#chef joel miller

[penvisions]

garnish {chapter 3}

Pairing: Chef! Joel Miller x Bartender! Reader

Summary: Thoughts about Joel Miller have you desperate for something you hadn't sought out in quite a while: human touch. So when your friends suggest a girls' night out, you readily agree. It's just your luck that the very man plaguing your thoughts happens to be at the bar picked out for the night.

Word Count: 6.5k

Warning: alcohol consumption, drunken interactions, creepy flirthing, unwanted attention, fighting, bar fights, nonconsensual touching (not joel), protective joel, injuries, blood, degrading talk, power dynamics, abuse of power, restaurant lingo, triggers associated with the food industry, smoking, cigarettes, joel miller is a conflicted man, kissing, drunk makeout session

A/N: this story is literally keeping me from climbing the walls in my apartment, i've applied to over 20 jobs the last few days and made even more calls to see if places were hiring. the issue isn't finding something, it's finding something willing to pay me for my experience and skill set. but i found out a local coffee shop is opening a new location and i should be getting a call back with interview times for that today, they need cooks and bakers and i can definitely do that

ao3 || series masterlist || main masterlist

It was Wednesday, your normal day off for the week, but Joel had scheduled you two hours of prep, the shift reminder notification early that morning. It had woken you up, having allowed yourself to sleep in after the rather busy shift the night before. It had been a record-breaking sales day, the concert downtown only blocks away bringing increased foot traffic. It had been a week and a half since that terrible Sunday shift where you had finally given into hunger and had ordered food only to be told you had messed up. You had gone hungry that night, nothing in your kitchen at home.

You hadn’t spoken to Joel beyond confirming that dishes were ready to go out and helping to take updated pars out to the servers’ board for them to be aware of throughout services. Lists were left atop the sandwich prep station, and you completed it every shift you had before making your way toward the bar. They were in his writing, some things new with recipe page numbers for the guidebook stored on the expo line.

You had completed a few things on your list and were moving onto the next thing when his booming voice sounded from the walk in.

“Where are the rest of the yellow onions?”

Everyone in the kitchen looked over their stations, including you. The yellow onions you had chopped up for the red lentil soup were sitting in the pot you had atop a portable burner on the left side of your station. Cutting board beside it as you chopped the carrots that were to be added next.

“Whose used yellow onions today?” His brow was furrowed, lips downturned as he gazed around the kitchen. The three confirmations of ‘here, chef’ had him moving intimidatingly through the space, the first two seemed to come out of their interaction unscathed. But you felt like you weren’t about to be so lucky.

“When did you start the prep for these? They look nearly caramelized already.” He stirred the wooden spoon resting in the deep pot, getting a feel on the state of the onions cooking inside. You had stepped aside, hands behind your back as you let him inspect your station. He turned to watch as you answered, professional air about you as you briefly met his eyes with your own. You spoke in an even tone, worried about how he was going to react. He had already proven himself comfortable with cutting you off and denying you food that you had paid with your own money. And that was when you hadn’t actually done anything to warrant that type of reaction.

“I started this half an hour ago, gathered them from the walk in as I gathered everything else, chef.”

“Did you happen to notice that you grabbed the last ones? There are none in the box, left empty on the shelf. That you too? Don’t understand the way things work here, do ya?” He turned with a sharpie held tight between his fingers and he jutted it at the dray erase board beside the walk-in door where things low in stock were to be written down. “In case anyone is unclear on how this kitchen operates: things low in stock are to be written on that board there BEFORE we run out. Boxes or containers that are emptied while grabbing items are to be discarded or put into dish, not left on the shelf for the next person to find.”

“Yes, chef!” The chorus rang out evenly throughout the room.

He turned back to the portable burner and clicked it off, turning the nob off and the whoosh of gas going out was loud in the slight hum of busy work that the kitchen returned to once he had finished speaking.

“Why don’t you go clock yourself out.”

“Chef, there-“ You tried to talk to him, let him know that you had left nearly three pounds of onions left in the box. It wasn’t empty when you left the walk-in. You had been too wrapped up in your work to notice who else had gone in afterwards, though you wouldn’t have sold them out to begin with.

