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joelsgreys · 5 months

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someone to be thankful for

DBF! Joel Miller x Female Reader

summary: It’s Thanksgiving—when dinner with your nightmare of a family goes south, you find comfort in the person you least expect it from: your father’s best friend, Joel Miller.

warnings/tags: 18+ only, MINORS DNI. (AU, NO OUTBREAK) non canon, DBF! Joel, AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s, i do not specify her age, but she’s a recent college grad so do with that what you will, not everyone graduates at the same specific age ya know? Joel is in his mid-ish 50’s). Reader’s a teacher, she is visiting her suburban childhood home from a big city. Reader’s parents are religious and practice traditional-ish gender norms (i.e father is head of the household kinda thing) reader’s family celebrates Thanksgiving (sorry) several mentions of food and alcohol, reader’s parents suck, she has two brothers who come with names, a lot of her relatives come with names, watch out for Aunt Ines she’s a bitch. (TW) body/weight shaming (twice) PLEASE BE MINDFUL if this could be triggering. mentions of and implications of childhood abuse (not graphic) reader’s dad gets in her face, implied infidelity (reader’s dad), implied toxic marriage (reader’s parents). soft, caring, protective Joel. Joel’s recently divorced, mention of Sarah, mentions of the ex-wife. SMUT. oral sex (female receiving) p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it) reader states she’s on baby blockers (birth control), creampie, DADDY KINK (bc reader clearly has a few daddy issues), LOTS of pet names (darlin’, baby, pretty girl, sweetheart, honey), size kink (ish?), cockwarming. think i got it all?

PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS. if this isn’t your thing, that is fine but just keep on scrolling.

MOODBOARD FOR AESTHETIC PURPOSES ONLY, READER HAS NO PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION.

word count: 11.5k

a/n: yeah…idk. this was very delayed because it turned into a whole thing. if anyone actually reads all 11k of this, i will bake you muffins.

You take a deep breath and look in the mirror.

Skirt pressed, not a wrinkle in sight.

Hair brushed, not a single strand out of place.

Makeup done, not a blemish to be seen.

And somehow, someone will still find something.

Something to point out.

Something to comment on.

Something to criticize.

If not your appearance, it’ll be something else.

Because someone always had something to say.

“Should you be eating all of that?”

“Another year gone and still no boyfriend?”

“Don’t you want to get married?”

“When I was in my twenties, I had two children.”

Boundaries didn’t exist on Thanksgiving.

Actually, for your family, boundaries didn’t exist at all—somehow, they are still scratching their heads and wondering why you’d decided to up and leave the minute your high school principal handed over that diploma, your ticket to freedom.

“Sweetie!” Your mother’s shrill voice calls from the kitchen downstairs. “I need a hand! Our guests are going to start arriving soon and there is still plenty left for us to do before they get here!”

You groan outwardly.

There’s still plenty left to do?

How’s that even fucking possible?

You’ve been cooking and baking since sunrise.

“Don’t you think it’s too early?” you’d grumbled at five o’ clock in the morning when your mother had pulled you out of bed, declaring it was time for the big dinner preparations to begin—even though it’d be several hours before your family came over and gathered around the table to break bread. She had pulled the turkey out of the freezer a few days ago, a massive, thirty-pound whole bird that looked big enough to feed a small village. In addition, she had picked up a ham and a brisket. “Mom, why’s there so much food?” Rubbing the sleep from your eyes with the sleeve of your robe, you’d started making your way over to the Nespresso only to realize that the coffee machine was hidden behind paper bags full of groceries. “Are we cooking for all of Texas or something?”

“Very funny,” she had glared at you. “Of course we aren’t.” She started unwrapping the turkey. “We’re simply making sure we have enough food and that we have different options for everyone to enjoy, so knock it off with the wisecracks and get to peeling those carrots for me for the stuffing. There is not a single minute to waste today, you hear me, missy? We’re hosting a dozen people, so everything must be absolutely perfect. I won’t accept anything less than perfection today, do you understand me?”

Thirteen hours later, she’s still driving you insane.

You’re only home visiting until the end of the week and then it’s back to the Midwest. You can survive her for three more days, right?

You hear her calling your name and exhale a small, frustrated sigh. “I’m coming, mom!” you call back. It’s difficult to mask the annoyance in your tone of voice, but somehow you manage it. “One minute!”

Smoothing down your pleated plaid skirt, you take one last look in the mirror to make sure everything is in order—there is a loose thread on the sleeve of your brown, knitted sweater and you carefully snip it off with a pair of scissors before sliding your feet into the comfiest pair of ankle boots you’d packed and head downstairs, nose leading the way as you follow the warm, delicious scent of the made from scratch biscuits and rolls baking in the oven.

You find your mother standing at the center island counter garnishing a charcuterie board with sweet gherkins and sprigs of fresh herbs. She is donning festive apron embroidered with fall leaves over her designer dress; her hair’s still up in rollers. “Finally, there you are,” she huffs out loudly the second she hears you walk into the kitchen. Down the hallway, your father and two younger brothers are shouting at some football game on the flat screen television in the living room—men don’t lift a single finger on this day, at least not in this household. “I need you to start setting the table for me. I have place cards in that bag over there. Make sure your dad’s at the head of the table. Oh and don’t forget to bring out the children’s table for all your little cousins—” She glances up, letting out a small gasp when she sees you. “What in the world are you wearing?”

Frowning, you look down at yourself. “Clothes?”

Her ruby red lips purse together in a tight thin line.

“Honey, that skirt is too short. It’s inappropriate.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes at her. “It’s like an inch above the knee, how is that inappropriate? It’s not like it’s a miniskirt, mom.” As she eyes your skirt with disapproval, you decide you’re not in the mood to argue and say, “Okay, fine. I’ll go upstairs and change into something else then—”

“No, no, forget it,” she shakes her head. “We don’t have the time for that.” Your mother whirls around, picking up the bag of place holders—she’d special ordered little turkeys carved out of wood. She also takes a marker and a notepad, shoving everything into your hands. “Here. I wrote down all the names of everyone who’s coming for dinner. The children get place holders too but make sure the little ones are sitting beside someone older to help them. Oh! Did I already mention putting your dad at the head of the—”

Tuning her out, your eyes scan down the guest list and if there’s one thing to be thankful for today it’s the fact that your mother’s given you the power to seat everybody wherever you want. Halfway down the list, you see the names of several relatives that you don’t want anywhere near you at the table. An Aunt Miriam who smells like the inside of a casino; a cousin Jennifer who refuses to acknowledge her forty-eight month old is actually four years old; an uncle Richard who always has one too many beers and winds up spewing antigovernment conspiracy theories, ranting until he’s passed out somewhere, such as on the floor of the guest bathroom.

You get to the bottom of the list and can’t help but raise an eyebrow in surprise. “Joel Miller?”

She nods, returning to her board.

“You remember Mr. Miller, don’t you, sweetie? He and your father went to college together—he’s one of his oldest and dearest friends. Don’t tell me you forgot about him? You’ve met him plenty of ti—”

“Yeah, I remember who Joel is, mom,” you mutter, cutting her off. “Didn’t he and the family move out to Arizona like, four years ago? To Phoenix, right?” You’d been away for college then. Taking a second glance at the list, you notice she had forgotten the names of Joel’s wife and daughter. Surely, it’d just been a mistake on her part, though. “I had no idea they were in town visiting. Dad didn’t mention it to me at all.”

“They’re not.” She lowers her voice, as if someone else is standing in the room listening. “Joel moved back to Austin, he’s been back for a few days now. He and Connie, they um—” Pausing for a moment, she reaches up and clasps the cross hanging from her neck before whispering, “They got divorced.”

Taken aback, your mouth parts slightly. “What?”

“I know. Joel and Connie were the last people that I ever thought would get divorced. Such a shame,” your mother remarks, shaking her head. “I ran into Mrs. Adler at the super market and she was telling me all about it. Thinks they could have saved their marriage if only those two—”

“Would get right with Jesus,” you finish, biting the tiny smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. “She says that about everything, mom.”

“Well, she isn’t wrong! The sacrament of marriage is a lifelong bond that shouldn’t be broken. It’s not right.” Dropping her hand away from her necklace, she crosses her arms over chest. “Anyway, Connie stayed in Phoenix. Sarah’s spending Thanksgiving with her. Your father didn’t want Joel spending the holiday alone and invited him over for dinner. That means I need you to be on your very best behavior tonight. I don’t want you embarrassing your father in front of his closest friend. Is that understood?”

You can’t help but scoff a little. “I’m not a child.”

She narrows her eyes at you and scoffs right back, planting her hands on her hips.

“No, you’re a smart aleck. Need I remind you what happened last Thanksgiving with Aunt Ines?”

Of course she didn’t have to remind you about last year’s fiasco with her insufferable bitch of a sister.

“That’s an awfully big piece of pumpkin pie,” she’d remarked loudly, eliciting snickers from everybody sitting at the table. “Don’t forget, dear—a moment on the lips, forever on the hips. And you have quite a few forevers on your hips already, darling.”

You had smiled sweetly at her, your fingers itching to fling your mother’s fine china at her. “I wouldn’t really worry about my pie, Aunt Ines,” you had said as soon as you realized that nobody, not even your parents, would be coming to your defense. “Much less when your husband’s stepping out and eating someone else’s pie when he’s away on all those so called business trips. Worry about that instead.”

That comment hadn’t gone over all too well. Three months later, Aunt Ines and Uncle Louis started to see a marriage counselor. Whoops.

“Well?”

“She deserved that,” you say, shrugging lightly.

“She’s family.”

“She’s a jerk.”

“You crossed a line.”

“She crossed it first.”

Before your mother can respond, the sound of the doorbell ringing echoes throughout the house.

“Jesus, we don’t have time for this!” Your mother’s eyes widen when she tries running a hand through her hair and realizes she still has her rollers in. “Oh no, people are arriving and I’m still not ready!” She makes a beeline for the hallway. “Get the door and greet our guests, I’ll be down in five minutes!”

She disappears upstairs into her bedroom and you hear the doorbell ring again. Your father shouts for someone to go answer it, someone other than him or your brothers because it is the end of the fourth quarter and they just can’t possibly miss that.

You make your way through the foyer and open up the front door expecting it to be one of your family members, but it’s not.

Your throat instantly goes dry at the sight of him.

He’s broader than you remeber, so much broader.

The fabric of his sage green dress shirt is nice and snug on his frame—stretched taut over the planes of his chest and his wide shoulders. He’s holding a box of store bought something or other but you’re much too preoccupied with the way the sleeves of his shirt are hugging his biceps to notice what it is although you assume it’s some kind of dessert. He looks far more delicious than whatever sweet treat could be in that white box he’s got in his hands.

After a minute, you realize you’ve been gawking at him and the heat rushes to your cheeks. “Hello Mr. Miller,” you greet him politely. “It’s very nice to see you again. Please, come on in.”

He smiles, his brown eyes warm and sweet behind his square, black-rimmed glasses. “You remember me,” he states and the syrupy richness of his voice sends a pleasant tingle up your spine. Stepping off to the side, you allow him inside—as he steps past you over the threshold, the tantalizing scent of his cologne almost brings you to your knees. Notes of a citrus accord like tart grapefruit, fresh bergamot mixed with the woodiness of vetiver and musk; it’s intoxicating, something you could easily get drunk off of if you’re not careful. “I’m surprised. S’been a real long time since you last saw me.”

“It hasn’t been all that long,” you reply, closing the door behind you. You speak to him in the steadiest voice you can muster, with nonchalance—as if you aren’t one missed heartbeat away from feeling like a silly little schoolgirl with her first crush. “Has it?”

He thinks about it. “‘Bout four and a half years.”

“That’s really not that long.”

“S’not,” Joel admits with a chuckle. “But with how much I’ve aged in that short amount of time, I just wasn’t sure if you’d recognize me, y’know? I look a lot different than I used to.” He pauses and laughs, shaking his head. “I must look like an old geezer to you now, don’t I?”

Grays lightly pepper his thick dark brown curls, his beard and his mustache. He’s got crows feet when he smiles, he has worry lines and creases between his eyebrows—he does look a lot older, but he’s so goddamn handsome, wrinkles, fine lines, and all.

You toss him a playful eye roll, prompting a grin. “I don’t think you look like an old geezer, Mr. Miller.”

“Well, you’re sure as hell makin’ me feel like an old geezer by callin’ me that, darlin’ girl.” He gives you a little wink and you’re not quite sure if it’s that, or if it was the way he’d used a pet name that knocks all the wind out of your lungs. “Please, just call me Joel.”

You nod and shyly agree to it. “Okay, then. Joel.”

“S’much better.” His grin widens and a prominent, deep dimple appears on the left side of his cheek.

There’s a silence that follows, but it’s not awkward or weird. It’s comfortable—being in his presence is comfortable. His sweet disposition makes you feel so calm, so at ease.

Joel’s always been a nice man of course, although your interactions with him had been limited—kind, quick hello’s in passing on Sundays whenever he’d come over to watch football with your dad, maybe a polite how are you here and there if you bumped into him at gatherings like a backyard barbecue or birthday party. But you’re older now, no longer the child who greeted her father’s best friend because it was bad manners if she didn’t. You don’t want to throw him that kind, quick hello or that polite how are you and then scurry off the way you used to as a little kid. You actually want to talk to Joel Miller.

But you suddenly remember he’s not here for you.

He’s here for your father.

Joel!” Your mother screeches, five-inch high heels clacking loudly as she descends the staircase. She had ditched the apron and hair rollers—and put on one too many layers of her heaviest perfume. With a delighted squeal, she rushes up to Joel and pulls him into a bone crushing hug, almost causing him to drop the box he’s still holding. “Oh, it is so good to see you! It’s been far too long!”

You force back a small, amused snort.

As if she hadn’t been judging the man for a failed marriage just minutes ago in the kitchen.

It’s performative, too over the top to be sincere.

“S’good to see you too.” He steps back and laughs as he adjusts his glasses with one of his hands. He holds out the box to her with the other. “Picked up a pecan pie on the way over here. I would’a tried to make it myself, but the kitchen’s still all packed up in boxes.” He pauses, laughing again. “Then again, I ain’t really much of a baker. Store bought was for the best I reckon,” he admits, sheepishly. When he shrugs his shoulders, his shirt strains a bit over his frame and even your mother can’t help but stare a little.

Lightly clearing her throat, she takes the box from him and reminds him, “Didn’t I tell you that all you had to bring tonight was a nice, healthy appetite?”

Joel lightly pats his stomach. “Brought that too. In fact, I didn’t eat a thing all day long. I’m absolutely starvin’ right now. Could eat a whole horse.”

“Good! Dinner’s going to be served soon. William’s in the living room with the boys, watching football game after football game. Come with me, I’m sure you’re eager to see him.” Your mother spins on her heel and hands you the dessert. “Sweetie, will you be a gem and go put this in the kitchen for me?” It isn’t a request, it’s an order masked as a request—it’s the kindest she’s been to you all day. She takes Joel’s arm and leads him down the hallway, calling out over her shoulder, “And please set the table!”

You do set the table, and when you do, you decide to sit yourself right next to Joel Miller.

Your mother lightly clinks her knife against the rim of her wine glass and clears her throat. “Everyone! It’s time to join hands and say grace before we dig into our meal,” she announces, her voice breaking through the loud, buzzing chatter at the table. She waits until there’s complete silence and then takes her seat, the chair adjacent to your father’s. You’re on his opposite side and Joel’s right beside you. “I think you should do the honor, William. You are the man of the house, after all.”

Nodding, your father begins the prayer.

“Heavenly Father, bless this food we are about—”

You’re not listening. You’re distracted by the jolt of electricity that zips through your entire body when you put your hand in Joel’s. His hand dwarfs yours and it’s rough and calloused, but somehow it’s the most gentle, soothing touch. Heat prickles at your face and neck when you feel him sweep his thumb across the back of your hand—you open your eyes and glance over at him, wondering if that had just been an accident. You’re convinced it was, until he does it again, running his finger over each knuckle one at a time. Slowly, like he’s savoring the touch.

Biting your lip, you give his hand a gentle squeeze.

His head is bowed and his eyes are still closed, but a faint smile tugs lightly at the corner of his mouth and he firmly squeezes your hand back. There’s an unmistakable desire that’s already burning deep in your lower belly, a flame you can’t extinguish even when the angel on your shoulder reminds you that not only is Joel Miller twice your fucking age, he is also your father’s best friend. His best friend.

“…through Christ our Lord. Amen.”

“Amen,” your relatives chime together in unison.

You force out the declaration. “Amen.”

“Amen,” Joel murmurs, opening his eyes. He turns to you and his gaze flits to your hand in his and for a moment, it almost seems like he doesn’t want to let it go. It feels like Joel doesn’t want to let it go—and he doesn’t. He doesn’t let it go until the sound of your father’s loud, booming voice announcing it is time for him to carve the bird startles the two of you apart. Clearing his throat lightly, Joel turns his attention forward and reaches for his cabernet. He gulps down half his glass in one easy swallow.

