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Dead Of Night (Rules, Part 2.)

Description: Coming back home was a doozie - it felt like starting anew. Meeting your dad's new best friend, however, turned your life upside down - and it was the two of you who had to set the record straight and figure out how to move on.

Part Summary: The night in the company of two Texan gentlemen is going well - Joel and Tommy are ensuring you're having a blast. Joel even goes up and beyond in this regard. It was too good to be true... Until it fucking wasn't.

Warnings: dad's best friend daddy joel (i don't think there's more to say to that) | age gaps all around, baby - joel being approximately 33 (reader being 8 years his junior), putting sarah around 13 years of age and sam at 18, reader's parents in late forties/early fifties | alcohol consumption | smoking (implied and active) | BILLIARD SHENANIGANS WITH THE MILLER BROTHERS™️ | NSFW activities - oral (f!receiving), sex at the bathroom stalls, inappropriate thoughts | i guess potential sub-con (we are drunk but very consensual) | we love a consensual king joel miller

A/N: The 'I like this song' is Orville's Peck Dead Of Night (name inspo, yay) - yanow, when it's late a party, they play slow and sappy songs to calm people before going down and to let all the lovey-dovey couples suck soul outta each other. And I love that.

Tagging: My sweetest, one and only @missdictatorme.

Word count: 10.1K - I cannot express how sorry I am for the length, but I had too much fun with this and didn't wanna pull out a two-parter with nothing exciting in it. I divided it into sections the best I could for easier reading.

Masterlist: H E R E | Playlist: H E R E

Leaving Joel and his compadre outside, you decided to spend some time playing pool - the elderly gentlemen occupying it were kind enough to let you play a few games. It was fun watching Anne getting tipsy, balancing on her tiptoes as she leaned her entire upper body onto the table, her tongue sticking out of her mouth due to concentration. You've won most of the games (mainly because neither of you knew the billiard or pool or whatever you've been playing), but Anne insisted on calling it a draw. Cheeky little pup, that's what she was. Just as you prepared the cues for the guys who'd landed them for you, a familiar Texan drawl could be heard behind you.

"Howdy, gentlemen." - The nameless guy greeted, nodding at the guys waiting for their pool table to be free. The elderly gentlemen nodded at the newcomers. - "Would y'all mind us havin' a few quick games with the ladies? We'll let you be after, promise. " "'s yours, son. Take ya time." "Yessir." - The guy thanked, walking over to Anne and pointing at the cue. - "May I? You're doin' it wrong, sugar." "'M not. But if you think you're more experienced..." "Been playin' pool with that rascal over there since we were tweens. Trust me on this one." - With that, he carefully tore the cue out of Anne's palm, seizing the cue chalk as well.

"Don't mind him, he's a show-off." - When his husky, melodic voice hit your ears, it almost gave you a heart attack - you were so preoccupied with watching Anne giving the guy a stare of death that you forgot Joel might be around too. You definitely didn't expect him to sneak up on you like that. "'s my technique bad, too?" "Worst I've seen." - He muttered, snickering. - "There's no technique to chalk a cue properly, don't worry. He's just makin' stuff up to be interestin'." - Joel explained, making you snicker too. You've handed him the cue nonetheless, making him put his beer down - he'd been skilled with it, you noticed; the two must've been playing since they were tweens, just as the other guy said.

Soon, you became too preoccupied with Joel's hands to care about some stupid pool - based on the callouses and small scars along his fingers and knuckles, he must've been used to working with his hands. Now that he'd folded the shirt's sleeves up to his elbows, you could see all the prominent veins and other scars, some of which were pretty deep. Without you trying to resist, your mind spiraled into imaginations of these palms taking handfuls of your ass, kneading it like bread. How would it feel to hold his hand? Would he let you entwine your fingers with his? How would it feel if he'd slap you - either teasingly or amidst all the heat and lust, say... Fucking you from the back? How would it feel when his palms would spread your thighs apart, his fingers sliding inside you? How would it... That's when you realized Joel was talking to you, watching you ogling at his forearms for a good minute. Your eyes jumped from his forearms to his face, looking at him dumbfoundedly - Joel scoffed upon seeing your expression.

"Huh?" "Was askin' 'bout your name, cutie, but don't take me wrong - wouldn't mind callin' you names." - Leaning closer, Joel gave you a warm smile. - "Have I interrupted somethin' in that head 'f yours, sweet girl?" - Oh God, he knew - he fucking knew. You were busted, flustered upon hearing his implication. Your brain blanked momentarily as you tried to come up with an answer. "Y/N." - You mumbled, mesmerized with the amused look in his eyes. - "Name's Y/N." "A beautiful name for a beautiful girl, I see."

"You two done with starin' into each other's eyes?" - The nameless guy called out, startling you - Joel remained as cool as a cucumber, his eyes following each move you made. Trying to wave it off, you walked to the table, leaning your palms into the side. "Yup. Bet our cue is chalked up way better than yours." - Cocky tone present in your voice made the nameless guy grin. Following up on the statement, you raised eyebrows in Joel's direction for support. The man didn't let you wait for too long. "Don't ya worry. I'll win it thanks to how you chalked it... And for you." - Joel added silently, brushing his palm on your lower back before he walked straight to the table - the first game was reserved for the two buddies to warm up. Even this quick, seemingly meaningless gesture had you shivering.

"You guys get to it. I'll go for a cig and get you some beer while you two clash it out." - Anne offered, grasping your hand in hers. Then she turned her head toward the elderly gentlemen. - "Y'all good? Want us to bring ya somethin'?" "We're good, sweetheart, thanks for askin'." "You asked them, but don't ask me?" - The nameless guy whined, looking at Anne with a well-portrayed offense. Joel snorted, carefully putting the pool balls into the triangle. "Cut it off, Miss Dramatic. Imma get you both a glass of Jack, 'f course. Do I look like a monster?"

"Thanks, Anne." - Both guys muttered in unison. Joel poked the balls first, having them scattered all over the table. Then he grabbed the chalk, furrowing while thinking about his next step. "You better win, Tommy, or I'm pouring your glass down my throat." - Oh, his name was Tommy. Joel's buddy Tommy. Noted. "And who's bein' dramatic, huh? Go now, you two." - Tommy waved in your direction, laughing while he tried to figure out the approach to his next poke.

After letting Anne have her smoke break, it was time to make your way to the bar. It wasn't easy - people were taking a break from dancing and started ordering their drinks. All the people smoking outside were coming back in, ordering new rounds of cocktails, shots, beers, and what have you. It took a moment, but you got four beers, two Jacks, and two shots of Chupito, carrying the alcohol back to the pool table. Anne started running her mouth again as you approached the pool tables. "You believe me now, or..?" "Believe you what?" "Believe me what I said about Joel? He's fuckin' smitten." "Joel being smitten? Are you deaf or just purposely ignore how Tommy talks to you? Who's smitten here?"

"Ah, I see. Too bad he ain't my type." - Anne sighed, looking at the duo debating over one of the balls' and its position. You had no idea what was wrong with it, but both looked hot debating. - "Suppose Tommy looks like a fun guy overall - nothin' for me, though... Ehhh... Maybe as a friend? That could work out. Anyway, stop deflectin', girl. You and Joel, that's the topic. I can sense the vibes are present, the chemistry is flowin', he can't take his eyes off you, calls you sweet pet names, watches you when you don't pay attention and grins to himself. To add to the evidence, he touched your back even though he had zero reason two, and don't think we missed how he snuck his palm up your waist and prolonged the greetin' for as long as he could... C'mon, I've seen you starin' at him. And he saw it too - and that old bastard was complimented by it." - Well, it was time to stop pretending, you assumed. You couldn't counter everything she just dropped on your ass - Anne and Tommy saw it all anyway.

"Fine, fine. Thing is... I've never felt like this about anyone. I feel like we've clicked right away, not a word needed to be said. Girl, that man's smoking hot - have you seen him? Heard him?" - You whined, watching Joel chalking the cue up again while watching Tommy prepare for his poke. - "It's just... Scary. Bizzare, yannow? This doesn't happen with strangers all the time. Why me? That's the main question. What does he see in me? Is he just pulling my sock? Would it be a hook-up, or would he want to see me again? What if he does this on the reg, just pulls random women in the club, fucks them and goes home?" "You think he wouldn't wanna see you again? That's what's bothering you?" - Anne stopped in her tracks, looking at you with disbelief. - "Even if! Live your life - drag him to the bathroom stalls, fuck the soul outta him, and make him remember this night forever, girl. But, to be fair... Takin' the way he stares at us right now into account, just to make sure we hadn't run away, tells me this guy will definitely wanna see you again. On top of that, the birds chirped that they hadn't seen Joel smitten like this in a long time either." "... Tommy told you that?" "Shush now. Just be hot and live your best life. Joel's fuckin' mesmerized and so are you." - She muttered as you approached the table. Cheerfully, she waved the glasses in her hand, earning applause from the duo. - "How's it goin', you two? Figured out who's the bigger alfa?"

"Kicked his sorry ass, as always." - Joel muttered, letting Tommy set the table for you, putting balls into the triangle, ensuring everything was set right. "You clearly cheated." - Tommy whined, accepting his beer and glass Jack from Anne, the other one landing right into Joel's palm. "Or maybe, you're just ass at pool?" - Anne chimed in, smiling sweetly right into Tommy's face - this earned an earnest chuckle from the gentlemen watching your matches unravel. Just like before, Tommy snickered in disbelief, turning right to Anne animatedly. Before you knew, the two were arguing again.

"She's not being too nice to Tommy. Sorry for that." "Don't worry 'bout him, pretty girl. He likes 'em spicy. 's good for him to let someone deflate his ego now and then." "Mhm, noted." - You and Joel were leaning into an empty table next to the pool, sipping on your beers, standing with aptly distance between you two. As you watched the two bickering (something regarding the balls' placement and Tommy's balls if you hadn't misheard), the question slipped past your lips on its own. Alcohol made you courageous, it always did. - "And what do you like, Texas?" "What?" - Joel asked, ensuring that you've truly dropped the question, that he wasn't imagining it or mishearing. By that point, he was scooping over to you, his shoulder nudging into yours, his other palm finding the small of your back again, nesting there, his fingers playing with the fabric of your shirt. "I asked, what is it that you like?" - His face was close enough for you to feel his breath on the apple of your cheek as you cocked your head to him, innocently taking a sip of beer. He was at a loss for words for a bit, licking his lips as he tried to come up with an answer.

Just as Joel leaned closer to your ear and rubbed his nose in your hair, the grip on your t-shirt growing stonger, Anne turned to you, swinging her palms around in disbelief.