“Go. Clock out, now.”

“Yes, chef.” You wouldn’t raise your face to meet his look. Trying to keep your anger in check lest you give him a real reason to go off on you. Instead, you moved to grab your sharpie laid out over the recipe binder. The small field notes pad of paper beside it with the notations for a double batch written neatly on the page it was open to. Joel blocked your movement with a sidestep, his broad figure blocking your reaching hand.

“Now means now.”

“My-“

“Is now mine. Go.”

Your eyes flicked up and you tried your best not to pin him with the annoyance that was humming through your very blood. This man was nothing but a nuisance, you had only agreed to come into the kitchen because they were short staffed. But it was degrading work, to be around this man who deemed nearly everything below par and had extreme standards for the way things were to be done. The two instances of common decency he had offered you had to have been a fluke, maybe he had been extra tired and worn out those days, didn’t mean to let his guard down. Either way, you were quickly getting over the fluctuating temperatures of his attitude. At first it had been jarring, but you weren’t about to let it get to you any longer. You were determined to face it head on or dish it back out in what ways you could safely do so without risking your job.

You were lagging outside of the back door, standing with the bar back, whose name was Millie and a server who were both on break. You each had a cigarette in hand, swapping stories about the worst pick up lines that you had been approached with. You had removed your apron, it was folded carefully in your crossbody bag to be washed when you got home, simple black long sleeve Henley along with it. That left you in your black denim with that kitschy cute heart belt buckle and a dark green racerback. You had left your hair up in its normal fashion of low buns on either side of your head, short black beanie atop your head.

“You gotta admit,” Your laughter ringing through the air accompanied by the giggles of the two girls in front of you. “He was honest, what better way to start a conversation, though I could’ve done without the-“

All the laughter cut off as the backdoor opened and Joel appeared with a bag of trash. The two younger girls snubbed out their waning cigarettes and scurried inside, deeming breaktime over with his sudden arrival. You watched as Joel tossed the bag over the lip of the nearby dumpster before removing his gloves and tossed them in as well. He removed a pack of his own cigarettes from the breast pocket of his chef’s coat, and you could see the spiral wiring of your notebook peeking out over the top of it. His eyes took in the way your lips moved as you took a long drag from your own, bringing your phone out to ignore him.

The snick snick snick of his lighter resulted in a deep grunt, and you looked at him out of the corner of your eye. The cigarette he had pulled out was between his plush lips and his dead lighter was being pushed back into the pocket of his chef’s pants. When his eyes flicked to you, your attention snapped back to your phone. He cleared his throat, and you cocked an eyebrow up at the sound, turning to give him the barest hint of attention. He was leaning heavily against the side of the building, his hands stuffed in his pockets as he regarded you.

“Do you-

“Nope.” You took the last drag before snuffing out your own cigarette and tossed the butt into the pail beside the door. You started walking toward the parking lot, your truck beeping with a press of the control in your hand. The strap of your bag over your shoulder caught the man’s eye as you began to move away.

“You’re just gonna walk off from your shift?”

“Today’s my day off, chef.” You didn’t look back at him but could tell that your words had affected him.

“Shit, I-“ He straightened up and moved away from the wall, taking a step toward you, his hands coming out from his pockets to take the unlit cigarette from between his lips.

“Don’t worry about it. Now you don’t have to worry me using up all your inventory, right?” You pulled another cigarette out from the pack still in your hand along with your phone and brought a lighter out from your own front pocket. You took a long drag and blew the smoke in his direction over your shoulder, aware of his gaze on your back and you hopped into the cab of the truck.

The next day, everything that was on your prep list had been completed and the one for today had instructions on where to find the mise for each recipe. Everything was already prepared for you and were just combining and finishing the last few steps of each one.

“Hi there, what can I get started for you?” You placed a coaster down on the bar top before a glass of water, eyes coming up as you smiled at the new guest. Your smile faltered a little when the face of your biological evolution professor beamed back at you, but you didn’t let your surprise show other than that.

“I heard a rumor that the bartender here made the best whisky drinks. Here to test out that theory.” His voice was smooth, something you had often spoken aloud to your friends that made the class lectures rather easy. His baritone deep and the ways in which he spoke with such passion and interest in his material was an added bonus to understanding the class subject matter than most.

