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primehyuck · 1 year ago

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MOVES

aka good things take time (the happy ending version)

word count: 11.3k

i first started writing this because i’ve been listening to the song Moves by Suki Waterhouse on repeat, but it became much more than that

contents: long time best friend!haechan, slice of life, pining and yearning, chronological time jumps (mostly college and young adulthood), other members mentioned (Mark and Jeno!roommates), kissing, fluff, wet dreams, a good example of two people who seriously need to communicate, face sitting, morning sex, lots of pet names

“Do you think we’ll be friends for a long time?” Haechan’s soft voice distracts your attempt to focus on a blade of the blurry ceiling fan, unable to keep you cool despite it spinning so fast you think it might fly away.

“How do you mean?” the bed squeaks when Haechan sits up to lean over you.

“Growing up, I feel like my parents didn’t have many friends aside from each other. My mom told me that it’s because when you get older your priorities change and you realize who adds value to your life, and that’s who you decide to keep.” His eyes are glowing with sincerity, body blocking the flow of air from touching you at all “so when we’re older, and married with kids and other priorities, and we maybe live in different cities, do you think we’ll still be friends?”

You stare at him for a moment before shoving his face out of the way of the fans air stream.

“Definitely,” your confidence soothes him enough that he lays back down “if I ever muster up the creativity to come up with a reason to stop being your friend, you have to swear you’ll tell me how stupid I’m being, swear to me.” you smack his chest before he can even answer.

“I swear!” He smiles to himself, staring up at the ceiling with you, rubbing his hand over the warm spot where your hand made contact, melting into the mattress.

———

Growing up people always joked that Haechan and you would fall in love, that it was inevitable, practical even. Because, if you fall in love with your best friend you’ve already conquered one of the highest mountains - finding someone that you like, and who likes you back.

You had both seen the other in a relationship, an inevitability when you’ve been friends with someone since puberty. He’d cheered you on when you had your first kiss during a game of spin the bottle in high school, forced you to come out on double dates with him and a friend of his you didn’t even like just so he could take someone else out, and freshman year of college he’d even introduced you to the person you'd lost your virginity to.

The only time he cockblocked you was when you tried to get to know any of his friends more than platonically, so eventually you gave up and settled for real friendship with all of them.

“Trust me, you don’t want to touch him with a six foot pole.” He’d said freshman year when you had mentioned your attraction to his roommate, Mark.

“He seems so nice, though.” you pouted

“He is nice, but that doesn’t mean you want to be with him.”

“How would you know what I want?” you scoffed, and he looked at you like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Has the wind beneath my wings ever led you into the wrong arms?” He was highly animated, offended that you would question his judgment.

By the start of sophomore year it was obvious to everyone else that you were strictly off limits. All of his friends had decided unanimously that even if you did attempt anything with them they had no choice but to shut you down. The cold stare Haechan unknowingly serves them from across the room whenever they got too close was enough to keep them away. None of the boys ever minded the boundaries with you, there always was an ease in your friendship since they all knew it could never go further, but that didn’t mean they never thought about the possibility.

One night, at the end of junior year, Haechan is nowhere to be found at his own party and you graciously accept Jeno’s invitation upstairs when you complain of a headache, “we can play Mario Kart, and it won’t be all competitive like when Haechan plays with us.”

It starts like normal, and you're having fun when you realize that your tipsy brain can’t focus on the screen and the conversation simultaneously, opting for the latter as you relax into Jeno’s pillows. You don’t even notice him inching closer to you until his nose touches yours, tugging at a strand of your hair. This is the first time any of Haechan’s friends have shown interest in you, you’d never even been on the receiving end of a flirtatious stare from across the beer pong table, so you take the reins.

Kissing Jeno feels a little bit like winning, like you’ve finally made it past the invisible forcefield Haechan had put up around his friends. The kiss is lazy and hot, Jeno props himself up on one elbow and presses your back into the mattress with his chest. Your eager fingers run beneath his shirt, his abs tightening when you trail them over his sides. Your spine tingles when he groans into your mouth, the hand on your cheek moving to grip your knee and hike your leg over his hip. His hand holds strong around your thigh, and you sigh when he grinds into you.

Jeno pulls away too soon, stopping your hands reaching for the hem of his shirt with a pained sigh as he drops your leg to roll onto his back, flinging an arm over his eyes.

“Fuck, I should not be doing this with you.”

“Why, you don’t want to?” You want to curl into yourself, sitting up to stare down at his shaking head.

“No, definitely not that.” he pulls his arm away to meet your eyes, the alcohol in his veins making him brave enough to admit “Haechan would be pissed.”

“Haechan?” you question “did he say something to you?” Jeno groans, sitting up and hooking his elbows around his knees, staring at the mattress between his legs.

“No, no. He’s never actually said anything,” he knows he’s revealing too much, but he also knows he’s gone too far to stop “we just know he would never want us to cross that line with you.”

“We?” you can feel embarrassment bubbling in your chest at the idea of all of your friends talking about this.

“Yeah, you know, all the guys. We figured you were just off limits, I don’t know.” he grimaces, looking up at you with apologetic eyes when you don’t respond. You huff and climb off the bed, feeling rejected in more ways than one.

You’d crossed a boundary tonight, but Jeno was still a close friend, someone you’d spent a lot of time with since he met Haechan freshman year. He still knows you, so he grabs your wrist before you can leave, shifting to sit on the edge of the bed so he can stand you between his legs.

“I’m sorry, don’t be mad.” He envelops your hands in his and brings them to his chest.

“I’m not mad,” you mumble, avoiding his apologetic gaze “I’m embarrassed that all of my friends agreed not to touch me.”

“Did you really think not a single one of us was ever interested in you?” you shrug and he squeezes your hands tighter, heart tugging in his chest.

“When people don’t act interested, that’s usually a safe assumption.” you pout and Jeno’s laugh buzzes through your linked fingers "I gave up on all of you halfway through freshman year."

“Well, some of us are better actors than I remember.”

He has you laughing by the time you leave his room, sealing the night with one more self indulgent kiss and a pinky swear to never tell Haechan about what happened.

———

Halfway through the first semester of senior year Haechan bangs angrily on his roommates door before swinging it open and Jeno is genuinely shocked that it's taken this long for the gossip to hit his ears. The rest of the boys had clocked Jeno the next morning for being ‘too happy’ and he had to make them all swear not to tell, wanting to protect your pride and his own friendship with Haechan.

"You slut!" Haechan points an accusatory finger in Jeno's direction, dragging his feet slowly toward him until he's so close Jeno has to bat his hand out of his face.

"What are you talking about?"

"Oh, you know exactly what I'm talking about." Haechan's voice is low and angry, something new and unpleasant sparking in his gut at the idea of Jeno kissing you, touching you.

"No, I don't." Jeno can’t help but antagonize. Pleased with the perfect opportunity to trick Haechan into saying out loud what everyone else seems to have known for years.

"You kissed my best friend!" He shrieks, tossing his hands up in the air dramatically.

"So what, she's not allowed to kiss people?" Haechan squints his eyes at Jeno’s response, scrunching his nose in annoyance “how did you even find out?”

"She can kiss whoever she wants, it's all of you that aren't allowed to kiss her." Haechan waves his hand wildly toward the bedroom door, alluding to the large group of boys living in the house “you know Mark can’t keep a secret, he’s been bursting at the seams for months. All I had to do was ask.”

"It happened forever ago dude, why are you so pissed? You've never even given us a chance to get close to her in that way, maybe one of us could really like her." Jeno reasons, tugging at Haechan's strings, watching the gears in his brain turn as he tries to come up with a real argument.

"She has a boyfriend," Haechan finally says with a frown at the thought of the guy he’d only recently met, he doesn’t like him at all. From his stupid hair to the shoes he wears, there’s not a thing about your new boyfriend that Haechan thinks is good enough for you. He collapses into the gaming chair across from where Jeno is relaxed on the couch, not having moved at all since Haechan stormed in "plus, I think any of you would know by now, you've all known her for four years."

"I think, that it can take a lot longer than four years to realize how much you like someone." Jeno bites, "how long have you known her?"

"Since middle school." He picks at the hole in the knee of his black jeans, realizing what Jeno is alluding to, defensive exterior quickly crumbling.

"Right, I think that if you're blind enough then it can take ten years to realize how much you like someone."

"Well, maybe ten years is too long and that person missed their chance." Haechan turns his head to stare out the window, anxiously spinning the chair side to side.

"You know I'm talking about you, right?"

"God, yes, I know you're talking about me." Haechan glares at his friend, fidgeting stopping abruptly "and I know I've been a complete idiot about it, but like I said, I’m out of time."

———

Haechan can’t stop his free hand from clenching and unclenching as you sob into your pillow, his less angry hand rubbing over your back.

“He told me he saw us moving in together after graduation,” your voice shakes “how do you look someone in the eyes and say shit like that and then sleep with someone else?”

“I don’t know,” Haechan replies earnestly, feeling as helpful as flip flops in the snow from where he sits on the edge of your mattress “I’m so sorry.”

He takes your silence as an invitation, lying on his stomach, face turned toward you, fingers still drawing soothing circles over your shoulder blades. He waits patiently for you to calm down, unease swarming his stomach knowing that even after years of friendship he can’t truly comfort you in this moment.

“I’m so embarrassed.” you sniffle, smearing your face over your pillow before turning to look at him. He holds his breath, waiting for you to collect yourself enough to explain.

“I’m so gullible, he even told me he’s cheated in the past and for whatever reason I believed that he’d treat me differently, that he’d love me enough.” Haechan has to count to five in his head to stay calm before he speaks.

“You have no reason to be embarrassed. The most natural thing you can do is believe someone when they say they love you.” He murmurs, turning onto his side so he can pull you into a hug. When you curl into his body to bury your face in his chest he can only pray you can’t hear his heart pound against his ribs.

“He’s an idiot, and he didn’t deserve any of the love you gave him. I promise, you’re so much better off.”

Haechan hates the piece of himself that’s relieved your relationship has ended. The same piece that hated your ex the minute he met him, that feels heavy in your absence whenever you’re busy with anyone who isn’t him. The piece that crosses it’s fingers whenever you get this close in hopes that you’ll be the first one to cross the line, to finally do what he’s thought about doing for the last few months since he realized exactly how he felt about you.

“Thank you,” you mumble into his tear dampened shirt, lifting your leg over his to cuddle in even closer “thanks for always being my friend, even when I do dumb shit, like let boys be mean to me.”

He nuzzles his nose into your scalp, eyes fluttering shut at the smell of your shampoo “Thanks for letting me. Besides, even Beyoncé got cheated on, so you clearly aren’t that dumb.” the crowd in his brain cheers when you giggle into his chest.

“You’re so annoying.” He holds you even tighter.

———

“I can’t believe it,” your jaw drops and Haechan whips his head up nervously to look at you from across the couch

“What happened?”

“I got it, I got the job!” you shove his feet off your lap to jump up excitedly, bouncing on your toes as you read the email out loud. Haechan’s ears are ringing so loud he barely catches the first half, trying to shake off the dazed look he’s sure appears on his face.

“We were extremely impressed with your resume and even more so with the impression you left on the board during your interview, blah blah blah, excited to offer you this position, blah blah blah, and a relocation bonus to join us in in our new office!” the pitch of your voice rises a few octaves as you finish reading.

Haechan stares at you from his spot on the couch, eyes wide with shock that you’re too excited to notice, skimming your screen as you re-read the details in your offer letter.

His entire body is buzzing, torn between feeling excited at your accomplishment and sorry for himself.

He had a plan, a really good one, he thought. After your breakup you’d made it painfully clear that you wanted to be single for a while, and he knew if he could just be patient, it would all be worth it. So Haechan decided to bottle his feelings up, sitting patiently by your side where he had been for so many years, waiting for you to heal and hoping that when you were finally ready to start dating again he’d have mustered up the courage to make the first move.

“Lee Donghyuck, are you even listening to me!?” you drop your phone to pull him up off the couch, bouncing up and down with your fingers intertwined “I’m moving to my dream city, to start my dream job.” you reiterate and he snaps out of it, sweeping the imaginary shards of glass that his plan had been made out of under the rug and pulling you into a hug.

“That’s amazing, I’m so proud of you.”

“Your enthusiasm is overwhelming.” You deadpan, but squeeze him back just as tight.

“I’m sorry, I’m going to miss you is all.” He admits, "I'd follow you if my job didn't keep me here."

“I’ll make sure you don’t miss me too much, don’t worry.” you plant your cheek on his chest, surprised at the relief you feel in hearing him say it first.

———

This feeling was still a little unfamiliar, nerves. Haechan had never made you nervous growing up; excited, annoyed, passionate maybe, but never nervous.

The nerves began last summer, when he’d come out to visit you for the first time to celebrate his birthday. It was the longest you’d gone without seeing each other since you’d met, almost ten full months and the anticipation was palpable.

When he steps through the airport doors you think that it’s the relief of finally being near him again that knocks the wind out of you. Running into his open arms and being squeezed so tightly in them that you tap his shoulder to let you breathe. Ruffling his hair when he steps back and ignoring the fact that he had grown so much since you’d seen him last.

But as the night goes on, the slight changes to the person you have memorized become glaringly obvious. The way his cheeks have lost some of their cushion, revealing a sharp jaw and pointed cheekbones. The natural wave in his once unruly hair now falling perfectly over his brow bone, he had dyed it a little darker which made his tan skin glow even in dim lighting. Even his smell seemed to draw you into a trance, a much more expensive version of the Haechan you know.

“You know, that group of girls has been staring over at you since we walked in.” You raise your eyebrows playfully, pointing your glass toward the pretty gaggle that keeps walking past the booth you and Haechan occupy.

He doesn’t break eye contact with you before shrugging, “I didn’t come here to see them, I came to see you.” he smiles, punctuating his thought by reaching over the table and tapping your nose.

“I know, I know,” you laugh, batting him away “It never hurts to know when people are staring, though”

His face is unreadable as he rests his arm lazily up over the bench of the booth, body sinking into the seat while he lifts his glass to swirl his drink, biting the words that have been resting on the tip of his tongue the entire trip, and at the end of every phone call since you started your new job.

“How are you, seriously.” You push. In the time since you moved he’d started and ended a relationship with a girl that you’d never met. Your new job kept you so busy that you hadn’t even learned about the breakup until a week later, when you finally had the time to call him back. The guilt of your absence weighs you down, resenting your inability to be there for him the way he had been for you in the past.

“I’m over it, seriously.” You know he’s telling the truth, but it’s in your nature to pry.

“You never really talked about, why, you know.”

“Do I have to?”

“No, I’m sorry, I just feel so behind on your life.” You sigh and push your empty glass to the side, swirling your finger in the ring of cold water it leaves behind.

“It’s okay, really. You’ve been busy, I understand.” He reaches across the table to stop your anxious fingers “I didn’t love her the way I knew I should, that’s all. It’s a good thing that it ended, and I’m happy that it did.”

“That’s all that matters, then.” and he’s grateful that you drop the subject.

You eventually get back to your apartment, both giggly and flush from the alcohol still fogging your brain despite the long walk you'd hoped would lessen it. Haechan holds your hand the whole way back, even when he stops suddenly to pet a dog, dragging you down to the ground with him. He can’t help himself, grateful that at this point you'd touched one another in every way other than what he dreams about most, and you seem oblivious to his need to be so close to you.

As you get ready for bed he lets himself watch you undress facing the wall away from him, unaware of his gaze burning into your backside and the way his fingers tingle at the thought of pulling at the meat of your hips. He scolds his heart for thudding so loud when you squeeze your eyes into a smile at his reflection standing next to yours at the sink while you brush your teeth, the domestication of your friendship that he used to appreciate now suffocating him.

You put on a movie and invite him to rest his head on the pillow in your lap, wishing he could bury his nose into the skin of your thighs beneath it. Halfway through the movie he has to sit up to hide the way his cock is hardening at the feeling of your nails combing through his hair and down his shoulder, occasionally thrumming over his chest. He pulls a blanket off the back of the couch and tosses it over his legs as casually as possible, pulling you into his side by your shoulder, the other arm stretched across the back of the couch.

"Are you cold for the first time in your life?" Haechan never wants to use a blanket, but you’re grateful for the position giving you access to bury your face into his chest, gripping his shirt.

"No, just want to be warmer." he presses a blushing cheek onto the top of your head, trying to think of anything except the way your hair smells, or the feeling of the side of your breast brushing his wrist through your shirt. Haechan feels eighteen again and like he's discovering the connection between romantic and sexual feelings for the first time in his life. He tries to match his breathing to yours, holding his breath whenever you shift in his hold and reconnecting his stomach with your back as quickly as possible. The temptation to pour his heart out is overwhelming, but when he feels your body completely relax into his and your breathing slow down, the words become trapped in his throat, so he lets you sleep.

Haechan had never experienced a shorter 48 hours than that weekend he spent following you around the city you now call home.

You’re shining in your new space, and he happily trails behind you to all the places you’ve discovered in the almost year since you moved. His stomach does somersaults whenever you point something out that reminds you of him.

“I’ve been waiting to come here until you could come with me!” you're so excited to take him to the video game themed coffee shop that your co-workers had recommended “I thought about coming to see if it was even worth it, but I only want to play these kinds of games with you anyway.”

Sometimes he can forget about his feelings for you, when things are just as they always have been. You talk with and touch him the same, laugh at his jokes the same. He thinks that if he were to ever say out loud what he’s been feeling, that the two of you would still be the same but with a little More, ‘you guys’ but on steroids. So when everything is normal he can pretend like it‘a not. He can act like the More is there when you hold his hand to drag him around to the different machines, play games he wants to play even if you don’t want to, you even wipe ice cream off of his chin when his cone starts to melt because he’s talking too much to eat and he wonders why it took him so long to see it this way, and if you could too.

He keeps thinking the moment will come, when he’ll know spilling his guts to you is the right thing to do. But between you gushing over how much you love your new life and your willingness to point out every girl who has blinked at him this weekend, he completely loses the steam he’d gained during his flight, regardless of how his imagination runs wild with the More.

He curses himself the entire weekend for his lack of bravery, hoping that keeping his feelings in is the right decision. After his recent relationship crashed and burned because of his feelings for you he thought he had no choice but to come clean. But watching you, being with you in your new life makes him realize that his role in it hasn’t changed even if his feelings for you have.

The lump in his throat as he stands outside the departure doors is more than just sadness at the thought of leaving you, it’s the realization that he has to let the romantic idea of you go.

“How come you never cry when we have to leave each other,” you hiccup into his chest, and he coos your name lovingly.

“Don’t worry, you know I save my tears for the plane to make everyone in my row uncomfortable.” He knows that you hate that he’s making you laugh at a time like this, pulling away so you can swat his chest and he raises his hands in surrender.

“When will we be able to see each other again?”

“As soon as possible.” He nods reassuringly, wiping your tears with his thumb, heart pounding as he stares into your watering eyes “hey, you’re my best friend in the world, you annoy me every day, and I love you.”

“Whatever, I love you too.” you laugh, but his heart speeds up at the words that you’ve said to him thousands of times. You sweep your arms around him one last time before pushing him toward the airport doors “you better go, if you miss your flight I can’t guarantee I’ll let you leave at all.”

“Don’t tempt me.” He walks backwards slowly, staring at you with a ‘kicked puppy’ kind of face he mastered years ago and you wave enthusiastically, blowing loud kisses into the air that he catches and clutches to his heart.

“This is it,” he thinks, “this has to be it.”

———

Haechan is dreaming about you. He has been nightly ever since he got back from his birthday weekend. He’s grateful the dreams have variety, since some of them overwhelm him to the point of waking up and not being able to fall back asleep.

Sometimes, you’re young again and whenever anyone says “You know, it’s just a matter of time until one of you has a crush on the other.” you both theatrically gag, laughing at each other as if it were the most insane idea in the world. Or, you're sitting on his childhood couch watching your guys' favorite movie for the hundredth weekend in a row, vocalizing the parts of the two main characters and recreating all the best scenes.

Sometimes you’re at his apartment just hanging out together, which are dreams that feel so real he almost expects to see you in his kitchen when he wakes up. Most of these dreams spark a deja vu laced flame in his gut so deep he finds himself confusing them with memories. The ache of missing you wakes him up before his alarm some mornings, and he finds himself face timing you once he knows you're awake just to watch you make coffee and wash your face.

But sometimes, he has dreams that make him feel so ashamed he can barely text you back in the morning. Dreams where he reaches to touch you and you let him, where you tug at his hair and moan his name while he does all the things that he can only do to you in his sleep. He hates to say that these are his favorite, but it's the one dream he knows he'll never actually achieve and he goes to bed every night praying for them.

That’s the kind of dream he’s having when his phone buzzes him awake. He answers without looking because there are only a handful of people who can reach him when he’s on ‘do not disturb’, and you’re one of them. He hums a sleepy greeting into his phone, putting it on speaker next to his pillow and nearly drifting right back into the dream and between your thighs.

“Donghyuck” his eyes shoot open at the sound of your voice “did i wake you up?”

He can practically hear the pout in your voice, squinting at the time on his phone, “Yes, it’s three in the morning,” he stares down to where he’s half hard, running an embarrassed hand over his face even though there’s no possible way for you to know “are you okay?”

“No, well technically yes but I miss you which means things could be better.” you slur your words and Haechan smiles, somehow he's never annoyed that you call him pretty much every time you drink. He thinks it's because he's familiar with this version of you, though he definitely hasn't seen it often since college graduation. This version of you loves him hard, and is never afraid to say it.

"I miss you too," he takes a beat before adding "I was dreaming about you just now."

You gasp excitedly "Really! What were we doing." He smirks at the thought of telling you that you had been sitting on his face, hand reaching back for his cock while he guides your cunt over his tongue until you were shaking above him.

"Just, hanging out." he shrugs. It's his second time this week alone dreaming of your clit bumping his nose, and the thought makes his mouth water.

"I don't believe you." You say accusingly "that's way too boring for a mind like yours to dream up."

"What exactly is my mind like?" He yawns, throwing his forearm over his eyes.

"Oh, you know," you hum "your mind is a galaxy, with at least a billion planets and twice as many stars. I wish I could fly into your head and explore it, but NASA doesn't have the funds."