"That can't be right! No! Tommy, I know you're fuckin' with me. Joel, please tell him he's... Oh... Oh, fuck, sorry." - The girl giggled, growing flustered as she realized she'd just ruined your moment. Trying to salvage the situation, Joel cleared his throat, put his beer down, and grabbed the cue. Cool as a cucumber, just like before - except the blush spreading on his cheeks. The blush made you snicker, it was cute. "Ready for another round?" "Betcha ass. Imma blow smoke all up your arse, Y/N!" "I don't think that's what you meant to say, Anne." "Whatever, I sounded Bri'sh 'enough, didn't I?" - She reiterated, snatching the cue right from Tommy's palm, pointing her finger at him. - "If you try to talk into how I'm playin' pool one time..." - Aaand... They were bickering again.

"I know shit about pool and billiard." - You confessed in a whisper, having Joel hum while chalking your cue. - "Won by pure luck each time." "For starters, we're playin' billiard, sweetheart. Want some assistance? I definitely know more than that moron." "... I deadass thought it's a pool table, on my honor. Help? Would be brilliant, thank you." - As you leaned to take the cue, Joel pushed it out of your reach, knitting his eyebrows together. He seemed confused. "Are you really British?" "I won't tell, cowboy. Better if I keep you guessing for a bit. Makes me look more mysterious." - This time, you victoriously grabbed the cue, walking towards the table to offer Anne a handshake of truce and a good sport. You've done it before each game - the elderly gentlemen liked your sportsmanship.

Anne was doing the shot-up - leaning her entire upper body into the table, pushing her tongue out as she assessed the balls with a furrow, tapping her foot to Toto's Hold the Line. The shot-up was good, she even managed to score one, taking the striped balls for herself. Clear balls it was, then. "Damn." - Tommy sighed, nodding to himself. - "Well played." "Don't underestimate my billiard abilities ever again. I'm already playing leagues better than you." "She ain't wrong." - Joel chimed in, leading you closer to the table. Just like he planned, this gave the duo another reason to bicker, ignoring whatever it was you two were doing.

"My goal is to put all the clears into pockets, no?" "Fast learner, I see." "As if..." - Leaning onto the table, you did your best to replicate the finger stance your father taught you. - "Pops used to be a billiard enthusiast when I was little - that was before he fucked up his back. Did his damnest to teach me all about it." "Yeah, can tell it's been a while back time since you last played. Only blind people wouldn't see how bad that finger position is. Keep your hand like that, and it's gonna cramp in no time. C'mere." - As if he'd done it a million before, Joel walked up next to you, leaning over your back - his chest was pressed to your torso, his arms copied yours, and his chin settled on your shoulder. Your heart fluttered so hard you were worried about it jumping out of your chest. You didn't hear a word from whatever Joel tried teaching you, but God bless him for attempting anyway. Completely tuned out, you just nodded along, enjoying how his felt body pressed this close to yours (hip to hip and shoulder to shoulder), fingers of his left palm ghosting over yours, the other caressing the small of your back. God, Joel smelled so good - wood, soil, hints of cologne mixed with his musk? Absolute fucking heaven.

"Can you do that for me?" - The guy asked, turning his head to you, boring his eyes into yours. He was so close, his nose just mere inches away from yours - if you'd lean just in slightly, you could kiss him. "Do what?" - You whispered in an answer, having him snicker - the vibration ran through your body like lightning, igniting the bundle of nerves between your legs. This was when you realized you were fucked, at Joel's mercy. Shuddering and trying to keep a serious face on, Joel brought your attention to the posture of your hand, sweeping his thumb over your upper hand. "Keep your hand like this, pretty girl. It'll work better than whatever you were tryin' to create before." - Leaning away from you to let you play, he squeezed your hip to wish you the best of luck.

The moment he did so, a quiet whimper left your mouth, the cue bumping into the white ball at full speed - letting you score your first pocket. You were absentmindedly staring in front of yourself, your heart jumping right to your throat. Joel heard the whimper. It was written all over his fucking grin. He was also smart enough to put two and two together. If you reacted like that, how would you react once he's balls deep inside you? How would your sweet voice sound whimpering, whining, begging, frantically whispering his name? Joel hoped you'd let him find out.

The rest of the games were uneventful - whenever you and Anne played, the two men were sure to talk your head off, teasing you and pointing out what you did wrong. Tommy and Anne stuck to their bickering, their mutual insults getting more playful and out-of-pocket with each shot they downed. Joel stuck with the physical approach, trying to make you understand what to do and when to do it... Which meant you learned absolute fucking shit, being too busy drooling over him. His palms grew more daring the more comfortable you seemed around him - he stopped drinking in the middle of the third billiard match, saying 'He's had 'nough for the night' - Tommy immediately rebutting 'You sure that's the reason?'. Once, you'd swear his palm patted your ass before you poked, making you hit the black ball into the pocket, letting you win the game. 'Thank me later, cutie', Joel murmured into your ear with a wicked grin.

Whenever the guys were on, seven people commented on their match simultaneously - you, Anne, and the five pops watching you play. Whoever they were, you like these old geezers - they were fun to be around. To avenge you, each of the elderly ensured Tommy and Joel wouldn't come out of the match unscathed. Drunk and satisfied, you left the pool table around eleven, shaking hands with the elderly folk who kept you company most of the night. Everyone except Joel was pissed by the time you rolled around the bar, ordering a shot of vodka each. Hell, you've been mixing so much you were sure you'd end up sleeping through the next day. However, it was easy to get pissed in such good company - Tommy kept on coming up with various jokes (hit-or-miss situation there, really), having Anna cackle at each of them (she was blackout drunk, you were pretty sure).

Joel, while not saying much, hadn't moved away from you since you left the pool table - whatever you did, whoever you talked to, the man was behind you. His eyes observed every gesture and expression with a warm gaze, smiling warmly... But not creepily. It was flattering, having the biggest stunner inside the club watching over you. Made you feel special. Regarding what Tommy said earlier (that Joel hadn't been this smitten with anyone in a long time), he wasn't lying - didn't happen since Joel's late wife Angela, actually. Frankly, he was just as in the dark as you were. It wasn't easy to name what had gotten into him, but all he knew was that you're the fire, and he's the moth. Each time you moved, the magnet within you made him follow. Each word was a syren's call, each look a glance into a paradise. Chemistry was the main reason why you two got along this well, that much Joel realized - however, the longer you'd been around, the more captivated he was becoming. Everything about you made him lose his mind; your mixed accents, tapping of your boot into the rhythm, shaky breaths escaping your mouth whenever his fingers ghosted over any part of your body. Each detail, even the easily missable, got him fascinated. You had him mesmerized, took his breath away, had his head in a chokehold. Just as you were at his mercy, he was at yours.

Anne and Joel stuck to the bar when you finally took the dancefloor by storm - whatever you and Tommy were up to, it didn't bore any similarity to actual dancing. It was nice, seeing you laugh so hard, tiptoeing on Tommy's shoes while he clumsily turned around, holding your frame impossibly close to his body. He wasn't trying to pull you or seduce you - it was just hard to dance for two people. "Yannow..." - Anne mumbled from her drink, still watching as you danced. It was almost midnight - the club was closing soon, so most of the fast, heavy-hitting pop got switched for slower country songs. Songs for heavily intoxicated couples. - "I don't think I've seen her actin' like this 'round anyone. And I've known her for 20 years by this point." "Tommy can be a real charmer when he wants to, you're right." - Joel admitted silently, sipping on his lemonade - the same lemonade you made fun of just five minutes earlier. Instead of a response, Anne snickered and shook her head lightly. "Ain't talkin' 'bout Tommy, and we both know that... Drop the fuckin' act." - The girl muttered, losing her balance for a bit - Joel was there to catch her, carefully helping her back onto the stool. He didn't answer, just hummed for Anne to continue.

"Promise you'll be nice to her. Whether it's for tonight or longer, just... Be nice to her. And if you won't be..." "Lemme guess, kiddo - you'll find me and cut my dick off, won't ya?" - Joel grinned, watching Anne teasingly. She smiled, shaking her head again; she liked Joel's sense of humor and demeanor - he seemed like a solid, trustworthy guy. Albeit selfish, but reliable enough to keep his word. "Somethin' like that but ten times worse. You don't wanna cross Anne Marie Jones." "Yes, ma'am." - Joel nodded, tipping his imaginary hat off while bowing a bit. - "I'll go for a dance. Wanna join?" - She nodded in agreement, reaching for Joel's hand in hopes not to slip and fall flat on her face.

"Almost five hours. 's a good score." "Of what? Five hours of..." "You pretendin' that you don't wanna dance." "Were you countin' this whole time? Strong-minded's what you are, my compliments." "Stop and go get her, tiger. Thomas!" - She shrieked, waving at Joel's younger brother, her face filled with excitement. The said younger brother carefully helped you step off his shoes, thanking you for the dances, even bowing just to amuse you. You needed a break - your tummy hurt from laughter, and you were sweaty and thirsty.

"'s my time to be on the bench, huh?" - You asked as Joel stepped closer to you, putting his hand on your waist. When his other hand joined, your eyes frantically searched for an explanation - the only thing you saw, however, was the warmth of his gaze. - "Thought you don't do dancin'." "Haven't done it in a fairly long time. 's time to switch things up." "You changin' the rules for once?" "Hmhm." - Joel could feel your fingers creeping on his arms - his exposed forearms, up to his shoulders before finally entwining behind his neck. Your nails gently scratched his skin, lightly enough not to leave marks, but intensely enough to leave a trail of tingling sensation behind - each inch of his skin you touched started burning, and his dick started growing hard and pleasantly warm in his pants. - "It's worth breakin' the rules when someone's worth it." "Am I worth it?" "Without a doubt in my mind."

No matter how drunk you were, your mind screamed that something was wrong there, that you should leave Joel at the dancefloor, call for a cab, and never look back - this man was a stunner in his best years, not old enough to have back pains and crackly knees but not young enough to be hot-blooded and wanting to fuck for the fun of it. You've seen the hot-blooded type in London a million times, and Joel was different. His demeanor, compared to theirs, was calm and collected. This man wasn't forcing you into anything that hadn't crossed your mind already - his kind smile and gentle touches made you relaxed, letting you realize how desperate you wanted this. How desperately you wanted him. The question still hadn't been answered - why you? Why not any of the beautiful women in the club? Women his age? There were a lot of them, one prettier than the other. Why was it you who had been blessed with the attention of this Adonis with gentle yet assuring touch, with tender, lazy (and also hot as fuck) smile, and watchful gaze?

"I'm a horrible dancer." - You weren't willing to disrupt the intimacy by asking questions - the answers haunted you more than the question itself. Licking your lips, you stepped closer, securing your arms around his neck. "Doesn't seem to me." "Have you seen how I danced with Tommy? Kicked his shin like twenty times." "'s what he deserves, wouldn't worry about it too much." "Doesn't solve the problem at hand." "I have a solution." - Joel mumbled, halting his moves. You were looking at him with an amused furrow, trying to figure out what he was up to - it didn't work, but at least you could carelessly stare at him, memorize each muscle of his face in case you'd never see him again. "Go to town, cowboy. Tell me."