“Let’s get to testin’, what your preferred whiskey?” You busied yourself making the drinks that had been rung up the last couple of minutes, the man having sat to the side of the well in the last seat along the right side of the bar.

“I’m a Bullet man, myself. But I’m up for whatever you think is best.”

“Oh, well, of course the one I think is best is our top shelf.” You tossed the man a playful smirk, aware that it was a possible line being crossed. But neither of you were on campus, you were at work, and he was one of your bar guests. His laugh was beautiful as he knocked his head back, the line of his throat catching shadows from the strong lights over the bar.

“I actually prefer Woodford, it’s not too expensive but its leagues above some of the stuff on the shelves like Evan Williams.”

He was funny, quick-witted. Matching your jokes as fast as he could. Bringing up documentaries he had recently seen.

“No, but like that’s the thing! There’s been no discovery of this caliber ever before, its unprecedented in nearly every aspect.” You were making a round of lemon drops for a group of girls on the other end of the bar, loading up the shaker and then securing the smaller component over it before lifting your hand and shaking it. As you did so, you reached over to grab the coup glasses you would need for the pour. A figure appeared at the well, taller than the servers and barback, who had gone on break a few minutes ago.

You glanced over at Joel, the man had his hands atop the plastic mats, eyes taking in the organized garnish container and the jars of small straws and picks for the servers to complete their drinks. You nodded at him to let him know you saw him and would be with him as soon as possible before you held the shaker tight in one hand and used the heel of your palm to knock the smaller part loose. Your hand was steady as you parted the two components enough to strain the bright pink liquid from the ice, not looking up from it.

“To actually have fossil evidence of not just any Hominid species, but of a newly discovered hominid species, with a crafted tool in their fuckin’ hand! Like, I got chills, and I was pretty sure my attention was plastered to the screen. Didn’t even touch the food I made that night. I immediately started just taking notes throughout the whole thing.”

“To be fair, it was just as intriguing to find out that the child’s body had been in the cavern wall, not even properly buried like the rest of the bodies in the Dinaledi chamber.”

“Oh my gosh, I know! That opens a whole plethora of questions about what that child was even doing, was he the one carving those symbols into the wall, was he alone- hold on one moment.” You moved over to the other side of the bar, two coup glasses cradled carefully in each hand, and you took the four of them over to the girls who had been watching you make them. They were all bright smiles and excited giggles as you told them you used Meyer lemons for a sweeter drink and added a bit of cherry juice for the color.

“She’s a busy one, guests seem to love her.” Your professor smiled over at Joel, who was watching you flit around behind the bar much like he had been admiring all night. Joel’s eyes snapped to the man beside him and he just nodded, crossing his arms over his chest.

“She knows what she’s doing.”

“Not much of a talker in class, but her papers are beyond wonders. The way her mind makes connections is amazing. And the way she uses her words so carefully, so eloquently.”

“You go to school with her?” Joel questioned, mind going over the small interactions he’s had with you recently. You tended to stutter over your words around him, as if you were hesitant to speak in the first place. He didn’t like the comparison, now, seeing you in your element and recalling the way you had always been professional around him. But this, you behind the bar and completely enthralling as you entertained so many people and mixed drinks like it was second nature. Firing back jokes and conversation as if it was the easiest thing in the world. Your laughter ringing through the space of the dining room. He felt the pull of a frown, not liking the shift he was causing in you lately.

“Oh no, school is way behind me. I’m her professor.” The grunt Joel made seemed to display his trepidation at the revelation and the man was quick to jump into defense mode. “It’s not what it looks like, she’s at work and I’m just here on a friend’s word that it’s a good place. Didn’t even know she was here until I sat down.”

“Sure.” Joel said in a tone that said he didn’t buy a word the man was saying.

You were back with them by the well, professional smile in place as you addressed Joel. You were busy tucking a receipt and some bills of money into your server’s book, secured underneath the counter and atop a cooler beside the drink station.

“Yes, chef?”

“Bourbon for the steak sauce. And whatever amber you have on tap.” He tried to muster up the courage to lighten up his face from a frown, but the way your eyes flashed away from him told him it didn’t work.

