

he can’t even joke back, just rolls his eyes with a sigh at the mention of his friend.

“i just texted him earlier tonight. finally scolded him for setting up that entire meeting between us. i mean– who even thinks to do something like that?”

“just him. he’s got one brain cell working for him and it’s got a funny way of working,” sakusa responds, looking forward to the field in front of them. they used to spin around on that field, trying to stay standing the longest before they both fell onto wet grass, too dizzy to keep standing. “i think it worked out nice, but there were definitely other ways he could have planned that out.”

she can’t help but look at him, slightly surprised. so he was happy to see her? perhaps she should’ve understood that by now; here they were sitting side by side on an old playset. “yeah, it did,” she can’t help but say, not even thinking twice about agreeing with him. “and if you don’t mind me bringing it up, do you think you will come back for a second meeting? i was just wondering.”

“yeah, i’m thinking about it,” he answers, still not looking at her, and she thinks maybe she shouldn’t have asked the question. she’s brought the topic of conversation back to her job, and reminded herself of everything she shouldn’t be doing right now. she shouldn’t be doing any of this. she’s looking forward to seeing him in her office again, but she shouldn’t. she should be treating him as a client, not as an old face or a silly old crush. and she shouldn’t be seeing him outside of the office; it ruins that professional relationship she should be trying to maintain. she's giving into him too easily, even after he had been the one to accuse her of something hurtful upon their first words to each other in years.

a particularly cold wind blows through and she shivers, breathing in sharply as her shoulders raise towards her ears on instinct, trying to protect them from the cold. in her defense, she hadn't foreseen sitting on a playset in the middle of the night today and had not dressed accordingly.

“are you cold?” he asks, hand already reaching towards the open black jacket he was wearing, a plain white shirt underneath.

she’s looking at him, face completely blank. her mind is so far gone, thinking about countless other things, including every single way this interaction could go. ‘what was she even doing here? why did she agree to come?’ the moment he texted her she put up little to no resistance. she lasted one text, trying to set up a boundary between them to prevent herself from getting hurt and then completely dropped it. how could he be so casual about seeing her again? was their friendship something shallow to him? something he could easily replace or come back to?

he’s saying her name, and her mind returns to the boy in front of her, blinking twice before responding, “sorry. i was just thinking about something. i’m fine. you don’t need to give me your jacket or anything.”

“but if i want to?” he asks and this is where she failed last time, and will fail again, and will always fail, because she can never resist him.

“i–”

the jacket is already around her shoulders before she knows it. it’s warm, and the weight of it on top of her shoulders is comforting. the smell of him is enveloping all of her senses and her entire mind, and she squeezes her eyes shut, trying to focus on anything but it.

it was simple, and really not that heavy or distinctive of a smell. just clean clothes–his detergent, and maybe a hint of lemon or lavender. it was easy to get used to, and it had become familiar to her after being around him so long in the past, but she hadn’t smelled it in so long, she felt like she was suffocating now. with the smell came so many memories associated with him, and it took everything in her not to let out a shaky breath, giving away her emotions.

he didn’t know what to say, looking at her. her chin was resting on top of her knees, pulled up close against her chest, and her eyes were closed, brows furrowed as if she was trying desperately to hold something in. had he come off too strongly? he liked to think he still knew her, could read her mind, tell when she was cold, and when she needed something, but maybe he was wrong, or just moving too fast. maybe she didn’t feel the same way, and didn’t want to be friends again.

“thanks,” she murmurs finally, eyes opening again, although she’s staring at the ground below them, and he’s unsure of where to look–at her, or the ground as well.

“yeah,” he replies, and the conversation falls quiet between them again.

it’s almost comfortable between them. it would be if she wasn't feeling like she was ruining everything and only digging herself a bigger hole. maybe they went quiet because he was sick of her now, and regretted asking to see her. and should she even care or not? should she get up and leave right now? what was the right thing to do right now, objectively? not what was right according to her heart, but according to her head?

she should be keeping her distance from him, not allowing him to get closer, giving him the chance to hurt her again. he had let them get distant, she reminded herself. he had let their friendship crumble without saying a word, he didn’t see her the way she saw him, and she couldn’t rely on him to be there for her.

“how are you?” he breaks the silence, and the question sets off every nerve in her body. it’s like her mind is being torn in two, trying to find an answer to the simple question. it’s not really that simple– he’s asking it, referring to the last 10 years of her life, and he’s asking her to be vulnerable and share about herself, and she can’t do that.

“don’t do that to me,” she says, shutting her eyes again.

“do what?” he’s looking at her, at his jacket draped around her shoulders, and shoves his hands in his pockets, trying to hold himself back from reaching out to fix her hair, which has been slightly caught underneath the jacket.

she lets out a heavy, quiet breath, “don’t ask me that– like you care.”

“i do care,” he responds immediately, and she’s sure if she looked up at him, he’d be looking at her. but if she looks at him, she’ll break.

“we shouldn’t be doing this. we can’t be doing this. i shouldn’t be seeing you outside of my office. i listened to you talk about your struggles for an hour that you would've otherwise paid for if it wasn't the first meeting. you can’t turn around and ask how i am for free. that’s not fair. we should be nothing more than a therapist and a client. it’s easier for me to look at you that way because–” her voice gets caught in her throat for a second as she tries to talk confidently, but her voice gives away her feelings. she sounds like she’s on the verge of tears before they even reach her eyes, but she blinks through them, “because i look at you and still see what we used to be. but so much happened between us, and then you left, and that still hurts.”

‘then will you let me make it up to you? then can we go back to what we were before? and can we be more?’ the words are heavy in his head, and too forward to say out loud, but he has to say something. he has to say something now because he didn’t say anything back then.

he had always assumed that she had just been disappearing from his life altogether–from his notifications, the school hallways, and his walks home, but he realized now she had done that on purpose. she had purposely removed herself from his life so they would never see each other, and he had never stopped her. of course she hadn’t believed him, when he had said it was good to see her in her office, and of course she hadn’t fully understood what his ulterior motives were when he texted her out of the blue about wanting to see her again, because he had never showed how much he cared back then. but he had to tell her now that she was worth everything.

“i don’t mind paying it,” he ends up saying, and finally gets her to look at him, “i don’t mind paying to see you for an hour. i’d pay to be around you anyday, especially if you’re going to refuse to see me anywhere else, then i’ll just force you to put up with me for an hour every week.”

she laughs with a shake of her head, “you’re not forcing me to see you. i want to see you outside of that time…i just–i shouldn’t.”

“why not?” he can’t help but ask. “you’re still friends with atsumu, too. you text him outside of your appointments all the time.”

“yes but–” i like you more than a friend. hell, i’ve been in love with you for the past 10 years of my life. actually, probably for even longer, but who’s even counting at this point– she takes a deep breath again. she should leave soon, and think about this. she’s going to end up letting him convince her if she keeps listening to him, “maybe next time. i’ll tell you how i’ve been next time, okay?”

she’s giving him a next time, and he’ll take whatever he can get. they can start slow again. being her client is like being her acquaintance. people are always acquaintances before they’re friends; they can grow from here.

"when is next time?" he responds quickly, realizing it sounds like she’s going to stand up and leave soon, but he's not losing sight of her again.

she avoids looking at him, keeping her knees are pulled to her chest as she picks at the worn-down plastic of the playground tube they're sitting on, "i don't know, sakusa. i really need time to think about all of this. i don’t know what i’m doing here, or why i showed up tonight.”

her words feel like a burn in his lungs, but even when his sides are aching on his morning runs, he keeps going. "but you showed up anyway."

she finally looks at him, and he swears he could get lost in her eyes forever. he can’t believe he went through their entire friendship without telling her how beautiful she was, in every single way. he can’t believe he ever let go of her. perhaps that cliche saying was true, that you never know how important something really is until you lose it.

"i did," she echoes, continuing to stare into his own eyes.

"are you going to leave?" he asks, unable to look away.

she looks back down at the threads of green plastic she was pulling at, and his eyes follow. they used to meet at this playset all the time. during the summer, when she’d sleep over, they’d stay up until three in the morning, and then she’d nudge him about sneaking out. he used to worry about what would happen if his parents checked on them and saw that they were gone if they sneaked out, but she always ended up convincing him in the end. they rarely fought or had disagreements. with enough talking, they always managed to persuade the other to agree with them.

“i am. because we both need time to think. you need to think about if you’re going to see me again for therapy and i just need to think. about everything," she replies, and he watches her grab the edge of the tube, steadying herself as she moves to stand before he slides himself off the tube onto the ground below. it’s not that far of a drop for him now, although it was the scariest drop ever as a kid. now he stands eye level with most of the playset, but she's looking at him like it's still that big of a fall, mouth slightly agape in surprise.

“i’ll help you down,” he says with a smile and she blinks.

“no, i’m fine–” her words die out as he looks at her, brows raised in expectancy. this is what he meant: they were always able to push the other to do something, no matter how much they tried to resist in the beginning.

she lets out a sigh, trying to buy time as she fixes her skirt, preparing herself to slip off the tube. it really shouldn't be that scary, but she exclaims as she drops, barely registering the hands on the sides of her waist that catch her while her own clamp down on his shoulders.

her face is red as he lowers her down gently to the ground. whether it’s from the embarrassing noise she let out or the fact that he caught her, she’s not sure. maybe it’s both. even when he lets go of her, she can feel his hands on her still, as if they've been permanently etched into her skin. he’s looking down at her, and there’s a hint of playfulness in his eyes and the smile on his lips. he's too close to her, and she can't stop looking at his lips so she looks down at the ground instead, clutching at the jacket around her shoulders before she remembers it’s not hers.

“oh, here’s your jacket back,” she starts, moving to take off the piece of clothing before he stops her with a hand over he own.

“you can keep it for a little longer if you– if you let me walk you home,” he says, on the verge of losing all of his confidence, but he just can’t let go of her. he doesn't want to watch her leave, but he knows she needs a break.

she looks up at him, feeling like her lips are quivering with how nervous and flustered she feels, “you don’t have to do that, really. i can walk home by myself.”

“but if i want to?”

it’s a repeat of a conversation they had earlier, because she can never give him a complete no, and he always knows to take that as a yes.

she’s ruining everything she’s trying to do for herself right now. she’s trying to set a boundary between them, and horribly failing. because what if he walks her home, and he happens to live nearby again? what if they start to see each other more often? or worst of all, what if he ends up leaving again?

well what if he doesn’t?

oh, whatever.

fuck the what ifs.

they can try again.

"it's gonna rain soon / and pull me back in.

"i had the words / you thought a hundred times

"oh darlin' / will you still walk me back home?'"

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extras <3

not really any extras! i just hope u enjoyed <3 and that this chapter was good and not too long or just a bunch of rambles!! i had like three ideas i had randomly wrote down and then just copied and pasted into this chapter and was trying to make them all fit 😭

IWAIZUMI AND Y/N HAVE A PLATONIC SIBLING-TYPE RELATIONSHIP!!! JUST MAKING THAT CLEAR also i'm a sucker for iwaizumi but that's besides the point

omi just kind of got up and left at some point during dinner when atsumu got tipsy and started talking to shoyo and bo. he said goodbye to osamu and then left

they all have each other's locations anyway and shoyo and bokuto trust him to know what he's doing

kita, akaashi, and iwa ended up going home soon after iwa got back from walking y/n to the park and then he and kita stayed up all night waiting for her to come home while akaashi was passed out <3

this fic lowkey goes a little bit off the rails!! but hopefully u guys enjoy it <33

AND I KEEP FORGETTING TO SAY ANYTHING ABOUT THIS I'VE KIND OF LOST IT NOW!! but y/n's pfp is a pufferfish because they symbolize protecting yourself and setting boundaries <3 interpret that as u will

taglist: @eggyrocks @wyrcan @guitarstringed-scars @strawberryuri @violetesensou @kakeru-eem @glmge @heytheredemonsss @mollyrolls @bemebiu @daszy @snail-squasher @0moonii @thiisisntlovely @todorokiskitten @rory-cakes @iiwaijime @iatethemochi @yuminako @savemebrazilhinata @kismyscars @bokutoko @nobodybutnnoorr @wolffmaiden @daisy-room @softpia @lees-chaotic-brain @v3nusplanetofluv @crispchocolates @phoenix-eclipses @hhoneyhan @encrypta @rockleeisbaeeee @cr4yolaas @zombriesworld @localgaytrainwreck @moucheslove @hibernatinghamster @notverymarley @certaindreampost @akaakeis @ciderscape @lucien-luna @strawbrinkofdeath @wave2mia @samuel1004 @01trickster10 @dazqa @cosmiicdust @chemiru

#before the rant starts- here's some quotes that really punched me in damn jaw:#"i just want him to be a part of my life.”#“he has no idea it’s because of her–that he seems happier today”#“because she can never resist him.”#“giving him the chance to hurt her again”#“but if she looks at him she'll break”#“i’ve been in love with you for the past 10 years of my life”#“but you showed up anyway.”#<<<< that one brought me to tears genuinely #I wish I had a hard copy of this to highlight and annotate and then give back to you to show you just how much I love this #I'm actually in tears typing this bc they genuinely won't stop /pos #(lore drop) this reminds me of me and my husband minus me being hid therapist #we did something similar to this when we first started talking to each other and maybe that's why it's hitting so hard #my and husband and I aren't childhood or hs friends or anything but he's always felt familiar #and that familiarity is SHINING through this and I can't get enough of this #and god iwa and yn's friendship 🥺🥺🥺#the fact that kita looked over too and saw that iwa was already handling it 😭😭😭#oh I'm crying #oh dear god sakusa “to be loved is to be seen” kiyoomi #especially since he knows her so well and can read her 🥺🥺#this is my everything ness you have no idea how much this fic will be in my heart and soul #and ahh him smelling like lemon >>>> I love it so much fuck I know his jacket was so warm and smelled so mf good #I'm in your dept for this ness seriously I'm about to give mirage the sappiest most romantic ending ever created just for this MASTERPIECE #this is by far my favorite fic I have ever read even beating many books I've read seriously #dodger's ULTRA favs #<< legit made just for this #ness !!!#<3333

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javierpena-inatacvest · 3 months ago

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Me, You, and Baby, Too

Summary: You and Joel have always wanted kids, but didn't want to rush into having them until you both were ready. After a surprise at his job, Joel realizes there's nothing more he wants to do than put a baby in you as soon as he gets home.

Pairing: Husband!Joel Miller x Wife!Reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 4.1K

Warnings: SMUT (18+), unprotected p in v sex (it's baby making time, so hush), oral (f receiving), vaginal fingering, big ole fat and nasty breeding kink (.... don't look at me it's bad), creampie, cum play, talks of starting a family, calling Joel "Daddy" (in the sense you want to have his babies, but also 🤷🏼‍♀️), Sweet soft Joel who loves his wife and would give her the universe if he could, honestly with just the way Joel is talking about makin' babies, I think I'm pregnant

A/N: It's that time of the month where Madeline ovulates and writes feral breeding kink smut!!! 🤪 Okay I am so nervous to post this because I have never written for Joel before and I'm worried it's trash with a capital T, but after re-watching TLOU, I need 2003 Joel Miller carnally, so here we are. This is also inspired by @mrsmando post about 2003 Joel Miller constantly keeping you barefoot and pregnant because it made me unwell, and no lies were told. (thanks for ruining my life mimi) 🤠 ANYWHO I hope you guys like it, and if not, I'll shut up and go back to writing Javi and Frankie and pretend like this didn't happen

There were a lot of stereotypical answers that you expected from your husband when you asked him how his day at work had been:

“Good.”

“Fine.”

“Long.”

“My knees are killin’ me.”

“Tommy did somethin’ fuckin’ stupid again.”

“Better now that I’m home with you.”

So when Joel arrived home today after a new job he had started with Tommy on a bathroom renovation, there were few things that could have prepared you for the response your husband had when you asked him how his day had gone.

“Hey, honey. How was your day today?” You smiled, watching Joel stroll in through your front door, kicking off his work boots at the entryway, beginning to put away his things before strolling into the kitchen to greet you.

“Pretty good." He paused, leaning in for a quick kiss before making his way over to the closet before speaking again. "Saw a real cute baby today.”

You could practically feel your heart skip a beat as you looked up from the vegetables you had been cutting up for dinner, tightening the grip you had around your knife to make sure you didn’t drop it in shock.

Out of all the things for Joel to bring up on the first day at a new job, a cute baby had been at the top of the list.

Not floor plans.

Not timelines for the project.

Not something stupid that Tommy did.

Not even what he had done today on the job.

The top news that Joel Miller had to report back to you about his day was the sighting of a cute baby.

You and Joel had always agreed that you’d wanted kids, and your husband had been not only adamant, but genuinely excited at the prospect of becoming a dad. But only being a little less than a year into your marriage, the two of you had decided you didn’t want to rush into anything, and when the time felt right, you’d both know it.

But one by one, as your friends began to announce their pregnancies, baby showers, and pictures of their adorable newborns, you couldn’t help but deny the baby fever starting to burn hotter and hotter inside you with every passing day.

You’d brought it up in passing a few times with Joel, talking about your friends who had kids, or a cute mom and her children you saw walking around in your neighborhood, and while he had always had a positive response to what you had to say, you just had a feeling that now just wasn’t the time for the two of you yet, and that was okay.