It wasn't a matter of describing. Instead, Joel pushed a few strands of hair off your forehead and face, his eyes taking each detail in. Even though he had thick fingers, callused hands, and big hands, his touches were feather-light - if he hadn't been holding his other arm around your waist, you'd suspect he wasn't even real. All the couples around were still moving at a lazy, slow pace, cuddling as the slow song progressed, but your world froze for a bit. To let Joel know you trust him and want this, your palms started repeating the movements of his fingers - slowly dragging along his jaw, down his neck, to his chin, cupping the apple of his cheek, thumb dragging along the sweet spot under his eyes, putting his damp curls away from his forehead. "Still wanna lemme show you?" "Stop talking and thinking about it too hard, Joel." - Joel felt your weight shifting as you tiptoed, your breasts clashing with his chest as you pressed your body onto his - one of your elbows leaned into his shoulder, your fingers entangling in the hair at the back of his head.

You've been the one to kiss him - one palm grabbing his shirt, pulling him closer; the other still entangled in his hair pulling him away, giving the kiss the right edge. A mix of desperation, desire, and unsaid worries. While your lips mashed, his hands got to exploring - your shoulders, shoulder blades, your back, the small of it, and then, finally, that sweet, sweet fuckin' ass in the tightest piece of clothing he'd seen. He'd swear you're vibrating under his touch, lust getting the better of you - the kiss got rougher, teeth clashing, tongues entwining, lip biting, whining, and quiet moans escaping without either of you wanting them to...

It wasn't clean, but it definitely was the hottest fucking shit and the best kiss Joel had in the last few years. "How does... What does it have to with dancin'?" - You whispered into his ear after you pulled away, nesting your chin on his shoulder, clinging onto him as if he'd disappear if you'd let him go. Slowly, you started moving in the rhythm again, a pleasant male voice singing some kind of country ballad. It was lovely. "Nothin', little lady. Just a poor excuse to do what I've been waitin' for the whole night, 's all." "You damn rascal." "That a bad thing?" "I'm fond of men who make me laugh." - Your playful tone made Joel chuckle, the vibrations carrying onto your body. He gently pulled you closer, kissing your neck while humming at your smell - he'd remembered the scent of your perfume and shampoo, and it was nice, but mixed with alcohol, Tommy and Anne's cigarette smoke, and your musk was even better. You've smelled like a good night, like a lot of laughter, sinfully beautiful.

"Think it hadn't helped yet... The method 'f yours." "Strange, helps me every damn time." - Joel played along, letting you drop back to your heels just so he could look you in the eyes. Even though the club was humid, hot as all hell and the air smelled of alcohol, cigarette and weed smoke, sweat, and too many perfumes mixed into one, Joel missed the warmth and softness of your body the moment when your heels touched the ground, putting a few inches between your bodies. "Didn't sell me on it, anyway." "My apologies, ma'am. Anythin' I can do to remedy the situation?" "Think you should try it again." - You've had him mesmerized when you ogled at him like that - your expression and gaze were innocent, but your actions hinted at everything you've had on your mind. Your gentle hands slipping into the back pockets of his jeans solidified what you've alluded to and erased every doubt he had had in his mind.

"What if it won't work?" - Joel hummed, already pulling you back into his arms - his head was cocked to his shoulder, a wicked grin gracing his face. The man knew what question he was asking, his confidence boosting yours. "Think I have a thing or two on my mind, Texas." "Oh?" - He whispered, stealing a peck from you. - "Wanna share?" "'s better to show it to you." "Go on, little lady." "... Somewhere private." - You specified, losing focus for a bit. Something had caught your attention, making you smile as you started moving in the rhythm. - "I like this song. Give your method one more try, and then we can test mine?" "Your wish is my command."

Over the last few years, Joel forgot how fun it is to dance with someone - how exciting it feels when you twirl your girl around, to see her crack a smile as she comes back to his arms, kissing her like there was no tomorrow. He hadn't danced with anyone since Angela passed - thirteen fucking years. You, however, were a great choice of partner to break the streak of sitting at the bar, watching other couples snuggle and giggle, unaware of anything beyond their small little bubble. Neither of you were good dancers, per se, but that made it much more enjoyable. Joel was in his small bubble now, devoting his focus to you. Only you. Feeling you sway in the rhythm, clumsily stepping on the tips of his boots while holding to his shirt for your dear life, was the most endearing thing that happened to him recently. Even if you wouldn't meet again, he'd be grateful for this one night you've given him.

By the time the last chords of the song played (honkey-tonk banjo strumming), you'd been just like every other couple on the dancefloor - hastily stealing kisses, pressing your bodies impossibly close, tugging each other's hair, moaning and whining under your breath. You wouldn't expect this gruff cowboy man Joel to be vocal at all, but his groans actually made everything ten times better. "... Tell me it didn't work." - He muttered, roughly kneading your buttcheeks with his fingers, pressing your pelvis on his - you could feel the outline of his dick perfectly, your mouth watering. "Not in the slightest. I'm still a horrible dancer." "Thank fuckin' God." - His palm grasped yours as he turned on his heels, leading you deeper into the establishment. Joel was broad enough to make the way for both of you. He was making sure you were still following as if he couldn't feel your nails digging into his palm - he made sure a million times. His eyes periodically trailed between you and the space in front of him.

Once you entered the bathroom stall, everything got blurry - Joel's palms trailing your curves, his lips drowning in the skin of your neck, your palms holding onto his shoulders as he lowered on his knees. You wished you could take a picture of the view - Joel on his knees, one of his palms carefully lifting the hem of your t-shirt while he looked you in the eyes, leaving open-mouthed kisses on your abdomen while his other hand smoothed a trail on your upper thigh. Just as you expected, his palms were rough, full of calluses, and left a tingling sensation on your skin. Pressing his face to your abdomen and slowly getting back up, he pressed a kiss between your breasts before kissing the sweet spot on your neck again. Your breathing was irregular by the time his fingers curled around your chin.

"Are you sure you want this, little lady?" - He was purring into your ear, taking your earlobe between his teeth and playfully nibbling on it - the reason you were still standing was clearly that he pinned you between the door and his body... Palming your hot, wet sex teasingly, applying just the right amount of pleasure at the place you needed him the most. - "I don't plan on makin' you do somethin' you'd regret later. We clear?" "Joel... Please, for the love of God, shut the fuck up." - That's all you could muster - your body begged to feel his lips, for your hands to explore everything that's been hiding under that neatly tucked shirt and perfectly fitted jeans - you could see the outline of his dick, hard as a rock, but you wanted more. You wished to look at it, have it in your mouth, swallow it whole, or gag on it, whatever he'd like. The arousal building at your center made you forget words. When you tried to kiss him, he tsk-tsked you away, applying more pressure on your clit.

"Just say the words and it's all yours, pretty girl." "Remember how I said you're a rascal?" - You whispered, grinding against his palm gently. - "You're just a... Mhm... Shit... Fucking dick." "Such an eager little thing, aren't ya?" - Joel grinned, kissing the apple of your cheek, leaving his hand in place. You seemed to be horny enough not to need his help with your endeavors - all you needed was his fucking palm.

But Joel wanted more - he needed to hear you also want it. He needed permission before destroying you, fucking your silly little head empty. He could, however, also sense the reason for your hesitancy. What was he? Just a random guy at a club pulling a chick just to fuck her at the stalls and never see her again. Understandable. Because of that, he'd been willing to give you a bit of assurance. - "C'mon, be a good girl. Use your words." "Will you spank me if I misbehave?" "If a good ol' spankin''s whatcha after... We can talk 'bout it on a date." "A date?" - Your eyes lit up, your motions stopping for a bit - to keep you occupied, Joel started applying pressure with his fingers, having you staring at him with your mouth agape. You looked... So damn hot. - "Are you serious, Texas? You want to take me out?" "Mhm, of course, little lady. You'll gimme your phone number, and I'll give you mine. You'll set the date, and I pick out the restaurant. My treat, 'f course. There, you can tell me all you want 'bout spanking that cute ass 'f yours. Sounds good?"

He was... Serious. There was a cocky smile on his lips as he watched you, but he was asking you out. No buts or ifs. No games. It took you a moment to process his proposition - his fingers lazily circling around your clit were making it fucking hard to think. "I'd... I'd love that, cowboy." "Good girl." - Joel cooed, carefully pulling strands of hair out of your eyes with his other palm, leaning his arm to the door behind you. - "What do you want me to do now?" "Everything." - You whispered, stealing a peck from his lips. - "I wanna take everything you're willing to offer. I want this, I want you, wanna feel your lips on me, your dick inside me, fuckin' Christ, I want everything."

That was all Joel needed to hear, the words to set him in motion. His hands gently cupped your head as he kissed you with passion, his mouth devouring each inch he'd kiss, his teeth gently sinking into your skin - just enough to let you feel it, but not enough to hurt you. Not caring about the tent in his jeans, he'd started lowering on his knees again, pulling your t-shirt off your body just so he could hungrily stare at your tits rising and falling with each labored breath. He couldn't but palm them, squeezing them gently. Not wasting more time, he got back to work - worshipping each inch of your skin with his palms, leaving a trail of wet kisses from your chest to your abdomen, stopping above your shorts. He didn't look at what his fingers were doing - Joel simply continued undoing the zipper and button, staring you in the eyes. His right thumb slipped on your clothed clit, having your body react immediately - shuddering, moaning upon the sensation. This wouldn't fly - you could be kicked out if you wouldn't be careful. He wished to listen to those sweet sounds, but...

"Can you somethin' for me?" "Mhm?" - You let out in response, your eyes already darkened with lust. Just a few more beats and Joel would send you heaven, he swore to himself - he started taking his flannel shirt off frantically, handing it over to you. "Bite on it, honey. We don't wanna everyone hearin' how good I make you feel, do we?" "No." - Doing as he asked you, you buried your entire face in his shirt - it smelled just like him, the discovery making you whimper. Lost in the moment, you barely noticed your panties and shorts being removed - before you grasped it, Joel was already filling the newly discovered territory with his face, spreading your thighs far apart.

Under different circumstances, Joel would be delighted to play with you - tease you, let you tiptoe on the edge of paradise before allowing you to drown in all the pleasure, pushing you towards the cliff's edge - you two, sadly, didn't have enough time. You weren't splayed over his bed, your arousal wasn't staining the sheets, and he couldn't let you scream at the top of your lungs before you'd squeeze his head with your thighs. Secondly, he was too fucking horny to hold back. Working you up with his mouth, he untangled your ankle out of your panties, throwing your leg over his shoulder - allowing himself to push as deep as possible in such conditions. His tongue collected each drop of arousal, warm pain setting in his jaw as he did his best to lick your slit clean, just like a plate of his favorite dish.