“Heard, chef.”

You busied yourself with retrieving the bottle of bourbon he had asked you to tack onto your order. He hadn’t wanted to deal with the liquor vendors himself and sure you would find a better deal than him anyway.

“It’s gonna be a 6.7 percent amber, it’s smooth and the notes of pecan to cut the malt. Only one I have on tap at the moment, that okay?” You talked over your shoulder, picking up on the waves and attention from the other patrons of the bar top, reaching to get more than the one glass needed for just Joel’s request. You poured two blondes, an IPA, and a stout and placing them in front of those who had been nursing them all night before going to pull the tap for the amber. It poured for maybe two seconds before it sputtered and compressed air forced itself out of the spicket.

“I told Millie to change out the keg last night, I’m sorry, chef. It’s gonna take me a minute before I can step away and replace it.” Your brows were furrowed in a worried expression, not wanting this to be something he used against you. You were really hoping to get something to go later, needing to finish a paper that was due tomorrow before class. He must’ve clocked the rising panic in your eyes because he squared his shoulders before shoving off the drink station.

“I gotcha, which label am I looking for?”

“Oh, um, Riverbank Red.”

“Heard.” He turned to move toward the small walk-in just behind the bar, the heavy door opening easily underneath his hands. You could hear him rustling around inside, the hiss of him removing the empty keg and then the clunk of him placing the new one in its place. The two knocks on the wall alerted you that it was all set and you pulled the tap, compressed air working its way through the hook up before foam began to stream. Letting it run for a few seconds, you turned around and grabbed a fresh pint glass for Joel’s drink. You used the previous one and filled it, cutting off the tap and took a long pull from it.

When you lowered the glass after your drink, you found two pairs of eyes on you. You looked between your professor and Joel, both on each side of the corner of the bar. Some of the foam from the outside of the glass when the tap died out had run down your chin and settled on your chest. The cut of your shirt was a little low, your simple, silver chain necklace catching the soft glow of the bar lights much like the foam.

You avoided meeting either of their gazes as you poured a second pint for Joel and walked it over. Before you could place it atop the drink station beside the bottle of bourbon already waiting, he reached out for it and his thick fingers brushed yours. His beautiful, brown eyes flashed down and caught yours, full of something you didn’t recognize, prompting you to pull your hand away as you struggled to catch your breath.

His teeth clicked with the clenching of his jaw, his hands tightening around items he came over for and he turned to make his way back to the kitchen.

“He’s not much of a charmer, is he?”

“He just has an asshole voice, don’t mind him.” With a somewhat fake smile plastered on your face, you turned back to your professor and started making him another drink as more rang through the printer. “Now, what were the most concrete dates we had archived for allusions to tool use?”

The alcohol in your system was washing your stress and anxieties away. Moving your body along to the song that was bumping from the speakers of the bar that held a small dance floor. Your friends’ bodies were moving alongside you, along with you, tangling with your own in a heady and exciting way. It was such a relief to not have any worries at the moment, only blipping thoughts of ‘oooh this is a good song’ and ‘another drink, yes please’.

You were taking a break, downing a glass of water and ordering a round of shots for everyone. There were five of you altogether and they huddled around you as you passed one to each of them, smiling widely at the bartender across from you. He just chuckled with a shake of his head and moved on down the bar to help out two waiting men. If you had been paying attention, you would’ve recognized one in a particular. But you were too preoccupied with the rather loud cheers the girls were trying to agree on before someone finally just shouted, ‘drink up, bitches!’ and you were downing the shot along with them.

The burn of it down your throat was anticipated and you gathered the empty glasses from them while they sputtered and coughed, not able to handle it as well as they normally could with already being more than tipsy. You were leaning over the bar a little, on your tip toes to place them atop the washer on the plastic pad you knew the bartender liked to gather used cups before loading them up.

A large hand found the exposed small of your back, your crop tank top allowing for the skin to be on display. It was dangerously close to the waist of your skirt, and you jerked back with a start, face contorting into one of anger.  