Dinner’s fairly uneventful.

You eat in complete silence, as does Joel.

Part of you wonders if it’s because you’re sitting in between him and your father, the only person that he’s most comfortable conversing with. Assuming this is the case, you’re just about to ask him if he’d like to trade places when he turns to you and says, “Your dad told me you went to school in Chicago.”

He’s just being friendly, you remind yourself when your heart starts to flutter wildly at the notion that he wants to talk to you. He’s friendly. That’s all. It doesn’t mean anything.

“Yeah. I did.” You pick up your glass of wine, taking a sip hoping it’ll ease the nerves. “I graduated over the summer and took a teaching job out there.”

“You became a teacher?”

“Yeah. I teach kindergarten.” You smile proudly.

“Can you believe that, Joel?” Your father lets out a scoff and shakes his head. “I spent thousands and thousands of dollars to send her to school. All that money and for what? For her to learn how to teach little ankle biters how to color inside the lines?” He rolls his eyes and gestures to your two brothers on the opposite side of the table. “Now my boys, they are smart. Chose good careers to pursue. Brandon starts applying to medical school in the spring. Oh and Matthew? He got early acceptance to Yale. He plans on studying law.” He shifts his attention over to you once more and shrugs. “Not too sure where I went wrong with this one.”

You stare at him in complete and utter disbelief.

“Dad.”

Chortling, he waves a dismissive hand. “Oh, come on, honey. I’m just kidding around. You know that I don’t mean it.” He then reaches out, pinching your cheek roughly. “Don’t be so sensitive,” he tells you before turning his attention back to his plate.

But he does mean it.

His comments hurt, and you hate that they hurt.

Joel nudges your arm with his. “Y’know somethin’, it takes someone real special to become a teacher, ‘specially to kids that age,” he states in a matter of fact tone. “Someone who’s real sweet and patient, someone real smart too. Someone just like you.”

Warmth radiates through your entire body. It’s not just his words, but it’s the sincerity behind them.

You shoot him a small, grateful smile.

The two of you wind up talking to one another.

Joel’s moving his contracting business, bringing it back to Austin from Phoenix to run it with Tommy, his younger brother who you vaguely remembered meeting a time or two in the past. He mentions his daughter here and there, but doesn’t bring Connie up once—perhaps it’s too painful for him? It’s hard to tell. He seems to be in good spirits and truth be told, it doesn’t appear he’s mourning his marriage; but it’s difficult to believe he’s not missing her, the woman he’d spent three decades of his life with. It shouldn’t even matter to you whether he’s missing his ex-wife or not, if there are residual feelings still lingering around. But it does matter and you don’t know why. Or maybe you do know why, but you’re too ashamed to admit it.

“Do you like Chicago?” Joel questions, curiously.

Shrugging, you respond, “Yeah. It’s a cool city.”

“You plan on stayin’ out there permanently?”

“I’m not too sure,” you admit. “It’s too expensive. I don’t want to live with a roommate forever. Unless teachers start getting paid more, I don’t think that I’ll ever be able to afford to live alone in Chicago.”

Joel seems hesitant about his next query. “Do you ever think ‘bout comin’ back to Austin at all?”

Suddenly, you’re not too sure about that either.

You’ve been itching to go back and get as far from Austin, Texas as possible, but now, it means being far from Joel Miller. There’s a deep, sinking feeling inside of your chest at the thought.

Realizing he’s still waiting for a response, you have no choice but to tell him the truth. “I don’t think I’ll ever come back here, to be honest. Not to stay.”

“Oh. I see.” He sounds disappointed. “Are you—do you plan on visitin’ home again for Christmas?”

“I do. I’ll be here for Christmas and New Year’s.”

He’s being friendly. He’s being friendly. He’s—

“It’d be real nice to see you again then.” Flushing a deep shade of red, subtle regret flashes across his features, as if he’d said it without thinking. Picking up his glass, he drains the rest of his wine and you can swear he’s nervous. About what he’d just said, and about whether or not your parents, who are in such close proximity, had overheard him. Because what business did he have in telling their daughter it would be nice to see her again?

They’re both much too preoccupied. Your father is attempting to be slick checking his text messages underneath the table and you can tell by the smirk on his face that it’s one of his secretaries. He’s got a penchant for perky blondes in tight pencil skirts. Your mother is well aware of this. She is also aware he’s on his phone, but she turns a blind eye just as she always does and distracts herself by being the perfect hostess.

Feeling foolishly courageous, you turn back to him and nod, heart pounding against your sternum. “It would. It’d be very nice, actually.”

Relieved, he nods and murmurs quietly, “We’ll talk ‘bout it later, then. That okay, darlin’?”

Not wanting to seem too eager, you nod again and turn away from him, teeth sinking into your lip in a futile attempt to hide the giddiness in your smile—but the soft chuckle Joel elicits under his breath is a clear indication that it’s useless.

He knows how he’s making you feel. He likes it.

Your mother returns from the kitchen carrying two baskets of fresh crescent rolls, one for each end of the table. She sets one of them down right in front of you and you reach out to take one when a voice, one that sounds as awful as nails scraping down a chalkboard, remarks loudly, “Should you be eating so much bread, dear?” Ines, who’s sitting a couple chairs down, next to your grandmother, looks over at you and raises an eyebrow. There’s a smug little smile on her face, almost as if she were daring you to run your mouth like you’d done last year.

For as much as it pains you, you make your choice and decide not to take the bait. You pull your hand out of the basket of rolls and pick up your glass of wine instead, chugging it down like it’s water.

Frowning, Joel picks up the basket and takes a roll that you assume is for himself, but it’s not. Putting it on your plate, he shoots her a frigid glare. “Don’t you listen to her.” He says it loud enough for her to hear him. “You just enjoy yourself, alright?”

Your aunt bats her eyes, innocently. “Well, I’m just saying. If my skirt was that tight on me, I would be thinking twice about what goes into my mouth.”

Hushed laughter sweeps across the entire table.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” You slam your empty glass down so hard onto the table that the entire dining room goes completely silent. The little ones at the children’s table stare with big and wide eyes, mouths full of food hung open because a grown up had just used a naughty word.

Your mother says your name warningly. “Don’t you start,” she hisses, shaking her head. “Be quiet.”

Angrily, you round on her. “Seriously? You’re going to let her say that to me? You don’t care that she’s making comments about my weight?” You almost laugh. Of course doesn’t care, she has never cared and she never will. “I’m your daughter! Would it kill you to defend me for once in your fucking life?”

“Shut your mouth!” Your father stands up, shoving a threatening finger into your face, so close the tip of it almost touches the tip of your nose. He hasn’t put his hands on you since you were nine, but he’s as drunk as he is angry, and you find yourself back in the shoes of the little girl who would curl up into a ball in the corner of her room as she begged and pleaded for him not to hurt her. “You hear me?”

Joel stands and walks around your chair. Placing a hand on your father’s chest, he mutters, “Hey now let’s take a step back from her, alright?” He guides him back down into his chair. “Ain’t gotta be in her face like that, Will.”

“I’m sick and tired of her ruining everything—can’t get through one dinner without her screwing it up! Always has to run that fucking mouth of hers! She still acts like a goddamn fucking child—”

You can’t bear to sit there and hear another insult.

Fighting back the hot tears that are threatening to spill over, you quickly stand up and rush out of the dining room. You make a beeline for the front door and step outside onto the porch. It’s about sixty or so degrees in Austin and the cold nips at your bare legs, but that’s the least of your worries. Without a place to go, you descend the porch steps and find yourself walking towards the swing that’s hanging from the old bur oak tree in the front yard. You had asked your father for a swing when you were three years old—it wasn’t until your brothers asked for a swing a couple years later that he’d hung one up.

You sit down, hands curling around the rope that’s so old and weathered it’s beginning to fray slightly but not so much so that you’re concerned about it snapping. You’re so busy trying to keep it together that you don’t notice the sound of crisp, autumnal leaves crunching under a pair of boots behind you. A hand gingerly touches your shoulder. You let out a startled gasp and glance over to see it’s Joel.

“Hey there, darlin’,” he says, gently.

You stare at him in surprise.

“What are you doing out here?”

“Needed to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine,” you grit the lie through your teeth.

Joel’s expression softens. “You ain’t gotta pretend with me, sweetheart.”

His concern is genuine. It’s real.

You don’t quite know how to handle it. Accept it.

“It got real ugly in there, ‘specially with your dad.”

Tears prickle at your eyes all over again. “Fuck, I’m sorry, Joel. I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry?” Baffled, Joel walks around the swing and a minor labored grunt escapes him as he squats in front of you. “There’s a few people who need to be apologizin’ for what happened, but darlin’ you sure as fuckin’ hell ain’t one of them.”

It’s odd. Feels foreign, even.

You’re not used to someone being on your side—it prompts more tears to spring forward and despite your best efforts to fight them off, it’s useless. You manage to whisper his name. It’s a feeble warning, one that’s telling him to go back inside before he’s caught in the torrential downpour of emotions you are mere seconds away from unleashing on him.

But he doesn’t budge. He waits. Joel knows you’re about to break and he’s ready to catch the pieces.

Finally, a tear slips and rolls down your cheek, only to be followed by another and then another. You’re holding onto the swing for dear life now, emotions that you’ve been holding in for your whole life now coming to the surface. The rope digs painfully into the palms of your hands. He reaches out and curls his fingers lightly around your wrists.

“S’okay to let go,” Joel encourages you and you’re certain he’s not just referring to the swing. “Listen to me, darlin’ girl. I ain’t gonna let you fall, alright? I’m right here to catch you. You can let go. I’ve got you, okay?”

You allow Joel to take your hands off the rope and he guides them around his shoulders as you begin to crumble. Leaning forward slightly off the swing, you wrap you arms around him and bury your face into his neck. “Joel,” you choke out his name as he wraps his own arms around your waist, pulling you closer into him.

He feels like stability.

He feels like security.

He feels like safety.

Your entire body shudders as you cry, cry, cry.

“S’alright, sweet girl. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

He repeats his reassurance over and over again.

He wants you to believe it.

And you do believe it.

Joel’s as patient as can be. It’s growing colder and his knees are begging for a change of positon, but couldn’t care less about the discomfort. He rubs a soothing circle into your back and waits until there is nothing left except little hiccups and sniffles.

“Shit,” you mumble when you pull back and notice you’d left behind a wet spot on his shirt along with light traces of mascara. You wipe at your eyes with the sleeve of your sweater. “I ruined your shirt.”

“S’okay. Nothin’ the dry cleaners can’t take care of for me.” Joel chuckles and lets go of you. “You feel a little better now, darlin’?”

“I do.” You glance over your shoulder at the house, then exhale a sigh and turn back to him, admitting quietly, “I don’t want to go back in there, though.”

He rises to his feet and pulls out a set of keys from the pocket of his black jeans. “Well, y’dont have to go back in there,” he states. “Is there somewhere I can take you? Friend’s house, maybe?”

“My best friend Megan went to Puerto Vallarta for Thanksgiving. Most of my other friends left Austin like I did,” you explain, sighing again. “Anyone who didn’t leave is spending their time with their family tonight and I don’t want to bother them.”

Joel hums, mulling it over in his mind. “Well, don’t know how comfortable you’ll be with the idea, but my place ain’t all too far from here. Ten minutes or so. Less if there’s no one out on the roads.”

“Joel, that’s so nice of you to offer, but I’ve already ruined your dinner tonight. The last thing I want to do is put you out even more,” you say, sheepishly.

“Sweetheart, you didn’t ruin a fuckin’ thing for me tonight. And you wouldn’t be puttin’ me out at all,” he promises. “S’gettin’ late and truth be told, I just wanna get you somewhere warm.” Holding out his free hand, he adds, “And comfortable.”

“But Joel—”

“I can be real stubborn too, y’know,” he teases you with a playful grin. “We’ll be out here all night long freezin’ our fuckin’ asses off.”

He isn’t going to take no for an answer.

“Okay,” you relent, accepting the offer.

You place your hand in his and he helps you off the swing. He doesn’t let it go as he leads the way to a sleek, black Dodge Ram that’s parked behind your grandfather’s silver Mercedes. He gives your hand a gentle squeeze before dropping it. “Sorry, sweet girl. It’s a bit of a trip up into the seat,” he remarks, chuckling as he opens the passenger side door for you. He gives you a boost into the truck; the scent of new leather is mixed with that of his cologne. It is all man and couldn’t be sexier. “Good up there?”

“Yeah, I’m good.”

Joel closes the door and hurriedly walks around to the driver’s side of the pickup, climbing up into his seat with ease. “Seatbelt,” he tells you as he sticks the key into the ignition. The first thing he does as soon as the engine roars to life is turn on your seat warmer. He switches on the heater as well, waiting a minute before asking, “You warm enough?”

“I am. Thank you, Joel.”

“‘Course.” He nods and pulls away from the curb.

As Joel’s driving you further and further from your parents’ house, all you feel is sweet relief.

“M’sorry the place is such a mess.”

Joel leads you into his living room and touches his hand to the back of his neck, embarrassed.

Amused, you raise an eyebrow at him and say, “I’d hardly call cardboard boxes stacked neatly over on one side of the room a mess, Joel.” You take a look around his townhouse—most of his furniture’s still wrapped up in plastic, except for the black leather couch and the rustic, acacia wood coffee table. He has a flat screen mounted over the brick fireplace; he’s been sleeping on the couch, or at least, that’s what the pillow and Texas Longhorns fleece throw tells you. You turn to him. “If you want to see a real mess, you should see my apartment in Chicago.”

You watch him as he takes off his glasses and puts them down on the coffee table.

“S’it pretty bad?”

“My roommate’s a kindergarten teacher too. You’d be surprised at how many popsicle sticks two girls in their twenties can end up bringing home. Not to mention all the glitter.”

“If you’re tryin’ to make me feel better, it’s workin’ like a charm.” Joel picks up his blanket and drapes it over the armchair adjacent to the couch. “Go on and make yourself comfortable, darlin’. You thirsty at all? I’ve got water or I can make coffee. Also got a pack of beer in the fridge,” he adds, jokingly.

“What kind of beer?” you ask curiously as you sink down onto the couch.

He seems pleasantly surprised by your interest.

“Lone Star.”

“I’ll have one. If it’s not too much trouble.”

“‘Course it’s not too much trouble. Not at all.”

It’s hard not to stare as he walks away towards the kitchen. Your thighs clench together—his back, his shoulders, those unkempt salt and pepper curls of his that tuft at the nape of his neck right above his collar—this man is the epitome of utter perfection. Your mind wanders and you can’t help imagine the way your legs would look thrown over those broad shoulders. How his large hands would feel on your plush skin as they wrap around your thighs to hold them in place against his chest while he fucks y—

“Here you go, darlin’.”

Joel’s deep voice shatters your train of thought.

He’s standing beside you, holding out the bottle of beer, which he’d uncapped along with his own.

Blood rushes to your cheeks. “Thank you,” you say as you accept the beer from him, trying not to lose the sliver of composure that you’re holding onto—it wavers when your fingers accidentally brush his.

“S’it too cold in here for you?” he asks. “I normally keep the thermostat pretty low.”

“It’s a little cold,” you admit. “But it’s not a prob—”

It’s too late. Joel walks over to the fireplace and he manages to strike a match and light it with just his free hand. After tossing in a couple logs, he makes his way back over to the couch and he takes a seat beside you. “That a bit better, sweetheart?”

“You didn’t have to do that.”

He shrugs. “You said it was cold.”

He takes a long, generous swig of the golden lager before setting the bottle down on one of the green ceramic coasters on the coffee table. He sits back; an arm stretches out over the back of the couch in a casual manner and his legs spread open causing your thighs to clench together once more.

“You feelin’ alright?”

“Huh?” You then realize he is referring to what had happened at dinner. “Oh. Um. Yeah, I’m alright.”

Joel peers at you, his concern evident, clear in the depths of his dark brown eyes. “You sure?”

“No. Not really,” you confess, tracing the mouth of your bottle with your index finger. “But I’ll get over it. I don’t have a choice but to get over it.” Another lump starts forming in the back of your throat and you swallow it, quickly chasing it down with a gulp of beer.

“M’guessin’ your family’s got somethin’ to do with why you decided to leave Austin?”

“Bingo,” you deadpan. “I was so sick and tired of it all. How I was talked to, how I was treated. Like I’m such a fucking disappointment.”

He frowns. “You’re not a disappointment, though.”

“My parents think I’m a disappointment. My dad’s never told me he’s proud of me, Joel. Nothing I do, nothing I have ever done is good enough for either of them, but especially not for him.” There is a dull ache that settles in your heart and all you can do is silently will yourself not to breakdown again, not in front of him, at least. You sigh. “Do you know what it’s like, not feeling good enough for someone that is supposed to love you no matter what? Someone who’s supposed to love you unconditionally?”