After he made sure you won't fall down, Joel put his lips to good use (sucking on your clit), and his palm started discovering the valley further below, spreading your folds teasingly. You noticed his finger slowly entering you, digit after digit - his fingers were wider and rougher than yours, filling you up better than yours ever could. Trying to muffle a loud moan, your face disappeared in the fabric of his shirt, your chest heaving as you gasped for air. Joel loved having your fingers tangled in his hair - lost to the moment, you couldn't care less about how violently you're tugging on it, each tug getting a guttural growl out of him. The sounds echoed through you, reaching into all parts of your body, pushing you over the edge.

You couldn't name what precisely caused your orgasm to approach so fucking fast - you were under the impression that usually, it took way longer for you to come. Could be anything - his smell all up your nose, his tongue flickering on your sensitive cluster of nerves at an impressive speed, his palm holding onto your thighs, or two (maybe three) fingers curling inside you. Probably everything combined. The next thing you realized was that you mumbled his name like a prayer, riding through your high on his face, trying to catch your breath as you leaned your head into the door, eyes closed, Joel religiously watching and memorizing how you liked like when you came undone. You were beautiful.

"You good?" - Joel asked after your thighs relaxed and let go of his head. His voice was raspy. It took him a bit to pick himself up (his knees went numb), but soon, he was there to steal a kiss from you, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. Your flushed, relaxed expression was adorable - he hadn't had a woman looking at him this way in a long time. Your eyes were open lazily (offering him a tender look), your smile hinting at all the bliss circulating in your blood. "Never better, sugar." "Don't think anyone called me that before." "You like it?" - You asked, playing with the hem of his gray t-shirt, caressing his abdomen, his flannel shirt still hanging off your palm. "Gets me all railed up." - With a grin, Joel approached you, picking your leg up to circle it around his waist. The jeans felt cold against your burning and sensitive core, the rough material putting a strange edge into Joel's pelvis grinding against yours at a lazy, teasing pace. - "You want this too, baby? Think you can take it?" "I want everything."

"Okay." - He hummed, trailing his fingers along your shoulders, brushing lips over your jaw and lips. Before you knew it, his palm crept back between your thighs, his fingers sliding inside you, working you up to relax you and get the arousal going. - "How do you want it? Should I sit down? If you wanna, I can get deeper if you bend forward. C'mon, be a good girl and use your words." "Just... I want... Fuck." - Not being able to put a single sentence together, you shushed his palm and godly fingers away. Bracing yourself, you leaned into the door comfortably, shaking your ass a bit to tease him. Joel didn't hesitate to play along, slapping it to see the tender, soft skin jiggling. It didn't escape him how you almost purred, whimpering from the friction. He was half-sure you joked about the spanking bit, but seeing you get off on it put a childish grin on his face.

Before he undid his belt (your head was turned to him the entire time, hungrily watching each move), he'd pulled his wallet from one of the pockets, pulling a condom out. Biting on the aluminum packaging gently, Joel threw his wallet away carelessly, feverishly undoing his jeans before pushing the pants and underwear down to his knees. His dick sprang free, having you hypnotized while Joel put the condom on - you'd swear you hadn't seen a nicer-looking dick in your lifetime, not even in porn movies you watched. It was decently long, pre-cum leaking from the tip, with few veins giving it a nice texture. What put a slight frown on your face was the width of it. It was girthy, for the lack of a better term, massive, to say the least. The challenge excited you, giving you more reasons to take him balls deep. Moan escaped your mouth upon that thought.

"Oh, I know, baby girl." - Joel whispered, stepping closer to you, kneading your cheeks like dough - digging his fingers in one moment, lovingly squeezing them in the other. - "I'll take care of everythin', I promise. Just relax for me." "Okay, sugar." - Complying, you tried your best to relax when he ran his palms down your back, massaging soothing circles into your skin. Hearing the nickname, Joel snickered under his breath. "You gonna me drive up the fuckin' wall if you keep that nickname up."

You started to turn your head in Joel's direction to reply, but before you could do so, the tip of his dick slipped inside you - the burning sensation had you banging your first against the door, opening your mouth, eyes closed firmly, chest heaving as you adjusted to him. It wasn't unpleasant - it was just unusual - you hadn't had sex ever since that 'British stud of yours' as Anne dubbed Felix. And any toys couldn't do Joel's dick any justice. "All good, little lady?" "Mhm, never better." - Nodding, you took a long breath before lowering yourself down on his shaft, feeling it stretching you out inch by inch. There weren't many things that would make Joel Miller speechless, but watching you sliding down while his hands held your hips, hearing you muffle your whines and moans was pure fucking magic. The closer your ass got to his base, the harder it was to breathe for him.

"Look at you, sweetheart." - Joel cooed, closing the remaining gap between your bodies - the tip of his cock brushed your cervix, making you gulp. The man didn't move for a solid minute, letting you relax and adjust, rubbing soothing circles into your hips. - "This would make a man lose his damn mind, Jesus fuckin' Christ. You're doin' so fuckin' well for me." "That dick would make any woman lose their mind too, Texas." - Saying that, you giggled, unintentionally tightening around him - Joel's hips buckled in response, making you whine happily. - "You can move, yannow that? I ain't made of glass." "Promise to tell me it'd get uncomfortable for you, yeah?" - The man asked, kissing your shoulder. Nodding, you lazily smiled at him. "Promise."

In a few thrusts, you could perfectly understand why Joel promised he'd stop if things got uncomfortable for you - he struggled to find his tempo, sloppily thrusting in and out of you in unforgiving, needy movements. But as soon as he found his footing? His movements became determined and precise, each trust stretching your tight walls gently, almost lovingly. He was gripping your hips, the nailbeds digging into your smooth, gentle skin - so tightly that you'd swear you'd have small remnants of him with you in the morning. Anytime he felt like it, he'd make you meet his dick halfway, breathlessly snickering at your ecstatic expression. You both mumbled nonsense, motivating each other to keep going, movements growing desperate as you started chasing your highs. Without Joel needing to mutter a word, your palm sneaked to your clit, your fingers rubbing frantic get gentle circles around the bundle of nerves.

"'M gonna... 'M gonna..." - Joel muttered religiously, palming one of your breasts to gently play with your nipple. "Just a bit longer, and I'm... Fuck, fuck, fuck, Joel." - It came across as a pathetic whine - the tip of his dick brushing against the most sensitive spot inside you. The burst of warmth and pleasure made you shudder, meowling to your forearm as you tried to keep your shit together. "Ya with me?" - Joel pressed on, his brain barely capable of making meaningful sentences. "Yes. Yes, yes, yes." - As he brushed the spot again, a mind-numbing orgasm washed over you. For a moment, you didn't know who the fuck you were, what your name was, where you were, or whom you were with. All you could feel was concentrated pleasure washing over your body, leaving you whining and moaning into the fabric of his shirt before letting it fall to the ground. Joel's last trusts were sloppy, almost too brutal, but soon, he was grunting as his load leaked into the condom.

"Jesus." - He muttered, gently slipping out - the emptiness hit you like a truck, almost leaving you begging for more. You'd beg if you could form any word on your tongue. - "How we doin', little lady? All parts where they should be?" - He whispered, gently helping you to stand up as he pulled your underwear and shorts back where they belonged. If you'd let him, he'd memorize how you looked - sweaty, breathing irregularly with a contained expression. Every inch of your skin was a masterpiece Joel'd carve into wood just to have it always with him. Fucking on a bathroom stall, however, wasn't the right place or time to ask for some lovey-dovey nonsense.

"You some kind of mechanic or what? I'm good, don't worry 'bout me. Gave me exactly what I wanted." "There she is, the sassy little sweetheart I couldn't get 'nough of. And... Somethin' like that. I'm a carpenter." - Joel explained, ensuring you looked somewhat presentable. It wouldn't be gentlemanly to let you walk around looking like a cute, freshly fucked mess - no matter how much this idea aroused him, letting all the men who eyed you over the night know that he was the one you chose to have the time of your day with. Instead of answering, you started laughing, catching him off-guard. - "What's funny 'bout me bein' a carpenter, hm?" "Nothin', nothin'." - You whispered, shushing his palms away to control your make-up. Well, it was decently smudged but still presentable. With how Anne looked before you and Joel took an abrupt detour to the stalls, you'd be soon on your way home anyway. - "I'll be working for a carpenter, starting fairly soon. It's just a funny coincidence, 's all."

"I see. He's a lucky man, then." - Joel hummed, caressing the apple of your cheek with his fingers before letting you steal a peck from you. - "If you'd be workin' for me, I wouldn't keep my fuckin' hands off you, sweet girl. You tell him you have another carpenter in town who wouldn't waste a second hirin' you, yeah?" "You don't mean that. That's the sex talkin'." "On my honor. If he won't treat you respectfully, yannow who to call. I can always use some help." - Teasingly slapping your ass, Joel picked his shirt and wallet off the ground, adjusting his belt and jeans. - "There's the business card, you call this number, yeah? The second one. The first one's for my office. And as a promise, you take this with ya." - Carefully, he tugged you into the shirt, smoothing your upper arms. - "'s my lucky shirt. I never go out in anythin' else. You better keep an eye out." "This gets the ladies going?" - Was what you replied, pushing your arms through the sleeves and buttoning up the lower half of the shirt. Ensuring you won't lose the card, you pushed it inside your phone case, showing it to Joel. "It got you goin', didn't it?" "Was that bloody smirk 'f yours, asshole." "Never been turned on by anyone callin' me an asshole. Whatcha doin' to me, girl? You ready to go?" - The lock was undone, and as a gesture of gratitude (and another promise), Joel offered you his palm to hold onto. To your surprise, he let you entwine your fingers with him without protesting. "Yeah. Let's go."

Thankfully, when you walked back onto the humid, heavy-aired club, Tommy and Anne were still dancing - both appeared heavily intoxicated, holding each other tightly, dancing to a sweet serenade. That, thankfully, meant no questioning for either you or Joel. As you also predicted, Anne wanted to go home when she spotted you hanging out by the bar.

Joel and Tommy helped you find a taxi, settling Anne down in the backseat - it was raining heavily, all of you jogging to the car with laughter. The night started to get cold. It was time to go home, lulled by the prospect of a date - the man in question was just pushing a strand of hair behind your ear, kissing your temple, whispering sweet nothings and goodbyes to your ear. Tommy, even though he was usually as perceptive as a stomp, left you alone and moved to smoke under a nearby umbrella, grinning from ear to ear as he watched you being all cheesy and lovey-dovey - he knew better than to mutter a word. Joel'd definitely fire back at him.