“Hey, who the fuck do you think you are?” You settled back on your heels, the height of them making you a little taller than normal. Your eyes swept over the crowd around the bar and found that your friends had returned to the dance floor, leaving you to deal with this on your own. Not that you couldn’t, but it would’ve been nice to have a witness. The man in question was rather tall, blonde, nice suit, but his forwardness left little to be desired.

“Just helpin’ to hold ya steady, looked like you were about to flip over the bar, little lady.”

“Keep your hands to yourself.”

“Didn’t mean to offend-“

“Yeah, well, ya did. Don’t fuckin’ touch me, got it?”

“C’mon now. You were gettin’ all close and personal with your friends, maybe I wanted a feel for myself.”

The man stepped closer to you, and you could smell the alcohol on his breath, cheap and cloying as it wafter over into your personal space. His hands were coming up as if he were going to wrap them around your hips and pull you to him. His eyes were raking slowly up and down your body, taking in the short skirt and crop tank top you had deemed appropriate for the night. The cleavage peeking out of the top of your shirt glistening with the glitter body spray you had used before leaving your apartment.

“Leave me the fuck alone.” You spat, stepping away from the man only to collide with another’s back who had been passing by.

“Watch where-“ Joel of all people turned around, a scowl on his face. You felt like a deer caught in headlights, totally caught off guard that your boss was here in the same bar. The beer in his grip had sloshed over his fingers when you slammed into him and it was dripping to the already sticky floor. There was another man beside him, similar height and build. He had the same brown eyes and you realized they must be related.

Joel’s eyes took in the slightly panicked air about you, gaze moving behind you to see the man you had been fleeing from in such a haste.

“He touch you?”

“Don’t know if that’s any of your business, old man.” The man stepped forward and hooked a finger on the strap of your crossbody, pulling you backwards and you stumbled at the bold move. “We’re just two friends having an intimate-“

You maneuvered your stumble into a pivot and raised your clenched fist to deck the guy across the face, cutting off his words. You felt the crack of his nose beneath your knuckles, the action splitting two of them open. There was a gasp and a bark of laughter from behind you.

“I said, don’t fuckin’ touch me.” You sneered, anger lighting you up from the inside out. You didn’t pay the dull ache of your new injury any mind as you brought your arm back closer to your body, but you did flinch when the man’s hands shot out and his nails scratched along your neck where he had tried to grab you.

Joel was moving with a grunt of effort before you could fully register that the man had lunged at you.

Body slamming into his and pinning him face down against the bar with a hand tight on the back of his neck. His forehead had cracked against it, and he had shouted out weakly at the pain the action must’ve caused. His arms were twisted behind up, Joel’s right one holding them tight by the wrists. As he did so, the man with Joel had pulled you away from the confrontation, hands far more gentle with you than the man now pinned to the bar.

“You okay?” Joel looked back at you, his eyes hard and his expression schooled into one of control despite the way he had just cracked that man’s head on the top of the bar. When you didn’t answer, he looked to the man who had pulled you further out of harms way. “Tommy, she okay?”

There was no time to answer him, the bartender was out from behind the bar in a second, security that checked identification alongside him and they were forcefully guiding the man toward the door. He was putting up a rather good effort, but the two men were stronger than him. He turned with one last look over his shoulder and spat at you. The spray of it startled you and the tears that formed were angry, wet, ugly things.

Suddenly, the girls were swarming you, all talking at the same time and guiding you toward the bathroom to help get you somewhere safe to gather yourself. You let them guide you away from Joel and what you assumed was his brother, not glancing over at them lest they see more of the tears than they already had.

The bathroom muffled the booming music enough to hear your own thoughts, the lights a little brighter to help you process what had just happened. The girls were dabbing wet paper towels underneath your eyes to wipe your smeared makeup, to sooth the scratch marks on your throat. They plopped you down on one of the chairs off in the corner, removing your bag from around your body and just allowed you to take however long a moment you needed. Someone fetched a bottle of water from somewhere and you gulped down half of it without taking a breath. Your hands were shaking and you lifted your hand up to inspect the damage on your knuckles.

Someone gasped and it startled you, making you jump in your seat and then the bartender was there with a first aid kit.

“Me’n my boyfriend kicked him out, some cops were walking down the way and he taken to the station.”