Haechan holds his breath at your compliment, the smile on his face so wide he can hear it in his own voice "That sounds like an episode of Magic School Bus."

"Your brain is definitely cooler than some cartoon, it's pretty much my favorite place on Earth."

"How would you know, you've never actually been inside?" He shakes his head, teasing you gently. Hearing words like these come out of your mouth breaks his heart and glues it back together at the same time.

"Are you saying you never think about me?" you ask him, not an ounce of sarcasm in your voice.

"I think about you all the time, I promise, all the planets in my brain are shaped like you." You hum, pleased with his response. He shuts his eyes and waits for your answer.

"Yeah, all the planets in mine are shaped like you, too." you pause for a second and add "plus all the stars, I win, I think about you more."

———

This time when Haechan comes to visit you, you know the nerves are more than just excitement at seeing your best friend. It’s a feeling that is nestled so deep in your stomach it makes you a little nauseous. You haven't seen him since you went home for the holidays and he only has one night in the city. You find yourself grueling over your reflection in the mirror, not used to being self conscious in front of him. You’re only going out for happy hour, but you put yourself together to last all night.

When Haechan finally arrives he whistles lowly, making you blush when he pulls out of your hug and requests a spin.

“I appreciate that you got so dressed up for me.” He teases, hoping you don’t catch his eyes sweeping over your legs, wanting to commit you in this dress to memory.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you roll your eyes as if you hadn’t spent the last two hours making sure you looked as perfect as possible. Hoping he doesn’t see the pile of clothes shoved into your closet from all the failed attempts.

“Never,” he grabs your purse off of the counter and opens the door, sweeping his arm out in front of him dramatically “after you. There are some strangers outside who are waiting to catch a glimpse of you, they just don’t know it yet.”

“You are so dramatic.” You lock the door behind you, using the moment facing away from him to collect yourself. Lately you catch yourself wondering if he'd always been so flirtatious, or if you're just forcing meaning behind his words because of how badly you want him to be.

“What, a guy can’t compliment his best friend?”

You smile widely at him and grab your bag out of his grasp, popping your key inside and walking toward the entrance of your building. Praying your fingers stop shaking when you finally get a drink in you. Haechan throws his arm around your shoulders while you walk down the street to your favorite cocktail bar and you're grateful for his usual chatter, talking to you about work and his slow climb up the ladder.

“They put me in a hotel this time, so you don’t have to worry about making me breakfast in the morning.” He smiles at you, sipping his drink gingerly.

“You know I never cook you breakfast.” He feels so far away across the table and you wish that you were sitting next to him instead, shoulders cold without the weight of his arm around them. It feels so good to have him touch you, to feel like you're his. There's a small part of you that feels guilty for using his knack for physical affection to your advantage, he has no idea what the heat of his skin on yours does.

“I know, but all the meetings are in the hotel anyway so it’s easier this time to just stay there.”

You try not to let yourself visibly deflate at the news, wanting to keep him for yourself the whole time he’s in town. His knee presses against yours under the table and you focus all your energy into acting the way you would have before, but you can’t focus on anything else and cross your legs to pull away from him as casually as possible. As badly as you want to touch him, sometimes you can’t.

“What time do you have to be up?”

He groans, leaning back enough that his knee now slides against your shin, “too early,” and glances down at his now empty glass, motioning to the bartender for another “which means you need to drink faster, so I can stop at a reasonable hour.”

You smile, downing the rest of your drink in one gulp, when his foot taps against yours you know it's going to be a long night.

The end of the night finds you together on your couch with a shared bottle of wine sitting empty on the coffee table, his early meetings temporarily forgotten. You and Haechan have been in this position plenty of times, drunk, slap happy and overly touchy in a way that you had always been comfortable being with one another. The difference now is you, this version of you who wants your best friend in an entirely different way.

Every time he pulls you closer you feel electricity shoot straight to your heart so intensely that you have to duck out of his grasp. You don’t know what to do with the feelings that have been growing gradually from your toes up, now practically sprouting out of your scalp with a neon sign blinking “I’m in love with you” over and over.

“Why do you keep doing that?” Haechan whines when you all but flinch away from his hand reaching for his phone near your arm. He’d been aware of it all night, the space you left between the two of you while you walked back from the bar, your sudden inability to maintain the eye contact that he craved. The complete lack of physical touch makes him feel dejected.

“Doing what?” You give him a panicked look, practically sober at the thought of being found out, of what it would feel like to be rejected by him.

“You’re not letting me touch you,” he frowns, and the alcohol buzzes through your veins again “not that you need to let me, but you only avoid it like this when you’re upset. Did I do something?” he pouts, tired eyes low when he flops his head onto his bicep resting on the back of the couch. You forget to breathe for a second when he looks up at you under dark lashes.

“I’m not upset. I wasn’t doing it on purpose.” you’re lying through your teeth, but scoot an inch closer to him to make your point. He doesn’t look convinced, and if you’d had less to drink you may have noticed the mischievous glint in his eye before he grabs you by your arm, knocking you off balance and into his chest.

“See,” he sighs happily, wrapping his arms around your body and you can feel his chest buzz when he hums, cheek pressed to the top of your head. You have no choice but to ungracefully shift your lower body closer to him, making yourself a sponge and soaking in his familiar touch “isn’t that better?”

You nod, “Yes, it is better.” and you really wish he didn’t know you so well, that even in his fifth hour of being drunk he can read your mind. He pulls your ear off his heart to grab your cheeks, smushing them together and whispering your name with a shake of his head.

“What is it?” he urges, and you wrap your fingers around his wrist to loosen his grip. You shut your eyes, take a deep breath and count to three in your head before you can talk yourself out of leaning forward and pressing your lips to his.

You feel him falter for a half second before he’s kissing you back, pulling your face closer and pushing his body toward yours. You can’t hear anything over the blood rushing in your ears when his tongue touches yours, and then suddenly his mouth is gone. He moves so quick you have to put your arms out to stop yourself from face planting into the cushion he had just been sitting on.

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” you gasp “i shouldn’t have done that, Haechan, I’m so sorry.”

It takes everything in you to look up to where he’s now standing with his arms crossed over his chest protectively. You have no idea what he’s thinking, staring down at you with wide eyes. Insecurity sweeps through you under his intense gaze, and you almost beg him to say something.

“I’m seeing someone,” the way the confession rings in your ears would have you believing that he screamed the words, but his voice was barely above a whisper “shit, I’m sorry.”

You aren’t sure if it’s your life that flashes before your eyes, or your years of friendship with him, at this point the two tend to blur together.

“That’s-” you sit back on your calves and inhale shakily, knowing it’s not even worth it to attempt to fake any sort of excitement for him “why didn’t you tell me?”

He shrugs, swallowing thickly and pulling his eyes away from your face to stare at the ceiling “It’s new and I didn’t know how. It just never came up.”

“Well then, I’m sorry that it didn’t. I shouldn’t have done that, I don’t know what came over me.” grateful that he’s finally the one avoiding eye contact with you so he doesn’t see your legs wobble when you stand “probably best to pretend that never happened. I’m just drunk and I missed you-”

Your name sounds so pathetic when he says it this time and you think it’s the eighth wonder of the natural world that you haven’t started crying yet. You shake your head instead, wishing so desperately that you had changed out of the dress you were wearing as you pull the slinky material down your thighs.

“Honestly, Haechan,” You regret your next words before they even hit the air “you should probably go. You have an early morning.”

The shock on his face pains you, but you can’t stand to see what you can only assume is pity growing in his eyes for another second.

“I don’t want to go, I want to talk about this.”

“I’m sorry.” you say again and his shoulders slump in defeat, recognizing that you’d made up your mind.

“It’s okay.” He means it, shuffling forward and the look on your face is nearly enough to bring him to his knees. His breath catches when you shift away the inch he moved toward you, eyes locked on his and he can see the desperation in them before he hears it in your voice.

“Text me when you get to the hotel?” your voice cracks with a heavy mix of exhaustion and embarrassment that makes him nods once, grabbing his things and walking slowly toward your door. He turns to look at you, but his words catch in his throat when he sees your eyes begin to water, mustering up all his energy to offer what he prays is a reassuring smile before letting himself out.

You sink back into the couch when the door clicks shut, head hanging in your hands as the tears finally start to flow. You cry so hard you feel like you could throw up, replaying his rejection over and over in your mind, shame and regret coursing through your veins. Pure embarrassment heats your body at the look on his face when he told you he was seeing someone, and you’re not sure if it was disgust or pity in his eyes.

On top of the rejection, knowing that he didn’t feel like he could share something as big as meeting someone with you was a dagger to the heart, up until recently you had never kept a secret from him, and even this one you clearly couldn’t keep in for long.

You force yourself into the shower, scrubbing angrily at your skin under the scalding water. You get out once your fingers have pruned and your skin feels raw, avoiding the mirror on your way to your bedroom. You kick angrily at the dress you'd left on the floor, watching it land near the pile of outfits you had discarded while getting ready.

Haechan had texted you nearly thirty minutes earlier

“made it back”

you give it a thumbs up before turning your phone off, setting an alarm with the clock on your side table and letting the emotional exhaustion lull you to sleep.

------

Haechan is realizing that there is no way in hell that you need space more than he needs to talk to you. He tries to call you multiple times the first week after you kissed him but you never answered, and Haechan doesn’t want to push you to the point of no return. What he really wants is to go back in time and not leave you that night, but the pain in your eyes was so pronounced he couldn't bare to make it any worse. The only physical proof that you had kissed him at all being the stupid blue thumbs up on the text he had sent you that night. It's followed by a slew of reassuring texts, saying that he broke up with his girlfriend and if you would please just talk to him, that he's not mad.

This is the feeling he carries with him nearly two weeks later on the flight to you, when he’s sure that another minute of silence from you will kill him. By the time he gets to your apartment it’s almost midnight, so he knocks loud enough to wake you up.

When you open the door in a shirt he thinks might be his, Haechan knows he has no choice. He's speaking before you can say anything, before he can change his mind.

"I came here to tell you that I think you're being really stupid." He curses internally for the obvious nerves in his voice, your tired eyes widen with shock at his words.

"Excuse me?"

"Years ago you made me swear that I would tell you if you ever came up with a reason not to be my friend anymore. So I'm telling you now, I think you're being really fucking stupid."

"I'm not doing that" You defend yourself, tearing up at the sight of him. He pushes into your apartment, shutting the door behind him and standing close enough to touch. He’s staring you down with pleading eyes, and you bury your face in your hands so you don’t have to look at him.

“Then why are you ignoring me? Why won’t you let me fix this?”

“I don’t know I just,” you inhale shakily “I don't know how to do it right now, not like this."

"Like what?" He hopes he already knows the answer, but needs to hear you say it, to know that you’re as serious as he is. Your mouth feels full of cotton when he forces you to look at him by whispering your name, pulling your hands from your face and his heart pinches tightly at the tears welling in your eyes "please tell me, please. Like what?"

"You already know," your bottom lip betrays you, voice weak beneath heavy emotion when you speak "I love you, Haechan. I'm in love with you, and I don't know what to do about it. I feel like I fucked everything up, but I can’t undo it."

He feels his lungs fill with relief. Haechan steps forward to close the small gap between your bodies, grabbing your jaw to rest his forehead against yours. You falter, but his hand on the small of your back keeps you from going anywhere, he's practically panting and you can barely stand, dizzy with the feeling of him. You want to pinch yourself to make sure you’re not dreaming when he whispers "You didn't fuck anything up."

He ghosts his lips over yours for a moment until he's sure you're not going to stop him. When he finally kisses you it's with years of pent up adoration, directing your arms around his neck and pressing his thumb firmly into your jaw, long fingers wrapping around the side of your throat. He practically whines when your fingers tighten in his hair and your lips part for his warm tongue. His arm wraps around your waist so tightly you have to hinge backward to keep your mouths connected, gasping at the strength you didn't know he had.

He keeps your stomach flush to his own and kisses you until you're practically limp in his arms, pulling away to breathe. His eyes are shut as he rubs his nose over yours

"I love you, too. I've been meaning to tell you for a while." All the blood rushes into your ears at his words and you can't stop your biggest worry from spilling into the air.

“What if you change your mind?”

“I made up my mind a long time ago, there's nothing you could do to change it." He blinks his eyes open, pulling his face away from yours just enough to see you, the trepidation in your eyes makes him say your name quietly.

"It's only me, you know me," he assures you in a hushed tone "you have to know by now that you are my entire world."

You could laugh, only him, as if he hasn’t been one of the most important people in your life since the day you met. As if he isn’t someone who has seen you at every stage of it so far. It’s Haechan, who has always been funny, who has witnessed the worst sides of you and never made you feel bad, who has never left your side.

You kiss him again, fingers wrapping in tight fists around his shirt to keep yourself grounded. Haechan’s heart pounds happily in his chest and he hopes you can feel it this time, both hands nestling into your hair. He kisses you gently in an effort to slow down your urgent movements, moaning at the taste of your mouth. You fall into his rhythm easily, the way his tongue rolls gently over yours makes your body go up in flames. You move your hands to slide beneath his shirt, landing on the strong muscles in his back and teasing your fingers up his sides.

When you finally come up for air he stares at you for a minute before laughing, stomach tightening beneath your fingers when he does.

"What's funny?" you shut your eyes, leaning your forehead into his chest, letting the pretty sound ring in your ears.

"Nothing, I'm just-" he cuts himself off with a shrug, nuzzling his nose into the crown of your head "I love you, and you love me back. That's all, that's how easy it is."

"It hasn't been easy at all, in fact my life has been very very hard since your birthday last year.” He pulls away from your head to ogle at you.

"My birthday last year?" You nod, feeling your cheeks flush under his intense gaze, it had really been that long "God, I'm sorry I'm such a fucking idiot."

He's kissing you again before you can ask him to elaborate, grabbing hold of both wrists in one hand while he walks you backward and guides you up onto the counter as slowly as he has to in order to keep his lips on yours. His hips are the perfect height for you to wrap your legs around, gasping in surprise when he slides his hands around your ass and presses your core tightly against the growing bulge in his jeans.

You feel shy when you pull away to ask if he wants to go to your bedroom, feeling frozen in place when he stares at you with half lidded eyes, his plump lips swollen and red.

"Tonight, I'm just kissing you." Every cell in his body is screaming in protest at his own words. He can't express how badly he wants to do everything else, to recreate his dreams, to learn the parts of your body he'd never seen before. But he can't imagine doing anything but this tonight, just this; his lips on yours, your breath in his lungs and your body melting into his.

"Why?” your eyebrows pull together in confusion. You practically shiver with need, tucking your arms between your stomachs and burying your nose in his throat. His laugh buzzes against your face, rubbing his hands gently over your shoulders and trying to control his own breathing as your lips brush over his skin.

All he can say is, “Because I’ve been needing to for a long time.”

“How long?” You pull away from his chest, leaning back onto your hands and closing your eyes when he runs his own down your sternum and over your waist, groping at the flesh of your hips and trying not to regret his romantic side.

“Way too long.”

“Your birthday?” you ask, tugging gently at his shirt. He plants his hands outside of your legs to lean in close, one corner of his mouth pulling up.

“Much longer.” Your eyes widen in shock, and he interrupts you before you can question him “can we talk about it later? I have something really important to do tonight.”

———

He tells you that he's had feelings for you since senior year of college, when you kissed Jeno. He tells you about his plan to admit everything when he had seen you on his birthday, but that he was too scared. He assures you he ended his relationship the moment he got back home the previous week “because everyone has felt like a matter of 'when' it will end, not 'if',” He tells you that just two weeks of your silence hurt worse than any previous heartbreak, and you agree. And before you fell asleep next to him he tells you again, ‘I'm so in love with you.’ and shimmies excitedly when you say it back before kissing you until you can barely keep your eyes open. He holds your cheeks in his hands and practically lulls you to sleep with his tongue, plush lips pressing to yours so gently you can hardly feel them dotting around the rest of your face. He thinks he could do this forever before sleep finally catches up with him, his arm slung over your side to hold your face to his chest.

You wake up curled into a familiar side, your first emotion being giddy as the night floods back to you. Despite your obvious willingness to go further, Haechan had meant it when he said he'd only be kissing you. It made you crazy at first, but when the two of you were staring at each other in the mirror with shy eyes while moving through a nighttime routine you had gotten familiar with years before, you were happy he had the self control you clearly lack. The idea of him actually seeing and touching you in ways he never had before, of doing all the things you'd found yourself imagining him doing over the last year; it was overwhelming. Kissing until your jaw was sore and your lips were swollen felt easy.

You’re startled by Haechan’s hand reaching for yours, holding your palm and bringing your fingers to his lips to press a kiss to each one, “good morning.” his voice is deep and tired, mouth landing on the crown of your head.

"Good morning." You press your nose into his chest happily, gripping his hand in yours and resisting the urge to squeal with delight.

"What are you so excited about, me?" He teases, hand falling on your thigh to guide your leg up the front of his, stopping just below his crotch and you hope he's going to give you what you'd been wanting all night, for the last year.

"You, I just can't believe how happy I am." You admit, lifting your head off of his chest to smile at him. He pulls you right back down, kissing your lips once before rolling you both over so he's on top of you. He presses a hand over your collarbone and drags his lips down your chin and over your throat.

"You know, this means you're all mine now." he smirks against your neck when you nod, gasping when he sucks gently at the base. He has one forearm on the mattress, the other hand too gentle on your ribs. You can feel that he's hard and you immediately roll your hips up.

"Does this mean you're gonna do more than just kiss me now?" you intend to sound confident, but it comes out as a whimper. His nose brushes over your jaw before he presses lingering kisses to your chin and cheek.

"Yes, baby, if you'll let me." You nod eagerly, shifting your face so your lips are beneath his and sighing happily when he lowers his weight onto your torso, licking into your mouth. You shiver with anticipation when he pushes at your shirt, long fingers tickling up your side before landing on your breast. You gasp into his mouth when his thumb brushes over your already hard nipple.

Your impatience is overwhelming, grabbing the back of his shirt and tugging it up to his shoulders. He pulls away reluctantly, reaching one hand toward his back and pulling his shirt over his head. You gnaw at your lip, running your hands over his stomach and hooking your knees around his hips as much as you can while stretching your arms over your head.

“Cute.” he murmurs, pulling your shirt up and tossing it to the side. He gropes at your chest, tongue wetting his lips before he leans down to wrap them around one of your nipples. He’s trying to act without thinking, to let the dreams he’s had pave the path down your body because he knows the second he acknowledges his nerves he won’t be able to shake them off. His heart thrums when you gasp above him, arching your chest into his mouth. He’s greedy for your sounds, his hands squeezing your breasts together and licking between them to get to the other nipple. When your hips buck up into his he groans, pulling away from your chest and staring down at you with wondering eyes.

“Can I?” He feels unnaturally shy, leaning back on his calves and watching his fingers press dimples into the flesh of your hips above your underwear, tugging at the hem.

“You don’t need to ask.” He smiles, forcing you to sit by grabbing the back of your neck for a kiss. His fingers press into your clothed core and your hips roll into his hand. He sighs into your mouth at your desperation, torn between teasing you and touching you everywhere.

You can’t keep your legs from shutting around his arm when he pushes your panties to the side and slides his middle and ring finger up your wet center, circling over your clit.

You pull away from the kiss, blinking up at him and your mouth falls open when he presses firmly on your clit, rubbing in slow circles. His head hangs as he lets out a quiet “fuck” at your reaction, moving his hand off your neck to stroke over your stomach and without it behind your head you have to lie back, he presses your legs open. Haechan stares at your chest while he settles between your knees, pushing two fingers inside your dripping core. His jaw hangs open, watching his knuckles disappear inside of you.

“So soft,” he breathes, staring down to where his fingers glisten when he pulls them out to rub over your clit again, palming over his cock getting harder in his sweats “want to be everywhere at once.”

“Want you everywhere.” you whine when his fingers pull away to hook into your underwear, tugging them down your legs. Haechan stands to strip and you hold your breath and soak in the soft swell of his hip that leads to where his cock hangs heavy between his legs. It’s pretty like the rest of him, and thicker than you'd expected with a leaking tip that matches the color of his tongue, he strokes himself once and you don’t get the chance to reach for him before he lays back on the bed, rolling you to sit on top of him. You shudder when your pulsing clit rubs over his stomach, inner thigh squeezing into his ribs. He runs his hands up your waist, scooting you an inch higher and grabbing onto your tits.

“Do you remember a few months ago, when you called me drunk and I told you I was dreaming about hanging out with you?” He shivers when you grind down in response, wet pussy sliding easily over his skin “I lied.”

Your hands press into his chest, tilting your head “what were we doing?” you can barely speak above a whisper when he pinches gently at your nipple with one hand, the other rubbing over your ribs when he smirks up at you.

“You were about a foot higher than you are right now,” you gasp and reach out to grab the headboard when he jolts his hips to move you up his chest, staring down at him with wide eyes as he shifts to wrap his arms under your legs, fingers pressing into your thighs.

“You dreamt about this?” you let him bring your hips to hover over his face, hands falling into his hair when he brushes his nose over your clit as he nods.

“All the time,” he moans and drags you down onto his face, lips wrapping around your clit. You shudder above him, letting some of your weight collapse into your heels and he groans happily at the pressure of you on his chin, pressing you harder onto his mouth to fuck his tongue into you. He wants to devour you, every sound you make goes straight to his cock which is already rock hard at the taste and smell of you. Even just thinking about the fact that it's your hips grinding over his face right now is enough to make him moan into your pussy.

You slur out praise, one of your hands shooting up to grip the headboard. His hands wander gently up your sides, eyes opening to stare up to where he plays with your tits, hard cock pulsing at the sight of your head thrown back, hips moving in gentle circles over his face. Haechan’s hand tugs yours down to his hair, trying to restrain himself from thrusting into the empty air at the feeling of you all over him. He hums happily into your pussy when you start to grind over his mouth, flattening his tongue for you to ride until your legs are shaking.

He lets out a deep “mmhmm” when you warn him that you’re going to cum, suckling hard on your clit until you’re practically begging him to let you go, body crumpling forward with both hands tangled in his hair. He's grateful you didn't touch his cock, just the thought of your fingers wrapped around him is enough to make him cum and he has other plans.