But here you were, standing in your kitchen, jaw practically scraping the ground at the notion that your husband had dropped just about the least subtle hint ever that babies weren’t just at the forefront of your mind- they were on his, too.

“Awh, really?” You asked, shaking your head to snap out of your shocked state, returning back to dice the onion you had been working on before Joel could turn around to see you after finishing hanging up his things in the closet, trying to subtly coax more information out of him.

“Yeah.” He smiled, joining you in the kitchen, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you closer to his chest for a soft kiss to greet you, “The family we’re startin’ the bathroom reno for just moved in. Had their first baby a few months ago and just hadn’t had time to work on fixin’ things.”

“So they’re already putting the baby to work with you and Tommy?” You teased, raising an eyebrow at Joel playfully, giving him a quick peck back on the lips as he laughed at your sass.

“Cheap labor.” Joel shrugged back, playing into the joke, “Nah, she woke up from her nap while Tommy and I were runnin’ through some measurements so her mom brought her out for the last lil bit we were there. She was damn cute, too. Just smilin’ and laughin’ at everything.”

You were glad Joel’s arm was still wrapped around your hip, because you were convinced if it wasn’t, you were about to melt to the floor into a puddle, watching how soft and sweet Joel was talking about a cute, smiling baby.

“Well a cute baby definitely sounds like a very nice perk of being on the job.” You smirked, trying to play it cool enough to keep your heart from bursting out of your chest.

“Yeah.” Joel replied softly, quietly pausing for a moment, watching the gears turning in his brain, carefully calculating his words before he spoke.

“You okay?” You asked, looking up at Joel, knowing your husband well enough that he had something on his mind he was trying to work up the confidence to spit out.

Joel looked back down at you, big brown eyes locking with yours as his grip around your waist tightened ever so slightly, tongue swiping against his plush bottom lip as he took a long, deep breath in and slow exhale out.

“Honey, what is it?” You asked again, now slightly concerned with how nervous your husband looked in his stoic silence, reaching up to gently wrap your fingers around his arm, thumb stroking his skin.

“I want one.”

You froze, worried that your heart may have actually stopped as you looked at Joel, making sure that you had really just heard what he had said.

“W-what?”

“I want one. A baby. I- I know it’s been a while since we’ve talked about it, but I’ve been thinkin’ about it a lot, and seein’ that baby today, it just- shit, I just couldn’t stop picturin’ what it would be like to have one of our own I guess.”

If you weren’t a puddle before, you sure as fuck were now.

An overwhelming sensation of nerves and excitement began thrumming through your veins, your heart beat pounding in your ears as your face grew warm and a smile started to spread between your cheeks. You were almost certain you had to be dreaming, asking again to make sure that someone needed to come and wake you up and send you back to reality.

“Joel… Really?”

“Yeah, really. Nothin’ I want more. I know I ain’t gonna even be close to the perfect dad, but I know you’ll be sucha good mom, and I’ll be damned if I don’t want some tiny lil versions of us runnin’ around. Couldn’t think of anything that would make me happier than that. Like I said, I know that we ain’t talked about in a while, and if ya aren’t ready yet that’s okay but I-”

Before Joel could even finish the rest of his thought, you were pressing up to plant your lips to his with passionate intensity, hands roaming up his chest before cupping his jaw and the scratchy stubble of his cheeks while your stomach flipped with arousal and want, already feeling a damp patch beginning to pool in the cotton of your underwear.

You pulled away, kisses traveling along his jawline and up his neck until you were nipping at his ear, the hot breath of your words whispering against his skin.

“You wanna make a baby, Joel Miller?”

“Fuck-” Joel groaned, reaching his other arm around you grab at your ass, pulling you in tight enough to feel the bulge beginning to grow under the denim of his worn jeans, pressing against your thigh.

“‘Cause there’s nothing that I want more than to make you a daddy.” You smirked, looking up to watch Joel’s eyes darken with lust, jaw going slack as a low groan rumbled in his chest, his once half hard cock now fully erect and straining against his zipper, trying to keep from giggling watching your husband try to string together any sort of thoughts to speak.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ-” He moaned, running his hand over his face to try and regain his composure to keep from busting right then and there. “You- fuck, you sure, baby?”

“Mhmmmm. Don’t think I’ve ever been so sure of anything in my whole life. So sure,” you paused, softly pressing your lips to his between words, “that I think we should go make one right now.”

Your adamant confirmation was all it took to set off something almost animalistic in Joel, crashing his lips back into yours in a messy clash of tongues and teeth, gripping his hands under your thighs to hoist you up around his hips and lock your legs behind the small of his back. Without ever letting your mouths part, Joel was already halfway to the bedroom before you had even realized it, playfully giggling at how frantically he was carrying you down the hallway, your bodies bumping against the walls and door frames, too focused on desperate and needy kisses for any sort of spatial awareness.

Finally reaching your bed, Joel carefully laid you down, letting your back fall into the mattress, leaving your lower half to hang off the edge before your husband was on his knees, settling himself between your parted thighs.

You sat up on your elbows, watching as Joel tightened his grip around the meat of your legs, peppering kisses up the inside of each across your soft skin before coming face to face with your core, planting another soft kiss there before letting his fingers ghost over your heat, still covered by your jeans.

He rapidly worked at the button of your pants, shuffling them down off your hips to reveal your underwear, now absolutely soaked with arousal from the prospect alone of Joel knocking you up and carrying his baby.

“Jesus Christ, baby girl, look at ‘cha.” Joel tutted, admiring how the cotton of your underwear clung to the outline of your cunt, sticking to the puffy and swollen lips of your pussy from how wet you were. “Haven’t even touched ya yet. This all for me, darlin’?”

Just as you began to try and answer, Joel took one of his fingers, barely dragging it over the damp fabric before beginning to rub soft circles over your covered clit, eliciting a pathetic whimper from you at the electric sensation.

“F-fuck- It’s all for you, b-baby.” You stammered, moaning even louder as a second finger joined the first, pressing more pressure into you sensitive nub as he nudged each of your legs to drape over his shoulders, his free hand tugging at the waistband of your underwear, making you instinctually lift your hips as he yanked them off your legs to crumple in a messy pile with your pants.

“Prettiest fuckin’ pussy I’ve ever seen.” Joel mewled, running his fingers up and down through the weeping seams of your folds, toying with your entrance while draping his arm across your hips to hold your squirming lower half in place. “Wants me to fuck her full of me and fill her up so bad, huh?”

“P-please, Joel. Want you to fill me up so badly.” You whimpered, staring down at your husband, a devilish grin spread across his face, licking his lips as his eyes darted back and forth between your blissed out face and the glistening mess between your thighs.

“I will sweetheart, promise. Gotta taste you first though, baby. Gotta make sure you’re nice n’ready for me. ‘Cause once we start, I ain’t lettin’ you outta this bed ‘till I knock you up.”

With that, Joel was diving between your legs, lapping you up in long and firm strokes, pressing against your clit in the way he knew would make you fall apart under his tongue. While he would have loved to have spend hours just like this, making you writhe under his touch, drinking up your arousal like a wandering man parched in the heat of the desert, Joel had one thing on his mind, and one thing only-

To get you pregnant.

Joel began to intensify the pace of his tongue, swirling and sucking around your clit as two of his thick fingers pushed into your heat, sliding in and out of your entrance with ease from how wet and worked up you were. Curling his fingers ever so slightly, you cried out as Joel bumped against your g-spot, pushing against the soft, spongy spot as his tongue worked its magic.

You could feel the arousal shooting through your veins, heat beginning to bloom in your stomach as Joel fucked you with his fingers and mouth, shooting your hand down to grab fistfulls of his thick, brown hair to brace yourself for your impending orgasm.

“J-Joel, oh fuck- Fuck, baby, I’m c-close. Don’t stop, please, don’t stop.” You whined, pussy beginning to flutter around Joel’s fingers, the tightening only egging him on further to get you to cross the finish line.

With just a little more pressure of his tongue, Joel could feel your cunt clamping down around his digits, watching the pleasure shoot through your body as you came, your orgasm crashing through you like a tsunami.

As you reached your high, Joel drank up your arousal, not faltering in his pace, too focused on your pretty cries of his name being chanted like a prayer to do anything but keep going and making you feel good.

Truth be told, Joel had gotten so lost between your thighs, the only thing stopping him was the tensing feeling between his, so pussy drunk and determined to fuck you full of him that he was worried he was about to cum too if he didn’t stop.

Pulling off you, Joel frantically stood up, racing to undo his belt and jeans, yanking them down his legs in tandem with his boxers as his cock slapped against his stomach, precum already pearling from his tip, desperate to be inside of you. His shirt quickly followed his pants, ripping it over his head as his broad body caged yours under him, helping you to scoot back on the bed until your head hit the pillows, trailing kisses up and down your body the whole way.

As Joel kissed and nipped at your skin, you quickly shuffled off your top and bra, leaving you bare beneath him, moaning as his tongue flicked against each of your newly exposed pebbled nipples, grouping your breast and kneading the soft flesh in his palms.

Even though you had just came, you could already feel your cunt starting to clench around nothing, desperate to feel Joel inside of you, to stretch you out with his thick cock and fuck you until you couldn’t think straight. But with the way your chest was heaving and breath shaking from your orgasm, you could barely muster out the words you wanted.

“J-Joel, p-please, baby. P-please.”

You snaked your hand between your bodies to reach for Joel’s cock, wrapping your fingers around his length and swiping your thumb over his leaking tip, a low groan rumbling in his chest as you stroked him, trying to guide him to slide between your legs and ease your ache.

Lowering his hips, you moved your hand and let his replace it, Joel pumping himself a few times before guiding his tip between your folds, collecting your slick to coat his cock, using every last ounce of self-control he had as his eyes locked with yours, wanting to see your face as he pushed inside you.

“Please, what, darlin’?” Joel teased, knowing damn well what you were begging for.

“Need to feel you, Joel. Need you to put a baby in me.” You moaned, reaching up to grab his face, your palm rubbing against his stubble as your fingers tugged on the curls at the nape of his neck.

With one more pump, Joel lined himself up with your entrance, sliding into your heat, the sweet stretch and sting of his length making the breath hitch in the back of your throat, filling you up inch by inch until he bottomed out inside you with his tip just kissing your cervix.

Joel couldn’t help but smirk as he watched your mouth fall open, parted lips letting a soft moan escape while your eyes nearly rolled to the back of your head at the newfound sensation, giving you another moment to adjust before he began to slowly roll his hips, dragging his cock in and out of your core.

“Christ, baby girl, so wet and tight. Like this pussy was made just for me. Made for me to fuck ya full of me until it’s got no choice but to fuckin’ take.” Joel groaned, reaching down to grab your thighs, pinning your knees to your chest, stretching you open to take Joel even deeper, practically feeling him in your stomach with the position he had you in.

“Joel, oh my god- fuck, you feel so good. Fuck, baby. Want you to fill me up so bad.” You whimpered, Joel now beginning to pick up his pace as he thrust in and out of you, continually punching in that perfect spot over and over again, leaving your brain bordering on short circuiting.

Joel’s fingertips dug deeper into the flesh of your thighs, pushing your legs down just far enough to be chest to chest with you, the sweat dampened curls of his forehead brushing against yours as your mouths met in an electric kiss, catching each other’s muffled moans with each snap of Joel’s hips.

“Yeah, sweetheart? Want me to fill you up? Fuck a baby into you? Let everyone see what a pretty momma you are, carryin’ our kid?” Joel grunted, picturing you, months from now, belly round and tits swollen, pregnant with your baby, wondering how many you’d let him give you, because fuck, he’d keep knocking you up until he had nothing left to give.

Each push and pull of your bodies against each other felt more and more electric, an undeniable coil tightening in your stomach with the way Joel was pounding into you and the hairs at the base of his cock were brushing against your clit, already feeling yourself beginning to teeter on the brink of pleasure once again.

“Yes, fuck, fuck- yes, Joel. I wanna have your baby. Want you to knock me up so I can make you a daddy. Please, baby, please.” You were all but sobbing at this point, your fingers digging into the tan and sweat sheened skin of Joel’s broad shoulders, overwhelmed by the lewd combinations of Joel’s heavy pants in your ear and wet squelching of your pussy as his pelvis flushed against yours repeatedly.

Joel could feel you beginning to tighten around him, pussy sucking him in with its warmth and wetness, ready to clamp around his cock and milk him for all he was worth.

“That’s it, darlin’, I know you’re close. Gotta cum for me first though, baby girl. Gotta feel ya soak me before I stuff ya so full of me, I swear t’god, you’ll be drippin’ outta me for days. So fuckin’ full that I’ll get you pregnant right now.” Joel groaned through gritted teeth, leaning back to reach and grab your leg, wrapping it around the small of his back before you lifted your other to join it, locking your ankles to keep him as close to you as possible.

“Joel, oh my god, fuck baby, fuck, I’m gonna- fuckfuckfuck-”

Suddenly, your orgasm was rushing through every inch of you, crying out as the pleasure hit you like a freight train, choking Joel’s cock with your pussy, unable to do anything but relish in the white hot bliss that had you nearly floating out of your own body.

While Joel would have kept fucking you until the sun went down, the truth was he was relieved to feel you cum, spending every second since your agreement in the kitchen trying to keep from finishing until he was balls deep inside you and you were soaking his cock as you reached your high. The realization that now was his chance to make good on his promise, to fill you up and fuck a baby into you, ignited something primal, feral, in him, pounding into you at a punishing pace as he could feel himself teetering on the brink of collapse right with you.

“That’s my girl. That’s it, cum all over my cock, baby. Shit, I’m gonna cum too, fuck- gonna fill this tight lil pussy up so goddamn much, give you a baby, make you a momma, oh fuck!”

With one final stutter of his hips, Joel let out a strangled moan, flushing his hips against yours as he milked himself of every last drop, painting your warm, wet walls with hot ropes of his spend, making sure nothing went to waste.

He couldn’t help but but press even further into you, plugging you with his length and fucking his cum as deep as he could into your cunt to make sure it took, collapsing on top of you with his cock still buried in your heat, letting your chests heave together in sync as you both caught your breath.

Joel was convinced he had never cum so much in his entire life, afraid that if he pulled out, that somehow he’d have more left to give, and sure as fuck wasn’t going to risk letting anything coming out of him end up not inside of you.

Well, not until your muffled grunt rumbled beneath him.

“Joel, baby, I love you but you’re kinda squishing me.” You huffed, giggling to yourself as you watched your husband come-to in real time out of his post-orgasmic state, immediately offering a half muttered apology as he rolled off you, sitting back on his knees to admire the shiny and slick mess between your legs.

“Fuck me…” Joel murmured to himself, eyes wide as he stared at your pussy- wet, puffy and soaking with your arousal, bringing his fingers to your spent hole as he watched a dribble of his cum begin to leak out. Gently scooping it up, he collected everything he could, pressing it back into your cunt before pulling his hand out. Crawling up the bed to lay next to you, Joel wrapped you up in his arms as the little spoon, peppering ticklish kisses over your back and shoulders, making you burst into laughter.

“Joel, stop! That tickles!” You squealed, squirming in his grasp, trying to defend yourself from his unrelenting attack of soft, plush lips and scratchy beard dancing across your skin.

“Don’t laugh so damn hard, or all my hard work’s ‘bout to come out!” Joel teased, giving you a playful nudge, pulling you in even closer.

“Stop making me laugh, then! Plus, I think you came enough to put quadruplets inside of me, so I think we’ll be okay.” You snorted, Joel joining in on the laughter.

“Baby, I don’t think I’ve ever came that hard in my whole goddamn life.” Joel sighed, shrugging as you rolled your head up to look at him and that stupid goofy grin he got whenever he couldn’t contain his excitement about something. “God, I love you.”

“I love you too, Joel.”

The two of you sat in a comfortable silence for a moment, Joel slowly bringing his arm to rest across your stomach, thumb slowly tracing careful circles on your skin.

“You’re gonna make such a good mom. I’m the luckiest man alive that you wanna have a family with me. Still not really sure what I ever did to deserve it.”

“Joel! You’re gonna make me cry! And this is before pregnancy hormones, ya jerk.” You tried to laugh, choking back the tears welling in your eyes.

“Yeah, what a jerk, your husband tellin’ you how much he loves you.” He teased back, planting a long kiss on your temple, before pressing another one to your lips. Another wave of soft silence followed, watching Joel’s face scrunch in a calculated concentration. “How big of a crib you think I gotta make? I don’t know ‘bout a rockin’ chair, but a crib can’t be that hard. I gotta measure the guest room tomorrow.”

“Honey, I don’t even know if I’m pregnant yet, you don’t need to have a crib built tomorrow.” You teased, laughing at Joel, despite the fact his mind was already thinking about a baby room and accessories had you melting.

“Sweetheart, what did I say earlier? I ain’t lettin’ you outta this bed ‘till we know there’s a baby in there.” He smirked, nodding at his hand still splayed across your stomach, “So you better get comfortable, ‘cause if it’s up to me, there ain’t a chance in hell we’re gettin’ anything but a positive pregnancy test at the end of this month, and we'll sure need that crib nine months from now. Never hurts to get a head start."

Tag List: (Sorry if I tagged you and you don't wanna be tagged, just let me know!!)