Joel knows it’s a rhetorical question, he knows it’s not something you’re expecting him to answer.

But he does answer, because he does know.

“I do, actually. I know all too well what it feels like.”

He looks down at his left hand, which is resting on his thigh and you do too. Your eyes flicker over the fading tanline on his finger—where he once wore a wedding band. You don’t even think twice about it and reach over, sweeping your own finger over the patch of pale skin. Without missing a beat, you tell him, “You’re good enough, Joel.”

He can’t help but laugh a little. “She’d disagree.”

“She’s wrong.”

“You don’t know what happened.”

“I don’t have to know what happened.”

“That ain’t how it works, sweetheart.”

Stubbornly, you lift your chin. “I don’t care.”

Joel laughs. “Y’think you know me, darlin’? Y’think you know what kinda man I am? Hm?”

“I do know.” You place your hand on top of his and his jaw clenches. “You’re a good man, Joel Miller. I know that you’re a good man.”

“You couldn’t be more wrong ‘bout that.” There’s a brief pause and he hesitates before confessing, “A good man wouldn’t be sittin’ here just fuckin’ dyin’ to kiss his best friend’s daughter.”

You freeze and grip your bottle so tight, you would not be the slightest bit surprised if it shatters right in your hand. “You—you want to kiss me?”

“Since the moment you opened up that front door and said hello to me.” Joel shakes his head. “S’not right.” He’s riddled with guilt, with shame. He pulls his hand out from under yours. “I ain’t a good man at all. You’re half my fuckin’ age and I shouldn’t—”

You cut him off, softly uttering his name. “Joel?”

“Yeah?” His voice sounds hoarse. Strained.

“Can you—will you kiss me? Please?”

You need more than just his kiss, so much more.

You need him to unravel you in every way possible, but beggars can’t be choosers and if one kiss was all you’ll get tonight, then you’ll fucking take it.

Joel swallows dryly. “That really what you want?”

His eyes flicker down to your lips and then back to meet your sweet, innocent gaze.

“Yes,” you breathe in reply. “Please. Kiss me.”

He leans in, and there’s brief hesitation on his part and he stops mere centimeters from your face, his nose lightly brushing against yours. “We shouldn’t be doin’ this.” His warm breath fans over your lips; they’re parted, eager to meet his own. “I shouldn’t let this happen. I—I should take you back home to your family before I do somethin’ real stupid.”

Your heart sinks. “That really what you want?” you parrot his own question back to him and hold your breath, knowing there’s a chance his answer could be the answer that you don’t want to hear, the one that could end up crushing you.

Joel lifts his hand, cupping the side of your face in his palm. “‘Course it’s not what I want.” His thumb strokes your cheek, his dark eyes taking in each of your features. He’s studying, memorizing them, as if he’ll never get another chance to be this close to you again. With the line he’s about to cross, you’re both about to cross, that just might be the case.

The tension seeps through your skin and into your bones.

You exhale shakily. “Then just kiss me already.”

He moves his hand and gently curls it around your chin, holding you steady as he leans further in and closes the gap of space in between you. He moves slowly and he’s gentle—too gentle. You want to tell him you’re not made of porcelain, but you’re much too preoccupied with how Joel’s mouth feels, how perfectly it molds against yours. He delicately nips your bottom lip with his teeth. It’s a silent request.

He wants more, more, more. Your lips part for him, granting him the access he’s seeking. Joel doesn’t waste a single moment and he explores every inch of your mouth with his tongue, eliciting a whimper from you. Without breaking contact, he takes your beer and somehow he manages to lean over to set it down on the coffee table without dropping it. He then pushes you back into the couch and the next thing you know, you’re lying on your back and he’s settled in between your legs, using one of his arms to keep himself propped up, while the other wraps itself in your hair. Your own hands clutch at fistfuls of his shirt, fingers gripping the fabric so tight, the skin over your knuckles stretches painfully thin.

You whimper out again, the noise prompting a low growl to rumble through his chest—suddenly, he’s not being so gentle. He isn’t being rough. But he is hungry, he’s possessive, and he’s letting it show in the way he’s swelling your lips with his kisses, how his fingers are gripping the hair at the base of your neck as he firmly tilts your head backwards to give himself better access to your mouth.

Your mind is racing, and yet, you can’t think at all.

It’s not until his hips buck into you and you feel his bulge through his jeans against you that you break away from him. “Joel,” you gasp his out name. You grip his shirt even harder, chest heaving as you try to catch a much needed breath of air. You can feel the arousal pooling between your legs. The flames burning in the fireplace are nothing in comparison to the ones that are burning deep in your belly.

“Fuck,” he curses, pulling back. “M’sorry—”

The last thing you want is for him to be sorry.

“No! Please don’t be sorry,” you rasp, gazing up at him. Your eyes are glazed over with a lust you have never felt for another man before. “I want this, you know I want this—don’t you?”

Joel sighs, brushing a soft kiss to your temple. You wish he could take a peek into your mind, see how badly you want to be wrapped up in his arms—you want to get lost in his embrace, feel him all around you, inside you. You want him to write his name on your bare skin with his tongue, whisper his secrets into the spot where you’re aching for him most.

He sighs again and lightly shakes his head.

“Baby, y’need to think real hard ‘bout this—”

“I want this,” you repeat yourself. “I want you.”

Relaxing the death grip you have on his shirt, your hands release the fabric and move to the buttons. Your fingers tremble slightly as you undo each one of them; after an embarrassing fumble or two, you manage to get them all and push Joel’s shirt off of his shoulders. He sucks in a quick, sharp breath as your greedy hands begin roaming, exploring every inch of smooth, tan skin on his upper body.

Your touch erases all the uncertainty he’s feeling.

“Wanna feel you too, baby.” Joel takes the hem of your sweater and gestures for you to sit up slightly so he can pull it over your head. Carelessly tossing it somewhere behind him, he glances down, blood rushing to his cock as he takes in the sight of your supple curves clad in sweet, delicate white lace. “Christ, you look so fuckin’ soft.”

He doesn’t even realize he’s saying it out loud, not until he catches the flirtatious little grin tugging at the corners of your mouth. You sit up slightly once again and reach behind you to unhook the lingerie and take it off, adding it to the ever growing pile of clothes on the hardwood floor. Licking his lips, he meets your gaze for just a moment before dipping his head down, wrapping them around one of your hardened nipples. “Joel,” you mewl his name as he flicks the pebbled flesh with his tongue.

Joel releases it with a lewd, wet pop and he tosses you a smirk before he moves to the other to give it the same attention. He’s a biter, you find out as he takes it between his teeth, nipping over and over.

Your throbbing center clenches around nothing.

“Joel, please. I need you—I fucking need you.”

He tears away from your nipple. “Where, baby?”

You open your mouth to answer him, but your own gasp cuts you off as he starts trailing his lips down the length of your body until he comes to a stop at the waistband of your skirt. One of his hands finds the zipper on the side and he looks up at you, as if asking for permission. Desperate, you nod. Pulling the zipper down, he slides the skirt, along with the pair of lace white panties you’re wearing off of you and discards them, leaving you completely naked.

Your insecurities begin to trickle in, but Joel’s able to halt them right in their tracks.

“You’re too fuckin’ beautiful, sweetheart,” he says, his reassurance calming your nerves instantly. “So beautiful. So beautiful and so fuckin’ perfect.”

You watch as he makes himself comfortable—well as comfortable as he can—in between your legs. He shoots you a sheepish look.

“Knew I should’a put the damn bed together. But I been puttin’ it off and puttin’ it off all week long.”

You giggle breathlessly. “Who needs a bed?”

Chuckling, Joel feathers a kiss on your inner thigh.

Your smile is all but slapped right off of your face.

“Joel.”

Any traces of humor vanish. You’re both reminded of the next wall that’s about to be broken, the next line that’s about to be crossed.

He looks down and groans. “Such a pretty, perfect little pussy,” he remarks, his voice low, husky. “Bet she’s nice and wet for me, ain’t she baby?” He lifts his hand and drags the tip of his finger up your slit slowly, your slick coating his digit. He smirks up at you. “Oh, she’s fuckin’ soakin’, sweet girl. S’this all for me?”

Foreplay wasn’t in the vocabulary of guys your age and while part of you wishes Joel would hurry, you also find yourself enjoying the fact that he’s taking his time, teasing you—making you really want it to the point where you’re willing to fucking plead him for it. Joel Miller’s the only man you’d ever beg for.

He skims your other thigh with his nose and kisses it just like he’d done with the other. “Tell me darlin’ s’this where you need me? Right here?”

Frantically, you nod your head.

“Words, honey. Gotta use your words for me.”

“Yes!” you choke out. “That’s where I need you. So bad. Need you so fucking bad. Please Daddy—”

You freeze and momentarily, he does too. Truth be told, you wouldn’t really blame him if he just stood up, gathered your clothes and tossed them at you, demanding you put them back on and leave.

Joel raises an eyebrow. “Daddy, huh?”

Your face is on fire. “I—it slipped,” you stammer. “I didn’t mean to call you—I’m so sorry, Joel. I’m not even sure where that came from. I’ve never—”

You’re on the verge of panicking, then notice there is a certain glimmer in his eyes and realize he liked it when you’d called him that. You’re taken aback.

He fucking likes being called Daddy.

“Sweetheart, there ain’t nothin’ to be sorry ‘bout. I promise. You can call me that. But on a condition.”

You stare at him, no idea what the condition could possibly be.

“Ain’t allowed to call anyone else that. Ever.” There is a possessiveness in his tone and it nearly makes you come on the spot. “That understood?”

You nod obediently. “Yes.”

“Yes what?” he prompts.

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Good. That’s a real good girl, honey.”

For a split second, you can’t breathe.

This man will surely be the death of you.

Joel plants one final kiss, this one on your mound.

“Please,” you whimper, the heat in your lower belly growing and fizzling out to the rest of your body at the feeling of his breath over your aching core.

“Please what?” he murmurs into the sensitive skin as his arms curl around your legs. “Tell Daddy—tell Daddy what you need baby, so he can take care of you.”

“Your mouth,” you beg him, desperation mounting with each passing second. Your hips buck upward; his biceps flex as he tightens his arms around your thighs, pinning you down in place. “Your mouth—I need your mouth. Please.”

Joel moves his head to the junction of your thighs, his mouth hovering right over where you needed it the most. He looks up at you with hunger, like he’s a ravenous, starved man who hasn’t had a thing to eat in days. “What a good girl,” he praises, dipping his head even lower. His mouth waters at the sight of your glistening folds. “Bet you taste as delicious as you fuckin’ look, don’t you, pretty girl?”

He flattens his tongue and glides it up your slit, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thighs as he gets his first taste. You gasp out when it grazes your swollen, aroused clit and your head falls back onto the couch. “Oh fuck,” you whine, reaching for his hair. You weave your hands through his graying locks and pull his face closer. Another swipe of his tongue causes your back to arch up off the leather and the edges of your vision to blur.

He pulls an arm from around your legs and drags a finger down your drenched entrance, lips securing themselves around your clit. His gaze stays locked on you as he pushes his long, thick digit into you—you feel him smirk as he curls it upwards, pressing the pad of his finger firmly against the soft spongy spot inside you, making you see stars. Joel slips in a second finger and curls it along with the other to double the pleasure. He begins thrusting his digits in and out of your warm cunt, eliciting what had to be the sweetest sounds that he’d ever heard in his entire life from you. He combines it with with slow, firm, and precise stokes of his tongue on your clit.

“Fuck, yes, just like that,” you encourage him, your loud, breathy moans bouncing off the bare, freshly painted walls of his house. “Yes Daddy, fuck—feels so fucking good, please don’t fucking stop—”

It’s not like you have to tell him what to do.

Joel knows exactly what he’s doing, and he knows it too. He listens to every single one of your moans and feels every single buck of your hips. He is sure to pay extra attention to when your hands pull and tug at his curls; he remembers what combinations of licking, sucking, and fucking make you squeeze your plush thighs tighter around his head; reminds himself of which technique brings your body off of the couch, what makes your toes curl. Joel’s quick to learn your body’s cues, each and every last one. He already knows when to give you more, when to give you less—when he needs speed up, when it is time to slow it all down.

You sing his name over and over again, pressure of an orgasm already building between your hips. His tongue swirls around your sensitive little bundle of nerves as his fingers pump in and out of your cunt and you glance down. You almost choke when you catch a tiny glimpse of the muscles in his forearm, the way they flex underneath his skin with each of his movements as he’s fucking you. Your gaze flits to his face. His own eyes are fixed intently on you.

You’re milliseconds away from release.

“Joel, I’m so fucking close. I’m gonna come—”

His arm squeezes your thigh in encouragement.

One last, broad stroke of Joel’s tongue on your clit sends an overwhelming wave of pleasure crashing over you. Strangled cries tear themselves from the back of your throat as your velvet walls flutter and convulse, squeezing his fingers. Joel, who’s face is still half buried in your pussy, takes it upon himself to help you ride through the high. He peppers soft, delicate kisses onto your swollen clit as his fingers continue to slide in and out of you slowly. He waits patiently until your loud cries dissolve into nothing but breathless little whimpers before he crawls up, positioning himself on top of you, a hand on either side of your head. His beard and mustache glisten with a mixture of saliva and slick—and somehow it it ignites another fire and you’re ready for more, so much more.

“Sweet girl,” Joel murmurs. Leaning down, his lips meet yours and you taste yourself on his tongue

You place a hand on his chest, right over his heart, which beats strong and steady against your palm.

You start dragging your hand down his chest, your fingernails raking over his skin. It travels lower and lower, gliding over the softness of his stomach. He tenses when you brush the waistband of his jeans.

Tearing away from you, he grits out, “Baby. No.”

You immediately snatch your hand away from him.

“You changed your mind?” you question, stomach sinking at the thought of it being over already.

You’re just so fucking greedy for this man.

He offers reassurance—and an explanation.

“No, that ain’t it at all. S’just—” Joel pauses briefly and flushes a shade of red. “S’just that, well, I ain’t got condoms on me, darlin’.”

Relieved, you assure him, “It’s okay. I’m clean.”

“Me too. But that ain’t what I’m worried about,” he admits, his face going from red to maroon.

You smile, finding his embarrassment endearing.

“I’m on birth control.”

Joel clenches his hands into fists. His cock strains against his zipper at the thought of it—taking your cunt bare. “Y’sure you want this?” He rasps out. “I need you to be a hundred percent sure ‘bout it.”

“I’m a thousand percent sure, Joel. I fucking need it. More than anything I’ve ever needed in my life.”

That’s all he needed to hear.

Joel stands up, his gaze never leaving your own as he kicks off his black leather boots. You sit up, and it takes every ounce of strength you have in you to remain composed as he unbuckles his belt, unzips his jeans and pushes them down his legs. You bite down on your bottom lip and try not to stare at his bulge like it’s your first time ever seeing a dick, but if he’s as big as he looks in his boxer briefs, maybe this would end up being a lot more than what your body could handle.

He hooks his thumbs underneath the elastic of his boxer briefs and slides them off, allowing his thick, hard cock to spring free from its confinement.

You swallow harshly. He’s fucking massive.

“Like what you see, sweetheart?” Joel chuckles at the expression on your face as he kicks aside all of his clothes. His length rests on his lower abdomen and precome smears the skin there. Wrapping one of his hands around it, he gives it a couple strokes, just a hint of relief until you come into play. “Hm?”

Licking your lips, you nod and stand up. You take a couple of wobbling step towards him—Joel’s cock hasn’t been anywhere near you and you’re already fucking walking side to side. “Come here,” you say to him, taking both his hands in your own. You pull him back to the couch and gently guide him down into a sitting position. Swinging your leg over both of his, you straddle his lap. You gingerly place your hands on his shoulders, nails digging into his flesh softly when you feel him brush against your pussy; the contact makes you both moan in unsion. “This okay?” you ask him, breathily. You can’t be sure as to why you’re suddenly feeling a bit shy, like you’re not planning to ride his fucking soul out of him.

“More than okay.” Joel brushes your hair over your shoulder and then drags his hand down the length of your body, committing to his memory every one of your curves. “Gonna be a real good girl and ride my cock, baby?”

You gift him with a cheeky grin. “Yes, Daddy.”

The shyness begins to dissipate and you dive your hand between your bodies, wrapping it around his cock, causing his breath to catch in his throat. You lift yourself slightly off his lap, teasingly gliding the head of his cock down your drenched slit, then up, letting it graze over your clit, which is still senstive to the touch thanks to his lips and tongue.

Joel’s hands find their way around you, running up the curve of your spine. “Wasn’t aware that my girl was such a little fuckin’ tease,” he remarks in a low tone. He slides his hands back down and his large, warm palms cup your ass, fingers kneading flesh.