He said as he kneeled in front of you, tearing open a package of sterile gauze. He dabbed some disinfectant on it before gently taking your hand and patting it across the top of your hand.

You found yourself back up at the bar, seated in a stool with your bag laid over the back of it. Your friends had checked on you again and pouted at your insistence of not going to another place with them. They wished you a good rest of the night and told you to check in with them when you got home, you returned their kind words.

You downed the last dregs of your cocktail, a vodka something, and gathered your keys from your purse.

Heels heavy, you stumbled over your own feet as your head swam and the lights of the bar flared. You reached out for the back of the stool but ended up grabbing onto a man’s arm. It was warm and strong and white-hot desire raced down your spine at the contact. Bringing your face up to apologize, it was lost in your throat as you realized it was none other than Joel Miller you were holding onto. You stepped back, turning from him to properly retrieve your bag this time.

“You’re not the boss of me here, lemme go.” You struggled against the hold he had on your upper arm, where he had turned you to face him. He seemed to realize you were uncomfortable and he dropped his hand, allowing you to turn back to face the bar. Jerry looked from your annoyed expression to the man behind you, taking in the situation and trying to determine how best to deal with it.

“Hey, man, good on you and your brother for helping us get that guy earlier, but I don’t think she likes the attention.”

“She’s drunk, you really gonna let her leave alone?”

“She comes here a lot, knows her limits and she’s got me to look out after her.”

“She’s drunker ‘n you think.”

“I am not.”

“Darlin-“

“I am not your anything, Mr. Miller.” You turned back on him with such a glare he was surprised you could hold the look in your state. He could see the way your head was lolling with every turn, your movements loose and uncoordinated. “This is a public space, I am not your prep cook and you are not my boss. You can’t lord over me and refuse me food here like at work. And I want…I want French fries.”

You stumbled as you turned around to face him again with heat behind your words. Eyes flaring in anger as he tried to reach for you again. Your body sung where one of his arms wrapped around the small of your back, helping you to keep upright as your balance faltered. The heels weren’t helping. You wished you had just stayed home, the sting of being ditched by your friends, the sting of his treatment at work and the workload of your classes, all of it was a lot and tonight was supposed to help you get out of your head, not make things worse.

“You-“ You swayed on your feet, leaning back from him slightly. The length of his forearm supporting you as you did so and stabbed a finger into his chest to emphasize your next words. Ignoring the way that his chest was firm and hot through the fabric of his shirt, he would probably have chest hair and it would be as peppered as his scruff… “You’re mean.”

His brother was doing his best to smother his laughter behind a hand, but you could hear it and you pouted even more.

“Your little brother is laughing at me and you’re a meanie.” You shoved away from him again, the warmth of his arm gone from your back as you turned around to retrieve your bag from the back of your stool. “I’m leaving.”

“The hell you are, you can’t walk, let alone drive.”

“Don’t need help. I’ve been on my own for as long as I can remember.”

“Sweetheart, you-“ Tommy tried to step in, hoping that maybe he could help out the situation. It was clear they were both worried but you were just being so stubborn. Jerry was right, you didn’t like the attention, you didn’t like getting felt up and your boss had been there to witness the aftermath. That he was still there and seeing you in such a way.

“I’m not your sweetheart.” Your voice held more bite than you thought you were capable of in your current state. Tommy stepped back with his hands held up in surrender. His brows furrowed as he shared a look with his brother.

“Lemme call you a cab, please.”

“No, I don’t need anything from you. You made it clear how you feel about me, barking at me all day when I’m helping you with your kitchen because the staff don’t wanna show up and deal with you.”

“Oof, that’s a hard hit, brother.” Tommy reached over to help you drape your purse strap over your shoulder, the crossbody secure over your form and he stepped away as you pushed at his hands much like you had done with Joel. “You really did a number on her.”

“Lemme just, please, lemme take you home. Need to make sure you get home okay.” His voice was pitched quiet, leaning a little into your space with an open expression. His hands were at his sides, not reaching out to touch you again, his fists clenched at his sides. Your eyes lingered on the way his mouth formed around the words and you swallowed the harsh ones you were about to fire back at him. All you could manage was a small nod.