You can’t speak when you collapse onto the mattress beside him, immediately warmed by the weight of his body on top of yours as he slots himself between your thighs, sucking a hickey onto the front of your throat.

“Taste too fucking good,” he hums, mouthing over your chin and cheek “been dreaming of eating your sweet pussy for so long.” you practically swoon when he kisses you, pre-cum wetting the inside of your thigh when he relaxes his stomach onto yours.

“Hyuck, want you in me, please” Your vision is blurry, whining into his swollen lips. He works them over your cheek before pulling away from you, bringing one of your legs up to his shoulder and you rest the other knee on his hip. He can feel himself pant when he taps the head of his cock on your swollen clit, practically drooling when he sticks barely the tip inside before pulling back and repeating the tantalizing motion.

“Been waiting for too long to be teased,” you pout, trying to encourage his hips toward yours with the ankle he’s not pressing his cheek into. He smirks and circles his leaking tip over you again, watching his cock spread your arousal around before he pushes into you a little further.

“I’m taking my time with you, feels so fucking good.” He can’t look away from between your thighs, messy hair hanging over his forehead while his fingers grip your ankle tightly. You whimper when he pulls all the way out again, one more hard tap against your pulsing clit before he pushes himself halfway into your leaking pussy. You rise onto your elbows, trying to reach one hand to grab for his hip but he releases the base of his cock to stop you by lacing your fingers together. When Haechan finally looks into your eyes he bottoms out, stretching your leg toward your chest so he can lean in. His hips stutter, a choked groan rumbling deep in his chest.

“Oh my god, Hyuck please.” you beg him to move with a gasp. His forehead presses to your chin, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Fuck, baby, been needing you," he thrusts into you slowly, lifting his head to look down at you glowing beneath him with your eyes shut. He pulls out all the way before thrusting back inside, quickening his hips when your eyes flutter open, the look on your face enough to make his balls tighten slightly, shutting his eyes to regain self control "knew you'd feel so fucking good."

"M’so full, Haechan." you moan at his words and the rapid slap of his hips on the back of your thighs, forcing your eyes to stay open so you can see his face. The way his nose scrunches with focus when he pulls away from your chest, both his hands wrapping firmly around your hips while he watches his cock sink into you. Brown, shaggy hair sticks to his damp forehead, full lower lip taken between his teeth. He’s pure, unadulterated boyish beauty, and he’s all yours.

You squeak when he lets your leg drop off his shoulder, pressing your thigh as far open as it will go with your heel digging into his backside. He fans his fingers over your lower stomach, thumb reaching down to push your clit side to side and your hips tuck up for more pressure, Haechan moans loudly when the movement causes you to clamp around his cock, "Perfect fucking pussy, can't believe it's mine now. Like my fingers on your pretty clit?”

You nod enthusiastically, letting go of your breasts to hold the backs of your thighs, Haechan's eyes move up your body to stare at your chest move beneath him, nipples looking sweet as candy. He’s dying to sink his fingers into the softest part of your stomach, the way you’re moving for him makes his mind turn to sand. You stare down to where his thumb is making circles over your clit, perfectly timed with the head of his cock bruising your g-spot. You feel a second orgasm build and the corner of his mouth pulls up proudly when your legs shake. Your head hangs back as you gasp for air, "yes, please, Haechan feels so fucking good."

"Make the prettiest noises for me, want you cumming all over my cock." he leans forward just enough to trap your throat beneath the weight of his palms, other hand still moving over your swollen clit. You smile at the pressure of his body on yours, eyes fluttering shut while you moan. You nod desperately when he asks if you can do that, "if you can let me make you feel that good, please, my pretty girl."

He takes his hand off your throat when you cum, wanting to hear every sound you could possibly make. You repeat his name like a blessing that has him cumming with you, moaning and breathless as his hips start to slow, milking you both through your orgasms.

You wrap your arms around him when he pulls out of you, reveling in the feeling of him when he lowers himself down, burrowing his face into your neck and warming your skin with his breath. You hold him there for a minute until he pulls his head up, dopey smile lighting up his eyes and making you laugh.

“What?” you scrunch your nose at him “better than your dreams?”

He nods, “so much better, best I ever had, my body belongs to you now.” he smirks at his own words, but his tone is so gentle he can’t even call it a joke.

“Just your body?” you tease, and he leans his nose onto your lips for a kiss that you carry onto the mole under his eye.

“Body, mind, heart, soul,” he sighs happily when you cup his cheeks in your hands, kissing him gently “all the planets in my head.”

"All the planets in my head too."

————

masterlist

authors note // this ended up being much longer than i anticipated, maybe the longest one shot i’ve ever actually written! i appreciate everyone who voted for happy ending because when i was originally thinking of a sad ending it was too hard lol. this feels forever unfinished because there is so much good to this version of haechan, i adore him.

#haechan #haechan fanfiction #haechan smut #nct #nct dream #nct 127 #nct dream fanfiction #nct dream smut #nct 127 fanfiction #nct 127 smut #nct fanfiction #nct smut

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back2bluesidex · 4 months ago

Text

Hard Luck - JJK & KTH (18+) - Chapter 1

◆ Pairing: CEO Jungkook X Fem employee Reader X Legal advisor Taehyung.

◆ Summary: You have a good face, a nice body, a fat amount saved in your secondary bank account, a stable job that you love, loving friends and family, you are good in bed. You have almost everything other than a good luck in love. Sleeping around with random dudes don’t feel enough when your friends are getting married and having kids. If you are being honest, you have started getting bored of this prolonged singlehood already.

Your last light of hope fades away when your work crush, aka the hot guy from the legal department, Kim Taehyung (with whom you might or might not have slept once, okay! twice!), asks you to set him up with your work best friend (who, apparently, is the most asked out woman of the company). But what you don’t know is that the CEO of the company has taken a liking to you and has started on a mission of winning your heart.

But wait… Taehyung might have started developing feelings for you in the process of receiving your help.

◆ Chapter summary: Two meetings - One went good - another went downhill.

◆ Theme: Romance, drama, light angst, my poor attempt of humor, fluff and eventual smut. office romance au,

◆ Warnings: Tiny bit angst.

◆ Word count: 3.2k+

◆ A/N: let me know your thoughts.

Minors aren't allowed in this blog!!!!

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You have a very love-hate relationship with weekends.

Love because who the hell doesn’t like free times, no rush to drive to work, a quiet time on their couch with some unhealthy snacks and a good movie playing on the TV?

Hate because weekends make you feel alone. Today is just a copy of yesterday.

On most Friday nights you end up going drinking with your teammates, save your Saturdays for your friends and your precious Sundays are for yourself and yourself only.

But lately, your said friends have changed, not by choice but by circumstances. Two of them are married, one is engaged and another just started dating after a prolonged singlehood - leaving you completely out of the order. Now they name most of their Saturdays to their partners, which makes you angry but you know that’s the only normal thing to do.

So, now you are the one that neither has a partner and nor anyone to spend most of your Saturdays with.

You sigh as you scroll through netflix.

There is nothing that catches your eyes, intrigues you enough to start watching.

Just when you are about to read the description of this new cheesy romcom, your phone vibrates with a call.

It’s your mom - she calls you ten times a day.

“Hmmm?” you greet her absent-mindedly.

“Mia just gave birth to a baby boy!!!” she squeals on the other side of the phone. You can feel her excitement through the vibration of her digitized voice.

The news lights you up as well. Mia is your favorite cousin and older than you by a year only.

“Really? Woah! Is the baby fine? Is she fine?”

“Both of them are fine, ddal.” Your mother, now, replies calmly, “it’s only me who is not.”

“What? What happened? Joint-pain again?” you sit up on the couch.

“No. That's not it.” your mother whines. You love to hear her whines.

“Then?”

“When will I have my grandchild?” she huffs, making you laugh.

“Eomma, I’m only 27.” you remind her.

“That’s why I am reminding you, darling. If you start looking for a man now, you will be able to gift me a grandchild before I hit seventy.”

The mention of a ‘man’ draws a very particular face on your vision.

You know you should not think too much, read too much into someone’s actions. But at this age, when you already started feeling alone, feeling the desire for someone to come back home to, you can’t help but to feel the need of holding the next best person who shows you a silver of interest.

And Taehyung has shown a lot of it.

You will win in life if you manage to bag someone as nice, hot, handsome and successful as him.

“Maybe… maybe very soon, eomma.” you add a trail of words to end your thoughts.

“Omo! Really? Are you seeing someone?” she’s now way too much excited and her excitement makes you want more from the guy who only fucked you twice.

“No- it’s not that. I am just talking about the possibilities.” your voice sounds frail for some reason. Possibility is what it is. Nothing is confirmed.

You know you have a crush on Taehyung but at the same time you have no idea if there is more than just lust in his mind.

You try not to think of negative things and engage your mother in off-topic conversations. But in the back of your mind, Taehyung stays still, with his baritone voice and boxy smile.

“Good morning, sweetheart” Hani, the colleague you are the closest to, chirps in with her sweet voice.

She is the epitome of perfection.

The girl looks like a goddess, very friendly, the life of the party, smiles at everyone - doesn’t really matter if she knows them or not, is an amazing cook, and good at the job she does.

Her amazing persona accompanied by that next level face card, makes her the most desired woman of the company.

There is hardly any bachelor who hasn’t asked her out yet. And Taehyung is one of them (which makes you think that he must be into you).

Sometimes you are jealous of her - okay! Scratch that! Most of the time you are jealous of her ability to make friends, to have people wrapped around her fingers without having to do anything while you practically have to beg your own friends to spend their weekends with you.

And being asked out? That’s a completely different story.

What you have understood from your experience is that guys love to have you on their bed. You are a good fuck, you know that. But a wife material? No.

You are way too aloof, emotionally unattached to entertain anyone more than normal boundaries allow you to. Hence, you end up pushing people away.

And now - at an age where you should be in a long term relationship - you are alone.

“Good morning, Hani.” you reply with a genuine smile gracing your lips. Honestly, very few people can pull a genuine smile out of you and Hani is certainly one of them.

Had it been anyone else as popular as her, they would have a big fat ego. But Hani is different and that’s why you love her.

“How was the weekend?” she asks, placing her order for her usual iced americano. You still don’t understand how people consume this as the first thing in the morning. It’s nothing but cold and bitter.

You grab your iced vanilla latte and take a mouth full of the sweetness, “as usual. Boring. Only me and my couch and netflix”

“Oh? You could have called me in. I was mostly alone too.” she sips her aa-aa, and makes a delightful face. You scrunch your nose at that.

“Really? I thought you do those volunteering stuff on weekends?” you two walk towards the elevator while sipping on your beverages.

“That’s for day-time. I am usually free during the nights. So, try calling me if you need a companion.” she eyes you expectantly.

You know she feels alone too, just like you.

Hani came out of her two year long relationship just a few months ago. She probably feels alone during her free time as her partner is not there to entertain her anymore.

And maybe it’s a good idea.

Even though you don’t like to extend your professional relationships beyond the gates of your workplace - Hani can be different.

You can take this friendship a little further, you guess.

The elevator door slides open, revealing a certain someone you look for a lot these days.

Taehyung smiles brightly at you. Two strands of his dark hair fall on his forehead, his siren eyes are full of mirth as they quickly dip down to check you out. But then his eyes fall on Hani. And if you are not wrong then they have a brief eye-contact before someone behind asks you and your friend to get inside and make space already.

An odd feeling blooms inside your chest.

Taehyung checked you out, that’s for sure. But what were those love eyes that he regarded Hani with? Did he just fall in love at first sight or something of that sort?

You settle inside the dingy space of the elevator rather uncomfortably - both physically and metaphorically.

Hani is standing in front of you and Taehyung is just behind your back. You are sandwiched between the two of them and weirdly enough - you don’t feel too good about the situation. Because you can see Taehyung staring at Hani through the glazed metal door or the elevator. Something churns inside of you at the thought of Taehyung being smitten by your work best friend.

But maybe you are thinking too much? Maybe time will soon prove you wrong.

Wrong. Everything is wrong.

Your teammates do an impressive job everyday except for the days when there is an important meeting and you need documented reports.

Today is one of those days. And today is even more horrifying because this will be your very first meeting with the new CEO who took over less than a month ago.

Streets say he is as strict as his father if not more. That’s basically all you know about Jeon Jungkook. You don’t know what he looks like or what he sounds like. And that makes you anxious.

The prospect of having an one-on-one meeting with the new, young CEO has been freaking you out already and now your subordinate had to do a sloppy reporting job.

“Oh lord! Sooho! Why did you write ‘no penetration this month’ when the chart is at its peak?” You don’t like to scream at all but the migraine that is climbing up through the path of your neck mixes with your frustration and turns your sentence a little more high pitched than what you usually use.

“Oh?” your teammate blinks at you being dumbfounded, “is that called penetration?”

“Yes of course? What did you think? We are asking about your sex life in the reports?” you can’t help but mock the boy.

Laughter echoes through your workspace but it quickly dies down when you glare at your teammates. They mumble apologies but you pretend not to hear any of it.

“Sorry, seonbae. I will fix it right away.” he runs towards his cubicle.

“You have five minutes.” you issue a warning. Taking your phone in your hands, you find a text sitting on your screen.

Taetae: Any plans tonight?

Your chest heaves with the long breath that you inhale upon reading the text. See… Taehyung still wants to see you! It’s you he wants to see! And you went on an overdrive thinking he might ditch you now and start chasing Hani like the other men of the office.

Your nails clink against your phone screen as you type your reply.

You: nope.

You don’t even get the chance of putting down your phone because his reply comes right away.

Taetae: Then let's get a coffee after work. I will wait at the lounge.

You: Sounds cool.

You don’t know what you feel about this one-on-one meeting situation.

The previous CEO, Mr. Jeon Jae Gyeong, had meetings with all of the department heads at once and got done with it.

But the younger Mr. Jeon has sent out emails to everyone stating very clearly that he would be changing the meeting format.

So, now you are here. Waiting outside his massive office (that could fit your entire workspace and still leave space for a snack pantry), on the verge of an anxiety attack.

The more you wait, the more restless you feel. Your heels start tapping against the floor creating a rapid sound. The CEO’s assistant, a beautiful guy with blonde hair and soft features, looks at you with an assuring smile - as if to tell you that ‘it’s okay. Don’t get your nerves worked up.’

you smile back at him feeling a tiny bit better.

Just then the huge door of the CEO’s office slides open. The head of the finance team walks out and from the look on his face you can tell that his meeting didn’t go too well.

Your throat dries at the assumption of what you might face when you go inside.

You are not going to get fired, right? Right?!

Mr. Bae, the finance head, walks out in haste heightening your anxiety even more.

Just then the assistant receives a call on his line and murmurs something. He looks at you and says, “you may go inside now.”

Your legs almost give out. You start planning to go home and update your resume to look for opportunities.

Taking a long breath, you push the door open.

Your eyes fall on the prominent figure that is sitting on the large mahogany table. His eyes are focused on the ipad. Mouth shut tight, lips pursed, his downturned face is casted with a shadow, which prevents you from taking a good look at his face.

What you see is the silver ring that glints on his eyebrow. And are those tattoos on his hand?

Even if he heard you coming in he clearly didn’t plan on providing you with any of his attention.

“May I come in, Mr. Jeon?” you curse at the way there is zero confidence in your voice.

He then looks up at you and locks his eyes with yours.

Holy shit! He is handsome!

Your chest heaves with another long breath.

You wait for him to call you inside but he just sits still staring at you with big doe eyes. His gaze is piercing, intimidating and makes you weak on your knees.

His Adam's apple bobs as he gulps once before clearing his throat, “Miss Y/N. Please come in.”

You take careful steps towards his desk praying that you don’t trip and embarrass yourself. He ushers his hand towards the chair, asking you to take a seat voicelessly.

You do as he asks.

“How are you doing, Miss Y/N?” Jeon Jungkook asks without diverting his piercing gaze from yours.

He is looking at you so intently as if he has known you for a long time.

You give him an easy smile, “I’m doing fine, Mr.Jeon. What about you?” you return his courtesy.

“Doing great.” Jeon Jungkook gives you a very pretty, heart fluttering kind of smile.

If your heart really flutters a little - you are not going to dwell upon it.

“So, let’s talk about work.” he hums as he dives into his laptop and probably opens the reports you have mailed him earlier.

Taking a minute to check all the reports, he opens his mouth to speak, “pretty impressive. I have gone through the reports from previous months as well and as I am seeing this month's reports - you have been bringing great results. Online traffic is at an all-time high, ad-clicks have gone past the five million mark, there are an average of 20 real-time users and at least 5 of them are from the states. Great. I must say” he pauses to look at you, “I am very impressed.” The last part of his sentence comes out breezy, a little bit suggestive as if his words are not only about your work.

Your stomach feels light.

“Thank you sir.” that’s all you manage to reply. Absent-mindedly you take your lower-lip in between your teeth and nip on it.

The action catches Jungkook’s eyes.

“Are you nervous?” he places a very unexpected question, catching you off-guard.

“Ah- yeah. I mean, It’s my very first encounter with you as the CEO, so I could not help being a bit anxious. Apologies if my actions have disappointed you in any way.” you straighten your back and speak confidently this time.

He doesn’t seem rude at all. You allow yourself to feel at ease.

“Don’t worry about that. I get you. But be assured I am not going to eat you up.” he giggles. His giggle makes you break into a smile as well.

“That’s all for the day. Looking forward to working with you…” Jungkook extends his hand towards you. You wrap your smaller one around his palm and he mutters, “...closely.”

When you look into his eyes, you see mischief.

“Sure.” you reply, sucking in all the air you could.

By the time you come out of his room, your heart is thumping inside your ears.

What the fuck was that? How is he so handsome? And what were those eyes he looked at you with? Why did he murmur ‘closely’ like that?

No! You are overthinking again! You scold yourself.

The assistant gives you another smile as you bow at him a little and walk away. You find Hani waiting to be called inside.

When she sees you, she approaches you with a nervous grin, “how is the new CEO?” she whisper-yells.

“Very nice and handsome.” you whisper back. She makes an “O” with her mouth before she gets called inside.

You check your lips once more in the mirror.

Being too focused on perfecting your lip liner, you don’t see Hani coming inside the washroom. You only become attentive of her presence when she smacks your ass.

“Ouch!” a painful groan leaves your lips, “don’t do this! People might think we are dating!”

“I’d have totally dated you if I wasn’t straight.” Hani chuckles standing beside you, “what’s the occasion tho? Have a date or something?”

“Nope. Gonna meet Taehyung for a quick coffee.”

Hani’s eyes wide at that, “Taehyung? As in Kim Taehyung from the legal team?”

“Yup.”

“Ohh hooo” she sings “I didn’t know you guys have coffees with each other, huh?”

“It’s not what you think, Hani.” you look at her, raising a brow.

“Oh? Really? But I think he is a good guy. He even greeted me when we met during lunch and I’m sure he didn’t even know me before this morning.”

Huh? Taehyung greeted Hani? That’s weird. Because he hardly ever smiles at people he doesn’t know properly.

You don’t let your expression give away your thoughts when you murmur a little ‘yeah’ to your friend.

Teahyung looks like a painting - or better - a sculpture as he sits there facing the huge window of the lounge.

He is devastatingly handsome. A smile creeps up to your lips without you realizing so.

This time you walk confidently, marching towards him as if you own it all. The sound of your heels against the floor makes him face you and look up at you.

“Hey” he greets you as you sit down across from him.

“Hi” you greet back, waving your hand to a waiter.

“How was the day?” Taehyung asks, once you are done placing your order.

“Nerve-wracking. I almost fainted before the one-on-one meeting.” you recall the incidents, then the man.

Jeon Jungkook’s handsome face flashes before your eyes for a second.

Taehyung chuckles at your answer, “I know. Jungkook can be really intimidating.”

You pout, “oh? You’re talking as if you know him personally?”

“Actually yes. We are not at all close and probably talked a few times but we share the same group of friends.”

Your eyebrows shoot towards your hairline at the information, “Really? That’s great. It would have been easy for you to face him then.”

“Oh god! Not at all! He had me pinned at my seat for the entire meeting. All serious expressions and no smile.” Taehyung grimaces at the memory.

“He smiled at me though. Actually… giggled. He was super nice.” you start recalling the encounter again.

“He must have really liked you.” Taehyung muses.

Is he jealous? You ask yourself. Even though Teahyung sounds anything but envious.

“By the way, Y/N. I asked you to meet today for a selfish reason.” he smiles sheepishly.

“What is it?” you ask sipping your coffee that just arrived.

“Are you close to Hani?”

As soon as the words leave Taehyung's lips, your world stops moving. You know what is about to come and it breaks your heart but you are determined not to show it on your face.

“Yeah. why?” you manage to voice upon gulping the lump that formed in your throat.

All of a sudden Taehyung lunches forward grasping your hands with his big ones, “help me please. Set me up with her! Pleaaaaseeeee” his boxy smile is on full view.

Once that smile warmed you up but right now you feel nothing but cold.

Permanent Taglist:

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Series Taglist:

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archangeldyke-all · 3 months ago

Note

Idk I get a lot of strange (or not) thoughts

pregnant Sevika...

OKAY LETS GIVE LITTLE FUCKER A LITTLE FRIEND HEHEHEHE

(don't ask me how sevika got pregnant by reader when reader's already been pregnant by sevika-- they're both trans, or it's piltover tech, or sev and reader have found the strap that gets u pregnant-- idk u pick)

men and minors dni

sevika is three months pregnant before either of you realize.

little fucker was relatively planned and expected. and after your baby is brought into the world-- you and sevika kinda figured that that was it.

one baby is plenty. and little fucker is a handful. and your birth was complicated enough that the doctors told you the chances of you being pregnant again were pretty unlikely. and both you and sevika are getting older.

so neither of you even consider that sevika could be pregnant when she starts getting sick in the mornings.

for the longest time, you're both convinced that little fucker's brought a germ home from kindergarten-- a germ that sevika just can't shake.

when she eating more, when she starts putting weight on around her middle, you just assume it's because it's getting to be winter. sevika's weight always fluxes throughout the seasons-- she's always putting on a few extra pounds of padding before the winter, it's only natural...

sure, it's a little weird that most of the weight she's gaining is in her stomach instead of on her thighs like usual, but she's getting older, and metabolisms and bodies change as they age! right??

you don't figure it out until little fucker pats sevika's swollen stomach one evening, giggling before blinking up at her mom. "are you growing a baby in here mommy?"

you laugh from where you're spooning your daughter-- but you quickly start to sputter at the look of shock and realization on sevika's face.

you sit up in little fucker's bed, raising your eyebrows as you study your wife. sevika's looking at you with wide eyes. "b-babe..." she whispers.

you both launch out of your daughter's bed, little fucker squealing with laughter as you scoop her up in your arms and shove your shoes and jackets on-- all three of you sprinting to the car and speeding to the nearest pharmacy. your daughter has no idea what her moms are freaking out about-- she's just happy to be on an adventure past her bedtime.

as you drive, sevika panics in the passenger's seat.