@chaotic-iguana @rhoorl @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

@pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24

@3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85

@partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo

@endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @milly-louise

@jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled

@pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper r @nastiasnow @vee-bees-blog

@hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr

@amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild

@copperhalfcent @theoraekenslover @bloodyinspirationaldemon @vee-bees-blog

@samgirl4life @pigeonmama @survivingandenduring @itsokbbygrl @javierpena-inatacvestnotifs

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lqveharrington · 4 months ago

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The Alchemy | D.M.

summary: Although Draco promised that he would keep your relationship a secret just for you, he can’t contain himself after winning the Hogwarts quidditch cup.

pairing: draco malfoy x hufflepuff!reader

includes: FLUFF, established relationship (and a last name of Evergreen for the reader)

a/n: inspired by the olympics recently ❤️

When Draco asked you out in fourth year, you thought it was a joke. Sure, you were both acquainted due to your pure wizardry bloodline, but you were in Hufflepuff. The only time the other houses thought you were useful was when they wanted to sneak into the kitchen. So when he came up and sat down beside you when you were studying potions, you were disheartened.

“Malfoy, please don’t do this.” You sigh, rubbing your forehead. You were just starting to understand what ingredients made a truth serum.

“Do what? I’m asking you if you want to go to Hogsmeade together this weekend.” He spun the Malfoy signet ring adorning his hand.

You look up at him with tired eyes, “Did someone put you up to this?”

“What? No no, I—“ He cleared his throat, feeling his cheeks warm at how you were able to fluster him with even a small glance. “I’m really asking you to go on a date with me.”

You search his face for any indication of a lie, before biting your lip softly and looking down at your parchment. “Are you really?”

“I am.” Draco dropped his hand onto yours to stop your fidgeting with the quill.

You felt your own face heat up at the notion. He thumbed your palm softly as you stayed quiet, not minding his closeness. Finally, you looked up at him, “You have yourself a date, Malfoy.” He sent you a soft smile but before he could say anything else, you interrupted. “Please don’t let me down.”

Draco never let you down. Despite your earlier doubts, you saw how kind and thoughtful the Malfoy heir was underneath his hardened shell his father had built around him. In private, he was always attentive, loving, clingy — there wasn’t a moment where he was separated from you. In public, he had to rein in those feelings just for you.

Even when you started your seventh year at Hogwarts, you were still terrified what others at school would say about a Hufflepuff dating the Slytherin Prince. Sure, his parents and your parents knew, but not the entirety of Hogwarts. You had asked Draco to keep your relationship private until you were ready to face the reality of your relationship to the rest of the world. He begrudgingly agreed, respecting your wishes; but the need to kiss you in front of the entire student body to rightly claim that you were his was wavering.

Especially when it had been three years since you first started dating. And right now, you were currently hiding below the stands together as you greeted him with good luck kisses for his final quidditch match as a student in Hogwarts.

“I.” Kiss. “Love.” Kiss. “You.” Kiss. You say softly as he holds you close by your hips — smiling into all your kisses. “Good.” Kiss. “Luck.” Kiss.

“You’re killing me here, love.” Draco murmurs against your lips. He pulls away gently to look at your ever so loving gaze. He draws small hearts on you hip, “You done?”

“Never.” You kiss him again, hands cupping his jaw. “I want you to be stuck with me forever.”

He hums into the kiss as you thumb his cheeks softly, “I will after I win this game, my love.”

You separate again, grinning like a lovesick puppy. “Good luck, Dray. I’ll see you later.” You press one last kiss to his lips before leaving his arms and running up the Hufflepuff stands to cheer. You couldn’t deny that even after all these years he still made you giddy and red.

Draco shook his head with a soft smile only you could coax out of him. He walked out from the stands and hopped on his broom, ready in the air for his final match as Slytherin’s seeker. Cheers filled the stadium as the players took their place, captains shaking hands.

The final match for Slytherin and Gryffindor was probably the most anticipated all year round. Since it was also Harry Potter’s last game as seeker, and the two seekers were known as rivals, it was hyped up to be one of the best end matches of the season.

As the game progressed, Slytherin and Gryffindor were constantly tied. It was really up to the seekers to find the golden snitch to determine the winner. There were bets taking place in the house stands, mind fixated on earning a few galleons for the last time. For the Hufflepuff stands, they were a house divided. Many cheered for scarlet and gold while the other half cheered for green and silver.

You didn’t mind the division between your house. After all, you only watched the games for Draco. Your friends were cheering for the Gryffindors whilst you carried the small Slytherin flag in your hands — eyes trained on the blonde high above the game itself. The second you blinked from the blazing sun, Draco was soaring after the golden snitch, Harry close behind and eventually flying right next to him.

The shouts from the stands only fueled the seekers’ attention to the flying gold. Draco and Harry were chasing in circles after the snitch, attention focused on nothing else even as the bludger zoomed past them.

You held your breath as they both reach out for the snitch. Your friend held your shoulder in anticipation, watching the two closely. Before you could register what happened, she gasped and shook your shoulders in frustration.

“I lost ten galleons to that!” She sighed heavily as Draco flashed the golden snitch in the air.

The rush of the win made you scream happily with the other Hufflepuffs and houses cheering for the Slytherin team. You wear clapping your hands as the team began flying around in victory. You watched as Draco flew around the stands more as the rest of the Slytherin team settled on the grounds. His eyes scanned the stadium until they lit up when they saw you at the very front of the Hufflepuff stands — waving your Slytherin flag with pride.

“Seems like Malfoy is off showing the last snitch he’ll catch for the Slytherin quidditch team! But we all want to know where the trophy is!” The third year announcer spoke, voice casted across the stadium.

You smiled at Draco softly when you finally met his eyes. And before you knew it, he flew right over to you and cupped your face, kissing you senselessly. You grinned into the kiss as you held his cheeks, the shouts and screams from your housemates blending in your ears.

“Aw, quite a beautiful way to celebrate the win. Don’t you think so, McGonagall? Honestly, I wasn’t expecting Malfoy and Evergreen— Ow, sorry.” The third year announcer spoke once more, rubbing the spot the professor lightly hit them with a newspaper.

You part from Draco with a blinding smile, “I think I agree, this is a beautiful way to celebrate.” You say quietly only for him to hear, pressing quick kisses to his lips.

“I’m proud of you, love.” Draco nudges your nose with his to gently stop your kisses for a second — even though he did want more.

“Me? You just won the quidditch cup for your house!” You laugh while wrapping your arms behind his neck, careful in trying not to pull him off his broom.

He rubbed the apples of your cheeks, “You just let me kiss you in front of the entire student body… I think that’s more important.” He pulled you in for another mind searing kiss, making you smile helplessly.

“AGAIN?” The third year announcer shouted into the microphone once more. “Is there—“

“Alright, we’re done announcing, boys and girls.” Professor McGonagall spoke and shut the speakers off; although she was quite happy for the couple.

You giggled as he pulled you into a hug. “I love you.”

Draco pressed kisses to your cheek repeatedly, “I love you more.”

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chuluoyi · 10 months ago

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࿐ ࿔ 🕰️ 「 10:00 A.M 」

SUMMERRR @ohimsummer you’re so responsible for this infinitely adorable idea omg🤧 based on this ask & this video !

a part of gojo's love entries

“papa. come on. pa-pa~ say it after me!”

sunday morning. the first sight you saw after getting up was another shenanigan staged by your husband—

in the form of him shoving your humongous wedding photo in front of your one-year old boy’s face.

“this is pa-pa~” satoru’s singsong voice echoed through the baby room, full of enthusiasm, pointing at his face in the photo. “pa-pa~ easy right? now…”

your baby merely blinked though, chewing his pacifier in pure ignorance. his eyes—a pair blue marbles—glancing between his desperate papa and the wedding picture with little interest.

“hmph,” satoru clicked his tongue, and then he pointed at your beaming figure in the photo, voice visibly flat. “this is… mother.”

you quirked an eyebrow, totally snorting.

but he succeeded in grabbing your baby’s attention this time, as his crystal blue eyes widened a bit in wonder, staring at you in the picture.

“mother is pa-pa’s wife. she makes your food, nice on some days, but be careful! she can put a ban on our supply of mochi if she is in a bad mood!”

“oh, do i?” you walked over to him with a bark of a laugh, crossing your arms.

satoru made an exaggerated spooked look, mouth curving into an ‘O’. “uh-oh, mama dragon is here.”

“look, you big bully. why are you bothering our baby first thing in the morning?”

“i’m not bullying him! it’s education! he has to see that his papa is the gallant sorcerer—”

“—ma!”

. . .

silence. both of you stiffly turned towards your little munchkin when you heard that little, feeble sound.

your baby and his clear, watery eyes made a grabby motions towards you from his bouncer chair, lips wobbling with effort. “ma—ma!”

...another silence before you snapped—

“my baby!!” you squealed, immediately plucking him, giving and smothering him with the tightest hug and kisses, whereas satoru’s jaw dropped to the depths of soil behind you. “kyaaaa~! i love you soooo much!”

“h-how—!”

“i definitely didn’t go through the pain of giving birth to you so you can call your deadbeat papa first!”

“—?! hey! i’m fully responsible for child support!”

and so you left him in his sorrows, walking out while cooing at your bundle of joy, leaving trails of your baby son’s happy giggles along the way as your defeated husband, who felt so betrayed, sulked in the background.

epilogue

“come on… just once, please? say papa.”

this time, satoru has his baby son open a book beside him, as he points at the father figure in that storybook, still urging his mini-him to call him.

but contrary to his expectations, his little boy just aggressively turned the pages over, only seemingly interested in seeing the illustrations on each page.

“papa. come on, buddy, hmm?” he prodded his chubby arms and tickled his tummy, and once again, his prickly baby retorted with—

“ma! ma!”

satoru sighed in defeat, but this time he relented, as the way his son was all energetic while calling you somehow wormed its way to his heart too.

he was still babbling incoherently, and yet this time satoru only pinched his cheeks together. “you sure adore your mama, huh?”

“mwa!”

“yeah, me too, kiddo. me too.”

#𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠 #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #gojo satoru #satoru x reader #jjk imagines #jjk drabbles #jujutsu kaisen x reader #dad!gojo #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru fluff #jjk fluff #gojo x you #satoru gojo fluff #jjk x reader fluff

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heartkaji · 5 months ago

Text

Oh my days

#. LOVE ME AS YOU TEAR ME APART

featuring 𝘁𝗮𝗸𝗶𝗶𝘀𝗵𝗶 𝗰𝗵𝗶𝗸𝗮 𝘅 𝗳𝗲𝗺!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

angst + fluff + slight suggestive. being friends with takiishi chika, was equal to being on a super dangerous rollercoaster ride, well friends is a word you choose to use despite him not fitting into that category knowing that you are not friends and you will never be.

wc :: 13k. written without any new information about takiishi’s past. SHORT HAIRED CHIKA. original characters added for the sake of the story(not self insters). it's all a figment of my imagination. enjoy reading while listening.

taglist :: @maruflix @heartkaji @y2kuromi @stunie @haiaus @17020

Always be careful of men because you can get hurt if you play with fire for too long. Your mother's words had been ringing in your head every single second since you were born and you couldn't blame her even if you wanted to. Because she was always right about absolutely everything and everyone, as much as you didn't want to listen to her, thinking she didn't understand what it was like to be a teenager with raging emotions and a whole life ahead. Is love medicine or poison? Not even your mom knows the answer to that and you regret not listening to her, you regret calling her stupid and whatnot when you were the fool all along.

But that didn't stop you from seeing him, the boy who was his own hero and villain. His name was coming out of your mouth so sweetly when you asked him to play on the playground, but he pelted you with sand and you cried out loud. Why is a four-year-old so ill-mannered? Where are his parents? Everyone else was wondering this as your mother took you in her arms and started soothing you by gently stroking your hair. “It's okay darling, mommy is here…”

Her voice is always so sweet like honey, but her look directed at the little red-headed boy was so fierce and cruel. He did not react in any way — like a doll, just a body without a drop of soul. It was normal for kids to mess with others but it was not normal the way he behaved like some monster, it spoke enough for his upbringing. When your mother decided to raise her voice, he looked up at you with those golden eyes like the sun and smiled ever so slightly and imperceptibly, and your little childish brain under the influence of the strong emotion of sadness thought he was mocking you.

“You shouldn't bully children like that! Didn't your mother and father teach yo — ?” the little boy just turned his back and walked away not caring what your mother had to say, because who does she think she is to tell him what is right or wrong? She is no one to him like he is to hers. “Hey, boy, come right back here!” but he neither turned nor returned and your mom just looked at you and kissed your forehead, sighing heavily. “When you grow up, be careful who you fall in love with, I don't want you to be with boys like him.” you were too young to understand her words, but this was the first time Takiishi Chika made you cry.

“Can you believe that some boy just threw sand at our little girl?” Making dinner also meant time to share problems within the family. And your mother is still angry with the behavior of the little boy while cutting the carrots not so calmly that your dad had to take the knife away from her. “He's a little kid, most guys tease the girls they like.” If you could go back in time you would have told your father that it wasn't true, to some extent it is, but in this case, you were bullied by some stranger, not liked.

The memory of that day in the playground lingered in your mind, even as years went by and you began first grade with all the excitement and nerves that came with a new school year. Your parents had been busy preparing everything for you: new uniforms, new shoes, and the most important thing of all, a sweet obento packed with love.

Your first day of elementary school was filled with introductions and new faces. The classroom buzzed with the sounds of children's chatter and laughter. You found yourself making friends easily, joining in games during recess, and sharing stories about dolls over lunch. The obento your mother made was a hit among your new friends, who admired the neat arrangement of rice, vegetables, and little sausages shaped like octopuses.

As you sit at the lunch table with your classmates, enjoying your meal and the happy company, when suddenly you get a feeling that someone is watching you. Glancing up, you saw him — the same boy from the playground three years ago. He was sitting at the other table just a short distance away, staring at you with those same unsettling golden eyes. He looked slightly older, but there was no mistaking him with that short red hair.

For a moment, you froze, the memories of that day flashing back. The sand in your eyes, the sound of your mother's soothing voice, and his cold, emotionless stare. He looked away just as you made eye contact, his expression unreadable and that mocking smile was nowhere to be found.

One of your girl friends, noticing your sudden quietness, nudged you gently. “Y/N-chan, are you okay? Is that your boyfriend?”

You forced a smile and shook your head. “N-no! He’s just... someone I knew from before. He threw sand in my face when I was three!”

“He’s older, you know,” one of them said, nudging you with a playful smirk. “A whole year older. That makes him extra cool.” Another added voice in the choir, “And a bad boy! I heard he’s always getting into trouble. Isn’t that exciting, Y/N-chan?”

You felt your cheeks flush, embarrassment and frustration coloring your face. “No way. I would never be with someone like him!” Your friends exchanged glances, giggling. “You know what they say, right?” one of them teased. “If a boy likes you, he’ll tease you!”

You squint your eyes, being skeptical not wanting to give the idea any merit. Yeah, they can tease you, but not in a way that can make you go blind. “Don't be like my dad, Ami.” you retorted, recalling your dad’s words that echoed your friends' sentiments. Your mom always told you that teasing wasn't equal to affection, especially in such a harsh manner.

As the laughter continued, you watched him get up from the table, expecting him to come over or do something disruptive. But to your surprise, he just walked past you, not even glancing your way.

“See, you’re just like a princess waiting for her prince to save her from the poisoned apple with a kiss,” another friend teased, making everyone laugh again. “Maybe he’s just shy,” another one suggested with a smiling face, “Or maybe he’s planning something really special.”

If there was sand in this special thing you rather stay home and watch scary movies that make you unable to sleep. You didn't want to have anything to do with him, you were even starting to forget him, but apparently, life wanted you to remember the incident at the playground for the rest of your life.

When the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch, you and your friends headed back to class. It was P.E. time, and you were all excited to play outside. The sun was shining brightly, and the playground was bustling with activity. You and your friends decided to pretend you were mermaids, splashing around an imaginary ocean, while others were fairies fluttering about.

As you laughed and played, you noticed the second graders also had P.E. at the same time. They were on the other side of the field, playing various games. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him, all alone, away from the group, kicking a football ball around.

You tried to ignore him, focusing on your game. But then, without warning, you felt a sharp pain in the back of your head. You crumpled to the ground, clutching your head and crying out in pain. Your friends gathered around you, their faces a mix of concern and confusion. Through the blur of tears, you saw the football ball that he had been playing with, now lying a few feet away from you. The teacher rushed over to check on you, while the second graders' teacher called out sternly, "Takiishi, to the principal's office!"

You looked up, still crying, and saw him walking away, a big red dot retreating into the distance. Tears streamed down your tender face as you held your head in your hands.

As the teachers helped you to your feet and checked for any serious injury, your friends whispered among themselves, some still giggling nervously. "He did it on purpose," one of them said. "Or it was just an accident," another suggested, but this wasn't Snow White or Sleeping Beauty waiting for their prince when they fell to be awakened by a kiss. It was real bullying but the other girls thought it was something romantic straight out of a fairy tale or a movie.

You didn't want to hear his name or see him anymore. But your parents taught you not to judge people, trying to push away the idea that he might have hurt you on accidnet knowing he did it on purpose. And speaking of parents, surely they will be angry, well at least your mom will be pissed knowing what this boy has done before and your dad will take it as an accident. You wished he was like the other boys, or maybe to behave like a real prince. At six years old you asked yourself the question: What did I do wrong?