“Your girl?” you repeat, your heart skipping a beat, stomach fluttering at the idea of being his. “Is that what I am to you, Joel? Your girl?”

“S’that what you want, honey?” Joel whispers, his eyes finding your own, two hopeful gazes meeting in the deepest, most intimate moment that you’ve shared all evening. “Y’wanna be my girl?”

Leaning forward, your reply is preceded by kiss, so soft and so sweet his heart swells inside his chest.

“I do,” you mumble against his lips. “I really do.”

Still gripping your ass, Joel eases you up and lines himself up at your entrance. He bucks his hips and slides the head of his cock past your folds and into your heat. “Breathe, baby,” he whispers, his hands moving to your hips, thumbs grazing your skin. He slowly guides you further down his shaft, grunting as you sink down, taking him inch by inch. “Christ, you’re so goddamn fuckin’ tight—”

The initial stretch is almost too much for you. Your nails sink deeper into his shoulders as he pulls you down further down onto him. “Joel,” you whimper, biting back a loud cry. You’re fully seated, his cock completely sheathed inside you, his head pressing against your cervix. You’re so full of him.

One of his hands abandons your hip and slips over your lower belly.

“This where you’re feelin’ me, pretty girl?” he coos gently. “This where you feel Daddy’s cock? In your belly?”

“Yes,” you sigh out contentedly. “Feels so good.”

You lift yourself off of him, then slide back down in a slow, languid motion.

Joel’s head falls back onto the couch. “Christ.” He mutters the word, his chest heaving. Staring up at the ceiling, he takes a moment to catch his breath and silently wills himself not to explode. Once he’s managed to somewhat compose himself, he looks at you again, pupils blown so wide you can’t find a single trace of brown. “Go on, then,” he rasps. “Go on, sweetheart.”

The living room fills with the sounds of low moans and panting breaths as you move, alternating your maneuvers between rocking and bouncing on him in a frenzied, fast paced rhythm. The friction of his pelvis each time you grind into it winds up the coil between your hips and suddenly you’re desperate, so pathetically desperate for another release.

“Yeah, that’s it baby,” Joel encourages, feeling the beginning of his own climax building quick—much too quick for his liking. “Jus’ like that, honey. What a good girl you are for me, so fuckin’ good for me. Just like I fuckin’ knew you would be.”

“Fuck,” you whine. “You feel so good, Daddy. Feel so fucking good inside me—”

Leaning back, you firmly plant both your hands on his thighs and arch your body, head falling back as you pick up the pace. The burning fire casts a soft, orange glow around you and his jaw falls slack. His eyes drink in every single fucking thing about you, watch you with an adoration that, for the first time in your whole life, makes you feel wanted. Actually wanted.

“Joel,” you whisper his name over and over. You’re both beginning to lose track of where you end and he begins. You can hardly hear the praises that are spilling from his plush lips over the squelching wet sounds of your cunt sliding up and down his cock. There’s no chance to warn him—your mouth parts in a silent scream as you come undone on him.

“M’so fuckin’ close,” Joel grunts. He feels his cock twitch as your pussy grips him like a vice. “Where? Where do you want it, pretty girl?”

“Inside me. Please, I need you to come inside me,” you plead him, the innocent tone of your voice the last thing to push him over the edge he’s teetering on. “Fill me up, Daddy—please, want every drop of you inside me—”

Joel reaches for your arms and yanks you forward, into him. Throwing them around his neck, his own arms wrap around you and roughly slam you down onto him, holding you firmly in place. He bucks his hips upwards, balls tightening, his cock pulsing as he comes. Strings of hissed curse words and deep gutteral groans muffle when he drops his face into your collarbone. Still holding you in place, he spills his load into you, his seed filling you to the brim.

He sags back against the couch and pulls you with him. Wrapping his arms tighter around you, he lets himself stay buried inside of you, the primal in him relishing the heavenly feeling of his come dripping messily out of your pussy and all over his thighs.

“You alright, sweetheart?” he asks after a minute.

“M’perfect,” you mumble against his chest. You’re not sure if it’s because you’re coming down from a high or if it’s because he’s tracing patterns on your shoulder blade with his finger, but you shiver in his arms.

“Let me get the blanket—”

Joel starts to move to get up, but you stop him.

“No, please don’t,” you say, pushing him back. You put all of your weight onto him, as if he can’t move you off to the side if he really wanted to. “I—I want you inside me for a little while longer. Please.”

“But baby, you’re cold—”

You don’t bother explaining to him that you’re not.

“Just hold me. Please.”

And that’s exactly what he does.

Snuggling into him, you close your eyes and Joel’s hand strokes at your hair. Between that, the thrum of his heartbeat against your cheek and the sound of the fireplace crackling behind you, you’re nearly soothed into sleep.

“Joel?”

“Yeah, darlin’?”

“I hate Thanksgiving,” you admit, smiling tiredly to yourself when you feel a laugh rumble in his chest.

“Do you, now?”

You nod. “I do. But I’m really thankful for you.”

Giving you a gentle squeeze, Joel kisses the top of your head and murmurs, “Well, m’thankful for you too, sweet girl.” He pauses momentarily. “I ain’t all too sure how I’m s’pposed to just let you go home. I know I have to but—”

Lifting your head off of his chest, you take the side of his face and cradle it in your palm. You meet his gaze, heart sinking when you see the sadness that has replaced the lust from earlier.

He doesn’t mean home to your parents’ house. He means Chicago.

You graze his beard with your thumb. “I’m coming back in a few weeks,” you remind him, gently. “I’ve only planned to spend a week out here just for the holidays, but I can visit sooner. As soon as the kids go on winter break, I can come back to Austin.”

“You’d do that for me?”

“Of course I would, Joel. I’m not sure how it would work what with my parents and all, though. I don’t want them catching onto us.”

“C’mere.” Joel brushes your lips with his before he makes his promise. “I’ll figure it out, baby. Leave it all to me and I’ll figure it out.”

divider credit to @saradika-graphics 🤎

#asdfghjkl BYE #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller x reader #dbf!joel #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x you #joel tlou #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel miller x y/n #joel miller au #dbf joel miller #dbf joel x reader #fic: someone to be thankful for

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roobusmcscroobus · 7 months

Text

Fuck it. Muppet High School AU ideas (Yes this is based on the abandoned (??) Muppet High project but like better because I'm hot like that)

- Crazy Harry isn't allowed to go to school anymore.

- Only this town is in a vaguely 50's time period. It's not the 1950's, they're just weird.

- Statler and Waldorf run the place where Fozzie works at (The Jim Henson Company made him a soda jerk????) They pay him far below minimum wage and he doesn't know.

- Kermit's the coolest frog in town because he's the ONLY frog in town (Except Robin.) This man couldn't handle a La Croix

- Piggy regularly gets her friends to jump Denise when she's leaving class. The only reason she hasn't been expelled is because her family regularly donates to the school.

- Gonzo's origin story is him ordering some bullshit like an orange soda float and Fozzie going "Hey, I'm gonna need a snowball for this freak", thus awakening something in Gonzo. This wasn't on purpose, Fozzie was just doing his job

- Animal doesn't play guitar, Janice just asks him to hold it for her while she's at cheer practice.

- Beaker is failing speech and debate because nobody can understand him.

- Rowlf is only on the football team so he can catch the ball. It's like a big game of fetch for him.

- The Electric Mayhem are constantly smoking weed in the 1st floor men's restroom. You cannot use that one.

- Rizzo is one of Fozzie's coworkers and he adamantly refuses to use the soda jerk codewords because he thinks it's dumb

- Scooter gets bullied for being gay despite the fact that everyone else is also queer

- Bunsen has started about 9 fires so far, and only 6 of them were in the school's science classroom.

- The Swedish Chef also works with Fozzie. He barely has a grasp on the English language and he's staying with Sam Eagle

- Sam is class president. One time, he almost beat up Floyd for sitting down during the Pledge of Allegiance

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miguellover07 · 8 months

Note

Ok ok I wanted to request something

Highschool/college au

Badboy!miguel x chubbyfem!reader (well she an nerd,if u want to know)

(I'm what to say, but I hope u can create something with this idea)

I HOPE U HAVE AN WONDERFUL DAY 😘😘😇😇

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH my first request, I`m kind of excited huh

Around 1200 words, High-school au, BadboyMiguel x chubbyfem!reader, fluff

Jump, little mouse

Again, you are being pushed against your locker and you can already tell who did it.

Miguel who keeps messing with you by either stealing a pen, scribbling on your paper, hiding your backpack or in extreme situation either pushes you against the locker or even slightly pulls your hair.

He is standing there with his group already laughing as you pick up your books and notes that got knocked over.

You however try to ignore them and keep your face as neutral as possible because if they see any kind of reaction they will only push you further and perhaps do something worst.

The culprit is quick to snack one of your favorite comics away and you can´t help but panic.

"NO! give that back please" you try to reason with him as you step forward to take it back but he only lifts it above your head.

"Give me one good reason why I should do that? Hm?" he teases with a smug smirk and in your paniced state, you do exactly what he wants and that is: jumping.

"Miguel! It´s a special edition, there are only 50 of them, pleaseee" you say with tears in your eyes as you remember how you´ve spent your whole pocket money on this comic.

But he doesn´t care instead he answer your explanation with little 'oh', 'ah' and 'uh-huh'.

He relishes in the sight before him, he even gets bolder by pulling it behind him so that you lean against him while your hand tries to reach your favorite comic but to no avail.

"Oh, come on now, you can do it, I believe in you, my little mouse" he coos teasingly at you.

His friends are mocking and hollering as they witnes the scene before them. One of them even tried the same thing by taking another comic but you don´t care since your eyes are only on the special one.

Miguel´s smirk only grows wider, the way he can feel your body against him makes him go feral and he needs to bite his lip as he fights the urge to put his arm around your waist in order to press you tighter against him.

He can´t lie, he always had a thing for you but you two are too different which makes it difficult to connect.

Sometimes he even feels bad for treating you like this, he would much rather take you out on dates and just treat you right but you always act so skittish and shy around him which makes it even harder for him.

So, his only way is to tease you a little bit, in order to get your attention and hoping that you would maybe let a little lose around him.

He also made sure that he is the only one who could do this to you. Everybody else would get threatened or beaten by him.

By now there are other people watching the scene and some even take pictures and videos of the two of you.

Seeing how it´s hopeless to get your comic back you try to step back and find a teacher who could help you with him.

The unwanted attention already makes you uncomfortable and only now do you realize that you´ve made a fool out of yourself by jumping.

But before you can step back, he finally gives in to his desire and puts his arm around your waist and presses you tightly against him.

With shock in your eyes you look up at him as you open your mouth to protest but suddenly you feel his hand against your side and he squeezes it really hard.

Yelping and perplexed you look up at him.

For a second you don´t know what to do, frozen you stand there and only stare up at him. Even he seems shocked by his doing.

The loud hollering and noise tears you back to reality and you push him away from you, tears already streaming down your face as you run towards the bathroom.

Quickly you lock yourself up in one of the stalls and you can´t hold back the sobbs and tears.

He just squeezed your side. Why would he do that?

Not a minute later there are knocks and calls from girls, telling you that you should come out and reassuring you that everything will be alright.

But you aren´t ready to step out just now so in your defence you start accusing them "Leave me alone now! You could have done something before this happened but you all only watched!"

Some try it again but most of them just left you and after some stubborn minutes of your silence, the remaining ones left as well.

Now you can finally try to calm down, taking deep breaths and wiping your tears away.

Then when you feel ready you open the door only to get jump scared as Miguel stand in front of you, in the middle of the female bathroom.

Again you try to close the door and start screaming but he is faster and stronger as he pushes the door open and puts his hand over your mouth while closing the door and just holds you like this.

His hand over your mouth and his arm around your shoulder, his eyes never leaving yours as you try to break free from his hold.

"Calm down if I get caught it´ll be your fault," he hisses, "I promise I´m not going to harm you... I just want to say sorry...".

You don´t trust him but his threat scares you so against your will you calm down and he sighs while removing his hands from you.

"I´m sorry I obviously pushed your boundaries but... I couldn´t hold back... and I know this sounds like I´m some kind of animal... but I just needed to feel you," he sighs as if he was disappointed with himself, " I like you... a lot but you´re always so cold to me and I couldn´t find another way to get your attention and I thought it would be enough to tease you a little here and there but... I´m sorry you didn´t deserve any of it".

With his confession he suddenly looks like a kicked puppy and you want to forgie him but what he did today was really unacceptable.

The little bathroom stall makes you two stand very close as he puts his hands next to your head to lean on them and your heart starts racing while your cheeks blush but you're too mad and hurt to give in your feelings.

"Miguel-" you start but are quickly cut of "I would´ve never damaged your comics, I swear I know how much you like them and for an apology we could go to the bookstore down the street and I´ll buy you whatever you want there and after that we could also get your favorite coffee and some snacks together, what do you say?"

And the suggestion does sound nice, especially since you could never buy these overpriced figures.

So, after a bit of thinking you slowly nod but raise your pointy finger at him, trying to be intimidating "But no more teasing, you hear me? And no more squeezing"

Nodding he takes your hand in his and gives it a tender kiss "yes of course anything but... could I at least pinch your cheeks? Just once, please"

Rolling your eyes, you agree with a little ´fine´ and he pinches it so gently while his other hand keeps holding onto your hand.

His expression is the one of a puppy who go their treat which makes you chuckle a bit.

You can´t believe that this is the same Miguel from earlier, it´s like he is a completely different person but you don´t complain since he is so much nicer like this.

And you can´t deny it, he does look good, perhaps if he is better and gentler with you, you might accept his confession.

🕷🕸

I just wrote around 1200 words. I actually had two ideas but I decide this one was better because I wasn´t sure whether you wanted some smut in it so I just went with the fluff and I also wasn't sure if you wanted the two of them to be in a relationship or not so i kind of just made the "beginning" <3

#miguel o'hara #spider man 2099 #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o'hara drabble #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o’hara one shot #miguellover07 #miguel o hara #atsv miguel #miguel atsv #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel x fem!reader #miguel spiderverse #miguel spiderman #ask #answered

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juceynightmare · 1 year

Text

dating 101 (18+) part 13 - cody rhodes x reader

my masterlist

dating 101 (18+) masterlist

pairing(s): cody rhodes x reader, roman reigns x reader

warning(s): swearing, all-knowing!ted

genre(s): college!au, slow burn, fluff, angst

|| previous part || next part ||

y/n had made of fool of herself by trying to stand up immediately after cody was finished wiping away at her core and had quite literally fallen on her face. she wanted to be mad at the way cody had laughed at her and teased her with a “i knew i was good, but i didn’t know i was that good.” but she could only laugh alongside him as cody picked her up and steadied her on her feet. the two went off to shower after y/n regained her footing, and despite cody’s suggestive look, she had shoved him out of her shower stall and shut the door in his face to leave him taking a shower in the stall beside hers. even with all the activities that filled her morning, it still wouldn’t be for another hour that roman would arrive.

that left y/n to sit at her desk, munching away on a clif bar while cody was shoving her blanket and bedsheets into her laundry basket. she stood up and walked over to cody, tapping at his shoulder to make him look at her. she held up the clif bar to his mouth, and said, “finish it. i don’t want to get too full before my date.”

cody leaned down, grabbing the clif bar with his mouth and letting out a muffled, “thanks sweetheart.” he dropped the towel he used to wipe y/n and himself off into the laundry basket and grabbed the clif bar with his hand so he could hold it properly and finish it.

y/n threw away the wrapper that cody had left in her hand when he grabbed the bar with his mouth, before walking back over to her desk and opening one of the drawers. she pulled out a box of plan b and a pair of scissors, cutting open the plastic container that held the actual box. “i’m supposed to take only one, right?” she asked.

cody’s eyebrows furrowed as he walked over to y/n, peeking into her desk. “for someone who was a virgin, it’s shocking that you have even one plan b, but i don’t know why you would have a second one in here.” he commented, before grabbing for the other box that sat in the drawer. he read the back before answering, “yeah just take one. you should be fine.”

“they were going away gifts from my friends from high school. you know, the girls, their boyfriends, and then austin.” she answered truthfully, grinning at the memory of her high school friend group gifting her the plan b’s the day before she left for college.

“for when you finally get some in your dorm!” she could hear indi and candice saying to her, while their boyfriends, dexter and johnny, laughed beside them.

“and the second one’s for when you come home and bend over for me.” y/n remembered rolling her eyes at austin’s comment and chasing him around with a lightsaber afterwards.

god, she really missed her friends.