"Here's the money for the ride, tip included. Take 'em wherever they want to, the rest's yours." - Joel leaned into the cab, handing the driver a hefty bill while patting the roof - what a typical gesture. Staring at him in shock, you shook your head in disapproval - Anne pointed at him with a drunkard giggle. "I'm startin' to like your grumpy Texan ass more 'n more." "What a compliment." - Joel answered with pure irony. - "Take care, ladies. Text me when you get home, 'kay, sweetheart?" "Will do, sir. But betcha ass we'll be discussing this later." - Vaguely pointing to the driver, you spared Joel one last smile before the cab took off, driving you home. - "Take care!" - You cried out, watching his figure disappear in the distance.

Getting Anne to your room without waking up the whole block was a superhuman task - she'd trip over nothing, kept on shushing you (even though you hadn't said a word), giggling under her breath as she tried to keep her balance. You expected Mom to bust in at any minute, but only Sam inspected the ruckus. "Jesus fuckin' Christ." - The girl muttered, rubbing her eyes sleepily. The sight was hilarious, you needed to admit - Anne was sitting on the edge of your bed, rocking from side to side while attempting to take off her shoes. Her tongue, as usual, was sticking out of the corner of her mouth with pure concentration. - "I take it that the night was good?" "I'll tell you all about it tomorrow. Go to sleep now, yeah?" - Smoothing her shoulder, you watched as Sammy nodded sleepily and started retreating toward her room.

Before going to sleep, you made sure Anne's clothes were hung enough to dry out before she departed after tomorrow's dinner, and that her hair was neatly covered with a towel. As promised, before hitting the sack, you sent Joel a short text to let him know you're both safe at home, wishing him a good night. The night was something - sex with Joel helped you sober up, and thanks to Anne's overwhelming, unmissable snoring, you took one hell of a time to fall asleep. While Anne was knocked out in an instant, you had to roll around for quite some time before you finally fell asleep - dreaming of Joel, his big hands, honest smiles, and passionate kisses.

"Are you fuckin' with me? That happened? And it was that good?" - Anne squealed, pushing half a waffle inside her mouth. Her appetite (despite the hangover she must've had) always surprised you. Nobody should be this hungry after digesting such an ungodly amount of alcohol... Nobody. Sam, responsible for bringing you a very late breakfast to bed, had her eyes glued to your lips, listening to how you described what had happened in the bathroom stalls. - "... Didn't even notice you two were gone." "No wonder. You two were fucking out of it. They were wobbling around to Long Long Time by the time we got back, both sobbing their asses off." "Uh-uh, that didn't fuckin' happen. Don't believe a word comin' out of this wench's mouth, Sammy." "In all fairness, it's a solid song." - Sam reiterated, having Anne snapping, humming approvingly. "Amen, sister. Girl knows her stuff."

"Back to the guy. So you texted him goodnight? As he asked?" - Sam pried further, laying down as she stared at you. "Mhmh." "Had he replied?" "Yes." "WHAT DID HE-?" - Anne squealed even louder, earning an elbow to her side. Rubbing the spot, she looked at you. - "Bitch, you hadn't told me he actually reached back out. What did the super hot, hunky, gruff cowboy say? Spill it." "Well, he wished me a good morning for starters, unlike someone..." - Alluding to how Anne's first sentence consisted of 'Girl, I don't know if it's gonna come outta my mouth or ass first, so you better move' and keeping the duo tensed up, a smile spread on your lips. - "He started asking when I was free but told me he couldn't go out today because of this dinner with his best buddy. So... I have a date tomorrow." "You're shitting me!" - Anne muttered, giggling her ass off. "Dude, keep it the fuck down. I don't wanna explain this to my mom." "Yeah, yeah, whatever. What's your take on the situation, young padawan?" - Without sparing you a look, Anne just waved you off and pointed her fork in Sam's direction.

"He sounds like a genuinely great guy. A bit of an age difference? No prob, sis. On the other hand, if you'd bring home an eighty-year-old gramps with diapers and prescribed meds..." "Samantha!" - Gasping for air, you threw a strawberry her way - grinning from ear to ear, Sam caught in on her first try. - "'s that what you think of me? Thank you kindly. That's so fucked up." "You asked me a question, and I gave you an answer. Grow up. But no cap - you're glowing just talking about the guy. You're all flustered, giggly, playing with your hair and... It's nice to see you like that." "She ain't wrong... She ain't wrong at all."

Dinner preparations consisted of pure chaos - Fleetwood Mac's biggest hits playing out of your dad's stereo as you helped around the kitchen, Anne occasionally dipping to comment on the baseball game your dad watched in the living room. The entire house was pristine, not a dust particle in sight as if the Queen of England was about to drop for a visit. Your mom pulled out her best decorations and fanciest set of plates, asking you to decorate them with napkins. Sam was with you the entire time, carefully watching your moves as if you weren't real - even giving in to dance with you to Dreams, both laughing as you clumsily wobbled around the dining room.

When it was around 4pm, you all hid in Sam's room to make yourselves look presentable - Sammy opted for a cutesy wollen vest, a short-sleeved t-shirt, and a pair of jeans. With her hair styled in a high ponytail, she looked genuinely cutesy. Anne borrowed one of the fancy dresses you used to wear for work, pairing it with her pair of good ol' trusty pair of Vans - as per usual, Anne would've looked hot as fuck even if she'd worn a potato bag. You opted for a more casual, relaxed fit. You dug out a flowy black dress with polka dots all over it, choosing a relaxed hairstyle and light layer of make-up to go with it. You assumed you didn't have to sit around dressed like you were waiting for a job interview since the guy was your dad's best friend.

"They're here!" - Mom cried out over the music blasting in the living room - your dad changed it to good ol' Bruce Spingsteen's Born in the U.S.A. "Aight, how do I look?" - You asked, twirling around to let both the girls see - you wanted to leave a good first impression on your soon-to-be employer and a trusted family friend, as well as on his brother. "You're looking good. I've told you a million times already - Joel doesn't make a fuss about such things. I've worked for him for a year and a half, so I'd be the one to know." - Sam muttered, rolling her eyes. She'd spent the last hour assuring you looked amazing and impressionable, that was much true. - "Just come already, Jesus. You'll relax once you see him." - With that, she started descending the stairs, loudly greeting the guests.

"Like a snack." - Anne suggested, having you shaking your head. "Not the time..." "What if he's like... Smoking hot?" "He's also my dad's best friend. No way in hell..." "Never say never." "That's why I usually don't ask for your fucking input, Anne." "Chill, girl, you got this. Take a breath, shake the nerves off... You look fucking amazing, and you're way smarter than... Oh... Oh, fuck." - She was standing on top of the stairs, her palm clutching the railing until her knuckles turned white. All emotion suddenly drained from her expression, her face growing pale, and her eyes widened at the sight. Slowly, you peeked around the corner, your eyes meeting the strangers immediately.

What if he was smoking hot, huh? Well, you knew for a fact he was. Those lips were kissing you yesterday. Those palms chalked up the cue for you, teasing you how to play billiard without getting a cramp in your palm. These eyes watched you as if you were the only woman in the club, following each step you took, his palm never shying away from grasping the small of your back. You saw him undress for you. You felt him pounding into you when he chased his release. You listened to his voice pouring sweet nothings and perverted, arousing nonsense into your ears as he fucked you. You had his number saved in his phone. You had a date set with him. It was Joel. Joel, the mysterious hunky gruff cowboy. Joel, who was staring back at you with the same horror in his eyes. Joel, who was your dad's best fucking friend.

Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck indeed.

Thank you for reading! 🩷 Reblogs and comments are appreciated; in case you have any questions or scenarios you'd like to see, hmu in dms or under the post. 🩷 Have a nice day!

#dbf!joel #dbf!joel x afab!reader #joel miller #joel the last of us #tommy miller #tommy miller the last of us #well boys #here we fucking go #the cat's out of the bag #everything's doom and gloom #also I love writing for tommy #he's so fun to play around with #smutty smut smut #dbf!joel brainrot be too strong for my sorry lil ass #like lord help me #this man is too much for me

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suffering-and-happy-about-it · 3 months

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Born in the U.S.A. (Rules, Part 1.)

Part Summary: As a welcome home celebration, your bestie takes you out for a party at a local club. There, you meet a mysterious stunner. However, this short meeting is about to alter your family life in ways you can't imagine.

Warnings: The reader is meant to be born in Texas, but lived overseas for around 5 years (honestly, it's just for plot convenience 'cause papi miller lived in Austin before the outbreak) | no outbreak | family relatives (coming with names and personalities + attitudes) | dad's best friend daddy joel (i don't think there's more to say to that) | he's on the hunt, baby | alcohol and drug usage mentions | alcohol consumption | tommy being a silly willy (we love him for that) | age gaps all around, baby - joel being approximately 33 (reader being 8 years his junior), putting sarah around 13 years of age and sam at 18, reader's parents in late forties/early fifties (reader cringes at this, but it's explained in the context - I personally think that when you're of age and have your life sorted out, age really is just a number) Personal warning: I love cowboy culture and even wanted to become one when I was a little chit. It started when I was small and binged Vinnetou with my mom, and it has stuck with me ever since. This part is very Texan/cowboy-centric, but I promise I'll pipe down on it in the future.

A/N: I planned on ending the part with the dinner prelude (aka the ✨drama✨), but it was already 5.3K even before I got to proofreading and correction, so please know that it's exposition to kinda introduce you to the story and name all the big players we'll be meeting along the way.

Tagging: My fav moot, the love of my life - @missdictatorme. I love you girly.

Word count: 7.1K

Masterlist: H E R E | Playlist: H E R E

Coming home after years of living overseas felt bittersweet. Looking out of the plane's window felt strange - all the known plots of land, cities you've visited with your dad during his work trips, farms, pickups, endless highways, 7/11s, herds of cows and horses; all within an arm's reach. When the seatbelt sign flashed two times, your heartbeat started picking up as you focused on fastening said seatbelt, tears of excitement forming in the corners of your eyes and a warm smile rising on your lips.

Goddamnit, you missed this place. After years, you were coming back home.

What led you to this moment? It wasn't that complicated, really. For the last couple of years, you lived in London. You enjoyed most things coming with living overseas - the independence, no curfews, eating whatever and whenever you wanted... Life was beautiful. Back then, you moved to England as an undergrad student, and thanks to your internship, the company you've been interning at offered you a stable job. It took a bit of adjusting, such as an obviously different biome, an entirely different choice of food, the currency being more valuable than a dollar, driving on the 'wrong' side of the road, and differing norms and habits. Sometimes, you were taken aback by all the striking differences, no matter how long you've lived in England. Life there was a great experience overall - all the mistakes you've made could be blamed on only you, your successes and small victories were yours and no one else's, you've learned how to keep your budget under control, and also figured out how to keep everything in check (such as bills, food, and clothing expenses, monthly renewal of your Underground card, check-ups with various doctors... There was a lot). Coming back to Austin, you were a true fucking adult.