The teachers decided it was best for you to sit out the rest of P.E. in the shade, and your friends stayed close, trying to cheer you up. “It’s okay, Y/N-chan!” Ami said hooking her arms with yours “My big sister cries all the time because of the boy she likes!”. Despite their efforts, the incident left another core memory in your childish brain — Takiishi Chika made you cry for a second time.

For your ninth birthday, you got the toy you saw on commercials every day. Yes, you may be a little too old for such things, but you're never too young to have fun. And that's why you and your friends agreed that tomorrow in class everyone should bring their dolls so that you can play.

It was supposed to be fun, you were supposed to run in the classroom, not in a circle trying to get your doll from a group of boys who were neither your age nor a year older, it seemed that they were at least twelve. Your heart races as you sprint down the hall, tears blurring your vision. Your precious doll, a cherished birthday gift, is clutched in the rough hands of boys who tower over you, their laughter echoing like cruel music in your ears. "Please, give it back! I won't tell the teacher, I promise!" you plead, voice trembling.

The boys laugh louder, one of them tossing your doll down the hall. You flinch, expecting to hear the sickening thud of your doll hitting the ground, but instead, you hear rapid footsteps. In an instant, the boys are on the ground, sprawled out in various states of shock and pain.

You freeze, fear tightening your chest. What if you're next? What if you never see another Winx transformation or find out what happens in One Piece? Shivering, you try to move but your body refuses to obey.

The figure before you is unmistakable. The red and yellow hues, the aura of danger—it's him. He stares at you, blinking a few times before that same mocking smile from six years ago spreads across his face. His gaze, cold and intense, feels like it's piercing through you. He doesn't speak, doesn't move—just stares. The silence stretches, heavy and uncomfortable. You wonder what he's thinking, why he's acting this way, but no answers come.

Before you can react, another voice pierces the tension. "Hey, don't cry now, here is your doll!" It's another boy, holding your now broken doll. You recognize him, he is with the redhead all the time, but his name eludes you. He hands it gently, and you accept it, despite its broken state. It's still yours.

"Takiishi, is that your girlfriend?" the blue-eyed boy asked but Takiishi ignored him. He steps over the fallen bodies, giving you one last look with those warm eyes that showed coldness, unwavering, as if searching for something within you.

"Hey, wait up for me~ It was nice meeting you!" the same boy shouts, running after the delinquent. You stand there, hugging your doll, still covered in goosebumps. Even though the fear was overpowering, you felt relieved at the same time.

For the first time, Takiishi Chika made you smile. It was a small, tentative smile, but it was there. The boy who once haunted your nightmares has given you a reason not to buy Dreamcatchers.

Being thirteen meant you were growing up, entering your teenage years, and you had to be cool, even if you had a strong obsession with that one band and several dozen movies and TV shows. You kept it cool, but when you were with your friends you were giggling like the middle school girls, in fact you are in middle school. For the past four years, you had a strange relationship with Takiishi Chika, the boy who had once been the monster in your fairy tale. After the doll incident, things changed. No one dared to cause you any harm or say anything to your address, knowing you had something going on with and although your friends jokingly call him your boyfriend, you know better. He is not and never will be your Prince Charming. Yet, you've grown used to his presence, tolerating him as best as you can.

Today was special, you felt like it was going to be. You had borrowed your mother's makeup, hoping she wouldn't notice. The thrill of trying something new made your heart race as you carefully applied pink lip gloss and mascara. It was simple, but the compliments from your friends made you feel like you had discovered a hidden superpower, even thinking that your favorite idol would ask you to be his girlfriend. You wore your makeup all day, and the compliments and flattery did not stop even after your school club activities ended, you decided to visit your favorite spot, the rooftop, with some leftover snacks.

The rooftop was your hiding place where you could escape and dream. The open sky seemed to stretch forever, and you loved the feeling of the breeze playing with your hair. Here, you could be yourself, indulging in daydreams about your favorite group and the countless movies and TV shows you adored.

As you stood admiring the view, just staring at the horizon, lost in thought. That was until you heard a familiar voice. Turning your head slightly you saw the source of the voice that belonged to Endo Yamato, and Takiishi Chika had climbed up and was watching from above. You tensed slightly, hoping they wouldn't notice you, but luck wasn't on your side.

"Hey, Takiishi, your girlfriend is here!" Endo's voice rang out, making you sigh. Not again with the boyfriend-girlfriend thing. Why does everyone have to call you that? He more or less tried to kill you, and he did it twice either with sand or a football ball.

"I am not his girlfriend, Endo," you said, annoyance clear in your voice. His teasing smile widened as he replied, "Then why are you wearing makeup? The whole school talked about how cute Takiishi's girlfriend is."

That left you confused. Other students talked about you being pretty? Being Takiishi Chika's pretty girlfriend? That couldn't be true, as he always talked nonsense, and expecting an answer from the red-haired boy was like expecting a lion to eat plants - it would never happen.

"You are so weird. No one said anything like that," you retorted, crossing your arms, and glaring at Endo, who still had that teasing smile plastered on his face. Before you could say anything more, Takiishi jumped down from a slightly higher place, landing between you and Endo.

"See, he is coming to greet you. He never leaves this spot—" Endo's words were cut off as Takiishi swung at him. Endo dodged the punch, grinning as he realized it was his cue to leave.

Now it was just you and Takiishi Chika. When you are with him, your heart burns and you don't know why. As always, he looked at you with that soulless look, his eyes still radiating emptiness, even though all his expression was something, it was nothing to you. You tried to find the right words. "Do you have always to do that?" you finally asked, referring to his sudden appearance and equally sudden aggression. His only response was a slight shrug as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Why do you always show up out of nowhere?" you pressed on. "And why does everyone think we're dating?"

Takiishi's eyes flickered for a moment, a hint of something passing through them, but it was gone as quickly as it came. "Does it matter?" he said flatly, his voice devoid of emotion. You couldn't stand the silence, the lack of answers, the emptiness that seemed to consume every interaction with him. Each time you tried to break through his cold exterior, you felt yourself growing more frustrated, more desperate for some sign of humanity. Today, though, was different, you have reached your limit.

"Why don't you care?" Your voice wavered your anger and hurt mingling in your words. "For the past ten years, you've done nothing but humiliate me, throwing things my way, harshly shoving me out of your way. Why do you behave like some monster?" A hiccup escaped your lips, and you could feel the tears welling up, the dam finally breaking once again.

Takiishi just stared at you, his eyes as empty as ever. His lack of reaction only fueled your rage. "I tried my best to be good, to be a human and a friend to you. But you haven't changed." The words tumbled out of your mouth, unfiltered and raw. You didn't know what had possessed you to admit what you felt to someone who seemed incapable of feeling anything.

Was it because of last week when he tripped you on the stairs, and you had to lie to your mom about falling during a volleyball game? Or when he almost punched you just because you told him he had to go to class?

You tried to find the right words, to make him understand, to make him care. "Why?" you finally asked, your voice trembling. "Why do you show up out of nowhere and act like I'm some sort of target?"

Chika harshly grabbed your wrist, he was holding it very tight, and could have broken your arm at any second, as you winced at the sudden pain. "Let me go!" you demanded, trying to wrench your hand free. But he didn't let go. Instead, he pulled you closer, his breath warm against your face. And then, without warning, he kissed you on the lips. Your mind went blank. Not knowing how to react or what to think. The kiss was rough and forceful, lacking any tenderness or affection. It felt more like a punishment than a gesture of what others could call love. When he finally pulled away, you were left gasping for breath, your heart pounding in your chest like it was going to burst out at any moment.

You stumbled back, your wrist still aching from his grip. "What is wrong with you?" you shouted, your voice cracking with a mix of anger and confusion. You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand as if trying to erase the memory of his kiss.

He just stood there, watching you with that same inscrutable expression. "You can't just do that to people," you continued, your voice trembling as you were breathing heavily. "You can't just… do whatever you want."

But his eyes never wavered, and his expression never changed. It was as if he hadn't heard a word you said, as if your pain and unknown emotions deep inside your heart hidden away, meant nothing to him. And in that moment, you realized that maybe they didn't.

You took a step back, needing to put some distance between yourself and him. "Stay away from me, I hate you." you said, your voice steadier now. Hate was a strong word and it wasn't just said out of nowhere, but he deserved it. "Monster."

That special moment for every single girl who was or was about to fall in love was taken away from you, your first kiss stolen by someone like him. You knew you should hate him, despise him for what he had done. But a part of you, a small, irrational part, still wanted to understand him, to reach out to the person hidden behind the locked doors of his soul. But as you turned to leave, you couldn't shake the feeling that this wasn't the end, that he wasn't done with you yet. Takiishi Chika made you cry for a third time. And that thought was more terrifying than anything else.

Words came out of his mouth after you were no longer here, but only he heard them, almost as a whisper to himself. "You are pretty." They were meant to be an aside, a secret confession cloaked in madness, but now they felt like a ghost, haunting the empty space where you used to be.

The sweet sixteen — from caterpillar to a beautiful butterfly in the endless garden called life. You grew, mentally and physically, more mature than you were a few years ago in middle school. And now look at you, first year in high school, new place and with new people, it was so nostalgic when you thought about your first day of school.

The laughter, the smiles... and the tears. Despite everything that had happened a whole decade ago, the past is past — forgive and forget. There was no room in your head to think about it anymore, not when your boyfriend was waiting for you. Was your mother showing him baby pictures of you again? This woman loves to embarrass you, but it can't be helped, you are her only daughter.

"Ah, here she is three years old, she loved playing in this sandbox until some spoiled brat threw sand at her." you overhear her say. She still holds a grudge against him. His name has become a taboo subject, and she’d freak out if she found out he kissed you — that’s why she doesn’t know. In fact, no one does. "Mom, you should stop showing Kirihito my baby photos every time he is here," you say as your boyfriend chuckles, and your mom gets up and goes to the kitchen.

"Come and get your lunch," she calls, but before you leave the house, she tells you to be careful with Kirihito Yuu. It's your first boyfriend, and not every first try is going to be good or as expected, she wanted to protect you from bad news.

"Be careful, darling. Don't play with fire for too long or you will get burned." She doesn't understand what it's like to be a teenager with raging emotions and a whole life ahead. Your mother should stop being so judgy. She doesn't know Kirihito like you do.

"You are ridiculous, Mom," you roll your eyes as you put the bento in your bag. This conversation has been going on for almost 5 months since they found out you had a boyfriend and apparently they won't stop hinting at it.

"Just don't come back crying when he breaks your heart."

You don't say anything, your scoff is enough. Everyone likes him; why can't she? Even your dad is on her side with this. But you pay them no mind like you started doing when you entered puberty. You know everything; your parents know nothing.

Arriving at your school's gate, he holds both of your hands. "I'll see you later?" you ask, feeling his body warmth. The thing is you're going to an all-girls high school, and your boyfriend attends Furin High School. Its reputation isn't great, and your parents don't like him because they see him as one of those vulgar hooligans.

But no one could beat Takiishi Chika in terms of being the most horrible person you've ever met. He had a reputation for being extremely violent. He didn't care about anything and you knew it best by being his play toy. Even in his first year of junior school, he beat someone supposedly stronger than him, and he caused fear wherever he walked.

Wait... Did you just think about him again?

"Are you okay, love?" your boyfriend asks, his voice pulling you back to the present. You nod your head, trying to shake off the unsettling memories. "Just being nervous is all." You smile at Kirihito, unlike someone else, he's never bullied you or been cold. Instead, he's always been your safe haven. You're not ready to say those three words yet, but you know your feelings for him run deep.

“You got this. Call me if you need anything, all right?” he said as you nodded your head, blushing as he went on his way to Furin High. It always felt like the beginning of a different world, one that you were both a part of and completely separate from. As he walked through the school gates, he was always on time for classes, or "meetings," as they liked to call them.

A whistle made its way to his ears as he saw his team leader and bowed his head. "Unusual for you to be late," the leader said, voice teasing. "Did you rob a bank or something? You look a little bit too happy."

Kirihito looked up, his piercing red eyes meeting his upper's blue ones. The leader's smirk grew wider, sensing something out of the ordinary. "I was just walking my girlfriend to her school," Kirihito said nonchalantly, though a slight tinge of pride colored his usually stoic tone.

The main reason why Furin was like it was, a place where chaos and destruction ruled was because of Endo Yamato, he was pretty well known in and outside most schools. "Oh! Girlfriend, you say? Is she cute?" curiosity piqued, as he leaned in slightly, eager for more details about this unexpected aspect of Kirihito's life.

"I guess she is," he replied, his voice flat and devoid of enthusiasm.

"You don't sound like you love her," the leader remarked, raising an eyebrow at Kirihito's indifference "That's because I don't," face dull and his voice detached from emotion. His eyes, however, held a fleeting sadness, hinting at deeper complexities within him. Endo watched him for a moment longer, intrigued by the contradiction of Kirihito's actions and his apparent lack of feelings. "Well, best of luck breaking up with her."

But his curiosity didn't stop there, it was after a few hours when Endo's eyes followed Kirihito as he moved through the bustling schoolyard, a catlike grace to his steps that belied the darkness within him. He trailed behind, his presence unnoticed by the rest of the students who were preoccupied with their own dramas and distractions.

It wasn't long before he saw Kirihito meet up with a girl who broke into a smile as she approached him, her eyes lighting up at the sight of her boyfriend. A very familiar face. Hold on… Is that you? Kirihito's demeanor shifted slightly, a faint, almost imperceptible softness in his otherwise cold exterior. He reached out and took your hand, guiding you away from the crowd of students and towards a quieter part of the campus.

It was really you. L/N Y/N.

Endo Yamato hit the jackpot, he couldn't believe it. After three years he finally saw you again. He snapped a photo of the two of you with his phone, the click of the camera shutter masked by the noise of the school around him. As he reviewed the image, a slow smile spread across his face. You had grown even prettier since he last saw you before you transferred to another middle school, your features more refined, your presence more captivating. It was no wonder Takiishi was infatuated with you.

He lingered in the shadows, watching as the both of you turned to leave in the direction of the city center. “On a date, huh?” prying eyes remained fixed on you, noting the way you stood for a moment, watching Kirihito retreat before holding your hand.

He knew exactly where to find you now, how you looked, and who you were with. Takiishi would be very interested in this information because he didn't bother to like anything else besides violence. The thought of delivering such news to him filled Endo with such happiness.

As you walked hand in hand with Kirihito, the city around you seemed to fade into the background. You were lost in the moment, the warmth of his hand in yours grounding you, making you feel safe and cherished. You had longed for something like this—for love, a simple date just the two of you, enjoying each other's company without any worries.

You both decided to stop by your favorite café, the soft murmur of conversations and the gentle clinking of cups created a cozy atmosphere. As you settled into a corner booth, you couldn't help but notice Kirihito's face clouded with a hint of sadness.

"Baby, what's wrong? Did a fight break out again?" you asked, your voice filled with concern and anxiety.

Kirihito glanced up, his eyes meeting yours. "Don't worry, just a rough start to the day. Nothing that your smile can't fix," he replied, a small smile tugging at his lips.

You blushed at his comment, warmth spreading through you. Kirihito's words had a way of making you feel special, even when he was hiding his own troubles. Meanwhile, he couldn't shake the thought of how annoying and clingy you were. But despite that, he couldn't deny that you were pretty — the only thing he liked about you.

Meanwhile, Endo's mind was racing with plans. He knew Takiishi would want to know about your relationship with Kirihito. He couldn't wait to see the chaos that would unfold. Slipping away from the busy street, making his way through the narrow alleyways his sharp eyes scanning every corner. The scent of damp asphalt mixed with the faint metallic tang of blood. He found a tall dark silhouette against the dim alleyway lights, standing over several unconscious bodies. Takiishi’s fists were clenched, his breath coming in heavy, angry bursts.

"Takiishi," Endo called out, his voice steady despite the chaotic scene. Chika turned, his golden eyes blazing with a fire that seemed to burn through the shadows. "You fought these guys a week ago. Give them a break."

Endo stepped closer, carefully avoiding the bodies sprawled on the ground. "I was about to tell you something," he said, a smirk playing on his lips. "But I realized you might need one more day."

Takiishi's anger could have been seen, an almost physical force radiating from him. "One more day for what?" he demanded, his voice a low, dangerous rumble.

"To enjoy," Endo replied, his tone teasing as ever. "Before everything changes." He knew well enough that telling Takiishi about you would ignite a firestorm; his temper was like a blazing inferno, consuming everything in its path when provoked.

Takiishi's eyes narrowed, suspicion flickering across his face. "What are you planning?"

Endo shrugged "You'll find out soon enough, don’t wanna spoil the birthday surprise."

Takiishi stared at him, the fire in his eyes dimming slightly as he processed Endo's words, but the redhead paid him no mind because he always talked like that. He left the scene, probably in search of something else to entertain him, as the other followed him like a loyal dog.

As they walk around the city, the usual noise of traffic and chatter blends into a monotonous hum. The streets are busy, and the neon lights cast a colorful glow on the pavement. Takiishi barely listens to Endo's stories about the latest drama in Furin, his mind wandering.

Then, out of nowhere, you appear. Standing alone at the bus stop, your presence strikes Takiishi like a bolt of lightning. He doesn’t know how he spotted you in the crowd, and he doesn’t care. All he knows is that his chest tightens and his brain goes numb. He doesn't care about you. He won't question why you left, won't let himself feel anything. But why is his body moving towards you?