“and i took them because it’s supposedly 50 bucks for one.” y/n continued, holding the pill in one hand while she reached for her water bottle with the other. y/n quickly swallowed the pill, watching as cody gathered up her trash and threw it out for her. afterwards, he reached out and grabbed her container of tide pods, opening it up and taking one out. “you don’t have to wash my stuff, you know. i could have done it when i got back.” she said.

cody shook his head, already walking back over to where her laundry basket was and picking it up. “it’s fine, sweetheart. i also helped making the mess, anyway.” he assured her, already making his way towards the door. “i’ll be back!” he called out to her as he left, making his way down to the laundry room.

y/n stared at cody’s back as he left the room, watching the way his shoulder and arm muscles flexed as he adjusted the laundry basket in his hands. she no longer felt shy about staring, after all, she had gotten the chance to see and feel all of cody. although, that wasn’t the most difficult thing for someone to do. she thought to herself, amused. y/n sat back down in her chair, plugging in her hair dryer and beginning to blow dry her hair.

she hadn’t even notice ted walk into the room, but then again, she was focused on her reflection in the small mirror she had on her desk, and the sound of the hair dryer was far too loud for her to hear ted open his door and walk over to her room.

“you look beautiful, y/n. roman’s a lucky guy.” ted said from behind her, causing y/n to jump in her seat. she turned off her hair dryer and turned her head to where she heard ted, smiling up at him. she reached a hand up, and smacked ted in the chest lightly.

“you could have made a noise when you came in, at least!” she scolded him, before unplugging her hair dryer. ted had perfect timing for when he made his presence known, as she had just finished drying and styling her hair.

“i did! you probably didn’t hear me over your hair dryer, though.” he defended himself, watching as y/n reached for a necklace on her jewelry stand. she held it up for ted to take, before turning around and lifting her hair up for him. “i was just going to sit on your bed in silence until you noticed, but i can’t help but note that one, there are no bed sheets, and two, there is no cody.” he laughed as he bent down slightly to put the necklace on y/n.

“what was that about no cody?” cody questioned as he walked back into the room, placing y/n’s now empty laundry basket back in its place. he looked over at y/n as she let her hair down after ted had tapped her shoulder to let her know the necklace was clasped on.

“man don’t tell me you’re doing her laundry for her.” ted laughed, walking over to cody and placing a hand on his shoulder. “can’t go simping over her when she’s about to go on a date with roman. you’re already too late.” he teased.

cody shoved ted’s hand off of his shoulder, and shot back, “man shut up. i’m not a simp, i’m just helping her out. and you would have done the same for her too. remember when you were literally folding her laundry for her and cleaning her room while she sat there and watched her movies.”

ted gasped, feigning offense. “she was on her period, wouldn’t stop complaining about doing her chores, and i was getting tired of her bitchin’ and complaining. and you could have helped me, but nooo you just had to go get pussy.” ted brought his arms up, and shifted himself so that he was standing in front of cody. the two caught each other in a wrestling lock-up, and pretended to struggle to out-muscle the other man.

it was a sight that y/n had gotten used to, especially once the two men found out they both had a history in wrestling.

“you know, you two already do so much for me as your best friend. the girls have even dubbed it as you two doing ‘boyfriend duties’. your future girlfriends are definitely going to be real lucky to have one of you.” y/n chimed in from where she sat in her chair, her arms crossed over her chest and a wide smile plastered on her face.

“oh hell no.” cody immediately yelled out, breaking free of the hold. “if you think i would ever get cuffed, then you must be in some sort of nightmare. i’m way too good of a guy to be limited to just one lady, there’s plenty of me to go around.” he smirked, gesturing to his upper body while ted simply shook his head and laughed.

“you better not be trying to seduce my date right in front of me, uce. get in the back of the line.” came an amused voice from the hallway. cody, ted, and y/n all averted their gaze to the source of the voice, finding roman standing out in the hall.

the sight of roman had knocked the wind out of y/n’s lungs, and she was certain the world around her had paused to a stop. it seemed that she wasn’t the only one who had dressed to impress, as roman was clad in slacks that hugged his thighs deliciously, and a black button up shirt that y/n could tell could barely hold in the man’s muscles.

“don’t worry, roman. i got enough for you too.” cody jokingly flirted, walking over to roman and greeting him with a handshake. he gestured for ted to follow him out of the room with his head. “have a good date!”

“alright, we’ll get out. have fun you two, and roman, use protection.” ted said his goodbyes to roman and y/n before following cody out of y/n’s room and straight into their own.

ted watched as cody sat down at his desk with a sigh, before shutting and locking the door behind him. “where were you this morning? after you got woken up by a phone call?” ted asked, sitting down in his own chair. he turned to face cody completely, a mischievous smile on his face.

cody shrugged, not knowing where ted was going with this conversation or why ted would question his whereabouts. it wasn’t like ted should care in the first place where cody was. “just a hookup, early morning sex, you know.” cody answered, flipping the top of his macbook open.

ted scooted over, closing cody’s macbook before the man could even type in his password. “hookup? surely not with y/n, right?” he pressed further. ted watched as, for the first time in the short time ted’s known cody, cody tensed up.

“no, not with y/n. where are you going with this? what does it matter to you where i was this morning?” cody suddenly questioned, turning his head to look at ted.

“it woke me up too, you know. the ringer.” ted mused, not faltering under cody’s gaze that had grown so defensive.

“my bad, i guess? i wasn’t exactly expecting to be woken up so early, and with a phone call, for that matter.” cody apologized, although he didn’t ease up. where was ted going with this? he couldn’t seem to wrap his head around it.

“are you sure it wasn’t with y/n? you know, that’d be on brand for you. taking our friend’s virginity the morning before she goes on a date with roman.” ted continued to press, watching the way cody had grown uncomfortable with each question. in truth, ted didn’t know anything besides the fact that yes, cody had gotten a phone call at ass o’clock that woke both him and ted up, and that cody reeked of sex when he returned to the room to grab his shower stuff while ted was still in bed and supposedly sleeping. he also knew that y/n was absolutely glowing when he first laid eyes on her - a glow that ted would dare compare to an after sex glow.

what had really got him to question cody’s whereabouts was the fact that y/n’s bedsheets weren’t on her bed, and cody was the one doing her laundry for her. cody had gotten ted with catching ted folding laundry and cleaning y/n’s room, but that was in ted’s nature to look after his friends.

but cody? cody never even showed interest in doing his own laundry, so why would he suddenly want to do y/n’s?

“dude, how are you not uncomfortable asking about whether or not i slept with y/n?” cody asked, taking a few seconds to think of a way to get ted off of his back. “man, she‘s a fucking virgin. she’d probably want to lose it to someone she trusts and that’d be her future boyfriend or whatever. besides, it’d be like” cody paused for a second, watching the way ted had leaned back in his seat and stared at him intently. “it’d be like fucking my sister.” he finished.

ted visibly cringed at the thought. yeah, he supposes that by now he already viewed y/n as if she were years younger than them and a sister figure to both even though she was the same age and clearly not related to either of them. “ok yeah, i get it. why’d you put that visual in my head?” ted questioned, turning himself away from cody and facing his desk as he turned his macbook on.

a silence filled the room, one that left ted uncomfortable and cody wondering what made ted catch on to him. he knew the rooms were soundproof, and ted clearly wasn’t in the room when cody and y/n had impulsively decided to fuck. cody figured y/n wanted to keep their newfound dynamic under wraps, especially since she’d most likely become exclusive with roman soon.

“what even made you think that the person i hooked up with was y/n?” cody questioned, pulling ted out of his thoughts.

ted shrugged his shoulders. “it’s very vague and i definitely looked too far into it, but i knew you had just fucked someone, you came back to get your shower stuff even though you take showers at night and you reeked of sex, man.” he said, shaking his head at the way cody had chuckled out a soft “my bad.”

ted reached over, nudging cody’s shoulder with his fist as if to let him know that it was all good. “but then i saw y/n, and you had to have noticed it too, but she’s absolutely glowing. i’d even compare it to an after sex glow.” he continued, smiling at the memory of y/n sitting at her desk. “but i guess she’s just that stunning. especially since today’s a special day for her’.”

cody felt his chest swell with pride knowing that he was, in fact, the cause of that glow that radiated off of y/n and not the fact that she had a date with roman. “lucky guy.” he sighed out, shaking his head. “that’s it? just the fact that i smelled like sex and she was glowing that you had to question me like i just committed a crime?”

“the laundry.” ted quickly answered. “y/n and i literally have to drag you out of bed to tell you to do your laundry. but then here you are doing y/n’s bedsheets for her. do you see why i find it suspicious?” he questioned, turning his attention back to cody.

cody shrugged his shoulders, defending quickly, “man i do one nice thing and you take it as me sleeping with our friend.“

without missing a beat, ted laughed and let out a “most definitely.” cody grabbed the nearest item to him on his desk, an empty water bottle, and chucked it at ted’s head.

“i’ve found myself getting protective over y/n lately. i guess it’s obvious now that you mentioned the whole sister thing, but she’s kind of like that to me now.” ted admitted, shaking his head. “sorry about jumping to conclusions, cody.”

“no worries. if i was in your position, i’d probably question the hell out of you.” cody admitted, turning his attention back to his macbook and turning it on so he could get started on work for the day. “you know, especially since you rarely get pussy these days.” he teased, to which ted responded by throwing back the empty water bottle at cody’s head. towards the forefront of his thoughts, cody could hear himself thank whatever power was above them that made sure ted didn’t see the plan b in the trash.

and yet, cody couldn’t help but find it exciting knowing that y/n and him may eventually get caught.

|| next part ||

#cody rhodes x reader #cody rhodes fanfiction #cody rhodes #cody rhodes imagine #wwe fanfic #wwe fanfiction #wwe x reader #wwe #roman reigns x reader #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns fanfic #roman reigns imagine

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hwgyun · 1 year

Text

REWARD KISSES — Han Jisung

pairing: han jisung x fem!reader

genre: fluff, uni au

warning(s): kissing, pet names (babe, baby, my love, etc.) NOT PROOFREAD! (this was rushed), established relationship, mentions of food/snacks

word count: 710

You groaned as you stared at the 50 flashcards on your desk, as well as multiple books and resources. You had an upcoming mid-term exam for Physiology, and you couldn’t focus at all. You had gone to the library, that didn’t work. You went to a quiet cafe, that didn’t work either.

You hated Physiology. You hated it in high school, and you hate it even more now in college. It didn’t help that your professor didn’t like you either, you would easily lose concentration and embarrassment would consume your body when the professor would call you out on it.

As you’re staring blankly at the mess on your desk, four knocks on your door snap you out of your trance. You quickly scramble to get up, making your way towards your dorm door and opening it, revealing your caring boyfriend Jisung standing at your door with junk food in his hands.

“Ji what are you doing here?” You question curiously, you didn’t message him to come over, so you were curious as to why he was standing outside your dorm.

“Can’t I pay my beautiful soon-to-be wife a visit?” He pouts, yelping seconds afterwards after you had smacked his arm. “Shut up just get inside already.”

“So bossy…” He trails off, walking into your dorm room and setting the bag of goodies on your bed. You take a seat on your desk chair once again and went back to staring at the flash cards that you didn’t hear the sound of your boyfriend's voice calling you multiple times.

“Y/n!” He shouts, shaking your shoulders snapping you out of another trance. “What is up with you? You’re pretty out of it today.” You sigh, tears welling up in your eyes.

“Sungie I’m so stressed about this exam…I can’t afford to fail but I just can’t seem to concentrate.” You whisper loud enough for him to hear as you play with your fingers.

“Hey, baby it’s okay. That’s what I’m here for, to help you.” His quiet, comforting voice sending butterflies to your stomach. “Can you…?” You ask, voice barely above a whisper.

“Of course, I can my love. Here let’s do this, go over the flash cards and when you’re done, I’m going to quiz you. But here’s the deal, for every question you get correct I’ll kiss you~” He smiled widely and quickly kissed your cheek. You gave him an “okay” and immediately started studying.

“Okay I'm done!” After almost an hour of studying, you were sure you had it all memorized by now, waiting eagerly for the brown-haired male to start quizzing you.

“Awesome! Give me the flash cards.” He snatched the flash cards from your desk just as you were about to reach for them and cleared his throat.

“Alright babe first question, what is the concave medial surface of the kidney?”

“Hilus.” You stated proudly, Jisung looking at you with a wide smile, leaning in to give you a quick peck on the lips. “Mm I’m gonna enjoy kissing your lips a lot today.”

“Shush it! Next question.”

“What is a renal cortex?” He looked up from the flash card, taking a look at you as you tried hard to remember.

“Ooh, I guess miss smarty pants over here is getting this one wrong~” He teased, earning a scoff from you.

“I got it! The renal cortex is the outer portion of the kidney which contains capillary tufts and convoluted tubes!”

He nods, smiling as he leans in to give you another quick kiss on the lips. Your lips linger against each other for what seems like forever, and he quickly leans in to get another taste. The way your plump soft lips fit perfectly with his like a missing puzzle piece.

You giggle, too focused on Jisung kissing you than studying. You groan against his lips and gently push his chest, his whines making you chuckle.

“Sorry Ji, we can continue this later, but I actually need you to help me with this.” You softly say to him, an apologetic look on your face as you stare at his pouty one.

“It’s okay Y/n, but after we’re done you have to promise you’ll kiss me some more!”

“Yeah, yeah I promise now actually help me.”

a/n: ya’ll sorry if this was shit winter break ended so i’m back at school which is why i haven’t been able to update on here but here is smth i hope you enjoy (even though it was pretty rushed LMAO) also please reblog! tumblr isn’t based on likes, it’s based on reblogs :)

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slashingdisneypasta · 2 years

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You know what gets me?

NonKiller!AU's for the Slashers.

Michael tried to kill his sister, when he was 6. But she managed to stop him and they got him help. He leaves Smithsgrove at 21, just like the movie goes, but this time he's released on good behaviour. His therapy has been working and he takes his medication without even being reminded- he's a high functioning human being; Half bad, half good. To Laurie Strode he's just the carpenter working on the house down the street.

All the way in Texas, the Sawyer brothers are saved from their upbringing early on by the cops when their parents abandon them and Grandpa starts losing feeling in his legs. Bubba's just an infant, Drayton's just turned 13 and the twins are just two manic kids. Miraculously they stayed together in the system, and now they still live together well into adulthood- Drayton says he's irritated as hell but he doesn't kick them out, Bubba's a lollypop lady near the local school, Chop Top went to war and when he came back he needed help but is doing well and spends a bit more of his allowance on vinyl's then he probably should, Nubbins is a small-time photographer helping Drayton with the rent despite how they fight, and they all take care of Grandpa. They're aren't doing great, but every Friday is leftovers night and its like a little party.

Chucky and Tiffany broke up, and this time they never get back together. Glen and Glenda live with Chucky every other week, though Glenda is starting to get sick of of it (Getting thrown around constantly like a fucking Frisbee) in her teenage years and gets closer and closer to moving out too-early with every fight they have. Glen's picked his dumb parents up from jail too many times growing up but he couldn't give up on them even if he tried, because he sees the good in them; How his father beams with pride whenever the twins achieve something (Even if its not the thing he wanted them to achieve) and how his mother constantly shows she just wants them to be happy and nothing else really matters.

Across the country, Jason works with kids at a high school; Tries to help them, give them a person to talk to about things or just sit with. Tattoo's run up his arms and lick out the colour of his t-shirts, and they look gnarly (He got them to distract people from his head), but they remind him of what's important he tells his teenagers, it doesn't matter what other people think of you. He also offered his services online as the internet blew up and one of his teenagers who especially resonated with his help on there was called Kathy Krueger.

Freddy's a divorced, bisexual father in the 50's suburbia who doesn't seem to give one single fuck that other people hate him (He grew up like that) and he's irritatingly resourceful so no matter what they do legally, they cant get rid of him- he pops right back and takes great joy in shoving his existence in peoples faces (He's a survivor so fuck all of you). And he's not a perfect father by a long shot but he's always there at Kath's school things and is always good for dad jokes to lighten the mood.

Its not until they're in their 50's that Jason and Freddy meet- Jason's taking a cross-country road trip after his mother dies, to clear his head, and he makes a stop in a town called Springwood where he meets a man whose mouthiness has only gotten worse with age- and- and- is this man checking him out in the grocery store??

Meanwhile Billy and Stu are two boys watching horror movies in their bedrooms together, afraid of how other people would react to finding out they kiss together, too.

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agent-calivide · 8 months

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Some more fun facts about my rendition of Phoenix!

She has chronic anxiety, she used to bite her nails down to nubs before her job required her to wear gloves.

She had a deep scar across her palm from trying to open Zor’s car radio with a knife. It slipped and cut a deep gouge across her hand.

Phoenix is CPR certified. All agents are actually, and Heimlich trained.

Even though Phoenix can’t dance to save her soul, she can hella strut. She was actually recommended for the infiltration division (aka the division that most hot people go because they’re trained on how to flirt and seduce their way into places) but she refused, wanting to stick to stealth.

Phoenix is both touch repulsed and touch starved, she hates it when anyone touches her aside from M, Jocie, and Juniper (depending on the AU). That being said, once the touch threshold is crossed she’s an absolute cuddle bug and needs to be holding a hand or wrapped around an arm at all times.