"i can't be-- i-i just started menopause!" she says. you chuckle.

"did you, though?" you ask. "you're still in your forties, babe. that's young for menopause... maybe the hotflashes and cramps and cravings and lack of periods were all--"

"oh my fucking god!" sevika groans.

"bad word, mommy!" little fucker squeals in the backseat.

the test is positive, because of course it is.

this isn't the biggest shock, though. that comes a few days later, when you take her in for her first ultrasound.

you're both anxious and stressed-- excited for another baby in your house and worried about how you'll be able to balance having two kids; worried about sevika being pregnant so late in life; trying to figure out how much another kid is going to cost-- the usual concerns.

and then the doctor gasps.

"what?!" you ask, grabbing sevika's hand in yours.

you've only known she's pregnant for a few days, but your protective instincts have already kicked into high gear. you understand now why sevika couldn't keep her hands off of you when you were carrying little fucker. that's your baby in there.

"uh, well... you're having twins!" the doctor says, smiling at you.

you blink rapidly, shocked; and sevika bursts into hysterical, tired laughter.

for a while, you're both too stressed to be excited about your rapidly expanding family.

but you figure it out eventually.

silco and vander are thrilled-- they've been trying to push their multiple kids agenda on the two of you for years now-- and they come over all the time, dragging their kids (all teenagers now) with them, helping you prepare your house for two more babies.

other parents at little fucker's school start lending you and sevika old baby strollers and clothes and bottles, giving you slightly sympathetic looks when they find out you're going to be having two babies at the same time.

in the end, what manages to push you over the brink from 'hesitant and anxious' to 'excited and ready' is little fucker's reaction.

you and sevika sit her down one night, sevika five and a half months pregnant but looking closer to eight, and you gently explain to her that your family's going to be growing soon-- that she's going to be a big sister.

little fucker bursts into tears of joy and excitement, reaching forward to gently pet her mommy's belly blinking up at both of you with watery eyes. "th-there's babies in here?" she asks, grinning.

sevika bursts into tears at her reaction, and you giggle, wrapping your crying girls up into a hug.

"there's two babies in there, and they're so excited to meet you, baby." you whisper, pressing a kiss to her head.

your daughter takes to feeding her mom treats constantly, saying she wants her baby siblings to get to taste chocolate cake, or cookies, or her gummy worms. sevika loves it.

little fucker also becomes insanely protective of her mommy sev, constantly rubbing her swollen belly with her tiny hand, bringing her glasses of water, her little feet thumping around the house as she sprints to and from the living room to bring sevika the pillows she needs to lay down comfortably.

sevika's pregnancy is about as healthy as a mid forties, twin pregnancy can be. which is to say; she's uncomfortable and sore all the fucking time; but she's got no serious complications or symptoms.

her cravings are hilarious. usually, sevika loves a rich, hearty meal-- a meat in some sauce or gravy, poured over rice or noodles. she usually likes spice and citrus and bold flavors.

but now she's pregnant, and more than anything else in the world, sevika just wants to eat plain, white bread. she doesn't even want, like, a freshly baked loaf. she wants the cheap stuff, the kind you can smush into a ball in your hand.

she eats like a loaf of the stuff a day-- not even toasted, no butter or jelly or peanutbutter on top-- just the plain, white bread.

it's that and sour cream. not greek yogurt-- it has to be sour cream. sevika eats it like ice cream.

the biggest challenge sevika faces is learning to let go and let you and little fucker care for her.

she's so used to being the protector-- the one who takes care of things. it's how she shows her love. she feels useless when she's too round to even get off the couch.

you make an effort to remind her that love goes both ways. and that she's showing you how much she loves you each and every day, even when she's just sitting around and farting-- she's growing your children inside of her.

you make an effort for both of you to spend one-on-one time with little fucker. you don't want her to feel left behind as you anticipate her siblings.

sevika takes her on nightly walks to the little corner shop down the street to get herself moving and spend time with her baby, buying her candy or chips or soda once they arrive.

little fucker is adorably patient with her mom-- waiting for her to catch her breath after walking a block or two, holding her hand the entire way to and from the shop, waiting patiently each time sevika has to stop at a local business to pee.

you've been taking your daughter to the local pet store, wanting to get her a companion that is hers and hers alone-- something she won't have to share with her siblings.

she decides she wants a frog. you both spend your evenings curled in her bed, reading about frog-pet care, and how to assemble a frog's enclosure, and how many times a day to feed it and clean it.

and then, when you're both ready and educated, you take her to the store and buy her her very first pet.

she's thrilled.

she names the frog 'sissy'-- so excited to be a big sister that she's decided the frog is her sibling as well.

you and sevika check in on her that night and find her curled around the glass tank the frog lives in, sleeping soundly.

when the babies come, little fucker goes to silco's house while you and sevika go to the hospital.

you've never been more in love with sevika in your entire life than you are in that moment, watching her give birth to not one, but both of your children.

her delivery is fast. she nearly gives birth in the car ride to the hospital. while you planned on sevika getting an epidural-- by the time they got her in the hospital gown, the first baby was already crowning.

it's a blessing and a curse-- sevika's in a lot of pain but it's over almost as fast as it began.

and afterwards, you crawl into bed beside your wife, holding her and wiping her tears away. "you're the most important, amazing thing that's ever happened to me." you whisper. sevika sniffles, smiling at you. "fuck, thank you so much, baby." you say, kissing her forehead.

the doctors hand you each one of your babies, and you and sevika burst into tears at the exact same moment.

identical sisters; both so much tinier than little fucker was from being squished together inside their mommy; both grumpliy scrunching their faces at the new lights and sounds they've been bombarded with.

"oh my god." you sob.

sevika's got her face buried against your neck, one of her babies held to her chest. "they're fucking perfect." she cries.

they have sevika's nose, sevika's lips, sevika's beautiful eyes. you should've known that your genes didn't stand a chance against sevika's after little fucker came out looking like her twin. "they're gorgeous." you sob.

they look so fucking familiar, like you've known them your entire life even though you just laid eyes on them.

it isn't until little fucker comes sprinting into the hospital, jinx and silco trailing behind her with takeout from sevika's favorite restaurant, that you realize why your babygirls look so familiar.

she crawls into the hospital bed between you and sevika, gasping and gently reaching out to touch her baby sisters, tears welling up in her big eyes as she gasps. "they look like me." she whispers.

it hits you then-- and she's exactly right. even more than their mommy sev-- your new baby girls look like your first baby girl.

sevika bursts into tears as it hits her, and little fucker giggles, kissing her mom's cheek, then gently bending forward to kiss her sisters' foreheads.

you wrap your family up in your arms, squeezing as tight as you can with a newborn in your grasp, and something deep inside of you settles.

"how are we supposed to tell 'em apart?" your daughter asks. sevika giggles.

"look, i already figured it out." she whispers. "this one with the freckle? she bit my boob when i was feeding her, so she's my 'baby shithead.'"

you groan and gently elbow your wife as she and little fucker burst into laughter at the nickname.

"what about this one?" little fucker asks, pointing at the baby in your arms.

"she pooped all over the nurses when they were cleaning her up. she's my 'baby stinkybutt.'" sevika says.

little fucker's squealing with laughter, and sevika's smiling so big and bright that you think you might go blind with it.

you sigh, and wrap all your girls up in your arms one more time. you don't ever want to let go.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @realgreeniebeanie @k3n-dyll

@sevsdollette @ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re

@raphaellearp @iamastar @sevikitty @claude999

#sevika #sevika imagine #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x you #soft sevika

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felixdragonheartofficial · 9 months ago

Text

TFA TEAM PRIME HUMAN REDESIGNS FINALLY

FUCK

+headcannons

Optimus: gotta stay focused

looks too old compared to his bot form.

I find it impossible for Optimus to be more than a million years old in this canon. In the least, he's older than 1000 years and since we have mfs that are canonically over 70 million years old(fagatron iykyk) compared to that, he feels like a dude in his early-to-mid-30's being the group parent.

---

-I made him more youthful, gave him curly hair, and tailored his clothing to actually look like his bot form.

-workaholic

-on the cusp of barley being able to hold his liquor

-doesn't own a pair of pajamas until Sari gets some for him

-usually forgets to put them on, but appreciates the gesture

-stays active for like, 3 days until he can't fight off sleep with work brain anymore, and unceremoniously passes out on the couch to sleep for a full 24 hours

-ratchet sighs and puts a blanket over him as per routine

-frequently checks security feed

-elf on the shelf despiser

-early morning talks with jazz and ratchet over coffee (they all wake up at 6 am)

-half thrives on caffeine and a vigorous training protocol

-is a dog person, loves German shepherds to death

David sama, pls forgive me ily very much

Ratchet: to old for this nonsense

doesn't match his body type in the slightest.

Ratchet is really old, he's got a sallow face and a gramp gut, how dare they square him. He's wayyy too angular and peachy looking.

-I gave him his luscious curves back, adding all the equipment id expect a field medic to have because he is a field medic, not a regular doctor. I changed his facial proportions, and also made his face gaunt, for that dead inside PTSD look.

---

-drinks his coffee black with brown sugar, literally drinks it piping hot

-is one of those old people who complains about noise

-confiscates bumblebee and Sari's toy cars, and puts them in a high up cabinet

-neither of them know how to bypass the child safety lock lmao

-casual clothes includes a lot- a l o t of plaid shirts, and 10 pairs of the same blue jeans

-tunes out bulkhead and prowls convos about birdwatching

-big fan of political satire dramas

-Sentinel doesn't approve

-Ratchet doesn't give a rats ass about what he thinks of course

Bumblebee: professional smart-ass

doesn't match his body type/age.

Bumblebees holoform is presented as a 10-12 year old child specifically for the fact that he's short, and the comedic relief. Total ass

I set his human age as 19-20 years old, making him more of a big brother to sari because that og model is disappointingly lackluster

---

-Bumblebee is a scrappy wisecracking punk, like an adhd kid who just got roller skates for Christmas.

-since he doesn't have wheels, I feel like he'd wear skates instead to emulate the feeling

-terrible at watching where he's going cuz he's too busy trying to show off, so ratchet makes him wear all that padding + training wheels

-legit despises the padding and training wheels

-Jealous of Blurr for mastering roller blades lmao.

-his favorite games are choose your fighter and fps

-saw ONE ancient ass assassins creed playthrough and begged ratchet to install hidden tasers in his arm bands (was denied)

-Sari used her key to do it instead

-self appointed "rizzler"

-Optimus has zero idea of what that means and thinks it's code for something dubious

-Ratchet knows what it means and thinks it's silly

-"I' was something of a rizzler myself back in my day, kid"

-bumblebee cringes

-loves summer and swimming

-wants to be the fastest thing in the sea because y'know, it's bumblebee

-is spooked from the beach for awhile cuz he saw sharks in Prowls nature documentary

-there are infact, no sharks in lake Erie

Bulkhead: big guy, bigger heart

doesn't match his body type/aspirations.

Jesus fuck he's so wide?? And his belly migrated to his shoulders?? I'm gonna be honest, I really hate this design. I feel like it contributed to the "brute strength = stupid" take that most in the fandom associates with him.

---

-Bulkhead is a SWEET. CARING. NERD YOU FOOLS. He's like the male version of a tall goth gf-

-a tall-nerdy-farm hand-physics bf, You got me fucked up.

-Its already shown that bulkhead really likes art in Addition to creating it. He hates being only seen as the "muscle" so it wouldn't make sense for him to lean into that.

-bunny slippers that him and sari made together(she provided the buttons)

-the slippers go missing sometimes (basically considered community property unless he's wearing them)

(ratchet and prowl are the main offenders)

-frequent art museum goer

-really likes watching cooking shows, but is too shy to make food himself

-Owns a ton of star maps

-Really wants a treehouse that he, bumblebee and sari can hang out in

-pillowfort enjoyer

-casually reads quantum physics at the beach

Prowl: draft dodger

Doesn't look like him at all.

Prowls holoform being a mustachioed,white, police officer was an actual jumpscare for 7 y/o me, I kid you not

---

- I know this bitch would not wear a helmet (you can't force him to) que windswept hair

-Not as much as starscreams, for obvious reasons but yk

-prowl is like one of those "shoes are a prison for your feet"

-emo hipster

-has a pet cactus named "planty"

-bumblebee heckles him for it

-can and has brought his cactus with him on early evening motorcycle rides

-the helmet is reserved for his cactus, bring your own >:(

-salad consumer

-him and jazz share custody of the cactus

-repeat victim of the cat distribution system

-ratchet has probably spent hours telling him they can't keep any animals at base

-frequent midnight picnics with jazz

-and beachcombing

-and roaming around antique stores cuz jazz wants to know what vinyl records are

-got a mug with an attempted pink chibi cat with big round shiny eyes painted onto it, courtesy of bulkhead trying to find an artsyle

-cherishes this mug to death

-has a shrine dedicated to it

#tfa #decepticons #autobots #tfa headcanons #tfa optimus prime #tfa bulkhead #tfa bumblebee #tfa ratchet #tfa prowl #AUUUUUUGH #im gonna have a pole #optimus prime #bumblebee #bulkhead #prowl #ratchet #tfa sari #sari sumdac #sari mention

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arijackz · 5 months ago

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PICK A CARD: What Element Do You Embody?

⍎ "The force that unites the elements to become all things is Love, also called Aphrodite; Love brings together dissimilar elements into a unity, to become a composite thing. Love is the same force that human beings find at work in themselves whenever they feel joy, love and peace. Strife, on the other hand, is the force responsible for the dissolution of the one back into its many, the four elements of which it was composed." - Empedocles

Disclaimer: This is a general reading, take what resonates. This is a gender-neutral reading, change any pronouns to apply to you. Also, these elements don't have to correspond with your birth chart.

p1 → p2 ↙︎ p3 → p4

⌾ Pile One ⌾ (4oC rev., 10oS, High Priestess, 6oP)

Your soul’s energetic thumbprint is GODLY.

But I’m getting ahead of myself, your element is AETHER.

I get the sense that you’ve been sort of incognito for a large chunk of your life. You felt more comfortable being an observer and watching the world unfold before you.

Not out of fear, you’re just naturally curious in a spectating sense rather than interactive. You hear what’s left unsaid, feel people’s suppressed/underlying emotions, and see what others are blind to. The high priestess is all-knowing but keeps the universal truth to herself because she knows not everyone is meant to see what she sees.

You hold a lot of unknown truths, but truths often become burdens. You carry other people’s pain because you know they can’t handle it, often thanklessly. You throw yourself in front of the bus before the other person even realizes there's a threat coming at all.

The weight you carry on your back would crush the average person. Deny it all you want, but in the cosmic book of life, you’re a modern-day hero in a way.

It’s like when the older sibling sacrifices themselves to protect their kid siblings from the horrors they’ve had to endure in their family environment. They know they’re the only barrier between the monsters and their loved ones, often sacrificing opportunities and peace of mind to be that protection.

It doesn't have to be this case scenario, but if the situation resonates with you, I see you. The universe sees you. Your valiance and selfless nature deserve songs and praises, never belittle your efforts.

Okay back to aether, y’all know I love to yap.

I am heavily getting this silent heroine presence because aether is the antithesis of fire, water, earth, and air. It’s cold because it does not have fire’s warmth, weightless because it is not heavy like earth or water, and immobile because it does not have air’s fluidity. Sounds bad, but it’s fucking AWESOME.

The aether element allows for the other element’s existence. It has no boundaries and fills every corner of life, it is Godly and omnipresent. The word αἰθήρ (aithḗr) in Homeric Greek means "pure, fresh air" or "clear sky".[3] In Greek mythology, it was thought to be the pure essence that the gods breathed, filling the space where they lived, analogous to the air breathed by mortals.

Aether is essentially empty space that allows for life to be. The movement of our bodies takes place in these empty spaces. I.e. the hollowness of our lungs allows breath, space in the throat causes speech, the heart needs space to contract and pump blood, and so forth. Life could not exist without this empty space.

Since the aether element is subtle yet all-pervading, it is the most spiritual element and is considered a bridge between the earthly realm and the divine.

Quintessence is also a term that is quite often used for ether as it denotes the “heavenly bodies” present in the universe such as the stars and galaxies.

(A CROW HAS A MESSAGE FOR YOU, GO OUTSIDE)

You have this quiet, subtle, but Godly presence about you just like the aether element.

Circling back to the silent heroine archetype, to sum up my rambling, aether is out of human perception (like your silent, observant nature) but is the backbone of existence (the power in that very nature).

You’re a bit of an oxymoron. You notice everything, and that forces you to be a bit apathetic because constantly being in fight or flight isn’t good for the body. But on the other hand, you’re extremely empathetic because you understand the world’s suffering more acutely than anyone else. You’re a quiet presence and try not to interfere with other people’s lives but you’re simultaneously the very barrier that stops some people’s lives from crumbling.

The aether element 🤝 you. TWINNEM

Sidenote: Shoutout to my Shatabhisha natives yet again! Also, if you find this element interesting and want to know more about this dominating energy in your life, I hyperlinked two websites for you that are worth reading.

And go outside! My window is open and this single crow is SCREAMiNG at me.

Also, you’re smart enough, aim for that challenging degree.

Okay! MUAH!

Beyond The Breath of Mere Mortals

⌾ Pile Two ⌾ (Ace of Cups, 8oP, Page of Swords)

^^^ You fr

RISE UP MY LIL TSUNAMIS!!! aka my WATER elements

You’ve definitely been called overly emotional as an insult. Well fuck that person, they wish they had your appeal.

Do you know how crazy you drive people? I imagine you as the person in a movie who the depressed main character meets once at a party, ditches the crowd, goes on an adventure with, and as the sun rises, they look over at you and realize life is worth living.

Even if you don’t identify as female, you have a strong effeminate allure. Not in a traditional “pink” sense, but in a receptive manner. You stand there and look pretty while the world crawls to you. Adventures seem to rush toward you.

Your energy colors life; water gives the Earth foliage and growth. Without water, everything in existence is dry, stiff, and lacks the nourishment to evolve.

People feel alive around you, imagine those moss patches that start dry and grey but once they touch water, they get bright green and abundant.

You color those dry patches in people’s lives. However, many people aren’t used to this intense water dominance. It unbalances them and feels irrational.

Society grooms people to suppress their emotions, so those who embrace their feelings and work to understand them appear juvenile and possibly even threatening.

The word sensitive or emotional is almost a slur in today's society 😭

But your sensitivity is your power and serves you a great deal of intelligence. Especially with people! This is a very fiery, intense energy. Y’all are my Scorpio/8th house knockouts (check your sidereal chart as well).

You have a very penetrative presence, you are felt before you are seen, but you will never go unnoticed. You’re a bit obsessive, you want to know everything about everyone.

Favorite color? Childhood horrors? Most shame-ridden secret? Their first celebrity crush? That embarrassing moment in middle school they’d rather die than bring up? The opinion that would get them jumped on twitter.com?

And you’re good at getting these answers out of people. Two minutes with you and people start word-vomiting their entire consciousness onto you. That magnetizes people and in turn, makes them obsessed with you.

Your energy is very alluring, in the same way, the gentle sway of the ocean lures people in. They are slightly in fear of the emotional hold you have over them. The ocean might soothe or drown them. In the same way, the ocean seduces, your aura has an unpredictable grasp on people.

I feel like this strong emotional energy took a while to tame, it used to unbalance you. Life had major emotional ups and downs with long days of you feeling like you’re being submerged under water. But just like any skill, you honed it and achieved mental clarity, to wield your emotions to your benefit.

The water element sends you through hell for you to achieve liberation. Once you fight your biggest demon (yourself and all the torment the mind can conjure), you come out the other side knowing that the worst isn’t strong enough to take you down and nothing will.

The waves that once drowned you are turning into a weaponized tsunami you command. You have the power to nourish and destroy.

If you’re not quite there, you’re well on your way. Keep doing what you’re doing, sexy.

Resist Me If You Can

⌾ Pile Three ⌾ (2oP, 3oC, 8oP)

Welcome my manifesters! We’re talking ‘bout the EARTH element baby!

This is the earthiest earther I know, and Pile 3 get down! Pile 3 dont play!

You work so hard, it’s borderline masochistic 😭

It doesn’t have to be work in a traditional- go to your job and get noticed by the boss- sense, this extends to every corner of life. You’re objective-oriented and do not stray from the mark until the box is checked.

This can be as simple as having a goal to learn how to whistle by next Sunday. You’ve already marked time out of the week for ten minutes a day to practice, found YouTube instructors, bought chapstick so your lips don’t dry out, and it’s all you can think about until you get that high of accomplishing something.

Earth is the manifesting element because it's where our thoughts accumulate enough energy to materialize. It's quite a powerful position to be in. One day it's just a dream, and by the next it's reality.

Well, that's an exaggeration, the earth element is quite slooowwww due to its weight.

It’s the heaviest element because it’s the most long-lasting. Water evaporates, air swiftly changes, and fire burns; only Earth will remain. Anything worthwhile takes time, Rome wasn’t built in a day.

I think you understand this, but you don’t always have the patience for your desires to materialize. If you feel like you aren’t actively making progress on your goal, you tend to juggle multiple projects just to get that rush of achievement we were talking about earlier.

I’m making an addiction reference because it applies here. This incessant need to reach every goal as soon as you think you should is causing you to over-extend yourself and the stress on the body is throwing you into disharmony.

Not everyone gets their license at 16. Not everyone moves out of their family’s home at 18. Not everyone has a job straight out of college. Not everyone has their life all figured out…ever.