Endo's voice calls out to him, urging him to stop. "Takiishi, wait!" His friend's hand grabs his arm, trying to pull him back. Without thinking, Takiishi spins around and punches Endo hard in the face. The crack of bone against bone is a well-known melody by now.

"Don't get in my way," Takiishi snarls, his voice a low growl. It's not just a warning—it's an order.

But when he looks back to the bus stop, you're gone. The bus pulls away, carrying you out of his reach. The moment passes, and he’s left staring at the taillights disappearing into the distance.

Takiishi turns back to Endo, who is clutching his jaw and staring at him in shock. The fire in his eyes dims slightly as he processes what he’s done, but he doesn’t apologize, he never does. Endo mutters something under his breath, probably a curse, expecting something like this to happen.

Chika walks alone now, and the reality of what just happened sinks in. The city buzzes around him, indifferent to his mess. He feels the sting of regret but pushes it down. There’s no room for that now. Not when he wasn't done with you, not when he needed you.

It was hard work, even when you put in extra hours after school. With one of your coworkers out sick, you had to juggle the cash register and sorting products in the warehouse simultaneously. The bell over the door jingled, and your remaining coworker nudged you, urging you to check on the new arrival.

"Hello, sorry for making you wait. What can I do for y—?" Your sentence trailed off in shock as you looked up and saw the customer. "Endo?" Standing in front of the register, he appeared taller and more fit than you remembered, but his expression was unchanged, though you noticed a few bloodstains on his face.

"Long time no see, cutie~," he greeted you with a teasing tone.

You forced a smile, masking your panic. "What are you doing here?" It was a stupid question, you knew, but his sudden appearance and choice of a nickname threw you off.

"What? I can't buy myself a drink now?" he pouted playfully as he placed two energy drinks on the counter. "You live on the other side of town, where they certainly have the same drinks."

You scanned the items, and he paid with more than necessary. "Keep the change." He took the drinks but didn't leave. "What?" you asked, feeling uneasy.

"I came here to talk to you. As they say, the customer is always right, and you should attend to his needs."

You sighed, glancing at the clock. It was nearly closing time, and as much as you wanted to say no, you reluctantly agreed. Sitting outside, he opened one drink and handed you the other, claiming it was his treat. You murmured a thanks, sipping it quietly. Despite the silence, it wasn't awkward. Questions swirled in your mind: why was he here? Had he been in a fight?

"Who did you fight this time?" you asked, curiosity getting the better of you, knowing how he was getting targeted.

"Your boyfriend," he replied calmly. Kirihito had landed a punch on Endo? That couldn't be true. Kirihito wasn't the type to get into fights, especially not with someone like Endo. Besides, you and Kirihito kept things private, away from the Furin guys. "Takiishi's been doing well, though it's been rough after you broke up with him," he continued, poking at an old wound.

Not this again. Takiishi Chika wasn't your boyfriend. You never broke up with him; you ended whatever twisted relationship you had after he treated you like nothing. But explaining that to Endo would be pointless. He thrived on these messy entanglements, relishing the drama.

"Endo, I'm not in the mood for this," you said, hoping to steer the conversation away from painful memories, but deep down you wanted to ask him so many things

"Come on, Y/N, don't be like that. I'm just here to catch up," he said, his tone mockingly innocent. "It's been too long. You can't tell me you haven't missed me a little."

You sighed again, knowing this conversation wasn't going to end quickly. "What do you want from me?" He leaned back, looking up at the sky and then at you. "I want to know how you've been. And maybe... just maybe, I want to see if you wanted to hang out someday, just like the old times."

You rolled your eyes. "No, thank you. I have a boyfriend.” and before you could say more, he chuckled. Oh, how much he loves knowing things other people didn’t. Your boyfriend was a complete jerk, a weakling, someone who was a waste of air on the Furin grounds. But he will make you see it yourself, the morning is wiser than yesterday, and he will look forward to it.

The night air was cool and refreshing the street lights casting a faint glow on Endo's face. He sipped his drink, a smirk on his lips as if he were savoring every moment. You could tell he was playing games like he always did. He was more like a mastermind, instead of a player.

Endo’s gaze lingered on you, and he finally said, “You know, Y/N, it's strange. I always thought we had a good thing going. Even if it was a bit chaotic.”

You frowned, not sure where he was headed. It was chaotic for him, but it was traumatic for you. “We had a lot of things going on, but I wouldn’t call it good.” He shrugged, unaffected by your words. “Fair enough. I suppose I’m just nostalgic. Those days had a certain charm.”

It was clear he wanted to probe deeper, to stir up emotions you’d rather leave in the past. But you decided to change the subject. “Where are you hitting at?.”

He tilted his head, considering your question with a thoughtful look. “I missed you,” he said finally, though his tone was light, almost playful. “Or maybe I just wanted to see how you’re doing, to remind you that not everything is as perfect as it seems.”

You didn’t want to dwell on his riddles. Instead, you took a deep breath and tried to focus on the present. “Look, it’s late, and I have a busy day tomorrow. It’s probably best if we wrap this up.”

Endo’s expression softened, and he gave you a small, almost genuine smile. “Alright, alright. I’ll let you a VIP pass.” He stood up, stretching a bit as if preparing to leave. “But before I go, I want you to remember something.”

You looked up at him, waiting. “What is it?”

He took a moment, studying you with an intensity that made you shiver slightly. “Life has a way of throwing surprises at us, and sometimes, it’s worth keeping an open mind. Don’t be too quick to dismiss what’s right in front of you.”

Before you could respond, he took a step back, his expression shifting to one of casual indifference. “Goodnight, Y/N. Sweet dreams~”

With that, he turned and walked away, disappearing into the night. You watched him go, very confused, wondering what kind of mess you had gotten yourself into without knowing it. The encounter had left you with more questions than answers, and as you headed back inside, you couldn’t shake the feeling that Endo’s words would linger in your mind long after he was gone. Just like you were thinking about another man when you were already in a relationship, sometimes you can't get rid of the past if it just keeps coming back to you.

You groaned softly as you woke up from the weird dream, feeling the remnants of confusion like a hungover. Endo, of all people, was in your dream, and yet, there had been something unsettlingly real about it. Blinking in the morning light, your eyes fell on the pitcher of the drink he’d given you yesterday. It was still there as if mocking the boundaries between your dreams and reality.

Rubbing your eyes, you reached for your phone to check the date. June 21st stared back at you from the screen, bringing with it the gentle reminder of an important milestone. A message from Kirihito popped up, as you read his sweet, heartfelt message, a smile tugged at the corners of your lips. He had planned a special dinner for the two of you tonight, a gesture that spoke volumes about how much he cared.

Happy seven months to us, my love! It's hard to believe it's already been seven months since we started this incredible journey together. Every day with you has been a blessing, filled with laughter, love, and countless memories that I cherish deeply, every moment spent with you is a moment I hold dear. You bring so much joy and light into my life, and I’m grateful for your love, kindness, and the beautiful soul that you are. You’ve made me a better person, and I can’t wait to see where our journey takes us next. Thank you for being my partner, my best friend, and my everything. I love you more than words can express. I love you <3

But as the warmth of his words enveloped you, a nagging thought wormed its way into your mind. There was something else you were supposed to remember today, something that felt like it was just out of reach. But as hard as you tried to remember, it slipped through your fingers like sand. You were looking forward to the evening with your boyfriend; it would be special, just like every moment you spent together.

As you tried to push the nagging thought aside, the memory of last night crept back in. The way Endo just appeared out of nowhere and started saying things to you that somehow made sense. You shook your head, determined to focus on the present. Kirihito’s message was a bright spot in your day, a reminder of the love and connection you shared. You set your phone aside, mentally preparing yourself for the evening ahead, and resolved to enjoy every moment of it.

After all, the present was where your heart truly lay. The past, with its fleeting dreams and unresolved questions, could wait until you were ready to confront it.

You got up, getting ready for school when you heard a knock on your bedroom door. "Come in!" you said as the door opened and your mother entered, holding a decorated pink box.

"Special delivery for you," she announced as she got closer to you and you took the box from her. It was elegantly wrapped, with a delicate ribbon tied perfectly around it. You recognized the handwriting on the attached card immediately: it was from Kirihito. Your heart skipped a beat as you carefully opened the box. Inside, nestled in soft tissue paper, was a stunning golden bracelet with the letter K elegantly engraved. It shimmered in the morning light, and a smile spread across your face.

Your mother's presence, however, quickly brought you back to reality. She stood there, a complicated expression on her face, of concern and disapproval. Sensing her impending lecture, you felt a wave of frustration rise within you.

"If you are going to say something bad about him, leave. I don't want to deal with your antics today," you snapped, the harshness of your tone surprising even yourself. You slipped the bracelet onto your wrist, admiring how it looked against your skin.

Your mother's eyes narrowed, and she took a step back, hurt flickering across her face. "You will regret talking like that to me," she said quietly, but with a firmness that made you pause. "But it's your choice if love is medicine or poison."

With that, she turned and walked out of your room, leaving you standing there, the bracelet suddenly feeling heavier than it did a moment ago.

You leave for school, the golden accessory gleaming on your wrist as a reminder of Kirihito's gift. The morning air is crisp, and you try to shake off the uneasy feeling your mother's words left behind. Your mind drifts as you walk, lost in thoughts of your boyfriend and the complicated web of emotions surrounding you.

But then you see it. That unmistakable flash of red hair in the distance, the distinctive black gakuran jacket that seems to draw all light into its inky depths, and those golden eyes that watch you from afar. Everything around you becomes silent and extinguished, as if the world itself has faded away, leaving only a singular path that leads to him.

Your breath hitches in your throat, and your steps falter as you stare. His hair, still in the same short style, catches the morning light just right. Face was still so gentle yet rough, and his eyes were still full of nothingness, but this time it seemed like the golden and warm color didn't cotranslate with his soul when his pupils dilated. He's grown, no longer the boy you remember, but the change is striking. He used to be shorter than you, but now he stands tall, almost imposing, a figure out of a memory that feels both distant and hauntingly close.

Time seems to stretch as you both stand there, locked in each other's gaze. The world around you ceases to exist; there's only him and the unspoken history that ties you together. He begins to move, each step bringing him closer, his eyes never leaving yours.

Panic surged through you. Without thinking, you turned on your heel and started running. The sound of your footsteps echoed in your ears, but the only thing you could focus on was the sensation of his gaze following you. Your surroundings became a blur as you dashed down the street, your heart pounding louder with each step.

You didn't dare look back, afraid of what you might see—or feel—if you did. The world felt like it was closing in, the path ahead narrowing as you sprinted towards the school gates, seeking refuge in the familiar bustle of your classmates and the routines of the day.

Finally, you slowed down, breathless and shaken. You glanced back over your shoulder, but there was no sign of him. Yet the feeling of his eyes on you lingered, a reminder that some things from the past have a way of catching up, no matter how fast you run.

Behind you, you sense him still coming, a relentless presence that refuses to fade. Your breath comes in ragged gasps as you push yourself harder, desperate to put distance between you and the figure from your past. The bracelet on your wrist feels like a burning brand, a reminder of the tangled emotions you can't escape.

You finally entered the school, the sight of familiar faces and the usual morning chaos offering a semblance of comfort. But the pounding of your heart and the image of his golden eyes wouldn't leave your mind. You made a beeline for the restrooms, seeking a moment of solitude to collect yourself.

Inside the quiet, sterile space, you approached the sink and turned on the tap. Cold water gushed out, and you cupped your hands to catch it, splashing your face repeatedly. The shock of the cold helped, but only slightly. As you lifted your head and looked into the mirror, your reflection stared back at you, water droplets mingling with the tears that had escaped your eyes.

Why do you feel this way? The question hung in the air, as you watched the tears and water flow down your face, leaving trails of confusion and heartache in their wake. You had everything you were supposed to want: a boyfriend who cared for you, a life that was steady and predictable. So why were you crying now?

Why does your heart beat so much for him but not for your boyfriend? The thought gnawed at you, your chest tightening with the realization. Kirihito was kind, caring, and had always been there for you. But the sight of Takiishi Chika had stirred something deep within you, something that had lain dormant for years.

Why do you love Takiishi Chika? You whispered the question to your reflection, the words feeling both foreign and familiar. He had always been a part of your life, he might have been an asshole to you but seeing him again had brought back a flood of memories, emotions you thought you had buried long ago. Takiishi Chika made you cry for the fourth time. Instead of being scared, you are more attracted to him, now.

The realization hit you like a wave, and you clutched the edge of the sink for support. The pain of the present and the echoes of the past merged into a confusing whirlwind inside you. How could you explain these feelings, even to yourself? The tears kept flowing, each drop a testament to the storm in your heart. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, but the questions persisted, their answers just didn’t exist.

As you stood there, lost in the labyrinth of your emotions, the school bell rang, jolting you back to reality. You quickly wiped your face, trying to compose yourself. The day had to go on, but the image of Chika, and the emotions he had stirred, lingered at the edges of your mind, refusing to be ignored.

The rest of the school day passed slow. You attended classes, answered questions when asked, and even smiled at your friends, but everything felt distant and detached. Your mind was elsewhere, lost in the tangled web of your emotions. Every time you glanced at your wrist, the bracelet Kirihito gave you shimmered back, reminding you of his presence, his love, and how different your feelings were now.

You barely tasted your lunch, pushing the food around your tray while your thoughts drifted back to Chika. The memories of him, the way he had looked at you that morning, kept replaying in your mind. It was a struggle to focus on anyone else.

By the time the final bell rang, signaling the end of the school day, you felt exhausted. The prospect of going home should have been a relief, but you knew it meant facing the evening ahead—a dinner with Kirihito that you now dreaded.

As you walked home, the air felt heavy, and each step took more effort than the last. When you reached your house, the usual comfort it provided felt hollow. You opened the door, expecting to be greeted by your mom and dad, but the house was eerily quiet.

You spotted a note on the living room table and picked it up, recognizing your mother's handwriting. "We'll be back at 10pm. If anything happens, call us. We love you. Mom and Dad."

The silence in the house amplified the turmoil inside you. You were completely alone, with nothing but your thoughts and the looming dinner with Kirihito to prepare for. The emptiness of the house mirrored the emptiness you felt creeping into your heart.

You made your way to your room, dropping your bag by the door. The thought of seeing Kirihito, of pretending everything was fine, felt overwhelming. You stood in front of the mirror, looking at your reflection again. The tears from the morning had dried, but the confusion and heartache remained etched on your face.

Taking a deep breath, you began to get ready for the night. You chose an outfit carefully, one that you knew Kirihito liked, but the act felt mechanical, devoid of the excitement you used to feel. As you brushed your hair and applied a light touch of makeup, you couldn't shake the thought that this dinner might be the last.

Your mind kept drifting back to Chika, to the way he had looked at you, the unspoken connection that had reignited the feelings you had tried so hard to forget. The realization that your heart was drifting further away from Kirihito and towards Chika was painful, but undeniable.

You finished getting ready and sat on your bed, staring at your reflection one last time. Tonight, you would see Kirihito, and you hoped that somehow, you would find the strength to face the truth—both for his sake and your own.

As the time for dinner drew closer, you knew you had to leave soon. The house was still empty, your parents' absence a reminder that you were on your own in this. Taking one last deep breath, you stood up and headed towards the door, hoping that whatever happened tonight would bring you the clarity you desperately needed.

You took one last glance in the mirror, ensuring that your makeup was intact and your expression was as composed as possible. It was going to be rough to break up on an anniversary, but you knew it was better to end things now than to continue living a lie. You smoothed down your bright short red dress, feeling the soft fabric beneath your fingertips. The color was bold, perhaps too bold for how you felt inside, but you wanted to put on a brave front for Kirihito.

Deciding against heels, you slipped into a pair of comfortable sneakers and a black purse to match them. They were elegant enough to match your dress but practical, much like the decision you were about to make. The bracelet on your wrist glittered in the light, and you took a deep breath, steeling yourself for what was to come.

Stepping outside, you saw Kirihito waiting for you by the gate. His face lit up with a smile as soon as he saw you. His enthusiasm and warmth were always so genuine, and it pained you to know that you were about to hurt him.

"Wow," he said, eyes widening as you approached. "You look stunning."

"Thank you," you replied, forcing a smile. His compliment meant a lot, but the weight of what you had to do made it hard to fully appreciate it. Kirihito's gaze fell on the bracelet on your wrist, and his smile grew even wider. "I'm glad you liked the bracelet. It looks beautiful on you."

You glanced at the bracelet and then back at him, the words you needed to say heavy on your tongue. "It's lovely, Kirihito. Thank you."

He reached out, taking your hand in his. "Ready to go?"

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. "Yes, let's go."

The walk to the restaurant was filled with casual conversation, Kirihito chatting animatedly about his day and plans for the future. You tried your best to engage, nodding and responding where appropriate, but your mind was elsewhere, already rehearsing the words you needed to say.

For two hours, you endured, trying to distract yourself by focusing on the person in front of you, rather than the one who had invaded your thoughts. Every time you glanced at Kirihito, you felt a pang of guilt. He deserved to know the truth, even if it would hurt him. You owed him that much.

After dinner, you walked hand in hand through the dimly lit streets, the tension between you growing with each step. You took a deep breath, knowing the moment had come.

"Kirihito, I think—" you started, but he cut you off.