Phoenix is Demisexual, she doesn’t really think of people on a scale of “hot or not” as much as “aesthetically pleasing” and when she does find someone looks good her first thought is usually that they’re conventionally attractive, not actual smitten. She actually thought she was ace for the longest time until she met Juniper and realized she was actually Demi. Juniper managed to hop over her “no touchy” barrier by showing (what looked to be) genuine kindness. It was quite humble of him to help a stagehand when he was the owner of the theater in her eyes, which is why she ended up accidentally bonding wayyy too fast.

That being said: this girl is a pan mess. If she gets any positive attention she devolves into a smitten puddle, not that she’d ever admit it. Solaris, Fabricator, Juniper, and Caliente have all pulled at her heartstrings totally by accident. The only reason Handler and Prism don’t is she looks at them as father and mother figures.

She idolizes Prism. When she got the home check mission she screamed and kicked her feet like she was meeting a celebrity, Prism is her hero. She loves computers and computer design, and Prism makes her feel like learning tech isn’t impossible.

Phoenix got into the EOD not with any skills or notable accomplishments, but because she was a nameless, faceless 17 year old with no notable record from the middle of nowhere with no personal connections or attachments. Between that and desperation for money that made her accept any job, the EOD practically swept her up when her application came through. They needed more young agents, and she got through the training by the time she was 20.

She’s not only competent, she’s one of the youngest agents on the field. This is also why she is very unconventional, impulsive, and reckless.

CW: EMOTIONAL ABUSE

She loves computers… but she feels like she’s not smart enough to learn about them. Her father and mother were the perfect 50’s family, smile for the camera, but awful behind closed doors. Her father reminded her every step of the way that she was too stupid to even earn a high school degree, much less go into computer engineering.

#i expect you to die #ieytd #ieytd2 #ieytd fandom #i expect you to die 2 #agent phoenix #i expect you to die 3 #ieytd3 #john juniper #ieytd handler #dr prism #cw emotional abuse

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matchstickdolly · 3 months

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So long, farewell! 💜 I won't be posting from this account anymore. To close it out, here is a roundup of my Lucifer fan works, as I think that's how most came to find me here.

You will need an AO3 account to read most of my stories; it's relatively easy to sign up if you don't have one. Though I'm gone from here and elsewhere in the Lucifer fandom, I will continue to read comments and attempt to reply to them, so please consider sharing these fics and commenting your thoughts on AO3!

LONG READS (20,000+ words)

A Refraction of Light

314k words. My giant post-S3 canon divergence that spans Earth, Hell, and Heaven. If you didn't like Lucifer's Netflix era (the last three seasons) or wished there were more power couple vibes for Deckerstar, you might enjoy AROL. Though I finished it in 2020, after S4 had aired, I think it works quite well as a S4-S6 fix-it for those who'd like one.

In Sorrow Thou Shalt Bring Forth Children

210k words. The 50 female-focused "blip" years Lucifer's finale conveniently left out, also several post-S6 chapters. Heavy angst surrounding family and spiritual trauma but aims to be cathartic by acknowledging pain. All that said, more humor and Deckerstar than you'd probably expect, given the CW tags.

Reins Series: Try My Reins and My Heart & As Certain Dark Things Are to Be Loved

35k words when read together. Porn with feelings/plot. Fun, sweet kinkiness that should be read in order. Dominant!Lucifer because I struggle to see the Devil otherwise and because Chloe deserves a fucking break in the care of her sex god beau.

In a Similar Vein

21k words. Funny, sweet, and absurd S1 divergence wherein Chloe becomes (very wrongly) convinced that Lucifer is a vampire. Alas, it is missing the last chapter.

Chloe KNOWS

20k words. Funny, sweet, sexy S2 divergence in which Chloe accidentally gets a devil reveal when she stumbles upon an ageless Lucifer in vintage pornography. Oops.

MEDIUM READS (5,000 to 20,000 words)

If the Shoe Fits & In the Family Way

14k words when read together. Alternate post-5B/S6. Feel-good, funny, fluffy, even sexy. Godifer and Mrs. G being good partners, parents, and Improvers of the Universe. If you need a sweet, positive fix-it for the end of Lucifer, these fics might fit the bill.

Rebound to You

12k words. Feel-good, funny, sexy AU where Lucifer is still the Devil, but he and Chloe didn't meet as in canon. Instead, they meet a couple of years later, after Lucifer has naturally gotten a phone and Chloe has divorced Dan and is now resorting to dating apps to meet people. Features a fun gimmick of Tinder-like chat logs (used sparingly, I promise).

Something More & Pump It Up

11k words when read together. These two canon compliant fics won't seem like they go together at first, but I promise they do (thematically). Both are pre-canon and about the subtle ways in which Lucifer and Chloe are an amusingly great match. They just haven't met (yet) to know it! The first story is sweet and about Jed and Chloe's relationship; basically a character study of Chloe as told from Jed's POV. The second is a bit of a sex farce about Lucifer watching Hot Tub High School after settling in L.A., but it's also porn with plot or at least a character study.

Not to Mii

10k words. Lucifer sticks around at the end of S3's "The Last Heartbreak." One thing leads to another, and you get strip Mario Kart. I promise it works.

The Fine Line Between Desire and Fear

10k words. Feel-good and silly post-5A divergence featuring a haunted mansion on Halloween. Almost solely Deckerstar-focused but also imagines a future where Michael is trying to redeem himself and earn Ella's affection; the only problem is that he's afraid...of a lot, actually. The irony!

Sweet and Sour

10k words. A comical Michael/Ella fic based on the 5A trailer. Turned out to be rather in-character for many aspects of Michael, so it holds up, I think.

Now That's What I Call Big Devil Energy! Series: Big Devil Energy & Satan's Got a Heart On

9k words when read together. Funny, sweet chaos. Lucifer being a completely over-the-top Devil in love.

All You Can Play

9k words but really more like 3k if you want the finished part of the fic. (First chapter can stand alone; don’t read past it if you don’t like unfinished work.) Chaotic humor, sex farce. Canon compliant missing scene wherein I will tell you not to hate the player (me) but the game (S3). The reason Lucifer isn't there to protect Chloe at the end of 03x04? He's with Lexy, the judge's soon-to-be ex-wife. This is that story. Featuring Chuck E. Cheese.

Bound by Iniquity

8k words. Dark 5A canon divergence from Maze's POV. Her dirty dealmaking with Michael backfires, big time.

Get Thee Behind Me

7k words. Porn with plot/feelings. Lucifer and Chloe try anal sex for the first time. Feel-good comedy ensues.

Baptized by Desire

7k words. Dark but sweet S3 divergence. Lucifer comes to believe he really is a delusional human while he's in the psychiatric hospital in "God Johnson."

Hells to Betsy

6k words. Answering the question of how Chloe afforded a large three-bedroom townhouse in L.A., especially once Maze moved out. Come on! Detectives are paid well but not that well!

Darkest Before Dawn

5k words. Sweet, funny, sexy wing fic. No wing oil, but there's a barrel of crude oil and Dawn dishwashing liquid. This is not an ad.

SHORT READS (<5,000 words)

The Dotted Line

4k words. Porn without plot. Lucifer is attracted to Chloe in anything, even undies from Target.

Checked Baggage

4k words. Porn with light plot. What if Chloe took up Jana's offer for a threesome, partly out of spite? Bisexual chaos that is still ultimately very much about Deckerstar.

Winging It & Made in His Image

4k words when read together. Both are chaotic sex farces that wax on about the Devil's dick. They must be read in order.

Reefer Gladness Series: Flying High & Baked with Love

3k words when together. Sweet fluff. Established Deckerstar getting high together.

Lunch at the Y

3k words. Porn without plot. Roughly set in a better post-5A world where Lucifer eats Chloe out in a dressing room because of course he would. That's a love language.

Those Who Favor Fire

2k words. Porn without plot. Roughly set in a better post-S3 world where Deckerstar have gotten their HEA and have been together for some ten years or so.

My God's House Has Many Rooms

2k words. S6's "happy" closeout is creepily vague to me. This story explores a horrific what-if.

Raising Hell

1k words. Porn without plot. An ode to the blowjob.

Use My Words Against Me

1k words. All dialogue, pure chaos. Caught up in yet another scandal, closeted Republican Senator Olin Graham asks the Devil for a favor. You'll only appreciate this if you know enough about American politics and aren't a fascist piece of shit. Sorry not sorry.

Earthly Delights on Borrowed Time

666 words. Post-S4 reimagining where Lucifer and Chloe are making things work.

The Perfect Help Meets

666 words. Dark, canon compliant one-shot about Lucifer's angst/depression as he tries to make things work with Eve, all while he's in love with Chloe.

Other Stuff

A softness came from the starlight and filled me full to the bone — Lucifer meets the comic A Softer World. Inspired by an old post by @casimania that can be found here.

General Fanvids — Deckerstar being painful and/or lovely, plus some Trixie because I love her character.

S6 Critical Fanvids — Just me making sense of S6's plot, which I cannot read as anything other than incredibly dark and anti-choice.

Crack Fanvids — Pure comedy and chaos.

Lucifer Season 6 Time Travel Visualizations — Lucifer S6 uses time travel without clearly laying out how it works. I made two visualizations to help explain the possibilities: one for the loop existing in a single timeline and another for the loop causing or being a part of many/parallel worlds.

Lucifer S6 Wiki — After Lucifer Season 5B and S6, I started digging into the writers’ interviews to understand what the hell had gone wrong. You'll find their answers to a lot of common S6 questions here. They’re real, er, interesting Hollywood folk, to say the least.

#lucifer fanfiction #lucifer fanfic #lucifer on netflix #deckerstar fanfiction #deckerstar

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satoruin · 2 years

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➣ the kiss bet

for @stellumi ‘s webtoon collab! check out the other fics here -> genshintoon

pairing: ajax (childe), albedo, thoma x gn!reader

word count: 9K

summary: the last year of high school brings new friends, new experiences, and new crushes. unfortunately or not your trusty best friend ajax is dead set on helping you with all of that. inspired by the kiss bet on webtoon (high school au)

notes from lee: so uh i have never written anything this long and i struggled with it a lot. i also felt immensely guilty for not being able to finish it sooner so i just didn’t write anything else for about 4 months BUT it’s finished and it may not be my best work but i’m proud that i cranked out something so long :))

It’s an uneventful day, to you at least. Ajax however seems to be having the time of his life screaming his head off and wishing you a happy birthday. Yes, it was time for the big 1-8, the number that marked you as an ‘adult’ even if you would still be coddled by the world. You made your way down the steps to the subway, following Ajax as he continued to tease you.

“Grown Adult (Y/n), who hasn’t even had their first kiss yet.” He starts walking backward so you can see him stick his tongue out at you, an immature gesture that seemed to describe Ajax as a whole.

You however weren’t having it tonight, after years of his relentless torture, it felt that now was an opportune time to bite back, “Yeah? So what, just because an opportunity has never come up for me to kiss-”

Ajax seems to suddenly be right in your face, a smirk still plastered on his face as his eyes flit down to your lips. You can’t escape the heat that rises to your cheeks at his proximity. “So you’re saying if you had an opportunity you would take it? How about I give you one right now.”

He only seems to be getting closer, but he suddenly jerks away. Laughing at you now as he watches you incoherently babble. “Ew, I’m not talking about me, I’m making a bet, go ask if you can kiss the guy over there. I’ll give you $5 if you’re not too chicken.”

It takes a second to register his words and to even see the boy he’s talking about, “What the hell,” you punch him on the arm, and he rubs it as if actually hurt, “five whole dollars? Are you out of cash or something because that’s a lowball number even for you. I’m not a chicken, I just don’t think it’s worth–”

“Fine, $50 right here,” he cuts you off, but when he turns to look at you, you’re already off to ask this stranger to kiss you. He looks on, surprised because normally you never took his bets. Maybe your surge of confidence had something to do with your birthday.

You approach the sleeping man and to your luck, he seems to not be completely ugly, in fact, he’s kind of handsome. He looks so serene with his headphones in and his ash-blond hair seems to be perfectly in place despite the way he’s rested against the wall. You grab his shoulder to shake him awake gently.

His eyes start to flutter open and they’re a pretty shade of teal, such a color you’ve never seen in someone’s eyes before. His eyes seem to bore into you and you’ve become so entranced by how cute this stranger is that you almost forget why you’re here in the first place.

“Can I kiss you?” It comes out much less confident than you had hoped, but the hard part is done.

—

You wash your dish from breakfast and can’t help but think back to last night.

The boy’s face seems to crinkle up, and he looks up at your looming figure, “No, what kind of freak asks a stranger for a kiss?” You move back in embarrassment, but the fact was that he was completely right. His outstretched legs tangle with yours, resulting in you landing on your butt as the ash-blond boy pushes past you to get to the subway.

God, talk about embarrassing yourself. Asking a stranger for a kiss all in the name of winning a bet wasn't like you. Subway boy, as you had dubbed him, even called you a freak, which you guess was deserved though. It couldn’t get worse though, except it could.

“You’re going to be late for school at the pace you’re washing those dishes,” your dad chimes in from the table. He sits, feet rested on the table, leisurely reading the paper and not paying you much attention.

You rush to dry your hands before snatching the backpack that rests on the table and hurriedly leaving out the door.

Of course, your ginger-haired nightmare is standing outside the door, waiting to harass you. “May I have the pleasure of walking you to school this morning, Your Highness?”

Instantly suspicious, you interrogate him, “What’s wrong with you? And why are you here? Did you really wake up early to come here?”

“Can I not offer my dear friend company as you walk to school?” You look at him crossing your arms with a knowing look. He puts his hands up in lock surrender, “Maybe I was here to get you to pay up your $50, you know?”

“Idiot, don’t talk about that here! My neighbors will think I’m doing drugs or something.” You start to push him down the hallway towards the elevator. You wave hello to the middle-aged man who lives across the hall. He’s returning from a late-night shift, the dark circles proof enough.

Ajax only shrugs his shoulders with a soft hum and lets you push him.

—

Your teacher drones on, his lecture on something chemistry-related but it goes in one ear and out the other. “Psst, I heard you almost had your first kiss last night~” Hu Tao, not so quietly, whispers across the row of desks. Ajax, who sits behind you, snickers and then kicks your chair.

You whip around to stare him down, but your teacher interrupts that, “(L/n) talking during my lecture again? I’ll see you after school.” He continues like he didn’t just absolutely humiliate you in front of the whole glass. You slump in your seat, even less inclined to pay attention now. You cross your arms with a huff and glower at the clock, counting down the minutes until you were free.

—

“You are aware of our grades this semester, aren’t you?” Your science teacher looks at you as you nod your head, but refuse to make eye contact. “It’s your final year and you need this science class to graduate.” He lets out a long sigh, perturbed with your current situation. You grab at the material covering your legs, grasping it tightly like it’s going to leave, embarrassment seeping out once again.

“Listen, I don’t want you to fail so I’ve got someone willing to tutor you for the remainder of the year. His name is Albedo, he’s a new transfer but he’s supposed to be a real whiz in his studies. Hopefully, he can help you out.” It felt stupid to have to be talked to like this. It wasn’t your fault stoichiometry, balancing equations was hard. Still, you mumble out ‘thanks’ before taking your leave.

As soon as you walk out of the room, your phone rings. It’s your dad worrying about why you haven’t come home yet, your grades, just about anything and everything he can worry about. “Don’t worry Dad, I’ll be home in 10 minutes. I love you, bye.”

As soon as you hang up you see a familiar head of ash blond hair. you can’t help but feel the embarrassment that comes with seeing the boy from the subway, the memory of what happened last night still on the forefront of your mind.

You keep your distance and try to make it seem like you were not following him. (And really don’t mean to follow him, you’re just trying to make your way home.) It's only when he walks in the door to your apartment complex that you might start to get a little curious.

He gets in the elevator and the display sign shows your floor, meaning he lives on the same floor as you, not even just the same apartment complex but the same floor. You take the stairs in a desperate attempt to see just what room he could be in and to your utter despair he walks into the apartment right across from yours.

It seems that there is just no outliving your embarrassing experience from last night when the biggest reminder now lives across from you.

—

Someone knocks on the door and you open it reluctantly. Your hood is pulled up and strings tied in a bow to keep the hood secured around your face. Thankfully it’s only Ayaka with a bag of food from her family’s restaurant in hand. You grab her hand and yank her through the doorway before anyone can see.

“You know that I can’t leave the house! Much less do I want anyone, especially you know who, to see me!”

“Come on (Y/n), he’s not Voldemort. And I can’t stay, my brother has me on delivery duty today so I just came to drop some food off if you won’t leave the house.”

You��ve already opened the bag to find your favorite, eagerly chowing down before answering Ayaka with a half-full mouth, “Oh. Tell ‘yato I said thanks. Now get going delivery girl.” you drag her out the door the same way you dragged her in. “Bye, thanks, I love you!” you shout down the hall.