Balance is needed. You’re too hyper-focused on deadlines and seeing results, that you’re putting your overall wellbeing on the line. YOU are your most prized possession and need to care for yourself like you’re the shiniest medal on your mantel.

The “Gullible” card came out, don’t worry, you’re not naive in a trusting way (not that you should be blamed for putting your trust in people anyway). I see it as your goals aren’t rooted in your true self enough and are too influenced by others.

(Extreme example): You see someone (who has probably been practicing their whole life) play the violin really well at a young age. Now, you’ve made a goal to be as good as them in just a few years; every time you feel like you’re lagging on that deadline, you start berating yourself and feel inferior because you haven’t reached this unrealistic standard you’ve set.

Is this goal a good use of your finite energy? Is this objective authentic to you? Or is this just something that will give you a temporary ego stroke?

I think life is forcing out into a hanged man moment currently. Your perspective needs to switch inward so you can ground all of this powerful energy into something that will actually satisfy you, not just give you a quick high for a moment and then redirect you to your next conquest.

You want something that will give you pride and fulfillment at your core and the universe wants to give that to you, but you have to know what will make you happy. What gives you inner harmony?

And I don’t mean what you see makes others “happy”. Not a mansion, fame, the newest fashion trends, expensive skin care, etc. I mean the things that bring you joy beyond the physical.

Think about what made your younger self jump out of bed every morning to experience. What did your soul shine for, before the world shamed it out of you?

You don’t have to know now, but you must be willing to pause and raise the importance of your health and happiness to the same height as your material/skill gains. I know those things make you feel good, but it's temporary, and if you want to achieve lasting happiness you need to achieve harmony with all aspects of your life. Right now, your inner health needs a leg up to balance the scale.

The earth gets stiff and stops evolving without water. Don’t allow yourself to dry up. Give yourself space to go on an inner journey and rest. The universe understands perfection takes time. The planets took billions of years to form, a tree takes decades to reach maturity, and only humans have deluded themselves into thinking results are instantaneous.

A week of rest is still progress!

P.S The attractive card FLEW out. Your “do or die” energy, though unhealthy at times, is sexy as fuck and you have this magician-type- nothing is impossible for me- allure to you. Green, red, and black make people want to sneak another peak at you.

"Wait Instead of Push, Root Instead of Reach"

⌾ Pile Four ⌾ (The devil, 10oS, Ace of pentacles, 7oP)

MUY CALIENTE INDEED!!

They don’t call you a hot lil mama for nothin!

You embody the FIRE element. Although, you are quite earthy. This is my most mixed-element pile. Read pile three for sure.

You’re a very proactive person. You have earth’s manifesting qualities and fire’s initiative. You seize opportunities and start goals without hesitation. Very very attractive.

This reading doesn’t have to correlate with your birth chart, but all love to my Sagittarius and Aries folk. Of course, sending a special kiss to the Leos.

You have the same obsessive, hyper-focused tendencies as pile three but I feel like instead of a brief moment of accomplishment, you’re craving glory and the freedom to shine as brightly as you desire.

In your formative years, you’ve had to dim your light for survival and to escape ridicule. You’ve had to fit into a mold that is much smaller than your true form, stifling your potential. This energy feels very suffocating. Picture a boiling fire covered with a lid. It’s like a false skin has trapped you and cut off your oxygen.

But don’t worry, ever heard of cleansing by fire? The fire element is about purity and rebirth. It burns impurities to get matter back to its rawest, unadulterated form. You will burn that false skin off, to reveal a phoenix underneath, it's all a part of your evolution.

Fire ignites instantaneously but can burn out just as quickly. You suffer from exhaustion a lot of the time. This is where the earth energy meets the fire. You have a longer refractory period than usual fire personalities because of the heaviness of the earth element.

You’re like an engine sitting outside in the winter. Give it twenty minutes to warm up and get its groove but once it does, OOHHH BOOYYY, WE’RE ROLLIN’!

You have earth’s slowness and need for perfection, so you take longer to complete tasks and may even be a late bloomer.

I feel like you crave the spotlight, not necessarily fame, but recognition on some scale. You have always subconsciously known that your flame was being smothered and that you had not seen that full extent of you. Your subconscious brought this to your attention with desires to be seen.

Some of you want to be recognized for your talents, beloved for your beauty, admired for your wit, favored for your charm, hell all of the above!

And you deserve it! You desire these things because your soul is trying to tell you something. You are meant to be seen.

I sense a lot of fear in this pile. Fire energy is very headstrong and likes to race to the finish line (the hare). Earth energy is contemplative and likes to play the long game (the tortoise). The two conflicting energies can create some paralyzing doubt in your psyche. One side thinks the other is irrational.

Do I stay or do I go? Can I even trust myself to make a decision I might regret?

Yes, you can! You have to, there is one thing that fire and earth can agree on, it's their shared annoyance with stagnation. Go for it babe, you miss all the shots you don’t make, all choices lead forward (which is where you need to go).

I’m telling you, anything you want you will get, just don’t be afraid to burn that false skin off.

Find a median for the two energies. Dream big and have the self-assurance to go for it, but methodically plan out all your adventures so that earthy need for a stable foundation is satisfied.

A vision board with ideas of ways to achieve these dreams will help pull your thoughts into the physical and be a great step to giving you the confidence to move forward.

Because I promise you, once you get going, there will be no stopping you.

Note: I think “You’re afraid of being seen” videos on YouTube will be great for rewiring your fear-based thinking. Confidence affirmations are a great addition to your day too. Oh, and please read pile three, there are some messages in there for you.

"Have a Love Affair With The Sun"

If you enjoyed this reading feel free to check out my masterlist and poke around. I feel a lot of these pacs are connected, so go find yourself in other readings!

I don't bite I swear, book a reading with me if you feel inclined <3

#arijackz #pac #pick a card #tarot #tarot reading #pick a pile #astrology observations #divination #occult

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fanfictilltheend · 6 months ago

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❤️‍🔥Violent Heart Part 2: ♪Remember when I moved in you, and the holy dove was moving too ♫ (or the VERY DARK Stepdad!Mechanic!Covict!Joel x Afab!you one)❤️‍🔥

Hi I apologize that a lot of these reference pics are just of white girls. I tried to find "aesthetic" images that go with the story but so many of them are just of white people and I want to call myself out for this because in the fic's only descriptors are that she has hair and is AFAB -- nothing about race. I also realize that all of the girls in this are skinny too and Y/N's body type is never specified. Sorry fam!! These images are just to get the creative juices flowing and don't truly depict anything from the fic!!

A/n: It’s here!!!!!! 18+ Only. This took me 7 freaking months so you mofos better like, reblog, and comment. This is both my most and least personal fic I’ve ever written and it is dark and relies heavily on plot (smut this time tho!!) READ ALL OF THE TAGS DO NOT COME FOR ME UNLESS YOU DID THIS FR FR. This ones for my dark joel fangirlies(guys and NBies) and the daddy issues fam ily ❤️‍🔥 (also not me naming my fic in part after hallelujah by leonard cohen but there is a reason!!!!!!!!!!)

Summary: Part 2 picks up with Y/N at age 20 and how her relationship with Joel has changed and gets steamier. SMUT and feelings <3 Also check out this playlist of music that’s in the fic!!!!

Tags (PLEASE READ): Afab!you, pov change, Infidelity, threats, age gap, dressing Joel up (swear I wrote this before he wore that outfit to the SAG awards — the mr.Darcy-core one), racist comment (from Y/N’s douchey boyfriend), douchey boyfriend, confidence issues, feelings, voyeurism, masturbation (m and f), kissing, penis in vagina sex — unprotected (wear a condom), lightest hint of ass play, scar worship?? kinda??, daddy issues, daddy kink, using music lyrics to move the plot, multiple orgasms (m and f), religion and god discussions, stepcest (kinda bc technically he is divorced from her mother), tagging psuedo-incest just to be safe!!, use of y/n

Word Count: ~13k

PART 1

AO3 Link

Violent Heart Masterlist

Full Masterlist of all my work

If you’re being honest, you’ve always had a little crush on Joel Miller. How could you not have? The first day you’d met him had been like some kind of fucked up yet extremely satisfying whirlwind of a daydream. He’d come in, broad and tall and strong, and saved you from your evil (though you do love him somewhere deep, deep down) older brother’s onslaught. Protected you like a knight in shining armor from his punching, beating fists. Treated and touched you so tenderly, so many miles different from how your own father did that you’d been hit with whatever the pleasant opposite of whiplash is. And the way he finally punished Aiden after years of his reign of terror, the violence of it, the justice of it. You didn’t have words for it then, but the way you looked into Joel’s eyes when he was doling out that righteous punishment became some kind of strange secret understanding between the two of you. Maybe it was the first sign of love? You aren’t sure.

As a kid, he’d given you what you like to think of as quiet butterflies. They were always there when he spoke to you, looked at you, touched you, beat the shit out of your father and brother for you, but they were faint enough that you could ignore them. It was a comforting, fluttering kind of love, a gradual understanding of your loyalty to one another. But then puberty hit and the insects became incessantly loud when you thought of, wrote to, or talked to him. They ate at your heart day after day while Joel was in prison – the longing, the missing. Aiden told you that you were obsessed with him. Your mother told you to forget him, that he would forget you. But somehow, he didn’t. You wonder if those bugs live in him too. You wonder if they are quiet or loud and if they gnaw .

You think that they are probably loud. You think this for a few reasons. The first is that you know for a fact, you can feel it in the lining of your soul, and from the evidence of his constant correspondence and care for you, that he is just as obsessed with you as you are with him. The second reason is the fact that you think but aren’t one hundred percent sure is that the last time you’d hugged him he’d gotten a little hard (you don’t want to think too much into that because he is only a man who had been deprived of touch for a long time – but still you wonder…). And the third is the way he looks at you like you are the universe like you are the last drop of nectar and he is the last butterfly left on Earth in a famine.

That’s how he’s looking at you now in the passenger seat of his old, clunky pickup. You know that he wanted to drive, but you wanted to show him how well you could because he had never seen. Never had the chance to see how well you had fixed, maintained, and took care of his baby and of course he gave into you like he always does. He's smiling at you quietly, but his eyes contain multitudes. Right now mostly pride at your driving.

Joel is a bit different than how you remember sitting near him in the truck the last time you were together, him as a free man, you as a little girl. Somehow, even though you are obviously bigger now, he still seems massive and broad and stronger than ever. His biceps are huge – probably from all the time he had to work out in prison – and peeking out under his blue t-shirt that you brought for him, you think you see the outlines of some tattoos. You look a little closer. On his right arm is text in curvy black ink. You think it reads, “Sarah.” You smile softly at that. On his other arm is a strange orange shape that you have to squint at to understand. The edges of the object are jagged but they form a shape like a badge – and then you know what it is! It is the guitar pick you made for Joel as a child. The one that had pricked his finger and drawn blood and he stuck it in his wallet. You can’t articulate how honored you feel that Joel loved you enough to tattoo something you made for him on his body, permanently, forever.

“ Well , the light only turned green damn near eons ago,” he complains about your driving, but you know he is just teasing.

There is hardly anything wrong you can ever do in Joel’s eyes. He grins at you a bit lopsidedly and you smile back. You also can’t help but notice the greying of his brown hair. It’s a bit longer than it used to be too and the length gives it a little bit less of a shaggy look. You think it suits him, makes him look a bit older and more distinguished than when he first came into your life twelve years ago.

Objectively, you know it’s weird to think that your ex-stepdad who is a convicted felon is hot, but it’s just something you’ve always known and thought like that the sky is blue or that orange is your favorite color. You know it’s weird to think of someone who was? – is? – supposed to be a father figure to you that way, but it’s already second nature at this point. You’ve had a few boyfriends (luckily all of them had treated you right), but none of the feelings you’ve ever had for them have compared to the cosmic-sized love and affection you have for Joel and you’ve never known anything different. The years you spent longing, missing, loving, obsessing over, and aching for him in every way under the sun, can’t be healthy, you know this, but they have eclipsed practically every other relationship in your life. No one has ever made you feel as safe and protected and loved as Joel has. No one else has ever looked at you the way he does. No one else’s entire existence has revolved around you the way his has. The sheer devotion in his gaze is enough to make the butterflies inside you scream and beat their wings against your insides like hungry bats.

And you especially know you shouldn’t have these feelings about another human being violent enough to be capable of taking a life – inebriated or not. You’re grown now and know the man he killed was a scum-of-the-Earth child predator, and secretly you’ve always wondered if there was more to the story than Joel told the police in the official court transcripts you’d read as an adult, maybe even something to do with you since you had been there that day in the repair shop when they met , but you haven’t pressed because you’re sure the whole thing is quite traumatic for Joel and if he ever wants to tell you, you know he will. And more importantly, you don’t really care. Drunken, violent idiot or not, you were already deeply invested and never intended on wavering in that. You’re not sure there’s anything Joel could do to get you to stop loving him and that both terrifies and excites you.

“Okay, whatcha wanna eat?” you ask, reaching out to rub Joel’s shoulder gently. “Now that you’re free you can have whatever you want! On my mom’s credit card of course. Swear I won’t tell her.”

Joel grins.

“Deal,” he tells you. “I was thinking of a nice steak dinner.”

***

You pull into the fanciest restaurant you can find in the tri-state area and sit down to order a regal, all-American, full three-course steak dinner (though you’re both woefully underdressed – not that you care – though the host gives you a dirty look). All the while, you tell Joel about your major (psychology) and how you want to become a counselor for abused children.

“That’s sort of beautiful, sweetheart,” he tells you with a genuine smile that used to be so hard to coax from him, but now seems to float over to you so easily and gently like a kiss from something as soft as the wings of a butterfly. “Wanting to help defenseless children. You’re kinda like a guardian angel for them, ya know? Damn proud of ya! Also, these mashed potatoes are goddamn delectable!” he exclaims after taking an experimental bite. “Have I mentioned that prison food is shit?”

You smile bashfully and want to tell him that he is your guardian angel (you wonder if he thinks the same of you) and inspiration in a backward sort of way for wanting to help kids in the first place since he was so good at protecting you for the most part (though you obviously don’t believe violence is the correct answer in your line of future work). But kids need protectors. Somehow you know that deep down you forgive him for all of the violence he caused because you would forgive him for anything. And him being proud of you? You don’t think there’s a better feeling in the world than that! You burst with pride. Your real father never said that to you, but Joel doesn’t feel like your father now. He is something different entirely. Something that entirely belongs to you.

“And you’ll meet my boyfriend, Max, tomorrow,” you nod as Joel moves onto the steak and lets out a soft moan at how good it tastes. “He’s heard a lot about you.”

Joel’s face flattens.

“And who is this kid exactly?” he sneers a little, attacking the steak with his knife.

You smile internally at the obvious jealousy he’s trying to hide from his voice.

“Hey, Max is a decent guy!” you insist in his defense. “He’s pre-law. Real smart. He’s gonna be an important person someday, I know it. You’ll get on.”

That last part is a bit of a lie since you’re not sure the two will actually like each other.

Joel examines your face, looks deep into your eyes.

“All I know is, just because someone is important, don’t mean they’re good to you or for you for that matter.”

You can’t help but think of your father, the most “important” man you know and how much of a degenerate he is compared to someone ostensibly average like Joel who didn’t even have a status symbol like a college degree and how perfect of a man you think he is, despite his obvious flaws. You blush a little, scrunching up your nose.

“Just lookin’ out for you, sweetheart,” he continues, smiling at the way you do. “He ever fuck with you – he ever break your heart, you know just where to send him, alright?”

“Yeah, Joel,” you grin. “Don’t need you getting any more jail time though, alright?” “You may have made a valid point,” he concedes with a smirk.

***

When you two enter your shitty, one-bedroom apartment it’s already dark outside. Joel actually grins when he notices his and your guitars have both been mounted on the wall.

“We can play ‘em tomorrow,” you tell him excitedly. “If you want to, I mean…”

“Hell yeah, I do,” Joel smiles. “Wanna hear ya singing for me, honey. I missed that.”

You smile to yourself.

“You can have my bed, and I’ll take the couch,” you decide, getting back to business.

“No way, babygirl. I ain’t taking your bed.”

“Joel, you’ve literally been on a prison mattress for eight fucking years! Can’t imagine that’s been very comfortable.”

“That’s exactly why I won’t mind the couch. That’ll feel like heaven to me. Don’t want you messin’ up your back, sweetheart.”

You open your mouth, but Joel beats you.

“And that’s that,” he insists.

“Alright, alright,” you concede, knowing by the look on his face he’s not budging. If one thing, Joel has always been stubborn, but you like that about him. “D’you wanna watch a movie or something?”

“Actually, baby, if ya don’t mind, I’d like a quick shower. Been dreaming about taking a real, private one for ages.”

“Yeah, of course!” you nod, motioning toward your bathroom door. “Towels are under the sink.”

Joel makes his way inside and soon steam is billowing out the bottom of the door.

You busy yourself with some homework, but just as you walk past the door to grab a glass of water, you think you hear Joel singing.

You listen more closely over the fall of the running water and make out him singing the chorus of an old ABBA song with a deeper, sadder tone to it,

♪ “ Slipping through my fingers all the time / I try to capture every minute / The feeling in it / Slipping through my fingers all the time / Do I really see what's in her mind? / Each time I think I'm close to knowing / She keeps on growing / Slipping through my fingers all the time…” ♫

You feel like such a sap, but you feel a tear forming in your eye at the way Joel must be thinking about his and your relationship and everything he missed in your life. You aren’t mad at him, but his absence hurt in a way you didn’t know you could feel. And you’ve never blamed him, really, but the lack of him for eight years of milestones really did kill a piece of you. You can’t help but imagine a butterfly at the bottom of your stomach with its wings pulled off. That’s how you felt all that time without Joel – like a butterfly without wings. A writhing worm of a human being, senseless and lost in a giant world full of forces you couldn’t control.

You listen to Joel’s beautiful, deep voice until you hear him turn off the tap and you scurry away and act innocent.

Joel emerges from the bathroom then with nothing but a white towel around his waist, steam from the shower floating lazily into the room behind him like precession. And oh, wow, is he ever a sight to behold. His hair is wet, dark brown flecked with grey, and starting to get curly from the moisture. You also can’t help but notice his broad chest, the expanse of it, the dark curls of hair, his bulking, muscular tattooed arms, his soft, hairy tummy, the V-shape of muscle that descends beneath the towel, his happy trail. You are overwhelmed by the soaking beauty of him. You’d seen Joel shirtless before, sure, but it had never felt like this .

“Gon’ grab some of those clothes you bought for me and then maybe we could watch something?” Joel asks as you try so fucking hard not to stare at him.

“Sure!” you squeak, staring down at your notebook at the kitchen counter.

You think you see a smirk from Joel, but you're not sure because your gaze is averted as he grabs some clothes to change into and disappears back into the bathroom.

When he reemerges, dressed in a wifebeater and shorts that accentuate his form, you two sit next to each other on your cushy sofa and surf the TV for something to watch. You feel Joel’s hairy knees against your jean-clad one and your heart flutters.

“Can’t believe I’m really here,” Joel says softly as you pass re-runs of Full House, a dog show. “Like I gotta fuckin’ pinch myself to know it’s not a dream.”

Suddenly you feel a large, weathered hand on your cheek.

“Missed you so much, babygirl,” he murmurs, looking into your eyes, massaging the line of your jaw ever so lightly, trying to hold your skittish gaze. “More than I even have words for.”

First, you avoid looking at him a bit bashfully, but then you stare up cautiously into those big brown eyes that feel like a familiar kind of home and you’re such a goner. You lean into his warmth, the warmth of his hand.

“Missed you too, Joel. So much,” you admit, never wanting this moment to end or him to let go of you. “More than anything.”

He leans forward a little and for a second you think…but then he’s leaning in and planting a heavy kiss on your forehead. A kiss that has weight to it – not those soft, weak ones that Max gives you haphazardly when he’s drunk or high – the only time he’s brave enough to be vulnerable with you. This kiss says something, means it so sincerely too.

“Love you, honey,” he tells you. Then his face falls. “Sorry I…wasn’t quite there to say that to you enough in person.”

“It’s okay, Joel. I forgive you,” you insist. “I love you so much, dummy. More than you even know!”

But you truly do appreciate the sentiment.

***

You settle on an old, black and white classic, Paper Moon, that’s playing on the TV Land channel.

Joel wraps a big arm around you and you snuggle close. You’re pretty sure there isn’t a better feeling in the world than being this close to him. Even after all these years he still smells like Joel; like home (and, if you’re being honest, a bit like your vanilla shampoo) .

You lean against him, your cheek pressing into one of his firm pecs. You begin to feel sleepy, drunk on the steady sound of his heartbeat, alive and beating against you and really here .

You nod off.

***

At first, you don’t believe it, but you feel someone with strong, firm arms lifting you into the air, cradling your back and the insides of your knees in a bridal-style carry. The movement wakes you, but you don’t open your eyes because the safety and security you feel is too good to give up. Joel carries you to your bedroom and lays you down gently in your bed. You’re still in day clothes and shoes so Joel takes off your worn sneakers with a feather-light touch and places them at the foot of the bed – you can tell from the soft thumps it makes. He maneuvers you so tenderly under the covers and tucks you in with love and care. You wonder the last time someone did that for you and pull up a blank. If anyone ever did that for you it was probably Joel. Maybe your mom did when you were really young. Certainly your father nor Aiden ever did – your father hadn’t liked to touch you except out of anger – kind of like you had some kind of weird, contagious disease. Aiden’s hands had almost always hurt too, but not Joel’s – never his.

He breaks you from your thoughts by pressing another kiss to your forehead. Your eyes are still closed so you aren’t sure, but you think he watches you for a second and lets out a long sigh.

Then you hear your bedroom door close softly so as not to disturb you. You smile, you can’t help it, and drift back off into a peaceful sleep.

***

You wake up to a mumbling, grunting sort of sound. You look over at your clock and read 3:42 a.m. You sit up. You can kind of hear some muffled noises coming from outside your room. At first, you feel a little concerned – like maybe Joel is in pain or something as he is the only one who could be making the noises. The walls in your apartment are paper-thin. Like you could hear him sneeze clear as day if he were to because sound travels through the shitty walls so easily. You should have told him that. But what the fuck is he doing up at 3 a.m.?