"Please forgive me," he said urgently, his voice trembling. Before you could react, he dragged you into a dark alley nearby, his grip on your hand tightening.

"Kirihito, what are you—" Your words were cut off as he pinned you against the wall, his lips crashing into yours. His kisses trailed down your neck and collarbone, each touch making your heart race, but not in the way it once did.

"W-what—?" you moaned, confusion and discomfort mingling in your voice. This wasn't right. This wasn't what you had planned, and it certainly wasn't how you wanted things to go.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes dark and intense. "I just... I need to feel close to you," he whispered, his breath hot against your skin.

Your body responded instinctively, but your mind screamed in protest. You had talked about this before, about waiting until you felt ready, whether it was with him or someone else. This wasn't how you had imagined it. This wasn't what you wanted.

"Kirihito, stop," you said firmly, trying to push him away. "This isn't right."

Instead of listening, he laughed—a harsh, cruel sound that bore no resemblance to his usual sweet laughter. "Listen here," he said, his voice empty of any affection. "You are just a stupid doll with a beautiful body. Too bad you can’t do anything."

The words hit you like a physical blow. I wanted to remind you that not everything is as perfect as it seems. Panic surged through you as he grabbed your hands and kissed you forcefully, his touch making your skin crawl. You felt sick, and the realization that your mother had been right about him crashed over you with like a sudden and rapid tsunami.

Desperation fueled your actions as you struggled to break free. You kicked him between the legs, and he staggered back, a pained groan escaping his lips. But before you could escape, he pulled something from his pocket—a small, sharp object.

In a flash, he cut your wrist, and you cried out in pain. The searing sting made you gasp, but there was no time to react further. Adrenaline surged through your veins as you realized the immediate danger you were in. Summoning every ounce of strength, you tore away from him, kicking and hitting him, and ran away. The alley seemed to stretch endlessly, but you didn’t stop. The pain in your arm was sharp, but the fear of being caught was sharper.

You burst out of the dark place and into the street, your heart pounding in your chest. You glanced back only briefly to see Kirihito's shadowed figure retreating into the darkness. The world felt like it was spinning around you, and you ran as fast as you could, seeking safety out of the darkness.

Humiliated and betrayed. The sweet, loving facade Kirihito had presented was nothing more than a cruel act. All this time, he had been playing you, pretending to care just to satisfy his own desires. His words replayed in your mind: "You are just a stupid doll with a beautiful body." The disgust and hurt were overwhelming. You had been fooled into believing in a love that turned out to be nothing more than manipulation and deceit.

The pain in your wrist, while not life-threatening, was a constant, stinging reminder of how wrong things had gone. The cut hurt, but the emotional wounds were deeper, more painful. The agony of being used and belittled was a brutal blow, especially on what was supposed to be your anniversary—a day meant for celebration, now marred by violence and betrayal.

With your makeup smudged and your vision blurred by tears, you walked alone through the dark streets, feeling like a mess. The cold night air felt harsh against your skin, but the real chill was in the emptiness you felt inside. You stumbled, your heart shattered and your spirit crushed. You had no idea where you were going or what to do next.

In your daze, you collided with something—or rather, someone. You staggered back, mumbling an apology, "I-I am sorry." Your gaze was fixed on the ground, unable to meet the eyes of whoever you had bumped into.

"Who did this to you?" The voice was gentle but held a tone of underlying anger that made you shiver. You looked up slowly and were stunned to see the one man you thought about all day, Takiishi Chika standing before you. The sight of him was almost a mirage in your confused state.

His eyes were filled with nothing but pure rage and as he took in your disheveled appearance and the bloody wound on your wrist, his expression darkened. You have never seen him like that. "Y/N," he said, taking your hand in his, the movement was a bit harsh. "Who did this to you?"

You tried to speak, but your throat was tight with emotion. All the memories you had with him appeared in your head like a movie. As for him, he didn't care if you were at school or not, he didn't care when you left him three years ago, he didn't care when you ignored him, he didn't care after seeing you in tears because of another person.

Only he was allowed to make you cry.

Without waiting for an answer, Chika’s anger surged. “Come here, you bitch.” The voice was cold and determined as he turned towards the direction you had come from, storming off in the direction of Kirihito. You watched as he took off his jacket and draped it over your shoulders, a small gesture of comfort amid the chaos.

But as Takiishi moved past you, another figure emerged. Endo, with a smirk that sent a shiver down your spine, placed a hand on your arm. “I knew he would like his birthday present, though I didn’t expect him to find you in such a state,” Endo said with a twisted grin. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep you safe.”

The realization hit you like a punch to the gut—today was Takiishi’s birthday. You had forgotten in the midst of everything, and now everything felt like a cruel twist of fate. As Endo’s hand covered your eyes, you felt a surge of fear. “It’s better not to watch,” he said softly.

Confusion and fear mixed with the anger you felt. “Why is this happening? Kirihito, then you, Takiishi—What is going on?” you stuttered, your voice trembling.

Your question was swallowed by the sounds of a struggle as Takiishi and Kirihito faced off. The alleyway seemed to close in around you as Chika and Kirihito came into view. Kirihito, his demeanor now vicious and cruel, snarled at Chika.

Takiishi moved fast, faster than any beast or monster, his anger driving him. He charged at Kirihito, his movements a blur of strength and precision. Kirihito tried to block the assault, but Takiishi’s punches were relentless. Each blow landed with a sickening thud, and Kirihito struggled to keep up, his defenses crumbling under the onslaught. Chika’s fists connected with Kirihito’s jaw, sending him reeling against the wall. The force of the impact left Kirihito gasping for breath.

“Don't play with what's mine.” Takiishi growled, his voice dripping with fury. He grabbed Kirihito by the collar and slammed him against the wall, his eyes burning with a mixture of rage and determination. That boy was a monster and he was becoming one because of you.

Kirihito’s attempts to fight back were feeble compared to Takiishi’s relentless assault. He tried to push him away, but Chika’s strength was overwhelming. With a final, powerful punch, Takiishi sent Kirihito sprawling to the ground. The force of the blow left Kirihito sprawled on the pavement, barely conscious.

Breathing heavily, Takiishi stood over him, his chest heaving with the exertion of the fight. Kirihito, defeated and battered, looked up with a mixture of fear and pain.

“Touch her one more time,” Takiishi said coldly, his voice low and dangerous. ”And you are dead.”

As Kirihito tried to rise, Takiishi moved in, making it clear that he was done with him. The fight was over, and Kirihito’s attempts to get up were weak and futile. He slumped against the wall, his strength gone, as Takiishi stepped back.

Endo, still standing beside you, looked at the scene with a satisfied smirk. He removed his hand from your eyes, and you saw Takiishi standing tall, victorious, and Kirihito defeated on the ground. The sight was both a relief and a painful reminder of the turmoil you had just endured.

Chika’s gaze softened as he turned back to you, he reached out to touch your face gently, wiping away the remnants of your tears and smudged makeup. You didn’t seem fazed by the blood on his hands or the stains on his clothes. What mattered to him was the look of concern in his eyes this time they were not empty and cold, but warm and full of the sight of you.

He leaned in, his thumb gently caressing your cheek leaving a tint of your already red blush, lips brushing against yours with a tenderness that contrasted sharply with the violence. The kiss was a desperate, passionate connection—a promise of solace amidst the chaos.

His lips moved against yours, each touch a balm to the emotional wounds that had been inflicted. There was an overwhelming sense of reassurance in his kiss, a silent vow that he would be there for you no matter what. It was both a declaration and a comfort, a way of saying everything he couldn’t express in words, everything he was being regretful for.

Endo, unable to resist making a final comment, let out a dry chuckle. “I’m still here, you know,” he said, his voice laced with a hint of mockery. “Not that it matters now.”

As the kiss deepened, you felt the world slipping further away, your senses dimming. Takiishi’s touch, and his kiss, were the last things you felt before the darkness enveloped you completely. The last thing you felt was the comforting solidity of Takiishi's arms as he caught you and held you close. The stressful night had taken its toll, but as you passed out in his arms, you knew that for now, you were safe.

Takiishi cradled your limp body in his arms, lifting you effortlessly into a bridal carry. His grip was gentle, as the weight of your unconscious form seemed to worry him, fueling his resolve to get you to safety. His gaze was locked on your face, a look of protectiveness in his eyes.

As he began to walk, the night air was cool against his skin, but his focus was solely on you. Each step he took was deliberate, each movement careful to ensure your comfort. Endo, trailing behind with a satisfied smirk, observed the scene with a sense. His role in the evening's events had gone according to plan, and he was content with the unfolding of the night. He walked leisurely, his hands in his pockets, his eyes occasionally glancing towards the scene before him.

Takiishi’s thoughts were focused on you, your well-being, and getting you home safely. Endo, on the other hand, seemed to view the situation in another way, as if the events were merely a dramatic play unfolding before him.

The clock had long struck midnight when they arrived at your home. The darkness of the night was only pierced by the dim, flickering light from a lamp inside. Takiishi, still holding you carefully in his arms, as Endo knocked on the door and rang the bell, the sound echoing in the stillness of the night. The minutes ticked by slowly as they waited, the flickering lamp casting uneasy shadows across the front yard.

From inside, there was a murmured exchange, followed by the sound of shuffling footsteps. The door creaked open, revealing a disheveled figure. Your mother’s tired eyes widened in shock as she took in the sight of you, unconscious and cradled in Takiishi’s arms.

"Who the hell—" her voice cut off as she saw your limp form. Her gaze darted between you, Takiishi, and Endo, recognition dawning as she remembered the redhead from past encounters. "Y/N?" Her voice broke with worry and anger as she took in the blood on your wrist and the disheveled state you were in.

"What have you done to my daughter?" she demanded, her voice rising with both fear and rage. The sight of you in such a vulnerable state was more than she could bear.

Before she could say more, Endo stepped forward, his demeanor smooth, “We’re sorry for the way we’re bringing your daughter in,” he said, his tone deliberately calm. “But I think we’d better take care of her first and then explain the situation.”

Your mother’s eyes flitted between Endo and Takiishi, the latter still holding you with unwavering care. Her maternal instincts and concern for your health won out over her anger. Though her expression remained tight, she nodded reluctantly. “Right,” she said, her voice trembling. “First, her health. Then we’ll talk.”

She opened the door wider, allowing them to step inside. As they entered, your mother instructed, her tone sharp but her eyes filled with a mix of desperation and worry. “You come with me,” She directed Chika to follow her, clearly intending to discuss the situation in private.

Endo, with his characteristic smirk, raised an eyebrow. “And, you don’t touch anything or think about it,” he looked around the beautifully decorated living room said, his voice dripping with casual menace. “Yes, ma’am.”

Your mother’s eyes narrowed at Endo, but she didn’t have the luxury of confronting him at the moment. Her priority was to ensure your safety and to understand what had happened. She led Takiishi to a quieter part of the house, her steps brisk and purposeful.

As Takiishi followed, he glanced back once more at you, his face a mask of determined concern. The weight of the night’s events hung heavy, but a promise to take care of you. The confrontation with Kirihito had left its scars, but for now, the focus was on you.

Your mother’s eyes held a fierce determination as she led Takiishi through the dimly lit hallway. The sound of your breathing, shallow and uneven, filled the silence between them. She opened the bathroom door, the light from the ceiling casting a soft glow in the small room.

Without hesitation, she motioned for him to place you gently into the bathtub. The porcelain surface seemed stark and cold, but it was necessary for what needed to be done. As he carefully set you down, your mother began to unfasten the straps of your dress with a practiced efficiency born of both urgency and care.

Takiishi stood by, his eyes never leaving you, he could see the pain and vulnerability you were exposed to, and it weighed heavily on him. His heart ached for you, and his mind was consumed with worry.

Seeing your mother struggling slightly, he stepped forward to assist. “Are you going to watch or help?” her words were not meant to be harsh but rather a nudge to refocus the task at hand.

Your mother, though tense, appreciated the help. Takiishi removed your shoes and helped her ease off your dress. As the garment fell away, leaving you in your underwear, your mother worked quickly to assess your wounds. Her hands were steady, though her eyes revealed the depth of her concern.

“Go to your friend downstairs,” she instructed. “I’ll call you when we need to carry her.” There was an unspoken agreement in her tone—a mutual understanding that your immediate care took precedence over everything else.

Takiishi nodded, his expression serious as he stepped back. He cast one last look at you, his heart heavy with the burden. The bathroom door closed behind him, leaving your mother to tend to you.

The silence in the bathroom was filled only with the soft sounds of water and the gentle rustling of fabric as your mother carefully cleaned your wounds. Each motion was precise, driven by her need to help you heal and to make sense of the situation. “I told you that you would get burned. But I am glad you are safe.” she saw the golden bracelet and removed it, you won't need it anymore, so she will sell it, it's gold after all.

Outside, Takiishi’s steps were swift but measured as he made his way back downstairs and saw Endo fast asleep on the couch. A short while later, your mother called him back to the bathroom. “We’re ready,” she said softly, as he stepped inside, she motioned to the sink. “Wash your hands first.”

Takiishi nodded, moving quickly to comply. The water ran cold at first, then warm as he scrubbed away the remnants of the foreign blood. With clean hands, he turned back to you, now dressed in a clean shirt and pants, looking so peaceful and divine despite the hell you went through.

Gently, he lifted you into his arms again, cradling you with a tenderness that was so unnatural for him. As he carried you through the hallway to your room, your mother followed closely, her eyes never leaving you. Maybe he's not so bad, she thought. She always remembered him and saw him as some bad kid, a big troublemaker, and no matter how much your mother kept you out of trouble, it always came to you. Takiishi Chika was a big problem, but your mother knew that he was your big love.

Once in your room, Takiishi laid you down on your bed his touch lingering on your face as he leaned in, his lips mere inches from yours. It was a kiss filled with all the emotions he couldn’t put into words—a kiss that, if your friends from first grade were here, would have made them giggle and say: I told you so, he was a prince!

He didn't know what was wrong with him or why he kept wanting to kiss you, he just knew that he could still taste your lipgloss when he kissed you for the first time. He was intoxicated. The only way he could get your attention was to be aggressive, that's what he was best at.

Just as his lips were about to touch yours, a gentle cough came from the doorway. “You, go shower,” your mother said softly. “I will let you and your friend sleep for tonight, the least I can do.”

Takiishi pulled back, reluctantly tearing himself away from you. He stood up and moved past your mother, who still commanded a certain presence that made him respect her, even if he’d never admit that she scared him when he was four. “I put my husband’s clothes out for you. And thank you,” she added, her voice sincere. If you wonder where your dad was, he was probably in a deep slumber, hard to wake up. But he will surely be more than grateful when he finds out what happened.

In the bathroom, Takiishi showered quickly, washing away the blood and sweat of the night. The warm water was soothing, providing a momentary escape from the weight of the past. Once clean, he dressed in the clothes your mother had left for him—simple, comfortable, and clean a contrast to the violence and tension he had just endured.

Returning to your room, he found it quiet and dimly lit. Your mother had left some food and water on a small table, a silent gesture of care. Takiishi approached the bed, his heart softening at the sight of you, as he already let you in it. He laid down next to you, careful not to disturb your rest. His fingers played gently with your hair, the soft strands a comforting distraction. You are pretty, inside and out.

He pulled you into his arms, holding you close. He didn't care that you were so close, and he probably didn't care that he loved you. Leaving you one last kiss on your lips, before falling asleep as he already fell for you thirteen years ago. You are mine. And he was yours.

The next morning, you wake up feeling extremely tired, your body sore and aching. A sharp pain shot through your hand as you tried to move it, reminding you of the events of the previous night. Groggy and disoriented, you attempted to sit up but found yourself unable to move. Someone’s arms were wrapped around you, holding you securely in place.

Panic surged through you, and you instinctively opened your mouth to scream, but before any sound could escape, a hand gently but firmly covered your mouth.

“Shut up and sleep,” a familiar voice murmured in your ear. It was Takiishi Chika.

His voice, though commanding, had a hint of softness to it. The initial shock started to fade as you realized who it was. The memories of the previous night began to flood back—Kirihito’s betrayal, Takiishi’s rescue, and the tender care he had shown you. Your breathing steadied as you processed the situation. He was in your bed, under the same blanket, your bodies closer than ever,

“We didn’t do anything, right?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper as you gulped. The question hung in the air, filled with a mix of apprehension and hope.

Takiishi didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he rested his head gently against your shoulder, his warm breath brushing your skin. “No,” he finally said, his voice sleepy and hoarse. “We didn’t.”

Relief washed over you. It felt strange, like there was no weight pulling you back, free from the chains that were made of lies. You were ready to say those three words to the person who deserved them. “I love you, Chika,” you whispered. The way you said his name, instead of his surname or whatever nickname, felt intimate and personal. It made him feel strange. I love you. He was still learning, still getting used to you. To being soft, to feeling, to showing—to love. It was unfamiliar territory for him, but the sincerity in your voice and the trust you placed in him stirred something deep within.

As you closed your eyes, you felt his grip tighten briefly, a silent promise of protection and care, drifting back to sleep, Takiishi watched over you, his thoughts a whirlwind of emotions. He didn’t fully understand what he was feeling, but he knew that he wanted to be there for you, to protect you, to make sure you never felt that kind of pain again. And in that moment, as he held you close, he vowed to do just that. Despite his broken state. He’s still yours.