—

“Ajax,” you groan as you walk into the classroom, “I need the homework, pretty please.” Before he can answer, you’re swiping the papers off his desk.

He grabs them back just as quick “Ah, that’s $50, and what would you do in your room all weekend if you didn’t come hang out with me?”

You try and force it out of his hands but his grip is much stronger than your own, “Did you want to make that $75?”

You grab the wad of cash out of your pocket and slam it on his desk. Grabbing the papers and copying down the homework before your teacher could collect it.

Ajax leans his chair against your desk in a way you know any teacher would scold him for and tell the horrific story of some kid they once had. He counts the paper money slowly and out loud, you shove the part of the chair that rests against your desk causing him to fall to the floor. He lets out an exaggerated groan, claiming you’ve killed him.

The teacher walks in and suddenly Ajax is fine. You’re still trying to finish copying his homework, but your teacher’s announcement piques your interest. “We have a new transfer student joining today. Tell us a little bit about yourself.”

Your head whips up because surely it couldn’t be the subway boy, right? Ajax laughs from behind you, knowing exactly what you were thinking.

You’re about to go back to writing but the transfer student starts speaking, “Um hi! I’m Thoma. I just moved over here, and I look forward to getting to know all of you.” He gives a close-eyed smile to the class and you can just feel your heart melt, along with several others in the class.

He takes the desk right in front of you, and just before he sits down he turns and says a bashful hello to you.

Ajax kicks your chair, whisper-yelling at you to return his homework, but you’re too enthralled in Thoma’s charm to care.

—

Ajax spends the rest of the day trying to figure out what about Thoma has everyone fawning over him. Maybe it was his stupid blond hair, green eyes, and a nice smile, but he had looks too! Who doesn't like redheads with freckles?

Apparently not you, because he’s sitting listening to you as you talk about your week plus all the times Thoma talked to you, or even looked at you.

He rolls his eyes for probably the umpteenth time, “ Blah blah blah Thoma days and Thoma that. We get it, you like Thoma. Now can we please go do something?”

“‘Jax it’s Tuesday and I’m meeting my chem tutor today. And please stop acting like you did not just thirst over our teacher, you know that one.”

“What? It was a joke!” He still blushes red as he tries to convince you that he was indeed not attracted to your history teacher.

He reluctantly lets you get to your tutoring session after you admit that he does not have the hots for Mr. Zhongli.

The library is eerily quiet as you make your way to the back where the study rooms are. You’re supposed to meet him in room four, but when you look through the little window on the door you see a familiar face. As if the whole of Celestia was cursing you, it’s none other than subway boy.

You text the number your teacher had given you for the tutor just to make sure that subway boy was supposed to be your tutor. Sure enough, he picks up his phone and texts you back but it is indeed room four. Just your luck.

Still entirely embarrassed you can’t convince yourself to go in without a disguise of course. He is not allowed to recognize you as the stranger who tried to kiss him on the subway in the name of a bet.

You wrap the scarf you keep in your bag for cold days and put a pair of sunglasses on, hopeful that it will obscure your identity for just a little longer. Subway boy, or Albedo as your teacher had told you, gives you a quizzical look as you walk in but says nothing.

And as much as you want to hate him for your previous encounter, he is nothing but kind and understanding while he thoroughly helps you with the chemistry homework you’ve been assigned. He never gets mad that you don’t understand something, but instead tries to break it down into a way that you do understand.

“We’ll meet again on Thursday. You already have my number, so if you need any further help don’t hesitate to text me.” He nods and leaves the room quickly.

—

“I’m telling you, the universe is out to embarrass me and turn me into a lonely cat parent.” You walk alongside Ajax, the pair of you making your way to Wanmin Restaurant. Even if you had teased him about going out on a Tuesday, you still took him up on his offer to treat you to dinner. (Even if it is your money.)

The two of you are back to laughing and poking fun at one another in a way you hadn’t been able to in a while. It just reminds you that Ajax really is your best friend.

You can’t help but laugh as he’s trying his hardest to use the provided set of chopsticks to eat his weird combo of seafood. His tongue is already out and trying to catch what he had wound around the singular chopstick, but at your laughter, he turns and pokes his tongue out farther if possible. With his concentration on you, the food precariously balanced drops onto his lap, sending you into another bout of laughter.

His ears are tinged red in embarrassment, refusing to make eye contact with you, “Shut up it's not that funny, (Y/n). At least I’m not a coward who refuses to face their tutor while not in disguise.”

You gasp, putting a hand on your chest, “Take it back. I so totally could, but I’ve decided to save Albedo from the shock of revealing who I really am.”

“A clown?” He gives you an unimpressed look before continuing, “And like the guy even remembers, you’re not very memorable.”

“Rude. I was planning on asking you to go to the school festival with me, maybe I’ll just ask Thoma.” You place your hand under your chin pretending to think about it.

Ajax calls you on your bluff immediately, “Ha, as if! You can barely speak one word to him, much less ask him out.”

“That smells like a bet to me.” You give a look that you most likely stole from him, a smirk and raised brows.

He rolls his eyes at you, “Come on, that's my line. And you should settle for something more reasonable like apologizing to Albedo for trying to kiss him on the subway. Plus I’m sick of trying to take your money, I know you’re out of cash.”

You stick your hand out, “Well do we have a bet?”

He sighs loudly, like the drama queen he is, and shakes your hand, “You’re on.”

—

It’s Thursday afternoon, meaning it’s time for your tutoring session with Albedo. Ajax sits with you in the room until he shows up, laughing at your same disguise as before. Ajax gives you a look and wiggles his eyebrows as he walks out.

“Did you do the balancing equations worksheet I gave you?” He‘s a straight-to-business person, which makes you start to doubt your ability to bring up the topic.

You nod and bring out the paper, “I was actually hoping to talk to you about something before we started.”

“Regarding the assignment I gave you?” He looks at you, somewhat impatiently. Clearly wanting to start already.

“Uh no, it’s about,” you hesitate on how to word your sentence so he cuts you off.

“Well, then it can wait for after the session.” His words leave no room for debate so you shut up for now.

He guides you through the more difficult part of the equations where you have to convert units and remember what element is for each abbreviation.

Albedo starts to put away his papers, “You’re starting to get it. When you actually apply yourself, you do well.”

“Thank you?” The backhanded compliment takes you by surprise, momentarily distracting you from what you need to talk to him about. “Hey, Albedo, so uh you said I could talk to you after the session, right?”

He’s already standing by the door and about to leave, but he turns and nods his head allowing you to continue.

“So you know when there was that time at the subway station where a stranger asked to kiss you? That was me and I’m so sorry about that, it was a bet and it’s so awkward and I feel really bad. So this is me apologizing and clearing my concise.” You leave out the part that this is also a bet, still, it feels good to finally get it out.

“Oh. I was well aware of that fact quite a while ago. There was no need to bring it up again, I’ve since forgotten about it.” He shows no emotion and waits for a response, when you don’t say anything he starts talking again, “If that’s all then I’ll be taking my leave. See you again on Tuesday, (Y/n). Don’t forget to do the problems I gave you.”

—

“Something about him just deeply irritates me! He’s always so emotionless, he’s like uh… what are those fake humans from that one show called? Homunculus! Like a robot or something and it's just ugh,” you rant to Ayaka over the phone. You felt bad for complaining to Ajax all the time so you decided to bother a different friend today.

“Have you perhaps tried getting to know him outside of tutoring? He may be like that only at school you know.” Of course, Ayaka would give out such a polite suggestion, still, she wasn’t exactly wrong. But Albedo seemed to disappear from the school grounds as soon as he could.

“I think I’m done talking about him so let’s change the subject. There’s another transfer too! He’s really cute, his name is Thoma, and he’s a total dreamboat!” You gush to Ayaka over the phone.

“Thoma, with blond hair, green eyes, and his favorite color is red?” Ayaka paused to wait for your confirmation. You hum over the line, and she gasps in shock. You hear something crash and Ayaka’s voice comes out from much farther away, a meek ’sorry’ before she picks up the phone again. “I know Thoma! He used to go to my school and we had some classes together so I know full well how charming he can be.”

You stay on the phone with Ayaka probably much longer than you should, letting the light disappear from the sky before you reluctantly say goodbye.

—

You stifle another yawn behind your hand, still tired from staying up late to chat your night away with Ayaka.

One of your classmates stands at the front of the room, you think her name is Keqing, and is trying to recruit more students for the Visual Arts Club.

“As you know there’s the school festival coming up and we would like to showcase our members’ art. But we haven't had many people sign up this year so we’re recruiting beforehand to make sure there’s art on display.” Almost everyone in the room looks disinterested and Keqing can tell, “Art is of course not limited to just painting, we have supplies for pottery, embroidery, or any other form of art you’d like to try your hand at.”

Still lacking interest Keqing voices her hidden card, ”We offer cords for graduating seniors even if this is your first year in the club.”

Seeing people lift their heads gives the purple-haired girl a boost of confidence, “If you’re interested please raise your hand and Ganyu will give you the information pamphlet.”

You already were slightly interested in the club before, but seeing Thoma raise his hand in front of you cemented your want to join the club. However, you weren't the only one who would join just because of a pretty boy.

Seeing the number of hands that were raised, Keqing announces that there will be an application form put out soon if people are really interested.

The bell rings and everyone is quick to shuffle out of the room. You linger for a minute to let all the people out while you wait for Ajax. You stand by the door, rocking on your heels as the ginger takes his sweet time packing his bag.

In your waiting, you don’t even notice the other boy approaching you. “Hi (Y/n)! Where are you heading next?” You jolt, completely surprised, and the mild-mannered boy is quick to apologize, “I’m so sorry, I thought you had seen me! I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

He places his hands on your shoulders, trying to calm you. Though your heart is racing for an entirely different reason. Thoma’s worry has you spellbound; swooning and screaming happening simultaneously in your heart.

After quelling Thoma’s concern you answer his question, “I’m heading to English over in the 200’s hall. What class do you have?” You start to walk out of the classroom with him, not wanting to be in the way.

“That’s crazy, I’m heading over there too for Home EC. Mind if I walk you to your class?” Thoma looks over to you with a smile, waiting for your permission.

There’s no reason for you to deny him, but as soon as you open your mouth someone is objecting to your would-have-been moment with Thoma. “Sorry, hot stuff, but I’m already walking this one to class. You’re more than welcome to join us, but we have the first two classes of the day together so it’s kinda a tradition.” Ajax’s voice is so phony that you’re sure Thoma can see through it too.

“Ah, I didn’t mean to interrupt that! So sorry.” Thoma apologizes and stays silent, but he doesn’t make a move to walk the long way around instead of opting to keep stride with Ajax and yourself.

Your stupid friend still has his arm wrapped around your shoulder, and if you weren’t so worried about making a scene you’d shove it off and angry walk away.

“So the two of you are dating, right?” The question is sudden and catches the pair of you off guard.

Only now does Ajax’s arm return, but only in favor to position his arms in a big X, “Nope. No way in Teyvat would I date them.” He leaves it at that, assuming it needs no explanation.

And it doesn’t, but you do wish he would elaborate. I mean what was so horrible about you that he wouldn’t date you?

You’ve tuned out whatever conversation has been happening between the two. When you arrive Thoma says a quick goodbye before he heads to his own class.

When Thoma turns the corner you grab Ajax’s ear and start to scold him like an angry parent. “What possessed you to interrupt the one moment I got alone with him? There’s no need for you to go around embarrassing me for no reason! It’s not all about you, I don’t have to be around you every waking moment. I don’t interrupt you every time you decide to flirt with someone, so why can’t you do the same? Archons, you’re beyond infuriating.”

“Oh, are you dealing with a ghost possession? I can be of help! There’s an exorcism circle in the girls' bathroom already so if you’d like to get this done quickly…” Hu Tao trails off, but only because both you and Ajax are giving her glares. “Right then. You both have my card if you find yourself in need of my services.”

You let go of his ear but he doesn’t back away. “I really don’t see why you’re putting some guy above our friendship, I thought we were best friends. You’re trying so hard to be around him that you abandon everyone else. If he doesn’t see you for who you are then what’s the point? Do you want to spend your time chasing after him? It’s ridiculous, we’ve been through plenty together but if you want to ditch this,” he motions between the two of you, ”for Mr. Perfect then be my guest.” He crosses his arms and pouts like an upset toddler.“Not like you’d have a chance anyway,” he mumbles under his breath. He huffs angrily and stalks into the classroom.

You only roll your eyes and take your seat next to him. If he wanted to be melodramatic he could do it on his own.

—

“It may not be my place to ask, but is something wrong? You’ve been rather distracted during today’s session.” Albedo asks at the end of your tutoring session.

You didn’t want to bring up the fact your friend has ignored you for 4 days so you opted for a half-truth to satisfy him. “I’m just a bit worried about my application for the Visual Arts Club, there were a lot of other people submitting so I just hope I get in.”

“I wasn’t aware you had an interest in art. Do you have a particular preference for the form you work with?” He packs up his bag, but still listens attentively to your answer.

“Well, I'm not overly artistic and would label myself as more of an ’art appreciator’. I do want to take up pottery if I get in, though!” You express to Albedo, actually excited at the prospect of making art.

The boy gives you a soft smile that you fail to see as you walk out of the library together. “Would you like to walk home together? We do live in the same apartment complex after all.”

It feels weird to see him outside the school and even more to think he was talking about something unrelated to science. You nod your head, happy to actually have made progress in bonding with Albedo. “Wait, how do you know that?”

“You are not very stealthy, I saw you following me home some time ago. I’ve also seen you leave for school in the morning. We were bound to find out sooner or later.” He tells you offhandedly. He’s silent for the rest of the trip, only making smart remarks to you when he sees fit.

It’s like a switch was flipped, and Albedo is back to his blunt personality without an ounce of mindfulness for his words. Seems it’s back to square one for bonding with Albedo.

—

The document is already sitting on your desk as you walk into your first class of the day. You grab the paper and start to read it as you sit in your seat. “Addressed to (Y/n) (L/n), your interest in the Visual Arts Club is greatly appreciated. As such, you are invited to attend the meeting for first-time members today, promptly after school in room 412.”

Thoma turns around seeing you got a similar paper, “I’ll see you there then, yeah?” You hum in agreement, words not properly forming in your brain. You cannot wait.

—

Despite your earlier feelings of excitement, you stand in front of the designated room, too nervous to go in.

You hear a familiar sigh from behind you, “I figured this would happen. Come on, Keqing doesn’t like people who aren’t punctual.” Albedo places a hand on your shoulder and leads you to the doorway you had been hesitant to walk through.

You turn back to look at him with furrowed brows and a questioning stare, but Albedo cuts you off before you can even start. “You’re already late, I’ll answer your questions later.”

Albedo opens the door and ushers you inside to all the other people already sitting in a half-circle. You smile and wave nervously, hardly recognizing any of the faces in front of you.

Keqing loudly clears her throat, obviously irritated at you for interrupting. “Let me start again for the members who were late,” she tells the room, accompanied by a harsh glare directed at you.

It’s all too easy to zone out of Keqing’s lecture, unfortunately. Her strict demeanor adds to the uncomfortable feeling of being in a class rather than a club. Though you stay strong in hopes of trying to get close to Thoma.

You hear her ask for you to pair up and get to know the other members in the room and instantly your eyes shift over to Thoma. His emerald eyes meet yours and he smiles brightly.

Thoma moves over to the newly vacant seat next to you, still beaming. He greets you, but there’s an awkward silence that overcomes the air. You knew what you wanted to say, but in fear of messing up in front of Thoma, you twiddle your thumbs.

He’s just as awkward as you are and he begins rambling, “Uh well, I applied for the art club because I really enjoy it! My preferred medium is probably embroidery or other needlework. I do like knitting too, though I mostly make sweaters for the animals at the Hananizaka Shelter! I guess I’m mostly here for inspiration and maybe pick up a new way to do art!” He ends excitedly, and you’re hanging off of every word he says. You’re thoroughly convinced that Thoma is some Celestia-sent being that is perfect, how else could he be good-looking, tall, and nice?

You reciprocate his energy, telling him your reasons for joining the club, not mentioning that he was a key factor in your decision. Thoma pays avid attention to you while you speak, even asking you questions. The two of you find it easy to talk now, chatting away until interrupted.

Keqing calls to adjourn the meeting, asking for all of you to return the next day to start on the festival display project that she’ll talk about tomorrow.

Thoma stands up before offering you a hand up. You take it, completely flustered by the gesture and unsuspecting of his next words. “Can I walk you home? It’s not too late yet, but I’d feel better knowing you got home safe,” he tells you, accompanied by a lopsided smile that tells you that he isn’t aware of its effect on you.

You feel your hand become clammy in his hold, indefinitely more flustered now. Taking your hand quickly out of his grasp, you wipe it on your pant leg. You hope to answer somewhat coherently when you start talking, “That’s so nice of you, but I wouldn’t want you to go out of your way for me!”