What you couldn't deny? The longer you lived in England, the more you missed Texas.

At one point, you realized you missed how your mom always popped her head into your room, asking if you were okay - even though it made you cringe just a few years back, you looked at the times with love now. You missed playing catch with your father, your sister's tight hugs, and midnight snacking; you'd both snicker while sneaking downstairs, feeling like you were committing a crime even though you snacked on a few spoons of Nutella. You loved reminiscing about the hot sun peppering your skin, the obnoxiously loud neighbors coming over for barbeques with a ton of homemade food, and you even started missing the stomps your dad took you and your sister to. You missed the sweet sound of Texan drawl, the landscapes, jeans and flannels, cowboy hats and ropers.

What was the kick-off? The moment it broke inside you? The moment was living in your head rent-free. You recalled it vividly and clearly - a stormy spring day during Facetime with Sam, your younger sister, who wept about you missing out on her high school graduation - that was when it broke. No way José you'd your little bean's graduation. The problem bubbled inside you for a few weeks while you did your best to fight it off, but you knew from the start that this was it. You were going back home - you needed to go back to Texas, to your former life, to your relatives and family. To the place you always belonged to. On a seeming whiff, you booked a ticket home, resigned from your job, and ended your part of the rental contract. Your roomies were taken aback but understood the urge after you described it during a long chat. Even promised to stop by whenever they find themselves visiting America.

First, as was expected, came worries about affording your own place - Europe and the USA worked differently in this area, but honestly? You weren't interested in buying a full-ass house at your age. Sure, your parents affirmed that your old room was always open for you, no matter the circumstance, but... After living independently for so long, it didn't seem fit to live under your parent's roof again. Thankfully, that was when your former bestie came to the rescue - she had a nice flat downtown and a room for rent. The prices weren't astronomical, and the place looked nice, located twenty minutes from the city center. To afford stuff like that, however, you needed a job - ASAP.

And even though it felt a bit humiliating at first, that was when your dad stepped in - it wasn't a lot, but it was a way to pay your bills before you find a real job. He knew this construction guy, a carpenter, and his newest best pal. And the pal was, thankfully, looking for someone to do his administration for him - he and his working partner were awful when dealing with papers, so the moment your pops mentioned you'd be moving back to the States on the horizon of the next few weeks, the carpenter guy immediately jumped after the opportunity. According to your knowledge, the carpenter guy was fully informed about your non-existent knowledge when it came to construction and carpentering - he explained that you'd be only dealing with papers, invoices, bills (for the materials, presumably) and, on rare occasions, pick up the phone and talk to potential clients, confirm agreed dates or deal with various little discrepancies. Nothing complex, just acting as their secretary - you'd be officially given office hours, a tax receipt for your federal taxes, a considerable amount of days off, and as a cherry on top, the two guys would ensure a stable supply of coffee or tea of your choice and a take-out once per week. That was good fucking shit. Your life in Texas was slowly coming together.

All you packed with you was two trunks of clothes and various little bullshit that would be within the permitted weight, leaving the rest of the stuff inside your former room. Your roomies promised to pack it into a box and either send it to you once you're settled down or keep an eye on your belongings in case you move back to England. And just like that, a week later, you found yourself sitting at a plane landing at Austin-Bergstrom. Your family was waiting in the hall with an enormous sign, making you grin - all three of them were looking at you teary-eyed, idly waiting until you'd pass the check. The 'welcome home' sign must've been Sam's job, you guessed - every fucking letter on that board was bedazzled, almost blinding. It made you grin as you tried to suppress the tears in your eyes. To your luck, you arrived at the end of spring - approaching summer was tingling in the air, but it was still late May. You couldn't wait to feel the Texan summer (even though you knew you'd hate it after a day or two), the smell of scorched asphalt, dusty roads, unbearable heat, and occasional heavy rainstorms. The air already smelled of dust and freshly cut grass, the sunshine was blinding and the skies were cloudless.

As expected, the reunion didn't go without tears - it's been three fucking years since you've last made it home for the entire summer. That summer was focused on visiting all your relatives and neighbors. On days you didn't set out for a visit, you tended to hang out with your friends, doing whatever seemed fit.

The situation with your mom was the most oppressing, you thought. Opressing might've not been the right term, but thinking about the situation between you two always hurt the most. The two always saw eye to eye and openly talked, like adults did. She always treated you like the more responsible sibling who could look after themselves without her supervision - mainly due to Sam being seven years your junior. Originally, when you gave her 'the call' (about moving to England full-time), you assumed she, of all people, would understand. She did a 180° - not budging and standing her ground fiercely - and you, as your mother's daughter, got the stubbornness after her. No matter how much you swore you'd make it home for Thanksgiving and Christmas, she wasn't having it. Looking back at it, it was a reasonable reaction on her part; no parent could've been cool with having their child living as far as you did - but it also didn't mean you'd spend the rest of your life in London, for Christ's sake. It was an opportunity, and you took it - nothing else to it. You've argued a few times, and after some time, she seemingly let it be - you could hear it in her voice, though; she was still pissed at you. Somehow she felt betrayed, which you never understood, but she still did her best to love you unconditionally. The disapproval was always present, but she did her best to be happy for you whenever you talked about your job or things happening in London. That was, honestly, good enough for you.

The big turn-around came when you gave her the 'second call' about moving back to Texas, explaining what led you to said decision and how you couldn't wait to be there with them - for the first time in years, your mom was ecstatic, even turning your old room into a habitable state. It stung a bit, of course, but it was genuinely heartwarming having your mom entirely back.

Your dad opted to be the voice of reason, tiptoeing the line between you and your mom. Sure, his initial reaction wasn't exactly 'being overjoyed with happiness', but he was cool about it. Even though he missed his baby girl around the house, he was reasonable enough to realize this was where you wanted to be at that time. And that you're also an adult by law. He couldn't tell you what to do anymore, he could only offer guidance and support in case of need. It wasn't his right to forbid you from staying in England and he couldn't force you to stay in Texas either. Your happiness with the decision was more than apparent, and as long as you were happy, dad was also happy. To calm your mother, your dad opened the topic a few times - usually ending his speech with 'wherever you are, this is always your home' and a bone-crushing bear hug.

How did Sam react? Well, she missed you but couldn't give less of a shit - this girl was versatile enough to survive even inside a hurricane. If you liked living there, that was enough for her. Whenever you could, you texted or called her, spending hours on the phone with her - preparing and eating dinner, watching movies, and sometimes she even flew in for a surprise visit, staying for five days before flying home. This little she-devil was your partner in crime and your best friend even though the age difference.

The notorious Texan drawl hit your ears when you walked to the parking lot, making your heart jump happily. The ecstasy over something so simple wasn't to last long, but you knew this specific accent would fill your heart for a few weeks at least. You realized that during your time in London, Cockney found its way into your accent, British terms seeping through here and there. It wasn't that bad, though. The drawl was coming back in no time.

"Soooo... Whatcha plannin' for tonight? Was thinkin' 'about watchin' some movies?" - Sam asked as she helped you put your trunks into the back of your dad's pick-up, securing them in place with stretchable security buckles. Ever since the initial bone-crushing hug, Sammy paced in circles around you, inspecting each move you made. As if she couldn't believe her eyes. "Promised Anne some clubbing for tonight, to welcome me back to Texas or whatever she said. Remember that club on Lamar Boulevard? That cowboy one we used to slack 'round? Anne swore that's where it's at." - You asked, having Sam nod with a grin as she climbed into the backseat, having you follow soon after. Your parents were chatting with some acquaintances of theirs; an elderly couple whom you vaguely recognized.

"Ew... You sound like you're fifty. The Rodeo Club? Really? That's where senior citizens hang out, 's what you always said." - The girl played the disgust a little too well, having you stare at her with your eyebrows raised. "Shut it. A cute little cowboy-themed club can't be that lame. I'm sick of modern club hits, listened to enough of that shit back in London. And by the way, some cowboy is precisely what I need right now." - This argument made Sam nod in agreement, muttering 'fair point' under her breath. "In case that happens, I want all the details." - The girl answered cockily, grinning to herself - at first, you wanted to act surprised... Until you remembered your little bean was no longer little. Sammy just celebrated her eighteenth birthday last month. She even informed you about her boyfriend 'Barry', her latest part-time job (apparently for the same guy you were about to work for), and all the fuss around college applications. Even though you still thought of her as the little girl with pigtails running around the house in a blue flowy dress, annoying the everliving shit out of you, it wasn't the same kid playing soccer and house anymore... Against your liking, she was more mature than you willed to admit.

"We'll see how things go, but I wouldn't expect any wild shit - Anne and I will probably get hammered after an hour and end up at the flat, anyway..." "FLAT?!" - Oh god, there you went again, slipping before you could stop yourself. Foreseeing what was coming, you did your best to suppress the snicker making its way up your throat. - "I bet you meant saying apartment, didn't you?" "Shut it, smart ass." "But ya love me, grumpy grandma. No way 'round it." "I do, but... Calling me a grumpy grandma? Because we want to go to Rodeo Club? That's a low fucking blow." - Your squeal made Sam laugh happily. - "Point is - I might not even get to meet some handsome cowboy before I end up puking my brains out." "I hope you'll get to meet someone, would be so cool. We could go on a double date! You, me, Barry, along with the hot cowboy guy." "Yeah, keep on dreaming, Sammy."

The drive home was pleasant - to your pleasure, pops ensured you'd drive through Austin's downtown, letting you silently take in all the known, homey sights. As you watched skyscrapers and fancy bridges slowly transforming into a suburban area, that was the moment your brain finally realized - you were truly home. Pick-ups, jeeps, and sedans neatly parked in driveways; the smell of freshly cut grass and chlorine mixed into inflatable pools; a mix of Latino and pop music blasting from radios purposely turned towards yards; the smell of meat being roasted enormous grills turned all the way to 10 - that was the essence of the suburbs you grew up in. And now, you could feel, smell, and hear it all. Little communities of people supporting each other, all your neighbors knowing you since you were a toddler - this was where you always had a place to belong.

"Hasn't changed a bit." - Admitting this, you slipped off the backseat, looking around - your house looked exactly the same, the same flowers planted into your mom's front garden, the same knocker, same facade. To be fair, there was a change, although pretty subtle at first - the house opposite yours was occupied by someone, the 'for sale' sign missing. It was a cute little house for a small family - two stores, the driveway was wide enough to fit two cars, coming with a decent backyard on top of that. The backyard wasn't big enough to hold a built-in pool, but decently big for an inflatable one and a small garden around it. The patio offered enough space for a decently large grill and table. If you'd ever considered buying a house, it would look like this one. The family had to move in sometime during the last three years; back when you last visited, that place was still empty. There wasn't any car in the driveway, so either they were gone for the day or used public transportation (which sucked ass in this part of Austin).