You got your answer, even if you play with fire and get burned, love is the medicine that will cure you of the poison. Takiishi Chika made you feel loved for the first time.

#KIKI ??? KIKI ??? HOW MANY TIMES DID I CALL YOUR NAME.#oh my god #this was actually a fucking read #like i’m speechless what do i even say #OKAY WAIT LETS DIGEST THIS #‘my sister always cries cuz of the boy she likes’ THAT PART MADE ME GASP #SO SAD THEYRE JUST KIDS 💔#AND THE PART IN THE HALLWAY W CHIKA ??#‘you’re beautiful’ oh my days #he’s just a silly baby boy who can’t express himself #KIRIHITO YOU FUCKING NPC #KYS BRO #also endo had me giggling #i love how he was trying to be mysterious dropping that silly foreshadowing #AND OML THE SHOW DOWN ??#‘i’m the only one allowed to hurt her’ OH !#JUST MY FUCKING TYPE BRO #CALL ME SICK BUT CHIKAAAAAA #YOU CAN HURT ME ANY DAY HABIBI #GO RIGHT AHEAD MY LOVE #oh my days kiki you actually snapped with this #like my jaw is literally in antarctica #sat down and read through this like it was english homework #oh my days #bless your soul kiki #ALSO FRIENDLY REMINDER TO EVERYINE THAT I (KINDA) SAW THIS FIRST #big flex fr #ty for this masterpiece 🙏#wind breaker #takiishi chika x reader

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artdcnaldson · 6 months ago

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NEED art and patrick to find out I'm a virgin and offer to teach me how to kiss and how to fuck and use eachother as examples and guide me and tell me I'm doing a good job and reward me for being such a good student and come back later and quiz me to see if I remember everything they taught me ugh obsessed with them individually and as a unit

This has lived rent free in my mind for literally forever. I can’t stop thinking about it, it haunts my every waking moment.

Rating: E (18+)

Warnings: Making out, Handjob lessons, guys being pervs, not a love triangle they just all want to fuck each other

A/N: unedited bc I wrote this while on the clock okay whatever. Enjoyyyy and if u want me to continue this lmk >:)

“I think it’s sweet,” Patrick said, and you could hear the amusement in his voice, practically dripping from every syllable. “The last American virgin. You belong in a museum.”

You rolled your eyes and tossed your empty Taco Bell cup at him— the ice rattled and it leaked a puddle of condensation onto the ground. “You could try not to be a dick about it.”

Art’s dorm room was hot and sticky thanks to a faulty AC, which meant the three of you lounging on the floor by his open window, sucking down soda watered down by melted ice cubes. You were down to a T-shirt and shorts, they were down to their boxers. It wasn’t lost on you that it was an intimate situation to be in— barely dressed, crammed into the shoebox of a dorm. And of course Patrick had dug his fingers in until you admitted your secret— you had made it all the way to college totally unfucked.

Patrick leaned forward, smiling the smarmy smile that tended to wear at your last nerve. “So you’re a virgin, but like,” he leaned in, so close you could feel body heat radiating from him. He dropped his voice, just above a whisper. “How much of a virgin, really? You’ve at least gone to third, right?” You glared, but shook your head.

“Second?” Art supplied, suddenly jumping in with an eager sort of curiosity.

“What? No, I don’t even know what that means,” you admitted. You sighed before you spoke up. “I’ve only ever kissed one guy and one girl, and it was during a game of spin the bottle, like, junior year.”

“How?” Patrick asked.

Your brows furrowed. “How? I spun the bottle, it landed on the person, I leaned in, put my lips against theirs, and that was it.”

Patrick sighed. “Just fucking show me how.” He looked at you expectantly, inching even closer.

With an annoyed sigh, you leaned in and pressed your lips to his— mouth closed, lips firm. When you sat back, Patrick and Art were both grinning.

“What?” You asked with a frown.

“That’s how you kiss on the playground in elementary school,” Art said, unable to contain his laughter. “C’mere.”

You crawled forward, stopping in front of the blond. His hand settled on your jaw, coaxing you forward.

His lips met yours softly, sweetly. It was easy to lose yourself in the feeling of Art’s mouth, in the gentle brushes of his lips against yours and the way he held your face so tenderly.

The feeling of his tongue pressing against the seam of your lips was strange, but you welcomed it, letting him lick into your mouth.

Each pass of his tongue against yours drew you deeper and deeper into it, into him. You moved into his lap without realizing it, kissing him with sweet, timid laps of your tongue.

Art pulled back first, his cheeks soft and pink and so pretty. “See? That’s how you’re supposed to kiss someone. That was really good.”

You laughed softly, and moved off of his lap sheepishly. Patrick leaned forward, brushing your hair back, holding your face in his hand.

“Okay, show me what Art showed you,” he instructed, then leaned in.

Kissing Patrick was different than kissing Art. He was hungrier, more insistent. His tongue pressed into your mouth like he wanted to chart every inch. You did your best to match what he offered, to kiss the way Art had just shown you, sweetly, like you really meant it.

And you did mean it. Patrick’s hands moved along your side, up until they cupped your tits through your shirt. You moaned softly into his mouth— the sound was muffled, met with a moan of his own. He gave an experimental squeeze of your tits and you whined softly. So he did it again, amused by the pretty, sweet noises you mewled out.

Patrick was getting hard, pressing against your thigh. It was a new sensation that you were hyper aware of as you unconsciously ground yourself against him.

You pulled back first, cheeks burning hot after you remembered Art was right beside you. You tucked unkempt hair behind your ear, smiled bashfully. “How was I?”

“Good,” Patrick said.

At the same time Art supplied, “So good.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Okay. Cool.”

Art was squirming, fidgeting, holding a pillow over his lap. Patrick was less covert— opting to openly adjust himself, drawing more attention to the fact that he was hard. You rolled your eyes and stole the nearest cup you could find, sipping at watered down Mountain Dew.

“Do you want me to leave?” You teased, raising an eyebrow. Your teeth dug into the plastic straw as you looked between the two of them.

Art stammered, mortified, but Patrick just smiled dizzyingly over at you. “I can teach you something else. You got to first base, so why don’t you steal second?”

You rolled your eyes, but heat flared behind your cheeks. Jesus Christ, he was such a smug asshole. “I still don’t know what that means,” you said, feeling a little embarrassed.

He grinned and mimed jerking off. Your eyes widened, and you laughed softly. “That would be weird,” you said, half-believing it. “Like, if I did jerk one of you off, that leaves one of you just watching.”

You glanced at Art, who looked just as interested as Patrick did, and your heart stammered nervously. “What if I show you how you do it on Art? Look at him— he’s the perfect little practice dummy.” Patrick reached over, pinching at Art’s cheek until the blond kicked his shin.

“Show me?” You echoed. “Like… you’re going to do it to him, and I do it to you?”

Patrick nodded, leaning into Art’s side, his smarmy smile dissolved into something needier. Art swallowed hard, lips parted slightly as he looked over at Patrick.

Patrick’s lips met his slowly, hungrily. You watched wide eyed as Patrick deepened the kiss, as Art eagerly accepted the other boy’s tongue into his mouth.

Patrick threw the pillow out of Art’s lap and sent it careening into the desk on the opposite side of the room. Your eyes widened at the sight of Art, hard and tenting his boxers. Patrick palmed him in his large hands making the blonde whimper into his mouth and buck up, seeking friction.

You swallowed hard, biting down on the straw as you watched Patrick tug at the elastic of Art’s boxers. Art lifted his hips to allow Patrick to tug them down his thighs, just enough to expose his cock to both of you.

“See,” Patrick gasped, leaning back from their kiss. Art chased his lips fruitlessly, mouth ajar, waiting for more. “He’s so fucking easy. Come feel.”

You moved closer, looking at Art for permission. When he nodded, you reached out, letting your fingertips graze the soft skin of his shaft. He exhaled a shuddery breath, eyes fluttering shut. Patrick’s hand covered yours, guiding you to squeeze around his length.

He was warm under your touch, silky soft, pulsing in your grip. Your heart hammered just at that— at the feel of him in your hand. “Feels nice, huh? Knowing how much he wants you.” You nodded, then slid your fist up, testing the waters. Art moaned softly, throbbed in your grip, aching for more. Patrick smiled like the cat who got the cream. “Hands off, just watch me.”

Patrick spat into his hand and replaced your hand with his own. The second Patrick curled his fingers around Art and started stroking him slowly, the blond was mewling for more. “Fuck,” he moaned, his forehead knocking against Patrick’s, mouth open, panting. “That’s good, feels good.”

You watched Patrick rub his thumb over Art’s tip, eyes widening as Art really whimpered for it, hips thrusting up into Patrick’s fist, chasing more of the pleasure the brunet offered.

“You get it now?” Patrick asked. You nodded quickly, and he tugged down his own boxers. “Fuck, okay— fucking show me.”

Your heart hammered with nerves, but you nodded. You held your hand out and spit into it, mimicking what Patrick had done before you wrapped your hand around his cock.

He felt bigger in your hands, but you didn’t say that. One, you worried it might piss Art off, and two, he didn’t need the ego boost. And he was slick, beading precum at his tip so each pass of your hands felt slicker and slicker.

And you couldn’t help but want to be an asshole. “You’re wet like a girl,” you said with a smirk, gliding your thumb over his tip.

And he was shameless, nodding with a sly grin. “That means I like you.” He panted, moaning softly. “Besides, I bet your fucking panties aren’t dry right now.”

Well, fuck. You tried to ignore the rush of heat in your belly that those words caused, to focus only on the glide of your hand on Patrick’s cock— up and down, copying his pace on Art, copying the ways he’d squeeze and twist his hand.

Art was moaning, rutting up into the tight sheath of Patrick’s fist, the muscles of his abdomen tensing and relaxing in unsteady jerks beneath his soft skin.

“Fuck— switch, switch,” Patrick said quickly. Art whined when Patrick stopped touching him, but it was ignored. “Want you to feel it when he comes.”

He guided your hand back onto Art’s cock and nodded for you to move. “Fuck, your hand’s so soft,” Art groaned. “Faster, faster, fuck—“ He was practically begging. You swallowed, increased the pace, squeezed him a little tighter.

Art was touching Patrick— jerking him off while you brought him closer and closer to finishing. Patrick leaned in, kissed you deeply, pulled Art in too until the three of you were a mess of tongues and lips and spit and hands.

Art came first— coating your hand in warm, slick cum, throbbing in your grip. He was panting into your and Patrick’s mouths, moaning softly as you continued to slowly work him through it. Patrick came next, once Art redoubled his effort, focused on making Patrick add to the mess covering your hands.

Patrick was loud, pornographic, messy. Art brought a cum covered hand between his lips, cleaning it up. Your eyes widened.

“Art, c’mon, you’re scandalizing her,” Patrick said, like you weren’t even there.

“Shut up,” you said, shoving him. He laughed and pulled his boxers back up. Art followed suit, and the three of you were left gross and sweating in the heat. You wiped your hand off on one of their discarded shirts and gave a sheepish smile.

They sat there, expectantly. Waiting for you to make the next call. There was a level of want in you, need, but the thought of asking for them to take care of it was mortifying. “Do you want to watch a movie or something now?”

#and when they bring Tashi in to teach her to ask for what she wants then what????#if u want me to continue this……. please god please keep sending me reqs for this au #art donaldson x reader #patrick zweig x reader #my writing #art donaldson #patrick zweig #challengers fanfic #challengers x reader

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florencemtrash · 7 months ago

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Take it Off - Azriel x Reader

Summary: You and Azriel have been friends for centuries... but what happens when he wakes up one day to find that things have changed? And how will he react when you start wearing Cassian's clothes?

Warnings: Angst. Jealous Azriel. Suggestiveness and then some (I don't know what warning to put, but it's spicier than my usual stuff is all I'll say). Cassian is an absolute menace... good for him

Author's note: Did I write this to procrastinate editing SSIB Ch 22 after watching Bridgerton S3?... yes

Is this a fucking game to you?

Cassian grinned over the lip of his cup, raising his brow in a poorly disguised expression of confusion. He’d been playing the innocent fool all throughout breakfast, seemingly oblivious to the daggers Azriel was throwing his direction every time he made you laugh.

Internally, he and Nesta were both cackling. He threw his arm over the back of his meta’s chair, plucking the cream puff she held out for him, and tossing it into his mouth with a shit-eating grin.

I’ve not the faintest idea what you’re talking about, Azriel. Although it hurts me deeply to see you so upset.

Upset was an understatement. Azriel was holding onto his glass of orange juice so tightly cracks were beginning to form beneath his fingertips.

You elbowed Azriel in the ribs, brows furrowed as you pointed your slice of toast towards his hand. “Are you ok?” You whispered low and just for his ears.

The molten anger in his eyes melted away, hazel eyes softening as he took in your concerned expression. You were the first and only one of his family members to watch him so intensely. You could unravel the meaning in every twitch of his jaw, every rhythmic tap of his fingers against his thigh, every flicker of his shadows. You knew when he was upset, when he was happy, and when he wanted to laugh but had trouble expressing it. The only thing you weren’t aware of when it came to Azriel was how unbelievably in love with you he was.

But that was his own fault.

You’d watched him fawn over Mor for centuries, watched as he practically crawled on hand and knees for any kernel of affection she was willing to throw his way. Then, when you thought he’d finally gotten over his feelings for her, he’d chased after Elain’s heels like a dog in heat. You didn’t even want to begin thinking about Gwyn and the way she’d trampled over his hopes with the simple phrase, “I love you as a friend, Azriel. Nothing more.”

No. It was entirely his fault that you’d learned to bury your own feelings for him so deep they’d become background noise — as inconsequential and ever present as the sound of your own breathing.

Still… you couldn’t help but notice the secrets swimming in his eyes, the hurt and longing there that you could only guess the origin of. Who’d hurt him this time? You wondered.

“I’m fine.” Azriel whispered, his hands ghosting over your thighs before deciding against touching you there.

You hummed, clearly unconvinced. You held your toast in between your teeth, tasting the raspberry jam explode on your tongue as you reached over and carefully peeled Azriel’s fingers off his injured glass.

His heart stuttered at the sight of your lips as they closed around your thumb, licking away crumbs and jam from your fingertips. But then his gaze dropped to your chest and his stomach soured.

As Madja’s apprentice, you’d acquired a special interest in botany — an interest that had all but shoved you into Feyre’s studio so you could learn the skills necessary to depict all manner of flora and fauna in your field journal. When you’d complained about finding paint and charcoal stains over your clothes, Cassian had jumped on the opportunity to give you his old shirts to use as painting smocks. He had to congratulate himself for the stroke of genius. After all, he and Nesta had been discussing plans on how to get Azriel to admit his feelings for months now.

Azriel did not respond well to outright suggestions or bullying. If he told Azriel to pull his head out of his ass and ask you on a proper date, the Shadowsinger would only hunker down on his preconceptions that he was unloveable, and that you were far too good for him. If he revealed to Azriel that you’d secretly loved him for decades that would only make him feel even more embarrassment and shame.

No.

Jealousy worked far better when it came to Azriel.

You looked comfortable and happy in Cassian’s clothes — a fact that escaped no one’s notice. You had the sleeves rolled up past your elbows, the rows of buttons at your back haphazardly done without wings to accommodate. You’d worn that particular shirt a half dozen times now and replaced any scent of Cassian with your own.

Still, you were wearing another male’s shirt… and it was starting to drive Azriel insane.

“I was going to get rid of these and thought you might like them for… painting.” Azriel shifted on his feet, holding out the neatly stacked pile of clothes for you.

You were laying on your stomach in bed, colored pencils and textbooks splayed out around you, but quickly righted yourself and sifted through the piles he handed you.

You held one up for a better look.

“Azriel, you were just wearing this last week.” It still smelled like him — the scent of the Illyrian mountains at night woven through the soft, cotton material. “I can’t take this. Or this. Or this!”

“I have more just like them.”

You huffed, fists balanced on your hips.

Azriel was a simple male with ample space in his wardrobe. When he wasn’t in his Illyrian leathers he wore the same three outfits on rotation, all of them nearly identical. If there was anyone who shouldn’t be giving away clothes, it was Azriel.

“I really appreciate it, Az, but I’m ok. I don’t need these. Cassian already gave me enough hand-me-downs to last two decades at least.”

A muscle in Azriel’s jaw jumped out. “Well I’m glad for that.” He was practically seething. You noticed, as you always did, but you couldn’t imagine that you were the cause of his frustrations.

“Are you sure you’re alright, Az? You’ve been acting strangely the past few days.”

“It’s nothing.”

“I doubt that.”

There were various things on his mind, chief among them you. So he took hold of the olive branch you’d extended him and laid down beside you, talking about everything and nothing at all. But one thing he avoided talking about at all costs was how the gentle scraping of your nails through his hair as he rested his head in your lap made him want to lock the door and never come out.

He wanted to bury his face beneath your sundress and then tear it to pieces. He wanted to dive under the covers and leave an assortment of marks on your skin. To hold you so close that you began to smell like one another.

You lay down beside him, leaning your head against his shoulder so he caught whiffs of your elderberry and lemon shampoo.

“You know you can tell me anything, right? That’s what friends are for.”

Right… friends. He was starting to hate that word.

“Yes… I know.”

How long do you think he’ll last?

Nesta felt Cassian’s soft laugh blow over the back of her neck as they crouched just behind the door of Feyre's painting studio.