You creep (and you mean creep) silently to the door of your bedroom and open it the tiniest crack. The way your apartment is laid out, the back of the sofa is the first thing you see and the back of Joel’s head about six feet away. He doesn’t sound in pain the way he’s groaning and then you understand exactly what he’s doing. Of course the man is jerking off! After being in prison, stuck around people for so long of course he wanted a good, private wank. He isn’t looking at anything from what you can tell, no magazines or anything. Must be using his imagination. You wonder what he’s thinking about, if he’s gotten good at that over the years.

You should turn around, slink back into bed, and cover your ears with a pillow so the man can have some privacy. But, fuck, the way he’s grunting. His voice is so fucking deep and sexy and then he lets out a soft, vulnerable moan and you feel heat envelope your whole body. You think you hear a soft fuck roll off his tongue and your heart almost beats right out of your chest. You can hear the lewd slapping of his fist on skin getting louder and more intense. Then you hear a soft take it, fuck. And Jesus, you are so fucking wet between your thighs. You ought to be ashamed. Instead, you reach down your hand feverishly beneath the band of your jeans and soaking underwear instinctively to stroke yourself ever so slightly. You sigh in relief, but you are fucking gushing, your fingers covered in your slick. You can’t see anything besides the back of Joel’s head, technically, so this couldn’t be that wrong, could it? He lets out a soft groan, you can tell he’s holding back so as not to be heard, but the desperation in the pathetic little noises this hulking man is making is turning on every switch inside you. Oh how you want to go over there and take him in your mouth, to taste him. God you are so fucked up! You’re still touching yourself gently, not really fully going at it yet, considering the possibilities that could follow if you went over there. But before you can decide to do anything, Joel positively whines, moans, and grunts fuck, unh, and you think but aren’t sure, babygirl, and finishes.

You stop dead still in what you’re doing. Did he really say “babygirl” or was that just your horny-ass imagination playing tricks on you? You’ve never heard Joel call anyone babygirl except you. Was he really thinking of you? On the one hand, if true, mega fucked up. On the other, wow, incredibly hot. You think about going over there and asking him to finish you off or something as crazy as in all those dumb romance novels you used to read in middle school, but just as quickly as the idea comes to you, you hear another noise: loud snoring. Joel is asleep.

Typical.

You snort to yourself. That was so quintessentially Joel. You don’t want to disturb him now. The moment has passed. And only then is when you remember you have a fucking boyfriend.

That doesn’t stop you from closing your door softly, crawling back into bed, and reaching your hand down beneath your panties to touch yourself. You stroke your clit, imagining it is Joel’s rough hand rubbing against you. Holy fuck. You haven’t been this wet since you used to touch yourself thinking about him in the past. It’s like he can reach every part of you, every layer in a way that no one else can. You know the whole thing is so fundamentally fucked up, but you can resist sinking into your favorite fantasy. The smell, the touch, the feel of him. You imagine the noises he was making so beautifully on the couch, feel heat coil through your entire body, and immediately cum hard without even sticking a finger inside yourself.

The pleasure you feel is so unparalleled and real you have to cover your hand with your mouth not to scream out your powerful orgasm.

Sweat drenches your whole body as you come down.

God, you are so fucked.

***

The next morning you wake up to the wafting smell of someone cooking eggs. You emerge from your room a little sheepishly from last night’s events to find Joel behind the kitchen counter making eggs and toast.

“Mornin’, babygirl,” he grins, his eyes shining like he’s excited about something.

And then you realize: that something is you.

You grin back.

“Good morning, Joel,” you beam at him.

You were so afraid things would feel awkward after what you heard last night, but nothing ever feels awkward with Joel. In some ways, he’s still just your average dorky, friendly old ex-stepdad, convicted felon. In other ways, everything about him sets your heart on fire, but it would be stupid to ruin what you have with him because you think it’s remotely possible he might be interested back. You know this is dramatic, but if he flat-out rejected you, you think you might die. Truly. Like those butterflies inside you would beat their wings so hard they’d burst your heart.

“‘Membered you liked ‘em poached,” he nods, breaking you from your thoughts.

He scoops two poached eggs onto one of your plates and grabs a piece of toast from the toaster which he smears with butter like how you used to eat toast as a kid. You can’t believe he remembered.

“Thanks so much,” you tell him.

He grabs a few eggs and toast for himself and sits beside you at the counter.

“Nice to be able to cook me ‘n you some real food,” he remarks. “If I eat one more cup o’ noodles in my lifetime I swear to God Almighty…” he trais off.

He’s looking at you like you put the goddamned sun in the sky. Your heart melts as you stare at his features, the faint curls in his hair. Oh, how you want to reach out and touch him. But that just isn’t how you operate. You won’t ruin what you already have.

The butterflies in your chest howl.

***

` You lay out the day’s schedule to Joel. You have plenty of time to hang about (you see him eyeing the guitars), and then you need to go shopping for some actual clothes for Joel since the things you brought for him don’t constitute a proper wardrobe. Then you will go out to dinner and meet Max.

Joel grunts a nod at that last part. He doesn’t seem too thrilled.

“Wanna show me what you’ve been playing?” he asks hopefully as he gets up to put both of your plates in the sink,

“‘Course!” you nod enthusiastically. “Max says I need to work on my fingerpicking so I can’t promise it’ll be all that good.”

Joel rolls his eyes.

“Show me what you’ve got.”

***

You sit down on the couch right next to Joel, each of you holding your respective guitars in hand, across your laps.

Joel looks ecstatic to have his guitar back in his hands. He fiddles with the tuning and finger-picks a faint melody.

“Haven’t played one since the prison band. But then some dumb motherfucker clobbered another sorry son of a bitch to death with a saxophone so that ended our music privileges,” Joel explains.

“Jeez,” you reply.

Joel is sitting so close you can feel his body heat. You just want to hear him sing, but he insists on hearing you.

“Joel,” you try as innocently as possible. “D’you remember how to do an A-flat? I forget and I need it for my song.”

“Sure, baby. Lemme help ya. Now put one finger on this bit of the 4th fret here,” he begins, snaking a big arm around your shoulders so he can maneuver your fingers to the correct position.

His touch is electric. He feels so good and warm. You feel the intense urge to climb into his lap and embrace and stay there forever. His big caloused hand full of scars places your fingers correctly for the chord. The same hand that must have jerked himself to completion last night…You can’t help but wonder how much cum there was…The truth is, you know how to make an A-flat. You just wanted to feel him.

He backs away and you whine internally at the loss.

“There we go,” he says soothingly, reaching out to rub your shoulder. “That one can be tricky. Now where is my performance?”

Your nerves are squirming around inside you but you begin to play and sing to the best of your ability.

You look into Joel’s eyes.

♪“ You've got a heart on fire / It's bursting with desire / You've got a heart filled with passion / Will you let it burn for hate or compassion?” ♫ you sing.

Joel watches you intently, sitting up straighter.

♪ “What's the point with a love / That makes you hate and kill for? ♪

You sing as best and as seriously as you can. You look up and think you maybe see a tear in Joel’s eye.

When you finish, it’s clear Joel is finding it hard to select the right words to convey what he’s feeling.

“I–” he tries. “That was…well, let me just show you how I can answer that if anyone ever could to a performance as beautiful as that.”

You blush.

He begins to finger-pick a familiar tune, Instantly, you are transported back to eight years old in the back of Joel’s old pickup truck, listening to one of his many cassette tapes. It’s “I’ll Never Find Another You” by The Seekers. The original version of the song is pretty happy and upbeat, but the way Joel sings it slowly in his deep and weathered voice makes you feel sad and achy inside. The emotion behind his voice is palpable.

♪ “But if I should lose your love, dear / I don't know what I'd do / For I know I'll never find another you / Another you / Another you…” ♫ he trails off.

It’s your turn to tear up a little. It’s crazy to know he means every word he’s singing too. He sings like every word is his last breath. When he finishes you are crying a little.

“You oughta record an album,” you sniffle, leaning into his shoulder, throwing him a side hug.

“Wanted to be a singer,” he replies with a small grin, leaning his head against yours. “Back when I was young.”

You sit back up straight.

“You did? I never knew that.”

“Don’t tell nobody really,” Joel replies, looking a bit sad you left his immediate proximity. “Just a stupid dream ‘n all that crap.”

“‘S not stupid,” you tell him. “You really have a beautiful voice, Joel. It’s like if I could take it, hold on to it, and keep it forever in my chest pocket next to my heart, I would.”

“That’s where I keep you, baby,” he tells you honestly.

He reaches up a big hand to yours and guides your own to place it right on his heart over his plaid shirt. You can feel it beating steadily below your palm to the rhythm of something as delicate and ferocious as the beating of butterfly wings.

“Right here.”

***

You take Joel shopping. At his insistence it is nothing fancy, just the local department store. That doesn’t stop you from dressing Joel up in ridiculous outfits of your choosing. You make him try on a Hawaiian shirt, some golf polos like your dad liked to wear, a pinstripe suit and he lets you because saying no to you has never been in his vocabulary. He acts grumpy on the outside, but you can tell he is amused. You know in the end, you’ll just end up buying every flannel shirt and jeans combo they have in the store, but it’s just fun anyway. You watch the fabric hug his torso, his tummy, the slight bulge at his waist. At one point he comes out shirtless and you try very hard not to swoon as you stare at the hair lining his chest and his adorable little tummy that you for some reason have the urge to bite. The band of his Hanes boxers sticks up past his jeans and he looks so good. He even lets out a genuine smile. The middle-aged sales attendant who is helping you even takes a good look at him which makes the butterflies inside you swarm possessively.

Finally, you make him try on a proper white-collared button-down shirt and black dress pants with matching black shoes and he looks so good you’re actually at a loss for words when he asks you what you think. They hug the curves and lines and planes of his body so nicely. All you can do is ask him to put on a black tie to match and he does at your behest following some customary griping that he would never wear such a monkey suit in the first place. The effect that a fully dressed-up Joel has on you is not one to be reckoned with. He might as well be wearing the men’s version of lingerie for how it makes you throb and ache between your legs. He looks like a force of nature, commanding and tall. It makes you weak. All you say is,

“Looking good, old-timer.”

He snorts.

When you finally ditch all the fun clothes and grab the essentials, Joel offers to go pick up the car while you pay. He tries to give you his eight-year-old credit card, but you insist on treating him on the condition he buys the “monkey suit.” After a bit of prodding, he gives in and you go to the sales attendant to pay at the counter.

“Your dad is really cute,” the sales attendant giggles to you as she rings up the pile of clothes.

Your cheeks go a bit red. You don’t really care enough to correct her.

“He’s my guy,” is all you say absentmindedly as you fish out your wallet from your purse.

The sales attendant hands you the receipt and on it, you see a scrawled phone number.

“For If he’s single,” she explains. “I’m Barb from sales.”

You look her over. She’s close to Joel’s age and conventionally pretty with long brown hair. The exact kind of woman Joel should be dating should he choose to get back in the game. Your stomach twists and the butterflies howl inside you.

You take the receipt, thank her, and join Joel back in the car (who is more than happy to be driving this time).

“What took so long?” he asks casually. “You two writing a novel in there?”

You think seriously about what you should do. You consider letting the bugs have their way and tearing the receipt with Barb’s number on it to shreds. But you want good things for Joel. The chance of you two ever being together the way you wish is so far-fetched that you know you shouldn’t even be thinking it. A literal pipe dream. He was your stepdad for christsakes. He literally fucked your mother! (Gross!). Barb is exactly the kind of woman Joel should be going after if he’s up to dating right now. You hand him the receipt begrudgingly.

“Sales Lady likes you,” you sat flatly. “Name is Barb.”

“Oh,” he says softly like he’s a bit flattered.

He looks back at her through the glass door of the store and she waves at him. He waves back politely. You feel your stomach twisting into knots.

“You think…you think you’re gonna call her?” you finally ask as casually as humanly possible, dreading the answer.

Joel looks over at you, his gaze sweeping over you. Then looks back at Barb through the window. He looks her up and down.

“Nah,” he says with a smirk, looking back at you. “She ain’t my type. Only need one girl in my life right now anyways,” he winks.

Was that Joel flirting? With you?

Regardless, you smile back and then sigh in relief and grin to yourself as you two drive away.

Much to your satisfaction, Joel crumples up the receipt and throws it out the window for good measure.

***

You get ready for dinner, to go to a nice Mexican-Japanese fusion restaurant that Max picked out. You wear a red dress that accentuates your figure and matching heels and to your shock, Joel reemerges from the bathroom in the white button-down shirt and black dress pants you picked out for him (you had been sure flannel would be part of his ensemble). God, he looks good. A part of you wants to ditch Max and just stay here with Joel forever. He looks you over, his dark eyes sweeping over your frame. You think there is a tinge of possessiveness in his voice when he says,

“ Christ, you look beautiful, babygirl.”

***

You arrive before Max and sit down at the fancy white table-cloth-covered table next to Joel, a booth facing you. Max finally makes an appearance a half hour late and sits down across from you, sweeping his hair out of his face, sliding into the booth. Joel is frowning and the butterflies beat their wings inside you nervously.

“Sorry I’m late,” Max announces, puffing out his chest a little and smoothing out his collared shirt as he looks down at his watch and then over at Joel. “Hey, baby,” he says to you. Then, “And, uh, nice to meet you. Joe, was it? Heard a lot about you.”

“Joel,” Joel replies flatly, eyeing Max.

Max is a good-looking guy, everyone says so, but he looks more like a little boy than you’ve ever thought as he squirms uneasily in his seat under Joel’s unrelenting gaze and launches into a tirade about his frat’s inter-mural lacrosse team practice and how his team should have totally won the scrimmage and that’s why he’s late. And of course, he was the one to score the most goals.

“And the taxi cab driver was a nightmare. Only spoke Spanish. It’s like, if you come to this country speak fucking English, am I right?”

You notice Joel’s jaw tighten and his fingers clench.

“Max, that’s so rude!” you tell him, frowning. “We’re at a fucking Mexican restaurant!”

“Anyway,” Max continues, rolling his eyes at the interruption like he barely even heard you, smirking. “Where’d you go to school? What do you do for work, Joel? Besides making license plates, I mean. Kidding!” he insists as you stare daggers at him.

Joel leans forward ever so slightly but you slip your leg over his to hold him back and he calms down a fraction. It’s like when you touch him, everything tense in him melts away.

Joel sits up straighter in his chair and looks at you, stretching his arm across the back of your seat protectively like it’s a casual thing and not an unconscious sign of possessiveness.

“I’m a mechanic,” he grunts unceremoniously to Max. “I mean, I was anyways…Didn’t go to school.”

Max frowns ever so slightly.

“You didn’t go to college? You must’ve gone to trade school at least?”

“Nope. Picked up what I know over the years. Not everyone gets a free ride from their parents,” Joel smirks.

“Free ride?” Max snaps. “I’ll have you know I spend every summer interning at a law firm!”

“Yeah, your dad’s,” you can’t help but snicker.

Max’s cheeks turn a bit pink.

“At least I’m not a psych major,” he shoots back. “I mean, no offense, babe!”

“What’s wrong with psychology?” Joel snarls, his eyes darkening. “You ought to be proud to have such a thoughtful and intelligent girl like Y/N studying such a topic.”

It’s your turn for your cheeks to go pink.

“Joel–”

“Who said I wasn’t?” Max sneers.

That makes you feel a bit better.

“I’m just saying, she could have inherited the second-best law firm in the tri-state area from her pops if she was pre-law like me,” he smirks.

Your smile fades, used to hearing this kind of shit from him. He knows you and your father don’t get along at all, but not the full extent of it. He also knows you don’t have an interest in pre-law. But you swallow down how you really feel.

“It’s fine, Joel,” you tell him, placing a hand down on his thigh.

It’s not that you enjoy the way Max has been talking to you, but you are so used to it from the men in your life that it feels like the common denominator must be you. And sometimes it feels like maybe they have some kind of point. And fighting back only makes things worse. You’ve learned that over the years the hard way.

“It’s not fine!” he snaps like he’s trying to get you to see sense, looking deeply insulted on your behalf. Your heart thunders in your chest. “This boy has never worked an honest day in his life and he’s telling you what you ought to be doing? Bet his hands are soft as a baby’s ass. He doesn’t know shit about you, babygirl.”

You may not know the hardship of labor that Joel has taken on in his life, but your hands are not smooth. They are full of scars. And Joel is right. Max’s are soft like silk. You look down at the most prominent, ugly scar on your middle finger. You don’t even know which man in your life gave it to you. But you do know it means something. Shows you survived something. Survived your stupid father too, not that Max seems to care.

But Max never loses.

“Whatever,” he smirks dismissively. “Sorry I’m not some, like, common blue-collar worker. But I guess I should be taking advice from someone who became a fucking convicted felon ‘cause they drank too much one night,” he shrugs with a terrible sneer.

You know it’s over then.

But Joel surprises you. Doesn’t immediately strangle Max like you thought he might. Simply stands up tall and silent over Max’s frame which has suddenly begun to shake ever so slightly in obvious fear, his blue eyes widening. Joel’s fists are clenched tightly at his sides.

“Wouldn’t mind them sendin’ me right back in, ” Joel growls low. “Drunk or not.”

You shiver and Max positively cowers.

“Got something to say? Don’t wanna take it outside?” Joel leers, smirking ever so slightly at the trembling boy before him. “I’d even let a little boy like you take the first swing.”

“Your stepdad’s a freak, Y/N,” Max stammers, not taking his eyes off of Joel.

“Joel, it’s fine, okay?” you growl, not wanting him to actually hurt your boyfriend. Let alone in public! “Shouldn’t talk about Joel like that though, Max! Jesus!”

“Babe, I’m sorry, okay?” Max tries, eyeing back and forth between you and Joel. “I’m just trying to look out for you. I don’t get what you see in him with a real Dad like yours! Your dad has so much to give you!”

Look out for you? So much to give you? What could he possibly give besides a stupid law firm and two black eyes?

Max looks a bit desperate. Him apologizing for anything is actually a new concept for you. Your heart twitches ever so slightly. He must actually like you a lot. But Joel would never do anything to hurt you if it was in his power. At least not intentionally, unlike your real father.

“That’s it. I’m leaving,” Joel snarls moodily, turning around. “Don’t want to do things I might regret to Mr.Future-Corporate-Lawyer over here. Have fun with him .”

Joel looks deeply hurt. Like you are choosing Max over him or something. That’s never what this has been about, has it? Doesn’t Joel know you’d do anything for him? That the hurt on his face hurts you more than anything you’ve ever felt. Ever.

“Joel, wait!” you decide and disappear after him, leaving Max behind at the table.

“Babe, what the fuck!?” Max yells, but you don’t care. “Come back here!”

***

You ride back in silence, Joel’s hands turning white against his grip on the steering wheel.

When you break through to the front door of your apartment, Joel finally snaps, the anger on his face directed at something that feels like you for the first time in your life.

“You really love that little son of a bitch, don’t you?” he sneers, uncharacteristically harshly towards you.

“So what if I did?” you shoot back, a little shocked. “It’s none of your business, Joel. What the fuck?”

“It is so my business,” he snaps back. “That kid is no good for you, Y/N. He doesn’t understand you. You deserve someone much better than that who will actually go to the ends of the earth for you. He wouldn’t do anything for you.”

There is a desperation and vulnerability in Joel’s words and tone that you’re not sure you’ve heard before. He sounds like he had been waiting the whole car ride to say this, maybe even his whole life. You aren’t sure.

“Max does give a shit about me,” you try to convince yourself, getting angrier. “I mean at least he was there for me while you were gone.”

Joel flinches.

“How do you know what’s so good for me and what’s not when you dipped out of my life for eight years?” you continue harshly. “Because why? It wasn’t because you were drunk, was it? It was because you couldn’t control your anger. You never could.”

He stares at you.

“I controlled it for you,” Joel says so quietly you almost miss it. “ You are the only reason I did any of it.”

“What?” you stammer, not sure you want to hear more. “W-what do you mean, Joel? Any of what?”

A million thoughts begin to run through your mind, but you push them aside. Theories about the case and your ideas of Joel’s true nature all threaten to drown you but you push them away.

“Do you want to know why I really killed that sick son of a bitch?” Joel asks dangerously after a long moment of silence. You stare at him, your body frozen. He looks down at his hands, flexing them like he can still feel them punching or around that disgusting man’s throat. “Why I killed him all those years ago? It was no accident, I’ll give you that. Manslaughter, my ass. I killed that scum of the Earth because he threatened you . To do terrible things to you with those disgusting hands of his. So I broke each one, but it wasn’t enough. I killed him because I didn’t want you to get hurt and because I didn’t want you to live in fear of him. I was tired, Y/N. Tired of being afraid for you in a world that doesn’t let you do shit except fight back. I loved you so much, Y/N, it hurt me. It scared me, but I couldn’t let him hurt you. I’d die before I let anyone hurt you again, not him, not your father, not Max, not anyone. You have to understand. I love –”

And then it’s all over. You’re not sure who moves first, but you think it might be you. The butterflies are rustling and thundering and screeching inside you and you kiss him. And Joel kisses back, devouring your mouth in his. You grab the back of his graying brown hair and pull him as close to you as you think is humanly possible. He cradles the back of your head so gently you almost lose your breath. And you are kissing and kissing and kissing and kissing. There is nothing else in the universe except this kiss. You have never felt anything like this in your life. It is like every butterfly inside you has gone silent. It is like the world has stopped just for you and something new is forming inside you.

Joel killed that vile man for you. To keep you safe. Like he always said or showed that he would. He gave his life away for you. He did the unspeakable for you.

He bites down on your bottom lip and all your brain can manage to coherently think is: more, harder .

But then Joel is breaking away from you slowly.

NO! your heart cries out, the delicious pleasure and pain draining away from you. The butterflies swarm dangerously inside your chest, worse with every inch he travels from your lips.

“Joel,” you whine. “What? You…you don’t want–”

“Don’t even say that, Y/N,” he growls dangerously. “Of course I want you. How could I not? I have spent my entire life wanting you in some capacity, baby, but I ain’t no good for you either, alright? I…” he says slowly like it takes every inch of his body to agree to say this. “I am not a good man, Y/N. I never have been. I’ve done wrong in every chapter of my life. You deserve someone much better. I don’t want to hurt you. Physically or mentally. Our history… The damage I’ve done…” he trails off.