"Except that. That's new." - Your finger pointed out as you asked Sam about the new occupants, hoping she'd know something about them. "Ah yeah. Remember pops' newest best pal in the world?" - Sam mumbled as she tried to undo the security buckles around your suitcase, mumbling curses under her breath. - "That's his place. These two are tight and probably can't live without each other for the rest of their lives. It sometimes feels like the guy lives in our house. Comes for every RRE game." "Cut it out, kiddo, Joel's a great guy. Have you already forgotten the bed you'd commissioned from him? The one he made within a week and didn't want a single dime for? Or the time he picked you up at that Marvin guy's party?" - The old guy stepped in, undoing every buckle pin on the first try, having Sam roll her eyes. You just stood aside, listening to their bickering, chuckling. "That's not what I said, dad, I did this thing people call 'being funny'? I mean, you can't deny you've been inseparable since he moved in. The two of you clicked." - The girl turned her head to your mom, raising her eyebrows; your mom giggled, nodding in agreement. "But for real - Joel's chill. Cool guy overall."

"Joel. The mysterious neighbor comes with a name, good news." - Joel? That rang a bell. - "Isn't he that carpenter friend of yours? The one who was looking for an assistant?" - Before your dad had any time to form an answer, Sam looked at you with a portrayed offense, her mouth opening wide. "Oh! So it's you Joel traded my services for? When he described his new assistant as 'competent' and 'a real ace' I thought he meant it. Worry not - I found a part-time job at a 7/11 down the road, and even though you betrayed me, I'm still willing to use my employee bonuses to give you a discount on the legendary slushies." "That's just rude but very nice of you at the same time, Sam, thanks. For real though... Hope you didn't talk about me like that, Dad. I'm tragic with the administration. Hope your new friend doesn't expect miracles." "Trust me, kid, your sister just likes being extra." - The old man pointed out, displaying a shit-eating grin. The language used made you scoff.

"Where did you learn all the new lingo, old man?" - You were genuinely surprised with all the new words coming out of his mind. You've never heard him talk like that before. "I take credit for that. Our old man even has Instagram now." - Sam chimed in. "Woah, IG and no OnlyFans? Could be a great way to make some spare cash." "No comment." - Dad grinned, pushing one of the trunks to the entrance while you and Sam picked up the other, making your way toward your old room.

It hadn't changed a bit, except all the posters taken off the walls - your mom swore you had them all stored in the attic in case you'd like to take your collection to Anne's. The gramophone/stereo was still sitting next to your desk, the wardrobe was still pushed to the southern wall, and your old plants were cared for during your absence. The bed frame was the only new thing - Joel's handiwork, you assumed. It was precise, you had to admit - flowers carved into the head, a running horse carved into the footboard, matching solid cedar wood used for the rest of the construction. It must've taken tens of hours at least. The guy knew his stuff, didn't he? You didn't bother with unpacking, only with picking out your outfit for the night and ironing it to look presentable - then, it was time for a late lunch. It was uplifting to see your family gathered around; as usual, you opted to help your mom with setting the table, listening to Sam and Dad bicker over some baseball mumbo-jumbo. They were allowed to the table only after their argument, so you and your mom sat down first, pouring yourselves a bit of red wine.

"Is that Joel guy at home? It'd be in my good graces to pop in and introduce myself. I mean, he was kind enough to offer me a job even though we've never met, and I believe that dad played his part, talking a hole into this poor guy's head." "Not the case, don't you worry, sugar. We've told him about your job in London, that much is true, but we didn't go beyond that. Joel was thrilled and said he would like to hire you, on his own accord. His younger brother isn't the best with papers, and Sam could only help them on the weekends. This way, it'll work for everyone. She can walk you through the basics of it." "Mhm. Thanks for sticking your neck out for me." "You'll do great. Just need a bit of practice, 's all." - The woman smoothed your back, kissing you on your temple. The warmth in her eyes made your heart flutter, and knowing you were back on good terms felt good. - "Joel's a realist, guy in his place. You two will figure it out. But to answer your question, sadly, he's not home. Dad is missing him big time, more than he'd miss me." - She chuckled, shaking her head. "Where is he?" - You wondered while your dad and Sam finally sat at the table and started loading food onto everyone's plates. Mom cooked your favorite - that's how excited she was to have you back home. Thank God they finally stopped arguing because you were starving - the airplane food was fucking horrible. "Oh, the younger brother had his birthday recently. The boy had this wish for the longest time; rent two Harleys and drive cross country. They've sent a few postcards. If you'd like to look at 'em, I've hung 'em on the fridge." "That's like... The coolest thing I've heard. Driving cross country on a Harley sounds godly." - You admitted, taking the first bite. Fuck, it tasted so good.

"Anyway... How long will you hang around your old folk?" - Dad asked out of nowhere, making you think about the current game plan. How long were you planning to stay at your parent's house? Anne said the room's available as soon as you'd like. Even said she couldn't wait to have you there. "Definitely today and tomorrow, the rest's a mystery. You know what? I'll ask Anne about it tonight and let you know as soon as she lets me know." - You nodded to yourself, sending your old man a teasing grin. - "Why? Am I bothering you already?" "You can't imagine how much. Each second feels like hell." - Sam muttered, winking at you. You flipped her off subtly, ensuring neither old folk would see it. Your mom hated it when you cursed.

"Honey, you'd never bother us. As I said, there's always a place for you. But that's actually great. The boys are comin' back sometime durin' the night, so you'll have time to meet Millers tomorrow. Problem solved." "Oh, did you invite them for dinner?" - You wondered. "Dad did yesterday when the boys called from the Oklahoma border." - Mom explained, sipping her wine. - "Wants to hear all about the motorcycles... And also wants to introduce you two in a formal setting." "Cool. Works for me. Thanks, pops." - And with that comment, everyone dove into their plates of food.

Anne was picking you up three hours later - the sun was already coming down, stars started shining on the light blue and pink sky, and the humid night air was tingling in your nose. Crickets and cicadas were fiddling in the grass, cars neatly parked in driveways, the lamp posts already turned on - only lit-up living rooms signaled any sort of life. "Hey, Mrs. Y/L/N. Long time no see." - Anne exclaimed, palming her car keys as she walked towards the porch. Damn, you thought, she was still an absolute stunner - rocking a black-white split dye and neatly done make-up, sending flirty smiles left and right. She put on a white t-shirt, black jean shorts hugged her curves perfectly, and old-skool Vans were the finishing touch. Something so simple looked so fucking stunning on her Your mom waved back at her, pointing toward her car. - "Hope you ain't plannin' on drivin' under the influence?" "Ah, you know me!" - The girl waved her off, laughing. "That's the problem, sugar. I do." - With that, the two hugged.

Anna was your ride-or-die - always hanging out at your house, coming up with the most insane plans, and never sticking to the rules. The girl was the one who introduced you to alcohol and kush back in high school, always dragging you out for a smoke break. You'd never accepted a cig, but she offered you one each time. While being a hot shot and very irresponsible, she was one of the most loyal and loving people you've met. Your mom, despite Anne's risky behavior, loved her (mainly because Anne was great at sweeping the evidence of said behavior), and Sam adored her - that's why your sis came running, almost bringing Anne down with her bear hug, making them both laugh. She'd matured over your stay in London but remained consistent with her impulsive and half-baked decisions. 'That's because I'm a dreamer and a lover, yannow?' - that's how she justified it all. Thankfully, you were around again to stop her from really bad ideas, Anne also proclaimed.

While the gals chatted, you walked to the car to put the purse on the backseat - noticing a greyish pick-up backed into Joel's driveway now. Whether he was or wasn't home was a question - the lights were off. The guys made it back home safely. Good. You had to admit to being interested in meeting the Miller brothers - your dad spoke in superlatives about these guys, which was a rarity.

"Don't worry, Mrs., I'll keep her on a leash. No way she does anythin' stupid under my radar." - Anne exclaimed, throwing her arm in your direction. - "My eyes will be glued on her at all times, that's a promise." "Yeah, it's definitely not gonna be the other way around." - You nodded with a serious expression, having Anne grin. - "Don't wait up. I'll take an Uber back home, I'll not get black-out drunk, I promise, and in case I wouldn't wanna wake up for dinner tomorrow, just blast God save the Queen on speakers." "That's... Weirdly specific." - Sam chuckled but took a mental note. "Learned it the hard way. Aight guys, love you!" "Love you! Stay safe!" - As the girls watched you load into Anne's car, Sammy snuggled to your mom, putting her arm around mom's shoulders. "... And don't forget to pull some hot cowboy!" - Sam chimed in, making your mom look at her in disbelief. Anne whistled under her breath, turning the engine on.

"What was that about?" - Anne asked while turning around the corner, making you flustered - your cheeks were burning as you giggled. "Sam was just joking around. You know this girl loves running her damn mouth." "I mean... That's not a bad idea, you see? We'll pull you some mysterious hot cowboy, no prob." - She answered, making you choke a bit. - "How long has it been since that British stud of yours, anyway? A year and a half? Somethin' like that? Could boost the morale - a little welcome-home minglin' can't hurt." "I'm not going to the club to pull someone and get laid, Jesus fuckin' Christ. I'm going there to spend some time with my fucking asshole of a bestie." "Aw, stop meltin' my old cold heart, sugar." - The girl smirked and patted your upper thigh. - "And the dinner? Somethin' excitin'?"

"Not really. Pops has this new best friend, so he wants me to meet him and his brother. It's gonna be fun - Dad secured me a job in that guy's construction gigs. You're looking at the newest, hottest secretary of Miller's General Contracting." "Oh? That's good news! Slay, Mr. Y/L/N, we love a caring dad. So, wanna talk about movin' in, or should I..." "You free next week?" "Bet your ass. Anytime you want, baby, that room's yours." "Great, Dad will be delighted to hear that. I don't have too much shit to move to yours, so this car should be good enough."

"'kay, deal. Back to the topic - can I drop by? 's the guy hot?" "Anne Marie Jones!" - The squirm showed all the panic and disgust you felt at the question. - "It's my father's best friend. Probably means he's around a million years old, married with kids. Get your head out of the gutter!" "Chill, your dad ain't even that old. I'm just sayin' he's handsome... "Anne, if you won't shut up..." "Fine, fine! Can I seriously drop by, though? Bet my ass your ma will go ham with the dinner. Love her cookin'..." "Of course you can, if you'd like. She'd enjoy having you around, bet she has a million questions for you."