Azriel had been undeniably irritable the last two weeks, his patience fraying like a linen skirt with the hem torn off. Cassian was still sporting a bruise on his cheek from this morning’s sparring session after one of his teasing remarks had hit a little too close to home.

Not much longer. Look at him, Nes. He’s practically vibrating.

Nesta slapped her hand over her mouth, stifling her laughter.

Azriel was restless, his wings kept opening and closing with agitation and the curve of his ears had long since turned a bright shade of pink. He’d had his shadows knock over a cup of ink earlier, sending its contents splattering over your shirt and staining the fabric beyond repair. But you’d only shrugged and said, “It’s my painting shirt. It’s meant to get dirty,” before going back to your canvas with a soft smile. The moment you’d turned your back to him, he’d silently cursed the ceiling.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. He kicked himself, too focused on your continuing conversation to think that his meddling brother and sister-in-law might be watching.

He hadn’t expected his emotions to take over so quickly, least of all with you. You’d been his best friend for over two hundred years. You were a staple in his life, more familiar to him than the childhood blanket he still had tucked away in his drawer. There was no reason why he should suddenly wake up one day and realize with a shock of surprise that he loved you and couldn’t imagine living in a world that didn’t have you in it.

It had been such a silly moment as well. You’d been getting ready for Starfall, your hair done up and a flush of color spread over your cheeks and lips. He’d come to check in on you and lost his breath when he saw you sitting at the vanity, holding up earrings to your neck to see if they matched the satin of your deep blue gown. And then you’d politely asked him to lace up your dress and he’d nearly swallowed his tongue in surprise, forcing his hands to stop shaking as they brushed against your spine. Gods he’d wanted to throw himself off a balcony that night, if only because you’d be the one tasked with healing him.

He wanted to throw himself off the balcony now. Let the ground swallow him whole so he wouldn’t have to make a fool of himself in front of you… again.

I give it another week. Nesta declared.

Cassian smirked. I know my brother. He won’t last another three days.

In the end they were both wrong.

It only took two days for Azriel to finally snap.

“Take it off.”

You swiveled around in your chair, tongue pressing against your cheek as you wondered what gave Azriel the audacity to march into your private lesson with Feyre and make such an out-of-character demand.

“What?” You asked, furrowing your brows.

Azriel stood as still as an obsidian statue in the doorway. His wings loomed over his shoulders, talons reaching towards the ceiling tense and twitching.

“Take. It. Off,” he repeated through gritted teeth. He clutched a neatly folded shirt in his hands, knuckles pale and bloodless from the tight grip. You’d been wearing Cassian’s clothes almost every day this past week and he couldn’t stand it anymore. He couldn’t stand sitting beside you at the dinner table or in the library, the laughter in his throat dying when he caught Cassian’s scent drifting off your skin.

It was maddening the way you didn’t think anything of it.

Yes, Cassian was practically a brother to you, and yes, he was a mated male but… fuck it bothered Azriel so much to think of anyone else laying claim to you. To think that one day you might actually walk around wearing another male’s clothes because you loved them. To think that that male wouldn’t be him.

He’d tried to bring up the topic with you in his own round-about way, but you’d shrugged off all his suggestions of wearing something — anything — else.

“If you want painting clothes, why don’t we go shopping this afternoon? I’m sure Feyre has recommendations. Or we could just walk around the Rainbow until something catches your eye.”

“I’m not a full time artist, and it seems silly to spend money on clothes you intend to ruin.”

“Why don’t you ask Feyre or Mor for hand-me-downs then? They’ll fit you better and the sleeves won’t drag so much.”

“I like it when my clothes are loose.”

Feyre glanced between the two of you, namely the flare of Azriel’s nostrils and the way he ground his teeth so intently you worried he’d crack a tooth.

“I’m… going to leave now.”

“Wait—Feyre!”

The High Lady kissed your cheek, a knowing look in her eyes, before scurrying out the door.

Don’t scowl so much, Az, you’re making her nervous. She chirped to the Shadowsinger before slipping down the hallway and disappearing.

She made it all of ten feet down the hall before crowing, “It’s happening!” to the others.

It’s happening?! Mor leapt out from her bedroom, a robe hastily tied around her waist and soap suds clinging to her hair. “Fey—” she hissed.

Feyre pressed a finger up to her lips, cutting her off. They’re in the art studio now.

I fucking KNEW IT! Mor squealed in delight, stomping her feet soundlessly into the floorboards as she allowed Feyre to grab her wrist and drag her forward.

I won the bet, Nes.

You didn’t win, we both lost!

Semantics.

Why you bas—

Feyre, Rhys, Mor, Cassian, and Nesta streamed into the foyer. There was an air vent here that led directly to the art studio two floors above them and painted over so expertly it may as well have been part of the molding. The sounds traveling through it were muffled by echos and distance, but nothing that fae hearing and magic couldn’t overcome.

“That’s it!” The chair you’d been sitting in skittered back with a squeak. “What is your problem, Azriel? You’ve been agitated for weeks now. You won’t tell me, or any of the others, what’s wrong and every time Cassian so much as glances in your direction you look like you want to tear his throat out!”

Azriel said nothing as you stomped forward and dragged him into the room, slamming the door shut behind him. Whiskey eyes flickered down to your hand — the hand you currently had closed around his wrist — and he shuddered.

You didn’t even want to begin to unpack the hidden meaning of that response as you brought him to the center of the room and let go.

He dropped the shirt on the nearby desk, hands lowering to the hem of your painting smock with a grimace.

“I need you to take this off.” He repeated with a frown.

“What kind of person marches into a room and demands that their friend take off their shirt?”

He flinched at that word — friend.

“Az!” Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and his anger. “What is going on with you?!”

“It’s nothing.” He growled out, but he tugged at the hem like its very existence was a personal offense.

“Clearly it’s not nothing.”

“Can you just take off your shirt and put this one on?”

You shoved him away. It wasn’t even like he was asking you to get naked, you both knew you were wearing something beneath this, but it was the way he was asking that grated on your nerves — like what he was requesting was perfectly normal and you were the ridiculous one for not listening.

“No.” You folded your arms over your chest with a huff. You were just being stubborn now, but you didn’t care.

His eyes turned tortured and he clasped his hands together in front of you. “Please?” He begged.

“No! Not until you tell me what’s going on and why you’re acting this way!”

“I don’t want to have this discussion while you’re standing there smelling like another male!”

That was… not what you were expecting.

You gaped at him, unsure whether to howl with laughter, or slap him across the face.

“That’s what this is about? You’re upset because I’m wearing Cassian’s clothes?” You gagged at the mere thought of what Azriel was insinuating.

“Well that was a little hurtful.” Cassian mumbled.

Mor slapped the back of his head. “Shhhhh. I’m trying to listen.”

Azriel shifted on his feet, color beginning to spread high on his cheekbones. “It’s not about Cassian… not really…”

You tapped your foot on the ground, waiting for him to continue. Azriel felt naked. Stripped back like one of your insect specimens lit up beneath a microscope. Your eyes raked over his every movement. Even his shadows, usually so attention-seeking, cowered behind their master’s back whispering to one another about how Azriel might dig himself out of his own grave.

“Well?” You snapped.

Azriel shrank back, “I… I like you, Y/n.”

You rolled your eyes, “I know, that’s why we’re friends. I like you too.”

“No. Not… not like that.” Azriel groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Oh I’m fucking this up so badly it’s not even funny anymore.”

“I don’t even know what it is you’re fucking up. I—”

“I love you, ok?” He said in a burst of energy. “I love you and not in the way that friends are meant to love one another and Cassian’s an idiot and I’m a jealous bastard and I… I…”

You stared back dumbly. “You can’t mean that.”

Azriel’s face fell. “And why not?”

“Because I have been here for decades, centuries,” you jabbed his chest with a finger, “And you never once looked at me that way. Never once considered me as anything more than a friend. You’re upset because I’ve been wearing Cassian’s clothes the last few weeks? Well guess what, Az, I’ve watched you walk in and out of those doors for years with your poorly concealed hickies and that lovesick look on your face, and I never made it your problem or anyone else’s.”

“Well I want you to!” He shouted. It was the first and only time you could remember him raising his voice. “I want you to make it my problem, Y/n. I want you to tell me that you love me and I want you to shout at me for all the stupid decisions I’ve made because I’m yours. I’m yours to shout at. I’m yours to get angry with. I’m yours to love if you’ll still have me and…” Azriel gasped for breath, chest heaving as he came face to face with the fact that he’d just said those words out loud. Those words that he’d kept close to his chest with the rest of his secrets. Those words that proved just how completely at your mercy he was.

Please say you’ll still have me. His eyes begged.

When you didn’t move or say anything, he felt a piece of his heart wither away. He lowered his eyes, suddenly interested in a speckle of red paint that had smeared under his boot, “Forgive me. I’m… I’m sorry I didn’t… I shouldn’t have—”

“You’re a fucking idiot, Azriel.” You muttered breathlessly.

Then you flung yourself into his arms and crashed your lips into his.

Kissing Azriel was better than you could have ever imagined. The fantasies you’d constructed late in the night when you were lonely blew apart like paper houses, crumbling in the face of reality. His mouth fumbled for purchase against your lips before slotting into place with a strangled moan. He lifted you in the air and you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist, tightening them until you could feel him harden between your legs.

His tongue flitted over your lips tasting like oranges and magic.

But his hands.

His hands.

You couldn’t get enough of them as they slid up and down your back, squeezing and pressing into your skin until he’d memorized the curve of your spine. You wove your fingers in his hair, tilting his head so you could stare into his hazel eyes before diving in for another taste.

He walked you back to the desk, shadows flinging the tins of charcoal and pastel pencils off the furniture so you could perch there instead. Then he surged forward, pressing his hips into the space between your legs so he could feel the heat that gathered there. It sent shivers down his spine.

This… this was everything he’d ever wanted. You were everything he’d ever wanted. Not some unapproachable female he admired from afar but hardly knew, but someone who’d seen every inch of his soul and never flinched. Someone who’d nestled into the hidden corners of his heart and grown there like a willow tree.

You moved your hands over the wide expanse of his back, digging your nails in to feel every twitch of muscle, every shudder, as he latched onto the side of your neck and slid his tongue over the sensitive skin there.

He smelled like mountain rain. Like fresh wind and petrichor and sea salt.

You smelled like lemons and safety. Like maple leaves and lavender and… Cassian.

Because you were still wearing his gods-damned shirt.

Azriel felt his blood boil, and an instinctual rage took over as he growled low in his throat, bunched the fabric of Cassian’s shirt in his hands, and tore it in two.

You pulled away from him at the sound of ripping fabric, but kept your grip on his solid shoulders as air blew across your skin.

Azriel’s pupils were blown wide, his lips pink and raw as he leaned his forehead against yours in a daze. You continued to breathe each other’s air like you were drowning. He seemed just as in disbelief as you, if not more.

“Azriel…” You whispered, chest heaving.

He looked at you with half-lidded eyes full of heat. “... yes, Y/n?” He asked breathlessly.

“I think you ripped through my dress… and my bra as well…”

“Oh…” He fingered the ruined fabric that fell loose around your shoulders and realized that your back was indeed on full display. The straps of your bra slipped down and the mangled buttons of your sundress clung to their loops by weak threads. “Oh…oh gods.”

One hand flew up to your chest to keep the fabric in place while the other slapped over your mouth, suffocating the laughter that threatened to burst forth.

Azriel’s ears and cheeks turned brighter than the sun as he slowly lowered you down to your feet, fumbling over apologies like he hadn’t been shoving his tongue down your throat mere seconds ago.

“I’m so sorry—”

“Azriel, it’s ok.”

“No, I was being an ass and now I’ve ruined your dress and—”

“You can buy me more.”

Azriel’s shoulder dropped. “I can?” “You can.”

He shook his head very seriously. “Yes, yes you’re right, I—” Azriel had always been the beautiful one — the one that drew eyes when he walked into a room. The one that had females and males falling out of their seats for a proper look at his elegant features. But right now he looked so helpless, so flustered and unsure of himself that you finally lost it.

Champagne bubble laughs slipped out of your mouth, light and airy, and sent a shock of warmth through Azriel’s chest. It was infectious the way the skin stretched over your cheeks. The light in your eyes couldn’t be contained no matter how hard you tried.

He couldn’t help himself.

He started laughing too.

What began as one of his reserved chuckles grew into uncontrollable peals of laughter that echoed throughout the studio and had you clutching onto the desk for support.

Azriel doubled over, one hand holding the stitch in his side together as you howled.

“Oh gods. I can’t—” You hiccuped. “I-I-I can’t breathe.”

Soon you were both kneeling on the ground, clutching each other’s arms for some semblance of stability. You gasped for breath, wiping away tears from the corners of your eyes.

Azriel captured one of your hands, weaving his fingers through yours before bringing your wrist to his lips for a soft, reverent kiss. You thought you’d experienced enough emotions for today ranging from frustration to anger to a joy you couldn’t begin to put into words. But you were certain your heart could handle one more shift in the atmosphere.

Wordlessly you tugged off Cassian’s shirt, dropping it to the side where shadows caught hold of the cursed fabric and quickly tossed it into the fireplace. The flames crackled with triumph, eating away at the shirt with a vengeance.

“A little dramatic, don’t you think?”

“We can agree to disagree.” Azriel murmured, his eyes growing dark and heavy. His gaze drifted down to the soft skin now exposed from your tattered dress, the thin straps clinging to your arms, the gentle swell of your breasts as you breathed heavily.

His fingers danced over the straps in silent permission, eyes searching yours for any hint of hesitation. But you were open and wanting and desperate for his touch. You crawled into his lap and a faint nod was all he needed before the pale blue fabric of your dress fell down and bunched about your waist. The bra followed, and then you were sitting there naked from the waist up, feeling the heat grow between your bodies as Azriel looked at you with pure adoration in his eyes.

“Am I dreaming, Y/n?” He whispered, rubbing circles into your hip bones.

You smiled softly, “Have you dreamed of me before?”

“Yes. Many times.” He kissed your chest, slowly dragging his hands down your ribs as you shivered and fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, and then his belt buckle. “But we never got this far.”

“Hmmmm, I think we could go a little further.”

“NOT IN MY STUDIO!” Feyre’s voice echoed oddly through the room, sounding muffled and far away.

Azriel’s wings flared out, hiding you from view as you yelped and pressed your chest against his. Your cheeks burned with embarrassment about being found in such a compromising position. But the door was closed! And so were the windows!

His shadows finally found the culprit in the air vent.

“Godsdamnit—HAVE YOU BEEN LISTENING THE ENTIRE TIME?!” Azriel shouted.

A moment passed before Feyre answered, “... No,” in a much softer tone.

“We missed part of the beginning,” Cassian chimed in.

Azriel groaned, dropping his forehead against your shoulder as you were stunned into silence. He muttered something beneath his breath that sounded oddly similar to, “I swear I’m going to kill him one day.”

Azriel helped you to your feet and finally, you put on his shirt.

“Are you happy now?” You teased, arms dropping to your sides.

The corner of his lip twitched upwards. You looked… very good in his clothes with the sleeves rolled up and a sliver of your dress (now skirt) peeking out from beneath.

He looked towards the vent, then wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you close so he could whisper, “I would be happier if I saw my shirt and that dress of yours on the floor of my bedroom.”

His hand slid up your skirt, squeezing the back of your thighs in a way that had you stiffening.

All at once he was second-guessing himself. Maybe he’d taken things too far. Maybe the lust-filled haze had cleared and you didn’t want him anymore.

You swallowed and wrapped your hand around his wrist, gently guiding his fingers to your core. You let him know just how much you wanted this.

A roar of blood sounded in the Shadowsinger’s ears.

“I think that sounds like a very good plan.” You murmured in agreement and his eyes turned black as night.

He stole another long kiss before scooping you into his arms.

“Az, where are we going?” You giggled into the curve of his throat as he flew down the hallway and stairs. “We just passed your bedroom.”

“We’re not going to my bedroom.”

“Well we missed my bedroom too.”

He didn’t respond.

Azriel skidded to a stop at the top of the staircase, already well aware that his family had gathered at the bottom and were waiting to bombard him with questions.

Azriel smirked at you, leaned down, and kissed your cheek. “When I take you to bed properly, it won’t be with our nosey family members in the house.” He ran his tongue across the line of your jaw all the way to your earlobe and whispered, “I want any noises you make to be for me, and me alone.”

“You are certainly a man of poetry, Az.”

He smiled. “Only for you.”

“Well, well, well if it isn’t the two love—” Shadows flew into his mouth, muffling his words. “HEH! Azz! Whazthf—”

“I’ll see you in a week.” He said to no one in particular, his shadows opening the door of the River House.

“Where are you going?” Mor asked, her eyes zeroing in on the bright red mark blossoming on your neck. What the fuck? She mouthed at you, giving you two thumbs up as Azriel crossed the doorway with you in his arms.

“None of your business. I’ll see you in a week.” Then he looked down at you, eyes growing soft. “We’ll see you in a week,” he corrected himself.

Your stomach bottomed out, heat flowing through your body as you heard him make such a declaration in front of... well everyone. You couldn't wait to see where he would take you and where he would take you.

"Ready?" Azriel asked, a sultry smile growing on his face.

"Ready."

You wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your face in the hollow of his throat as he took off into the air.

#azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x you #azriel x reader angst

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