“Nonsense! I’d seriously be happy to walk you home.” You’re about to decline once again, feeling bad that he would offer to possibly go all the way across town, but then Thoma pulls out the puppy dog eyes. “Please, I insist.”

Your resolve crumbles quickly under his gaze. Sighing deeply, you nod yes, not knowing how you would have the heart to say no to him before. He smiles brightly at you, and there’s an evident pep in his step as you walk through the hallway with him.

The pair of you make your way to the subway station, the same one where you had asked Albedo to — you shake your head, trying not to think back to your most embarrassing moment.

Your train doesn’t come in for another 10 minutes, so you go to the little corner shop you usually visit when you wait. Thoma follows you wordlessly as he has for the majority of the walk to the station. Yet as soon as he steps into the shop, he’s easily chatting with the boy behind the counter.

You feel almost awkward in their presence, maybe forgotten was a better phrase. It seemed all too easy for Thoma to talk to a stranger when he had hardly spoken to you in the 15 minutes it took to get here!

Trying to NOT overthink the situation, you chalk it up to him being nervous. Though why would he suddenly be nervous around you when he was fine to ramble on about his interests earlier? Had you done something wrong after leaving school?

Thoma shoves some pre-packaged food into your hands, something you wouldn’t have picked otherwise, and bids the cashier goodbye. He motions his head towards the tracks, “We better hurry, don’t wanna miss your route.”

Sure enough, it's your subway with the doors open and people filtering in and out. You half-heartedly jog to the train and barely make it through the closing doors.

There are many more people on board than you are used to. A quick glance at the time on your phone tells you that most are on their way home from a day at work. The compartment is so crowded that you’re forced to stand and grab up at the overhead handholds.

You wrap your wrist into a strap and sway along with the movement of the subway. Thoma stands within close proximity, so close that each time you sway near him you could count the number of eyelashes he has. There’s a clear tinge of red on his cheeks that climbs up to the tips of his ears and down his neck. You’d like to believe that it’s because he likes you, as well, but it could also be how hot and stuffy the subway car is.

With nothing better to do you open up your phone to message Ajax. Your thumbs move quickly, but you delete most of the rambling you’ve written. You decide on a short text to ask about his wrestling practice. And you send another one asking if he wants the food Thoma got you since he was like a food vacuum after practices. Maybe he’d text you back this time.

You swipe out and scroll around your apps until you hear your stop called. Thankfully you didn’t live too far from the station, so you don’t have to bear the silence much longer.

You arrive at the bottom of your apartment complex and turn to Thoma. “Well, this is me!” You chuckle and rock on your heels, “Thanks so much for walking me home. Get home safely too.”

“This is kinda surprising, but I actually live here too.” He reaches one arm behind him to scratch at his neck. “I haven’t taken the subway since moving over here, and you got off the stop I’m supposed to take when I don’t have a ride. It was even crazier to find we live in the same apartment complex since there are several in the area. So I’m glad, I guess, to find out that we live so close. I mean, you’ve helped me tremendously in adjusting to our school even though it’s our last year. I owe you a lot (Y/n), thank you.”

Suddenly you feel silly for thinking you had done something wrong earlier, clearly, he had been mulling over those words. It’s not easy to come out and say things like that, which is, probably, why he’s left you speechless.

You make a noise of acknowledgment and flash Thoma a thumbs up. “Of course, no problem!” You turn to the doors leading into the building and you can hear your heartbeat in your ears.

Thoma doesn’t say anything, but even if he had, you’re sure that you wouldn’t have heard it. Your body moves on auto-pilot, all the way until you shut the door to your apartment.

“Holy Archons,” you breathe out, trying to fully process all the events that had transpired today.

—

You feel bad for yawning while Keqing is trying to introduce something related to the school festival and with the information overload she’s giving, it’s hard. Even with all that she’s talking about, you still get the gist. Everyone is required to have some sort of art piece to present at the upcoming school festival. She goes on about the other components regarding the stand and sign-ups for running it.

When Keqing is satisfied with the schedule she has laid out, you stand and stretch. She had encouraged newer members to start creating as soon as possible to have something to display. Luckily you had some idea of what you wanted to do.

There are blocks of pre-cut clay next to the potter’s wheel. You remember using clay to create little cups or dishes in elementary school, and you hadn’t had the opportunity to use a wheel since it was very rudimentary.

“If you need help, I’m more than happy to offer my assistance,” Albedo speaks from behind you, scaring you half to death. He’s wearing a dirty smock and his usual half-up half-down hairstyle. He looks surprisingly at home, dare you say relaxed. “I recall you telling me you’d like to take up pottery.”

“Yeah, I’m not clueless, but I probably need some direction, so my piece turns out halfway decent,” you joke. Albedo hands you a smock and motions to the stool in front of the wheel.

“Since you haven’t thrown clay before, the best way to learn is by going through the motions. The easiest way to do that is if you place your hands atop mine as I sculpt, and then you can start to get the feel for it.” Albedo explains gently, using the same tone he had when tutoring you.

Albedo stands right behind you, practically pressed into your back so he can easily reach around you to the wheel. He looks down at you as soon as he starts the wheel and places his hands on the lump of clay, a silent asking for you to put your hands on top of his. You let your hands hover above Albedo’s, scared to actually put any extra weight onto the clay.

The blond sighs loudly before taking your hands and putting them directly on the clay with his hands over your own. “If you’re not going to commit then you won’t learn. Don’t be afraid to fail either because that is part of the process.”

—

You stare over the pot of rice and the seafood cut on the chopping board. You’d planned on making apology sushi for Ajax. Keyword: planned. This is the third time you’ve tried to roll the rice (and all the ingredients) into a neat log shape, but it keeps coming out uneven or falling apart when you try to cut it.

As much as you’d love to give up, the look on Ajax’s face will be better. The days that he has ignored you have been the worst, totally bland without him to annoy you. So you’ve come up with the perfect plan to get him to stop his silent treatment.

(Y/n)’s Brilliant Plan to Become Friends with Ajax Again (YBPBFAA for short)

Bring him a Tupperware of his favorite sushi to his wrestling match

Cheer him on during his matches using the ‘Go Ajax!’ poster you made

Apologize for upsetting him and for not being a good friend

Everything goes back to normal and he talks to you again :))

With your brilliant plan in place, Ajax was sure to forgive you!

—

The mats had already been rolled out in preparation for wrestling matches. Other schools were beginning to show up and fill the bleachers with wrestlers too. But you had one goal, find Ajax before his first match.

It’s easy to spot his red mop of hair from across the gym. He stands resting against the wall, laughing with a group of fellow wrestlers from the team. He looks happy, but when he spots you his smile is gone. He turns away with a pout.

You approach the group of boys, and all of them look at you with raised brows. “Hi, do you mind if I have a minute with Ajax? I won’t take long, I promise.” They mumble but get up and leave nonetheless.

They leave but Ajax still keeps his back to you. “Hey ‘Jax I know you’re not talking to me right now but I just wanted to apologize. So I brought you some sushi, I made it myself too.” You bring out the container from your bag and hold it out for him to take, ”It was a real mess though, took me a lot of time to get it right and even then these ones are still pretty messy.” You laugh at yourself awkwardly, staring at your shoes.

“You’re such a loser ya know,” Ajax mutters, his mouth now full of the sushi you had brought him. A whole week and the first thing he does is insult you, it’s your best friend alright.

“I know. I’m like the biggest loser ever and what I said to you was really out of line. But you didn’t have to avoid me so obviously and purposefully! It kinda hurt especially when I was trying to apologize, dummy. ” He eats your handmade sushi with his hands, his distaste for chopsticks very obvious.

“Sowy,” his mouth is still full, causing him to sound like a toddler. He swallows and continues his explanation, “You know I don’t like being kept to the side. I want to be around you since you are my best friend and so getting told off like that was a big hit to my ego. Maybe I was uh a bit dramatic for ignoring your texts and stuff too…” He trails off quietly, but you still hear him. He wipes his hand off on his warmup pants, pieces of rice now stuck to the fabric.

“So because you wanted to wallow in self-pity, you didn’t let me apologize or even talk to you?” You ask and he nods his head then looks down to his feet embarrassed. “You know we’ve been through more than a boy. I really do like Thoma, but it’s not worth our friendship. We both said some distasteful words to each other, but,” You place your hands on his shoulders and look him in the eyes. “I hope you can get it through your thick head that you should never worry about our friendship. Please let us work it out when we fight, ok?”

He exhales loudly, and holds up his right hand like he’s taking an oath, “I, Ajax, as (Y/n)’s best friend swear to never ever doubt our friendship again and promise to talk about our feelings like adults.” He puts his arm down and gives you a beaming smile before shoving a half-empty container into your hands. “They’re calling my weight class, so I have to go. We’ll talk later!”

He jogs off leaving you alone with his bag as well as your own. You trudge up the half-filled bleachers and wait for Ajax’s matches.

—

You have little-to-no knowledge of what the rules are in wrestling but you can only assume that putting your opponent on the floor meant victory.

Ajax positions himself in a crouch, ready to attack the opposing fighter. You know he loves this, the show of his athleticism, the competition, people watching him win. Nothing tops the way he feels right now, well maybe one thing.

It’s a quick match and Ajax takes the victory, but it’s not without a struggle. His name moves up the bracket and he stays down by mats waiting for his next match.

Whenever he gets a chance he’ll run up the bleachers to sit by you. He smells like dirty socks and teenage boy BO, which you’re sure he knows already. You’re happy that he’s talking to you again even if it means putting up with his smell and offering deodorant.

It takes a while, plus many up down the bleachers, but the meet finally ends and Ajax takes his rightful place on the podium. You wait on the bleachers with his bags while you wait for him to change, but he has no intentions of doing so. He runs up, still very sweaty, and envelopes you into his arms. His purpose was clearly to drench you in his sweat and unfortunately, it worked.

“Hey I forgot to ask, but since we’re on good terms again that means we can still go to the festival together, right?” You ask as he packs away his things. He zips up the bag and then slings it over his shoulder.

He starts walking with you by his side, falling into the same stride. “I wasn’t ever going to not go with you. However, in celebration of our restored friendship, I’m raising you a bet.” His smug smile is back on his face, almost like it never left. “On the night of the festival, you have to finally get your first kiss.”

You stop in your tracks, dumbfounded, “Ajax, you know how well that ended for me last time! There’s no way I’m agr-”

He cuts you off with a sharp ‘tch’, “Clearly you don’t favor our friendship,” he acts wounded and pretends not to hear you mutter about how this is manipulation. “I said this was in the name of our friendship, how can you be so cruel?”

You only roll your eyes and continue walking without him. “It’s the perfect time to tell Mr. Perfect about your big crush on him!” You almost laugh at Ajax’s refusal to call Thoma by his name. But he certainly doesn’t have you laughing at his next words,” Besides if you don’t get a kiss then I’ll just be forced to tell him myself,” He smiles as you look over your shoulder at him.

“So do you blackmail other people into being your friends too?” Your voice echoes through the empty hallway.

“Listen, I'm serious! The atmosphere at the festival is going to be perfect for a confession and you probably won’t ever do it unless I pressure you to. So really you should be thanking me for being so considerate.” He puffs out his chest, serious about wanting you to thank him.

You shake your head in disbelief at his statement, though it holds some truth. “Would you like me to bow down to you?” You question sarcastically, hoping it pops his inflated ego.

“Come on (Y/n),” he whines at you, completely ignoring your question. He pulls at your sleeve as you try to keep walking.

“Fine, you manbaby, now shut up.”

He pumps his fists in the air, victorious at winning you over. He starts rushing down the hallway and calls out to you, “Last one to Knockout pays!”

“Cheater!” You screech at his already disappearing figure. A smile makes its way onto your face as you race after Ajax, glad to have your friend back.

—

Two uneventful weeks go by, it’s a constant cycle of going to class, tutoring, art club, and the occasional wrestling match. But it’s finally time for the winter festival.

You signed up to set up the Art Club booth rather than have to run it or clean up afterward. And with that out of the way, you wait for Ajax to arrive.

The sun starts to set and you can feel the cold creeping in through your layers. You move your hands onto your arms in an attempt to stay somewhat warm while you wait.

A red scarf wraps around you and familiar hands place themselves over your eyes, “Guess who?”

“Is it your mom?” You tease accompanied with a roll of your eyes.

“Ha ha,” he laughs, enunciating each syllable. “Maybe you don’t need my scarf after all.”

You peel his hands off of you so you can turn to face him, “No take backs, mister.” You hold onto the scarf tightly and turn around quickly so the red material smacks him in the face.

He smiles gently, but from his position behind you, it goes unnoticed by you. He takes a sweeping step so he’s in front of you and holds his hand out. “Come on, loser, let’s go enjoy the festival.”

Ajax doesn’t wait for you to put your hand in his, snatching your wrist and dragging you along. But he has no idea where he’s going so he turns to you with a sheepish smile that says ‘lead the way’.

The pair of you move through the crowd, scouting out the different booths set out by other clubs. Ajax tugs at your hand and points to the tent with the culinary club. You can smell whatever it is they are cooking and Ajax orders two, but not before taking a bite out of yours.

You continue to walk around the lot and bump into friends, forgetting about the bet you had made with your red-haired friend.

Ajax nudges you, “Hey, it’s your chance.” He points his head to where Thoma is standing. He looks at his phone before turning to you, “Probably last you’ll get all night, festival ends in 20 minutes.”

“But he’s talking to other people so it’d probably be pretty rude to interrupt,” you say, trying to make an excuse. “Also, did I not spend the entire festival with you? Not fair for you to push this on me now?”

“Too bad, go.” Ajax pushes you over and gives you a thumbs up. You stare at him in disbelief, frozen in the middle of the walkway.

You turn around slowly and see that Thoma has already spotted you, he waves and flashes a friendly smile. You breathe in and start to walk over, waving back to him.

Suddenly purple hair blocks your view. It’s a very panicked Keqing. “(Y/n)! Good, I need you to come with me right now.” She pushes you frantically against the crowd. “Sorry but I need you to stay at the booth while Ganyu and I sort out the flyer disaster.”

“Flyer disaster?And why do I have to watch the booth? The festival is almost over, who is going to visit?” You try to turn around to question her, but she is steadfast in her efforts to push you along the road.

“Albedo can answer your questions when we get to the table.”

—

Thoma jogs over to where Ajax stands. “Uh hey, do you know where (Y/n) was going?”

“Holy Celestia,” Ajax groans and rests his hands on his head, ignoring Thoma’s question, “This is not the plan.” He chuckles in disbelief and repeats himself, “This is not the plan!”

Thoma lets the ginger have his outburst before questioning, “What plan?”

“Are you stupid? The one where (Y/n) tells Thoma that they li—,” the word doesn’t finish rolling off his tongue because he’s suddenly aware of who he’s talking to. “—l love the sweater you’re wearing. Yeah man, it’s really rad.”

Thoma glances down at the mentioned sweater and pulls it taught so he can look at it. “Thanks,” he laughs awkwardly. Not knowing what else to say, Thoma walks away with a wave.

Ajax only now realizes that he doesn’t know where you’ve gone. He swears under his breath before taking off in a jog towards where Keqing dragged you away.

—

“So.”

“So,” Albedo repeats and clasps his hands together on the table.

“I was hoping that you would tell me why it was so important that I come right now. I kinda had things to do and people to see.”

“Do tell what was so important,” he asks rather sarcastically, topping it with a sugar-sweet smile.

“Well I was going to uh-“ you stop yourself, understanding how embarrassing it will sound if you tell him. But then again you did try, well bet, to kiss him before so it can’t be that embarrassing right? “Kiss somebody,” you trail off.

Out of the corner of your eye you can see Albedo roll his eyes. “I think I remember someone complaining about a situation similar to this and just how embarrassing it was. What convinced you to do something that,” he pauses, trying to find a word that fits and smiles fakely once he does, “absurd, once again?”

“Funny thing called emotional manipulation,” you smile back, just as phony as his own.

Albedo sighs, “Please try to keep me out of your little bet this time, yeah?”

“Yeah yeah, Mr. Hoity Toity, I’ll try if I get the chance.” You dismiss him with a wave and turn around so that you can lean back on the table.

You watch the crowd pass by, people starting to filter out as the closing announcement comes on.

“Thank you for coming out today! Our school staff and students thank you for your continued support.“ You drown out the rest of the bland appreciation. It marks your complete loss and you were sure Ajax would be ecstatic.

You hear someone shout your name from amidst the crowd, but you can’t seem to find where it comes from. He comes out of nowhere and places his hands on your cheeks with almost a little too much force and kisses you. Ajax kisses you.

“Couldn’t stand to watch you lose again.”

additional notes: the fic may end here but the story certainly doesn’t, i highly recommended the kiss bet and it is still updating (hence only writing the first season of events) thank you for reading! much love, lee <3

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