"... And just in case the guy turns out to be a catch? Oh, don't give me that stare - older guys age like fine wine, girl, plus - age's just a number. Never say never - they know what they're doin', how to spoil you rotten, and how to treat a woman in the bedroom." "Good God... You'll kill me, I swear." "You love me, though." "Fuck off, Anne." - You grinned, shaking your head. - "Missed you so fuckin' much out there." "I know. I missed ya too."

Sticking to the plan for the night, Anne parked her car in front of her apartment building, showing you around the block - it was a nice, quiet neighborhood. You stuck to buses for the rest of the road. Honestly, you couldn't wait to get your hands on any cold beverage - whether a beer or super-sweet cocktail, didn't matter either way; you just wanted to pacify the dry sensation in your throat. The air was getting humid and heavy, indicating an incoming storm. Before you made it to the Rodeo Club, your hairstyle was frizzly, and your skin was sticky with sweat, even though you wore a minimal amount of clothes. During the final stretch around the block, Anne finally informed you about the theme for the night - classic hits. What era? Didn't really matter - one moment, Pitbull blasted over the dance floor, and right after that, you'd be listening to Bruce Springsteen. You were cool with that - even though British artists were fun and a good listen, you missed having classics blasting through stereos.

The Rodeo Club was packed on that particular Friday night. Inexplicably, you expected to see exclusively old folk hanging around, but you couldn't be more wrong. People were smoking outside, chatting in the humid night, and, on the other hand, there was also an insane amount of people hanging inside the club - the ages ranged from your juniors sipping on cocktails and chilled bottles of soda, through people in their 30s all the way to grandmas and grandpas rocking cowboy hats, ropers and vests with fringes. You could hear Timber blasting in the background, making you and Anne sway in the rhythm as you made your way towards the main entrance, dancing your asses off. You ended up waltzing in while committing to an awful rendition of the infamous two-step, looking absolutely comedic - the grandmas in fringed vests were giggling at you while you tried not to kick Anne's shin.

The club had great vibes - anyone could hang around, there wasn't any VIP section, and even though the main focus was the classic hits party, some ignored it completely. Sure, some were dancing while dancefloor lightning flickered in the rhythm, but others chilled in the lit-up lounge part, playing pool and table football. Some older gentlemen even played hold'em in the far back. You've never been to the Rodeo Club but you loved that place. Most European clubs you've visited felt designed for the upper-class and snobs. "And Sam called me a senior citizen for hanging out here." "She's just jealous. The kid doesn't have a clue where all the fun is." "That's what I've been saying! Wanna get something to drink and chat for a bit?" "My pleasure, Ms. Y/N." - The girl dramatically tipped her imaginary hat and offered her elbow, just in case.

You settled down at the tables outside the club, chatting about her life, your life, all the news and stuff you've been up to in the past few months while sipping on some beer. You even Facetimed your roomies over in London (these guys loved Anne), all of you vibing to Lynyrd Skynyrd while the club sang each word of Sweet Home Alabama. The commitment made you both cackle. As Anne smoked her last cig before going back in, she elbowed your side, having you squeak with pain as you kneaded the spot on your ribs. "The fuck?" "Stop bein' so extra." - She whispered, pulling out her phone to cover up for whatever she was about to drop. - "Two guys at 3 o'clock, 'round... Let's say thirty. One had been starin' at you the whole time they'd been outside."

The mission was clear. Check 'em out. Clearing your throat, you pushed a strand of hair behind your ear, pretending you were stretching, subtly checking the duo out. When your eyes fell on them, however, you almost choked on your beer. These weren't men - the two had to be demigods. The first guy, the designed smoker of the duo, was taking neat care of himself - well-kept, gelled black hair and neatly shaved face with a rascalous grin spoke volumes. Whatever his friend was talking about, he found it hysterical. The guy was definitely good-looking, a stunner (as Sam would dub him) - deep brown eyes, stunning facial features, and those lips? Was it even legal for him to walk about without a gun license for these bad boys? The jeans he was wearing were a fucking crime and did nothing for his bum - his ass was popping, begging to be palmed and slapped (teasingly, of course). His thighs were just the cherry on top.

This guy, however, wasn't the one burning a hole through you. Fuck, you thought as you checked out the other dude, hoping you wouldn't have a cardiac arrest right there and there.

There was something about him. Something you couldn't pinpoint. That something emptied out your brain and ran your mouth dry. You didn't find enough subtlety to check him out discreetly - instead, you simply stared back at him, captivated, mouth open agape - as if you hadn't met a single man until that day. He had to be complimented by your gaze because he nodded in your direction, attempting to hide the smirk growing on his face. The first thing you noticed was his smile - infectious and charming. His eyes screamed danger and pulled you in simultaneously - as if he wasn't good news but selfish enough to want you to stay. Short brown hair curling at its ends and a patchy beard (its crown jewel being a well-kept mustache) did wonders for him, especially when paired with that mischievous grin. Your eyes took in each detail you could notice in the poor lightning; his round jaw, forming wrinkles, strong neck spilling into his shoulders along with a wide chest, and popping thighs. You adored his body - rugged, broad shoulders, probably in good condition; the flannel tucked into his jeans left a lot to the imagination, but your imagination tended to get vivid. And the leather belt and worn-out jeans? You were ready to call an ambulance.

You couldn't remember the last time you'd been this captivated by someone. You truly enjoyed flirting, teasing, and longing underlying the conversation... But this was way more intense. Before Anne put you out of your misery, thousands of consecutive images flashed inside your head, putting this guy into different scenarios - in the bedroom or outside of it, you didn't really care.

"Stop drooling, Jesus." - Anne teased, picking herself off the bench and offering you her palm - which you accepted gladly. The second guy made your knees quake, making you feel unsteady. And then, just as expected, she fucked you over, leading you straight around the duo. The second guy was the first to raise his bottle in your direction, hooking his thumb behind the silver buckle on his belt. Even this subtle action made you breathe feverishly as you tried to stay calm.

"Evenin', ladies." - Both of them grunted in unison. Anne snickered as you raised your bottles to return the decency. You tried to look everywhere around them, trying to get yourself under control - that has proven impossible. The first guy offered Anne his palm, shaking it while kissing her cheek just as decorum preached. She repeated it without overthinking it, which meant the gentlemen stepped toward you in the next moment, repeating the gesture. Note to self, he smelled really nice. It was the other guy when the issues railed up from 11 to fucking 1000 - first, he patted Anne's shoulder and kissed her cheek, pointing out that he liked her shoes. It was just common decency, nothing else.

"Hi." - The man whispered as he stepped into your personal space, carefully placing his palm on your waist. You must've looked like a piece of trash (hot, sweaty from feeling hot and the musky night air), and yet, he hadn't looked away for even a second. His interest complimented you. "Hi." - You repeated, moving in first, delicately kissing his upper cheek - he smelled even better than his buddy, his upper arm firm under your fingers. You were clearly losing it, must've been - the sleep deprivation must've been kicking in. Your body shivered upon feeling his breath on your ear, his lips dwelling on your cheeks for longer than they should've... Maybe you weren't losing it just yet? "Nice to meet ya, cutie." - He muttered, stepping aside. "Right back at ya, cowboy."

"Well, not that the formalities are behind us - ya havin' fun, gentlemen?" "So far, so good." - The first guy joked, chuckling under his breath. - "Night's still young, though." - Whatever the subliminal message was, it made the second guy grin wickedly, nodding in approval. The second he winked at you, you mustered up the courage to wink back at him, giggling breathlessly.

"Well, don't mind us. We'll see ya around." "You could... Dance with us? If you'd like to?" - Anne looked at you, taken aback by the question - the second guy's eyes found instantly, his eyes hanging on your lips. Even though he did his best to hide the forced gulp, the reaction had you sucking your lower lip between your teeth. "Sorry to break it to you, but this grumpy ass named Joel doesn't really do dancin', dolly." - The first guy noted, having you scoff in surprise. - "If you'd have me, though, I'd love to."

Joel? The alarms started ringing. Could it be your dad's Joel? Bull-fucking-shit, you thought - the Millers just got back from a three-week-long cross-country. Your dad's Joel was probably wrapped in his sheets, enjoying heavenly silence - plus, as you said, you were steadfast about your dad's Joel being at least mid-forties - this guy couldn't be past his mid-thirties, just past them in the worst case.

"Don't trust this idiot. He's a horrible dancer. Would step on your feet 'the 'till your toes are broken." - Joel opposed, making the first guy hum in agreement. "At least I'm the funny and good-lookin' one." - Debatable, you assumed, letting your eyes drown in the sight of Joel. Highly debatable. "Stop lyin' to the ladies." "Am I lyin', now?" "Also, a nice way to introduce someone, lemme tell you that much. Grumpy ass? 's whatcha think of me?" - Joel hissed back at the other guy. It was meant as a joke, but Anne jumped into the conversation before the two could start arguing regardless.

"Wonder for how long the 'don't do dancin' lasts." - Anne retorted, winking in Joel's direction. - "That girl can bust moves you wouldn't dream of." "Anne!" "Am I lyin'?" "We... We gotta go. See you inside, hope you're keeping your word!" - Before Anne had time to complain, you were already dragging her inside, huffing at what she just said.

"What's gotten into you?" - She screamed over Shaggy's Angel, making you roll your eyes. Wasn't it fucking obvious? You meet the hottest guy you've laid your eyes on, and then she says 'Bust moves you wouldn't dream of'? What was wrong with her? "Why would say something like that? Are you mentally okay? Was that necessary?" "Hold your fuckin' horses for a minute." - Anne grinned, shaking her head. - "Haven't you noticed?" "Noticed what?" "That Joel guy imaging you in every fucking position there is? If you'd look up the definition of eye-fucking, Joel's photo would be there, right under it." - With that, she bobbed up to a barstool, moving her shoulders in the rhythm of Shakira's She Wolf. With a sweet smile, she signaled the bartender for another batch of beers. - "If you two won't end up hooking by the end of the night, I'm a clown, and you can call me that for the following year. Deal?" "Fucking bet. He's handsome and all, but I also know you're fucking delusional." "If you say so."

Thank you for reading! 🩷 Reblogs and comments are appreciated; in case you have any questions or scenarios you'd like to see, hmu in dms or under the post. 🩷 Have a nice day!

#dbf!joel #joel miller #joel miller tlou #tommy miller tlou #tommy miller #tommy and joel #dbf!joel brainrot too stong #i am going to hell for this #we'll get to some smutty smut smut in the next chapter i swear #i planned on putting it into this one but my dumbass likes *exposition* and *worldbuilding*#the next part will be worth i promise #no outbreak au #the horny is here tho #dbf!joel can get it any fucking time he'd like to #joel miller x afab!reader #dbf!joel x afab!reader

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