“You don’t understand,” you swallow, tears forming in your eyes. “You have already loved and hurt me more than any human being on planet Earth. And yet somehow there is nothing you could do that would keep me away from you, don’t you get that? The Joel Miller I love is not a good man and I don’t care. I want all of you. All of the pretty and crooked pieces you try to hide away from me. You killed a man with your bare hands, arguably one of the worst things a human can do, and I don’t care. I still want you, Joel. Maybe even more because of it. No one has ever loved me the way you do and that is the love I want and it terrifies me.”

A single tear falls down Joel’s right cheek. You reach up to wipe it away, but Joel grabs your hand on the way reflexively, so you help him wipe his own tears away.

“I love you,” you whisper.

“I would move the Earth for you,” Joel whispers back.

“I know,” you nod. “I’ve always known. I–”

But he is kissing you again before you can say another word, like a man starved. You hold onto his cheeks, your fingers caressing his stubbly beard.

“ Joel,” you whine when you break for air.

“I wanted this so badly,” he says softly, grinning a lopsided grin. “Can’t believe this is real.”

“Me too,” you giggle.

You have to lean up a bit, but you press your forehead to his gently.

“Oh, baby,” Joel smirks. “You’ve made me the happiest man alive, ya know that? You like

it when I go a little rough, honey?” he smirks down at you in satisfaction, reading your mind.

You have to stop yourself from getting lost in the warm pools of his brown eyes, your panties soaked.

He reaches an affectionate hand down to rub your side softly.

“This okay, babygirl?” he coos, massaging his hand down your torso.

“I’d let you do anything to me, don’t you know?” you snicker. “Pain or pleasure, it’s all the same to me. I like all of that. I just want you so bad.”

“Think a safe word is in order,” Joel grins, leaning down to kiss your neck. “How about ‘butterflies?’” you suggest.

“Sounds good to me, baby,” he grins, looking genuinely happy for the first time in hours.

He leans down and places a calloused hand around your throat, not squeezing (yet – you hope) and plants soft kisses and bites down your expanse of skin.

“All mine,” he mutters into your skin. “My beautiful babygirl.”

You feel his erection pressing against you through his black dress pants which makes you moan softly.

His hand trails over your crotch and he starts rubbing over the tight fabric of your red dress.

“That okay?”

“Yes,” you whine. “Want more, Daddy.”

Oh shit. You don’t mean to say it like that! You know it is about ten levels of fucked up to call Joel that, but how is it your fault that in every fantasy that’s how you think of him? You figure you’re probably past the point of weird and every other standard of decency, but you’re still afraid.

“Sorry…” you mumble. “I–”

“No, no, baby,” Joel says quickly. “It’s alright, you can call me whatever you want. I don’t mind, sweetheart.”

“You think it’s weird,” you mumble again, further stupid tears forming in your eyes.

He snickers.

“Baby, I think we’re beyond weird at this point. Let me show you how turned on it makes me.”

Joel takes your hand and places it on his crotch. He takes your left hand, the one with the scar and you cringe a little, but he is rock-hard.

That’s good because you’re positively drenched.

“You’re okay, sweetheart. Daddy likes that more than you know, alright?”

You take your hand back, smiling, but you cover your scarred finger, shocked he will allow this fantasy for you.

“Whatcha hidin’ from me, baby?” he asks, noticing the positioning of your hands.

“I hate that scar on my finger. ‘S so ugly,” you admit.

Joel looks flabbergasted.

“That’s the last damn thing I think of when I look at you. Ugly? Who in the fuck told you that?”

“How it got there is ugly. It’s marred skin, looks gross,” you mumble.

Joel moves to take out his cock, and when you nod he unzips and unbuttons his dress pants, pulling out his length. You have fantasized about his cock for god knows how long so you are more than excited to see it. He reaches to place your left hand with the scarred fingers around the length of his dick, which is thick, but longer than you expected. The leaking head is almost purple and your mouth begins to water as you stroke him gently.

“It’s part of you,” Joel tells you, his eyes connecting with yours. “I love it. It shows you survived. Gonna jerk off to it, Daddy loves it so much. And when I’m done you’re gonna love it too. Swear I’ve got so many over the years I can barely even count ‘em. Even got a few on my middle finger. Maybe even one from a certain guitar pick you made me. Nothing like that could ever make me stop wanting you, ya know that, right?”

You smile and take your time stroking him, wanting to show him how much you love and care for him, scars and all.

He grunts softly, closing his eyes, but then shoos your hand away with a feverish kind of want.

“Yeah, touch yourself now, baby. Daddy wants to see how wet you are for him. With that scarred finger. C’mon, now. ‘S gonna make you feel so good.”

You do as you’re told and reach down underneath your dress and begin to touch yourself, especially with your middle finger. You stroke your clit and then your dripping wet slit. You moan softly as Joel’s eyes rake over you, taking in every sigh and groan you emit. The butterflies are forming something big inside you, which presses against the inside of your tummy and ribcage.

“Daddy,” you whine.

“Enough, little one,” Joel whispers.

He takes out your hand and begins to suck the slick off of each of your fingers, groaning deeply, making intense eye contact the whole time.

“Fuck, angel,” he moans, having a tough time keeping himself together, you can tell. “Taste and smell better than like how I pictured. Like you were fuckin’ made for me, I swear.”

He reaches a hand of his own down to stroke himself and his moans become more desperate. Finally, he sucks on your middle finger covered in your slick and groans so deeply you feel like you might cum untouched. He stares into your eyes.

“ Mine, ” he growls possessively. “Oh, shit! Gonna–”

Then he takes your left hand and leads it to meet his throbbing cock. You stroke him, harder this time, fisting his thick length, moaning softly and that does it for him.

Joel cums all over your hand, oozing white globs of cum over your fingers, once, twice, three times.

“Fuuuuuck, babygirl,” he groans. “Oh, shit, I’m so sorry! Couldn’t help it. Yeah, suck it off, baby. That’s it,” he commands, and you do, licking up all of his cum, even the part that got on your middle finger.

When Joel comes down he still looks half-crazed with desire.

“Sorry about the, uh, early release. It’s been a while since anyone touched me,” he babbles in embarrassment, his cheeks flushed pink. “But I don’t wanna hear shit about your gorgeous hands ever again, you hear me, babygirl?”

“Yes, Daddy,” you nod, snickering.

He looks like that one word has set his entire universe back in order again. You honestly don’t care at how fast Joel came. You love how much it shows he wants you. And his heady taste is making you weak. You could taste him for days and days and never get tired, you’re sure.

“Can still get you off though, don’t worry. Shoulda let you cum first, but I couldn’t help it with the things you do to me. Goddamn. Can Daddy eat your pussy, baby?”

You grin, but then your face falls.

“Didn’t shave,” you admit, feeling dirty.

Max hates your hair down there.

Joel looks at you in confusion.

He laughs, his face scrunching up.

“Oh, sweetheart. You think I care about that? Only little boys give a shit about things like that. Not men.”

You shiver.

“Really?”

“Of course I don’t care. Didn’t ya hear what I just said? C’mon now. You can lie down on the couch.”

You follow instructions, pulling your dress over your head to reveal white lace panties and no bra.

You move to take the panties off, but Joel stops you, staring at the lines and curves of your body.

“Jesus, fuck,” he growls, taking you in.

You think you see his cock twitch ever so slightly. He palms his softening length instinctively.

“Beautiful,” he snarls, pushing you back on the sofa.

You happily fall backward.

He lies on top of you, his white button-down shirt pressing against your naked body tantalizingly.

He bites your lips roughly and you groan against him.

“Daddy’s mouth,” he commands against you.

“Yeah, duh, Daddy,” you snicker.

As if he even needs to say it!

He kisses down your neck expertly and you begin to shiver and whine, your pussy aching with need and neglect.

He stops at your breasts, sucking and biting each one.

“Daddy’s tits,” he declares, snaking a finger over the lace panties that protect your clit. “Of course,” you respond, moaning softly, grinding needily against him.

He continues lower, licking down your breasts and over your tummy which he plants with kisses that tickle and then one hard bite on your hip that leaves behind teeth marks.

“Daddy’s body,” he impresses upon you.

“Yes, Daddy. Only yours.”

“No more of that little shithead, Max,” he snarls, an inch above your clit.

“No more Max,” you repeat as he presses kisses down your pussy, still covered by soaked white lace panties.

“Only Daddy.”

“Only you.”

“Good girl,” he growls.

He finally removes your panties and begins to eat and suck your clit and pussy so hard and enthusiastically, swirling his tongue around your bundles of nerves that you grow exponentially closer by the second.

“Joel,” you whine. “Oh my God.”

It doesn’t take long. The second his calloused hand is pressing a finger and then two inside of you it’s over. You were so needy for him that you could have even cum from just his mouth alone, but his hands are what send you over the edge. And something different happens as orgasm crashes down upon you. The butterflies all join together and transform into something bigger and softer, caressing your insides, cooing. It feels like a breathing white dove is spreading its wings inside you, the tips of its feathers brushing against your rib cage. And you cum harder than you ever have in your life.

Pleasure engulfs you in currents, facilitated by the gentle flapping from deep

inside your body.

“ Joel,” you moan. “Oh my God. Daddy, pleaseee–”

“Please what, baby? Make my princess cum again? I would eat that pretty little clit and

pussy every day for the rest of my life if I could, fuck. God, so perfect and you’re so fuckin’ tight. Look how fucking hard you make me, angel.”

He takes one of your hands and places it on his half-hardening cock. Not going to lie, you are partially shocked at his recovery, but another part of you seems to know that if there was anyone in the universe that could do that to him it had to be you.

“Never got hard again from anyone I’ve ever fucked before…” he trails off dreamily like he can read your thoughts. “You’re so gorgeous, babygirl.”

“Not so bad yourself, handsome,” you tell him lazily, pressing a kiss to the side of his mouth as you pull him closer to you.

The heat from his body keeps you so warm and tender and for a moment you lie on the couch, Joel’s still-clothed body pressed to yours.

“Can you fuck me, Joel?” you ask, squirming against him needily.

“You can’t say that shit to me, baby,” Joel groans, his cock getting harder. “Not quite ready yet.”

“Lemme help you out,” you offer, pouting.

You reach down and stroke his half-hard length and then bend over and press a gentle kiss to the tip of his cock.

Joel swears, staring down at you with so much adoration it pours off his face. No man has ever looked at you like that before. You’re certain. Perhaps no man ever will again? Not like that.

“Shit, baby,” Joel babbles stupidly, his eyes threatening to swallow you up in that beautiful shade of umber. “Never gonna forget this moment,” he grunts as you begin to suck his cock properly, feeling it slowly get hard enough to throb between your lips with each thrust of your head and gluck of your throat.

You stare up at him, your eyes wide and wanting and Joel lets out a soft, vulnerable moan as you begin to really suck him and take him down the walls of your throat.

“ Unh , babygirl, fuck,” he whines and you have never quite heard Joel so desperate before. “Gotta pull out or I’m gonna cum. Holy fuck.”

It sounds just like it did the night you accidentally spied on him jerking off.

“You’ve been thinking about me a lot, huh, Daddy?” you ask, releasing Joel from your mouth like he wanted, though his hips buck forward ever so slightly with desire, the tip of his cock just barely scraping against your mouth. He grunts.

“Maybe so,” he replies, looking a little guilty. “Don’t know how not to these days.”

“Heard you on the couch last night,” you whine yourself. “Had to touch myself ‘cuz of it, Daddy. I’m sorry.”

Joel reaches out a hand to cup your crotch and rub against your slick pussy.

“That’s so fuckin’ naughty, baby,” he groans. “Look how wet that made you. All for me.”

You steal a glance at his cock and find that the tip is weeping too. And he is so fucking big compared to the size of your hand. Fuck!

“You were thinking about me, weren’t you?” you whisper.

“All about you, baby,” Joel nods in agreement, his hips twitching ever so slightly. “‘Bout touching you just like this.”

He slinks two big fingers inside you and you moan deliciously, the feathery wings of the newly-formed dove fluttering against your insides.

“Gotta stretch you a bit more,” he grunts into your throat, pushing in a third finger. “Daddy’s so big and you’re so tight, angel. Don’t wanna hurt ya. Not too bad at least. Not yet…That’s it, pretty girl, fuck,” he grins when you slide back on his thumb in pleasure which had traveled to the rim of your asshole “Good girl, so good for Daddy. So naughty too. Don’t think Daddy won’t punish you.”

“Want you to hurt me, Daddy,” you moan. “When you fuck me. Please fuck me hard. I want all of you – pain and pleasure. One hundred percent Joel. Joel, please, I need–”

And Joel does stop for a moment.

“Never hurt you in a way you didn’t beg for,” he tells you seriously. “You know that right, baby?”

You stop your rutting against him and look into his eyes.

“Are you kidding? You would protect me with your dying breath. I know that, Joel. Never been afraid of you since I’ve really known you. Not once. I mean: fuck; you gave up your whole life for me. To keep me safe, for fuckssake. In every word you say and don’t say to me I can feel how much you love me.”

“I do love you so much, babygirl,” he whispers, nuzzling your forehead. “If I had to, I’d do all of it all over again if it meant I’d get you. I’ve made mistakes, big ones, but protecting you, loving you was never one of them.”

Warm tears trail down your cheeks, but Joel licks and kisses them away.

“Wanna feel me inside you?” he asks. “Don’t wanna go too fast, but I need you, baby. Needed you for so long…Sweet little pussy’s just cryin’ for Daddy, huh? Gonna fit me just like a glove, I just know it — if you wanna…”

“Yes, please, fuck me, Daddy! Please, Joel Wanna feel you—ah!” you moan as Joel shoves his entire length into your pussy in one hard thrust eagerly. “Oh my God, please fuck me harder!” you moan, reeling from the deep blend of pain and pleasure of him sinking inside you, clenching down around the thickness of him. “Joel, please!”

He pauses, sweat glistening on his brow, sneering.

“You really want harder?”

You shiver. The way he says that makes your heart beat wildly in your ears.

“Because babygirl, I would treat you like porcelain if you want it so. I will never hurt you, my angel, my gift from god, my goddamn sweetest heart please know I will break my fucking hands before they would hurt you, before I would ever hurt you in a way that you didn’t want, no matter how much it hurt me. Do you understand me?”

“Of course, Joel. But you want it too,” you smirk. “You aren’t innocent in this, are you?”

“Fuck, of course i’m not innocent. I want you, babygirl. In every way there is to want another. Want every inch of you, inside and out. Wanna mark you up so the world knows you’re mine, honey. Want everyone to smell me on you and know I marked you, moved in you, darlin’, please, see, I’m no fucking Hemingway, I didn’t go to college, I’m not like you with words, but I need you to understand that I mean this with my whole chest and heart. Really, I’m not a big talker, never was, babygirl, but I need you to understand I—”

“I do, you dumbass fucking fool!” you shout, giggling at his desperation. “I’d understand you even if you were speaking another language. You’ve made your intentions loud and clear. I don’t want a Hemingway, I want Joel Miller!”

You pull him in for a kiss and he thrusts in you again a second time and you end up moaning clumsily in his mouth, but you can feel him smiling , smiling like some dumb idiot against you and maybe you called him the correct insult because he is a dumbass fucking fool for you. And it turns out you must be one as well because you are smiling like an idiot for him too.

“ Joel,” you moan as he begins to move inside you, hitting deep places that Max or any of your previous exes never went. Pleasure is tracing itself along the line of your stomach. “Oh my god, I love you so much,” you babble and you’ve never meant that more than you do now.

You can feel Joel coming apart above you, plowing into you, sighing deeply. His grunts and moans and thrusts spur on the intense pleasure.

“More!” you moan. “Oh my god. Harder, please, I need–”

Joel plants rough bites on your neck and kisses too like he’s trying to consume every inch of you.

He places a large hand around your throat questioningly and you nod.

“Beg for it,” he commands in his deep, sexy voice — the voice that’s been in every wet dream you’ve ever had. You think you might just pass out from the sound alone.

“Choke me, Daddy,” you whine as pathetically as you possibly can, batting your eyes. “Oh, please, I could cum from just this, but I want more. More of you. All of you.”

“As you fuckin’ wish, baby,” he snickers in amusement. “Bet no little boy ever fucked you like this, huh?” he growls, continuing his rough pace, slamming against your walls, his eyes growing wild.

“They don’t compare to you, Joel. It’s always been you. In every orgasm. Fuck, never felt like this! Shit! Shit!”

Joel reaches out his large scarred hand and applies gentle delicious pressure to your throat. You know even something like this can be dangerous, but you crave that feral look of violence in his eyes and the power that comes with it. You want him to own you completely – every inch of you. You want him to mark you just like he said he wanted to because he is yours and you are his and has it ever really been any other way? You can’t remember properly from the pleasure rushing through you, the white dove inside you spreading and fluttering its wings, cooing softly. You think it’s only ever been what you feel now.

“Joel, Joel, fuck!” you scream, orgasm building in you.

“I know, babygirl. I know,” he coos himself into your mouth.

He pulls you closer, presses his nose to yours, his lips to yours, biting and kissing like a starving man possessed. He looks into your eyes and it’s there! That look of pure predator closing in on its prey, that look of ownership but also the most intense love you think you’ve ever witnessed. You would recognize that look anywhere. Your starved brain cries out for oxygen beneath his iron grip.

“Gonna cum again, angel,” Joel growls. “Gonna make you cum so hard you’re never gonna forget who you belong to. Whose pretty pussy this is.”

He is pounding so hard against your cervix and his dick is so big inside you and the pressure of his hand squeezing around you is so overwhelming and the scent of him could make you faint straight then and there, but you let go and feel yourself cumming in enormous waves as you squeeze down around Joel’s prick, the pleasure more intense than any single bodily experience you’ve had.

“ Daddy ,” you whine breathlessly, tears trickling out of your eyes. “Oh my god!”

“You’re mine, babygirl, always have been–FUCK!” he shouts into your throat, collapsing on top of you.

And then you feel him starting to empty himself inside you, painting your sensitive insides with trustful after trustful of hot cum. You’ve never felt so helplessly full and sticky in your life, the brilliant pleasure billowing through every inch of you. You want to feel like this every day, stuffed full of Joel’s cock, so close to him you can feel his heartbeat against yours, the one true place you belong.

“So beautiful, babygirl,” he whispers in an exhausted type of awe.

When your words come back you reply,

“Shut up, you’re the hot one,” through a snicker.

You look down at your body, covered in purple bite marks and bruises forming like galaxies across your body.

Joel snorts. Then he sits up on the couch and you lean your cheek against him. You lean up to kiss his cheek and he blushes ever so slightly.

“I said a lot of stuff, Y/N, but I want you to know that I meant all of it,”

“Yeah, you probably said more in the last hour than you’ve ever uttered in your entire life,” you tease, sitting up.

“I’m serious,” he snickers.

“I am and was too,” you nod. “I’m so glad that you’re here with me — that we did this. I know that our…origin story is weird and unconventional and some might argue straight up wrong, but I need you, Joel. I don’t care about that or think I could go back to pretending to be what we were.”

“You think I’d want you to act like that?” he asks incredulously. “You think I want this to just be a one-time thing?”

“Of course not,” you smirk. “But as close as we are I can’t actually read your mind. I mean…how are we going to be together realistically?”

“I’m not sure,” Joel admits, frowning a little. “For now it has to be a secret unless you want your mother or brother in jail for murdering me this time around. But someday, I dunno. It’s dumb…”

“What?”

“I just have these thoughts sometimes about you ‘n me. I…” Joel’s cheeks turn a bit pink. “Had a lot of time to think in prison, you know? And I’d Imagine us living on a ranch somewhere quiet out in the country with a flock of sheep. I could work at the tractor and auto-body repair shop that’d be out there, you know, in this dream of mine, and you could be a counselor at a local school if that’s what ya wanted. I don’t know, l know it sounds silly, but nobody would know or bother us there. But I want you to finish school and have the best life possible, babygirl. I’d wait a thousand years for you, but if you didn’t want me anymore the way we are now, I’d respect that. And if you’d allow it, I’d still be there for you just in a platonic sense — or just there for you however you want because I can’t imagine my life with you in it. I’d do whatever it takes, brokenhearted or not. I just can’t be separated from you like that again. A day longer in prison and I could’ve keeled over and died. And it’s crazy how much I mean that.”

“I don’t ever want to be separated from you again, Joel,” you agree. “I know the original plan was for you to find work and get an apartment of your own and I would love for that to still happen, but with you being intimate with me in every way – even if it has to be a secret. I don’t pretend to know what the future holds, but I need you in mine. I’ve never needed something more than I need that. Understand?”

Joel pulls you into a hug and leans his chin on the top of your head. He kisses it then your forehead. You lean up and plant a kiss on his throat and then his Adam’s apple.

“Don’t mean to get too ahead of ourselves now. We can take things a day at a time,” he mumbles into your skin.

You yawn contentedly, the tiredness clawing at your eyes, so unbelievably spent.

“I like hearing about your dreams and I’d go anywhere with you, Joel. But I am kinda dead from how good you just fucked me. Take me to bed?” You ask exhaustedly into his chest.

“Of course, babygirl,” he smirks down at you.

***

You don’t let go of Joel all night long, burrowed up against his chest, his heartbeat against your ear. And he doesn’t let go of you either. After the most intimate night of cuddles and snuggling you’ve ever experienced as well as the deepest and most restful sleep you’ve had in ages, you wake up to Joel gone from the bed. You frown, having wanted more than anything to wake up in his strong arms. Fear grips your insides as you wonder if he finally realized last night was a mistake and that you were never meant to be together in the first place (what you fear more than anything). A stupid vulnerable tear comes to your eye, but then you cock your head and hear music playing. Guitar music.

You think of your apartment as shitty, but truthfully you care deeply about your little private space and one of the things you do actually love the most about it is the tiny balcony that overlooks a measly courtyard and part of the city. That’s where you find Joel in the deck chair holding his guitar, strumming it lazily.

“Mornin’, beautiful,” he says, fingerpicking a melody that scratches at the back of your mind with familiarity.

“Morning, handsome,” you tell him softly, plopping your smaller hand down on his shoulder.

The city hasn’t woken up yet, the soft glow of morning shining beams of light onto you and Joel, filling you with warmth. You sit down in the deck chair next to him, bathing in the sunlight.

“Whatcha playing?” you ask curiously, crouching to sit up on your knees.

“You know the song ‘Hallelujah’ by Leonard Cohen?” Joel asks in that beautifully deep voice of his.

He isn’t even singing yet but you could listen to him forever.

“‘Course,” you nod. “It’s a classic. You used to play it for me once in a blue moon.”

“Know what the word ‘Hallelujah’ actually means?” he asks.

You think about it for a second.

“It’s about praising god and all that, right? Why d’you ask?”

He pauses, both his words and fingerpicking.

“Babygirl,” he begins and you can tell he’s about to say something serious. “You know I’m not too good with words, but I need you to know this: I’ve never had much to thank god for in my life, except for Sarah, you know? But then He took her away…”

You place your hand on Joel’s and he looks at you sadly, but appreciatively. He flips it over and holds it in his giant paw of his own marked-up hand.

“And I was so fucking angry. Nothing left in me. The only good part of me gone. I was a broken man. And I hated Him. But then He, despite the shit I’ve done…He gave me you . And I know our road hasn’t been easy or fair, and the pain you’ve felt and I have felt but…I guess what I’m trying to say is you are the reason I believe that any type of…goodness— of holiness— can exist in this universe. And I’m not a religious man, I don’t believe in most of that dogmatic type of shit, and I don’t think you do either, but I do think someone or something is up there and I wanna thank them for you. Does that make sense? Do you wanna hear what I mean? I just feel so damn grateful.”

A tear you hadn’t noticed was there rolls down your cheek.

“Of course it does and of course I do,” you tell him.

You think perhaps this is the closest thing he can do to bearing his soul to you.

And then he leans over and kisses the tear away and begins to fingerpick the familiar melody.

♪ “I heard there was a secret chord…”♫

You listen to his deep weathered voice as the sun grows higher in the morning sky, casting both light and shadow over Joel’s wrinkled, handsome face. The light trails over you too. You feel the dove inside you cooing contentedly, dusting its wings gently against the edges of your insides.

♪There's a blaze of light in every word / It doesn't matter which you heard / The holy or the broken Hallelujah…”♫

When he finishes he places his large, scarred, calloused hand in yours and you hold it between your own scarred fingers.

“Thank you, Joel,” you tell him, meaning every word. “I think there’s hope for us, you know? I don’t believe in hippie-dippie type stuff, but something in this universe did bring us together. And I’ll be forever grateful for that too, ya know?”

Joel squeezes your smaller hand, his big fingers engulfing yours as the dove coos louder inside you.

“Babygirl, you know that I ain’t a good man, or a rich and educated one like maybe you thought you’d end up with, but I am less of a broken one because of you and I’m never letting you go. If we’re together, I think we have a chance.”

A/n:PLEASE COMMENT LIKE REBLOG IM BEGGING IM PLEADING IM CRYING DID THE SMUT LIVE UP TO YOUR DREAMS????

PART 1

PART 3 (coming soon)

Violent Heart Masterlist

Full Masterlist of all my work

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edgeray · 5 months ago

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Hi Ray! 🍅 Anon here~

Have fun on your holiday and enjoy it to the best you can! Be sure to stay hydrated, the weather is really mental these days.

Just wanted to share a bit of brainrot I had regarding soft Arle, whether or not you choose to make it into a fic is up to you!

Arle with her frame and demeanor is most definitely the Top + Dom in the relationship with reader, but how about when she’s insecure? Seeing reader take care of the children and feeling as though she doesn’t deserve to be as loved as said children, then reader after putting the kids to bed embraces Arle and puts her head against their chest so Arle can hear their heartbeat more clearly while patting Arle and assuring her that they love her for her and that she DEFINITELY deserves to be spoilt… (reader knows Arle too well to not pick up on her tells and knows that Arle’s being harsh on herself)

Or maybe reader writing in to the Tsaritsa (without Arle knowing) to ask if Arle can take a 2 week break just to take care of the children and spend time as a couple (What if!! Tsaritsa was the one who wed them!!! And just closes both eyes and approves time off). Then reader proceeds to spoil Arle in every way possible - breakfast in bed, a warm bath after sparring with the children (no, not that kind of bath, but a fluffy one where Arle gets a shoulder massage and scrubbed clean and gets lots of loving kisses everywhere she’s insecure of), a feast of sashimi and steak tartare for dinner and a soft bed and loving wife in the night. I wanna spoil Arle like that but 😭

Oh! And since Harbingers are like celebrities in Snezhnaya, do you think Arle would have a fanclub there? Think about it! She’s young, has a boatload of money (you CANNOT convince me #4 doesn’t have money when #11 has an unimaginable sum at the bank), can handle kids well (she runs the HotH), and as a Harbinger who fights she probably is ripped (RIP her actual body proportions, they’re limited by Hoyo’s models, nobody is convincing me her body type isn’t like Lady Maria’s from Bloodborne, with abs, guns and muscular. Thighs.)

0 chance that she doesn’t have a line of sapphics lining up for her in Snezhnaya, even with the rumors of her being ruthless and cruel (I mean. If the rumors worked in making people back off. Arle simps like us wouldn’t exist to begin with lmao)… Imagine Arle trying to placate Jealous!Teasing!Reader!! Like Arle coming home on Valentine’s day a bit late to find reader teasing her about having a new lover meanwhile Arle was actually out buying a new dagger for reader to protect themselves with… reader being melodramatic because she knows and trusts Arle enough that Arle would never do anything like that (and Arle knows but plays along)

R: “Oh, woe is me! My wife came home late on Valentine’s with a dagger to end our relationship, whatever should I do?”

Arle: “My love…”

And if the children are around? They’d be busy either pretending they didn’t see anything or resisting the urge to claw their eyes out or handing each other eye bleach. Sending condolences to Lyney when one of the younger children ask something along the lines of

“Brother Lyney, do you think we’ll have another sibling soon if Father and Mother are this loving with each other”

(I headcanon that Arle does teach them sexuality education but not until they’re 10 and before that the older children tell their younger siblings that children pop into existence when Papa and Mama love each other lots)

I’m so sorry this is getting really out of hand but Arle has me in a brainrot when I should be focusing elsewhere 💀

Rest Your Worries, Lax Your Heart

(Arlecchino x GN! Reader)

A/N - Thank you, I did have a fun vacation :). Wow that is a lot and I love every single bit of this ask 🍅 anon. It'd be unfair if I just wrote one part and not all of them, so what did I do? Combined all of them as best as I can, but of course some details had to be omitted/changed because of that–hopefully you don't mind. I'm a fucking genius. Also considering that Arle has an anime, but never got a beach episode, this is said beach episode. This took so long because this turned out to be pretty self-indulgent (I'm sure you know which scene it was). This is a long boi, way over what the request range is supposed to be, but hope this is worth it? Somehow, my brain was able to focus for at least like… 4 hours. Started this at 23:00 something, and it's nearly 04:00. 🍅 anon, I enjoy your asks, so I hope you personally enjoy this one :) Content warnings / info - a bit of suggestiveness, reader is referred to as ‘Mother’ but is otherwise gn!, 3.2k words

It took a lot of back and forth over the span of four months, writing to the Tsaritsa, but you had finally been able to arrange this without the knowledge of your husband. The Archon, generous as she is, approved of your proposal for a two week long break without much pushback or questioning, saying that loyalty was rewarded and as one of her more productive Harbingers, Arlecchino’s efforts warrant her a break. All the Tsaritsa asked for was the general details of the vacation: when, where, and the activities you would be doing, which was easy enough to answer to. Surprisingly, she bought an entire section of the Sumeru coast along with a sizable cabin for the two of you and the children for the duration of your respite when you told where you plan on the location being. You're not one to turn down such a gracious offer so you accepted it. As a Pyro user, she would surely enjoy somewhere as warm as Sumeru.

Currently, you're holding the letter from the Tsaritsa, which contains a direct order from the Archon addressed to Arlecchino to stay at Sumeru. No matter how much you plead for her to rest, your husband only says that she can keep working and for you to not worry. Tracing the envelope stamp, you breathe in deeply before knocking on the door.

“Yes?” Called from beyond the door.

“Can I come in, Arle?”

“Yes, my love,” she says with a lilt.

You come in, striding towards her, holding up the back of the envelope while trying to suppress your smile. “This was addressed for you.”

Arlecchino takes it with a bit of suspicion at the crack in your facial expression. Turning it over, she notices the stamp, which is the mark of the word of the Archon. She narrows her brows and takes out a letter opener, taking out the letter with a bit more urgency. You watch her expression morph from confusion to mild shock to indifference again.

“What does it say?” You inquire her, biting your lip to hide the smile.

“It says that I'm going to Sumeru in three days. For a respite.” She eyes you carefully, her eyes glinting red. “But you seem to know that already.”

You nod, a smile forming . “I thought… you were working so hard, and you deserve a break. I asked the Tsaritsa if it was possible and she agreed to it, even paying for our stay there.”

Arlecchino's face flicks to something indecipherable, like there was a hesitation, but it quickly disappears before you can think too much on it. She gets up from her desk chair, strutting to you before wrapping her arms around your midsection, pulling you into an embrace. She presses a tender kiss against your forehead. “Thank you, my dear, for your thinking of me. I'm sure the children would appreciate being out of the House. I'll tell the children about this, and we should begin packing.”

But does she appreciate it? It's for her, after all. You chew on the inside of your cheek but your smile remains in place.

You tilt your head up to kiss her cheek. “I already packed for us. And I told the kids, already.”

“Hm, that's why they seem so antsy lately. Thank you,” Arlecchino hums. “You picked for us already?”

“Yes. Including your clothes,” you chuckle, deviously imagining her in the attires you picked out for her. At that, she raises her eyebrows.

“Oh? What are you planning, my love?” She teases, seizing your chin in her hands and tilting your head up to lock her eyes with yours. You can't stop the giggle that bubbles out.

“Nothing too… scandalous…” you answer back. “Don't worry, it's nothing too bad. This is all for you to relax, remember? You've been working so hard, been such a good husband, so…”

You lean forward to kiss her on the mouth. Whispering against her lips, you say, “As your partner, it's my duty to make sure you're happy. Isn't that right?”

If she physically could at that moment, Arlecchino would melt underneath your words.

—

Upon your arrival at Sumeru, you were glad you picked the outfits that you did. Travel with around twenty kids was difficult, but luckily the older kids, the twins and Freminet especially, helped a lot. Everyone was practically vibrating in excitement, with the exception of Arlecchino, though you knew it was mostly because of how inexpressive she usually was.

Right?

Currently, the two of you lay on the sand by the crystal clear waters, enjoying the sight of the children playing. The little ones are playing in the sand, presumably sculpting a castle, and the older ones are either engaging in a heated battle involving smacking a ball around or with Freminent in the ocean. Here, you forget that they’re a part of the Fatui, child soldiers for the Tsaritsa; here, they look like normal children and it makes your heart swell.

Unfortunately, you're stuck in a dilemma–observe your children and take in their contagious laughter, or ogle your husband who is in the most delicious and mouth-watering attire possible. Underneath her short gray collarless jacket, was a cropped, sleeveless turtleneck that exposed her lower half of her toned stomach, including her v-line. Below are tight, black leggings which do little in hiding her muscular thighs. Everytime you look at her, a flush runs to your cheeks and you find yourself too flustered for your stare to linger because of the growing amount of indecent thoughts. You breathe deeply in an attempt to calm the raging storms of desire in your stomach, distracting yourself by observing the waves and digging your feet in the sand. For the sake of your children, you'd like for your mind to be as pure as possible.

Blackened arms wrap around your waist, pulling you into a lap. You squeal at the sudden contact. Your husband's mouth hovers beside your ear, hot breath brushing against the shell of your ear.

“Something interesting?” Arlecchino huskily whispers, making you shudder. One hand strokes over your stomach, invoking shivers from you. You inhale sharply before glancing at Arlecchino's face.

“Just… watching the waves. It's calming,” you lie quickly, wondering if your racing heartbeat can be felt underneath her fingertips.

“Your heart says otherwise,” she chuckles, turning your head over your shoulder so she can kiss you.

After a few moments, you pull away from the kiss, and your eyes flick over to the children in the sand, still tossing around that ball over a net. “Why don't you join them? I'm sure they would love it if their Father joined their game.”

“My dear, I would destroy them,” Arlecchino bluntly remarks, and you chuckle.

“Fair enough, I suppose.”

The two of you watch them in silence until Arlecchino breaks the silence.

“I like what you picked for me.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Your reaction is adorable.”

Something white-hot pricks the back of your neck. “I-I'm glad you like it. I like it too,” you stammer out, your abashment evident in your voice.

“I can tell. Perhaps… you'd like to help me put on sun protection?” Arlecchino teases with a small smirk, removing her jacket off to reveal her lean biceps. “Over the pants, if that's alright.”

This handsome–sexy–woman is going to be the death of you, you’re sure of it. Your heart is going into overdrive, and you would be terrified of going into a stroke if you aren't more focused on your husband's physique. If it's not your heart that's going to kill you, it's the pending combustion inside of you. You squeeze your thighs against one another, pooling heat forming between your legs.

“Y-yeah, sure,” you manage in between your laboring breathing, getting off of her lap to face her. Spreading the paste in your hand, you first venture over her neck, tenderly rubbing over her throat and then her nape, down to her sides. Her skin is hot to the touch, as expected of a Pyro user, but it somehow retains softness and flawlessness despite all the combat and harshness your husband deals with as a Fatui Harbinger. Still, unlike her composed facial features, you can feel that her pulse is as frenzied as yours–it gives you comfort that you’re not the only one feeling this. Your husband hums with contentment, watching you carefully.

Next, you slide your hands over to her broad shoulders before feeling down her upper arm, deliberate attention to her biceps. A shuddering breath comes from you as she shifts, extending her arms more out towards you. You trace down the markings of her arm before caressing her inky elbow and forearms. Finally, you get to her wrists. An idea pops in your head as you bring her hands to your lips, kissing her knuckles and rings, giving special focus onto her engagement ring. An amused huff escapes from her, and you glance back at her. Her eyes gleam with such a rare fondness, reserved only for you.

You glance down at the only part of her that's yet been touched, your stomach churning in itself when you're able to get a closer, longer look. You gulp considerably, your hands shaking slightly as they hover over it.

A charcoal hand wraps around your wrist, gently guiding your palm to her until it's flushed against her skin. “Don't be shy now, love.” She smirks wickedly and you have the sense to kiss that smile off her face.

“Shut up,” you murmur meekly, but place both hands on her stomach, your fingertips traversing over every dips created by her well-muscles stomach. It feels like your body will implode at any second now, as her body heat infects your fingers and spreads to the rest of your body. You coat her waist before your touch lingers lower, just above the waistband of her pants. You trace the indent of her v-line, your fingers nearly dip underneath her leggings. Before it can, she stops you, grasping both of your wrists with one hand as she leans in to whisper hotly near your ear.

“Let's save that for later, hm?”

—

“Lyney, what are they doing?” One of the children inquires, as they point at Mother and Father still by the water. Father remains on top of Mother, seemingly applying sun protection, though Lyney isn't quite sure if their position is truly that… innocent.

“Oh… Father is just helping Mother, like how I helped with the sun protection on your back,” Lyney quickly comes up with an explanation, looking away from them.

The child remains silent, observing the older male's expression, before looking back at them once more. “Lyney, you said that when a mother and father love each other a lot, a new child comes right?”

Lyney isn't sure if he was going to enjoy what comes next, though he has an inkling that he won't. “Yes…”

“Does that mean Mother and Father will bring us a new sibling soon?”

Lyney sputters, looking to Lynette for assistance.

—

After a nice day at the beach, Arlecchino takes you and the children to a local restaurant. Luckily, she was able to find one that was relatively empty, so there was no problem with fitting you and your twenty children inside. You find that the two of you rather enjoy Sumeru dishes; while you enjoy the variety of flavors, Arlecchino rather indulges in the spiciness of them. Your favorite is between the tandoori roast chicken and the lambad fish roll. Though, something bothers you during your time at the restaurant.

Arlecchino is an attractive woman; that much is undeniable, and you're well aware of the fact that she's pleasing to both men's and women's eyes. It is a common occurrence for her to attract the sights of those around her, for whatever the reason, though among the women, it is typically out of admiration. Here, this is the case as well, wandering eyes from other customers, and subtle flirting from the audacious waitress.

After finishing your dinner, you excuse yourself to the bathroom, only to return to the two of them chatting up, although in reality it’s more like a one-sided conversation and Arlecchino is ignoring her– you're well aware of this, but you find the waitress’ presence pervasive. You approach your table quickly, kissing your husband on the cheek before glancing at the waitress.

“My husband and I would like to order dessert. Can you fetch us a menu, please?” You ask, disguising your ire with a practiced smile. Instantly, the waitress's flirtation dies and she walks away.

You huff at the sight of the woman. “How could you, Arlecchino? After all we've been through? Talking so casually with her when I'm gone?” You jest with a gasp, faux jealousy in your tone once you notice the relieved sigh from her. Her claws release its hold on the tablecloth, leaving behind tattered sheets.

“Oh, how I've been caught,” Arlecchino responds monotonously, playing along. “My affair with an unnamed, rather plain-featured woman has been discovered.”

You giggle as her hand finds yours, interlocking with your fingers. “I'm in disbelief, betrayed by who I thought was my true love.”

“Oh hush now, love. Will Baklava buy your silence and heart again?”

“Perhaps.”

The House of the Hearth children gag as Mother and Father conciliate.

—

“Mother, can't we stay up any longer? We're on vacation. Pleaseeeeee,” one of the children pleads as you usher them to bed, pulling the covers over them.

“It's not healthy for you to stay up. Besides, you have plenty of time tomorrow and the rest of the two weeks to have fun. Your Father and I can't keep watch over you during the night,” you respond with, kissing them on the forehead.

“What if Lyney or Lynette watches us?”

“Lyney and Lynette are probably just as tired. When you wake up, we can go to the beach again, does that sound okay?”

“Okay… good night Mother.”

You hum in delight, caressing their head. “Good night. Sweet dreams.”

You silently walk towards the door. Arlecchino leans against the doorframe, observing you wordlessly–again, that unreadable expression appears over her, but this time it lingers. You shut the door as quietly as you can, before turning to your husband.

“Is there something you need, Arle?” You inquire.

She shakes her head. You don't quite believe her, but you don't address it. “I'm going to go take a bath. Get all this sand off of me. Would you like to join me?”

Arlecchino nods, and soon the two of you are in the bathroom. You let the faucet run, filling the bathtub with water as Arlecchino removes her clothing. It only takes a few moments before the two of you are seated in the bathtub, but it's a change of position this time. Arlecchino sits in between your legs, facing away from you.

“It's been a while since we've bathed like this, right?” You question softly, lightly carding your fingers through her untied hair.

“It has been,” she merely replies, her voice almost far-away; like there’s something else on her mind. Even though you only face her back, you can tell from her lack of movement that she’s in deep contemplation.

“What are you thinking about, Arle?” Your husband bristles a bit at the question. Even after being married to you for a couple years, she's still unaccustomed to how you can read her so easily, especially when she prides herself in being incomprehensible to others, even her children.

“Do you… not enjoy this?” You ask hesitantly with a lump in your throat. You know that she knows what you meant by ‘this’– the vacation; the entire notion of taking a break is foreign to Arlecchino, but you hope that she was able to find this beneficial. If she hates this and this vacation is supposed to be two weeks long… you don't want to say you'd be disappointed but you'd hope she'd at least be able to relax from her Harbinger duties.

Arlecchino is silent for a few moments. “I admit… I am uneased by this, to be so vulnerable and open to assaults now that we're not in the House of the Hearth. I feel unproductive and restless without my usual work. However, at the same time, I can see how beneficial this is to the children, and it is a nice change for once to see them like this. Being able to spend time with you like this is also rather indulgent, but I cannot complain about it.”

You smile, a weight lifted off your chest as you lean forward to press a kiss against her nape. “I’m glad. This was for you after all.”

“Although I am gratified that the children are able to experience this as well … I cannot see why you would put this much effort for me. After all, I am…” Arlecchino pauses, raising her blackened hands to her view. She doesn’t finish her sentence, but you're able to get a sense of what she’s trying to say, and another weight is placed heavy on your heart. For as confident and assured that Arlecchino likes to present herself, when it is just the two of you, she reveals a rawer, more unguarded side to her. Often, she confides in you how she grapples with why you can so fondly view her, and every time, your heart sinks. How could your husband think this way?

Laying your chin over her shoulder, you gingerly place both of your hands underneath hers, stroking the inside of her palm with your thumb. “I know where your thoughts are leading to, Arlecchino, and they're wrong. I love you, Arlecchino. You deserve this. You deserve this treatment, you deserve a break, you deserve to be loved. Your curse, your past… it doesn't matter. These hands…”

You continue caressing her hand with your fingers. “...They are not cursed. These hands are not unloveable. These are the same hands that protect and care for our children. The same hands that hold me. The same hands that please me. They are a part of you, and they aren't evidence that you are a monster. If you are, you wouldn't have me, and you wouldn't have the children.”

You kiss down along her bare back, gaining shivers from the woman. “Enjoy this, my love, for me at the very least. You are my husband, so let me do my part in loving you. You've done an innumerable amount of things for me and the children, so consider this to be our repayment for you.”

“That is why I am doing this for you, do you understand?” You whisper against her skin.

Arlecchino nods, a shaky breath escaping from her. You finish your treatment around her shoulderblades and gesture for her to turn around. When she does, the first thing that you do is kiss her hands, peppering them with as much devotion as you can give them. To you, nothing is more beautiful.

“You deserve everything and more. Don't forget that, Arlecchino. So let me do this for you.” It isn't an ask. It is a demand from the one person whose authority is higher than the Tsaritsa: you.

Arlecchino closes her eyes, and lets herself melt into you.

#arlecchino x reader #arlecchino x you #arlecchino #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin impact fics #genshin impact fic #genshin impact fanfics #genshin fics #genshin fanfic #edgeray.requests #edgeray.writes #edgeray.🍅anon

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