That’s how you found yourself in the passenger side of his own truck, waiting in a short line of a drive through.

Once your fries, and some for him too, had been passed through the window, he was following the spoken instructions to your house. Watching the way you watched things pass by the window as you munched on the salty treat in your lap out of the corner of his eye. The dried blood on your split knuckles making his stomach lurch as he thought of that man putting his hands on you and the look on your face when you tried to flee. The look on your face when you had run into him, eyes wide and panicked.

You had calmed down, now in a lazy mood after the adrenaline packed events of the night.

“You do know what you’re doin’, just don’t think I’ve ever said it out loud ‘fore now.”

“Hmm?” You rolled your head along the back of the seat to face him, bringing a fry up to the seal of your mouth as you did so. He had to look away from the sight, your entire body and demeanor relaxed. Your expression was so open and curious, eyes soft as you looked over at him. Containing none of the animosity and worry he seemed to pull from you at work as you looked him over. He was in a pair of dark wash jeans that his thighs looked good in as he drove, a simple white Henley for a shirt. It allowed for the tan of his skin to pop, the grays that speckled his hair looking good in the lights of passing cars and lamps.

“You-uh-you, nevermind.” Joel’s deep voice wavered before he cut off, not being able to handle the earnest gaze you had pinned him with, his hands tightened on the steering wheel.

“Mkay, whatever you say.” You turned back to look out with window, letting him know that your complex was around the corner.

He parked along the curb beside the gate that opened up into the parking lot. Watching him as he hopped out of the cab and toward your side of the vehicle, his expression hard to read. He was opening the door and leaning into the can to undo your seatbelt. Not wanting to risk you trying to do it and spill your fries, knowing you would probably tear up at the mishap should it occur. He said as much under his breath when you asked him what he was doing and you couldn’t help the giggles that bubbled up from your chest as you agreed with him, it would be tragic.

Once unbuckled, he reached for the fries in your hand and put them back in the bag they came in, tucking it into your purse that was still across your body.

“Will you let me help you step down?”

At your nod, his hands came around your waist, the wideness of them allowing his fingers to span across your back in a tantalizing way. He lifted you a little, holding most of your weight as you hopped down from the cab. His arms tensed around you as you felt yourself wobble, forgetting you were in heels for the entirety of the drive. Another round of giggles bubbled up and you found yourself leaning more into Joel’s space. His body was warm where you were pressed up against his front, the scent of cedar stronger tonight than it had been all those nights ago when he insisted on making you food to take home.

“I wish you liked me.” You spoke quietly into his neck, lips brushing against the skin there as you did so.

You felt his fingers twitch where they held onto you before you were pulled back a little so he could look down at you.

“Darlin’, I do like you, that’s the problem.”

“Doesn’t have to be.” You wrapped your arms around the back of his neck, pulling yourself closer to him.

“You’re not in the right state to be talkin’ about this right no-“

Surging up, you smothered the words from his lips with your own. His arms tightened around you, pulling you flush against him as he kissed you back. As if he was unable to stop himself despite the words he had just been ushering. It was all teeth and tongue, sparking heat that pooled low in your middle. A whimper sounded in the air, Joel swallowing it as he licked into your mouth. Your nails dug into the curls at the base of his neck and you pulled.

A deep groan rumbled through his chest and you pulled away to catch your breath, looking at the face of the man who had been consuming your thoughts for weeks now.

He looked back at you, took in the way your eyes were blown out and dilated, the puffiness of your swollen lips, the quick breaths you were taking to recover from his mouth on yours, the heat that he was causing was all consuming and you knew that he could feel through your skin underneath his hands. He was swooping back down to capture your lips, his hands moving up to cradle your face in his hands as he did so and you melted at the action.

Consciousness hit you like a jolt and you were shooting up from your bed. The covers fell from you to pool around your waist, and you looked around the room, nothing looked out of place but something felt off, so incredibly off. Your bag was on the bedside table, an empty greasy bag crumpled beside it and your lips were tingling with the memory of pressing them against someone else’s.

“Oh, fuck.”

You had drunkenly kissed your boss.

And he had kissed you back.

previous chapter || next chapter

#dev writes #fic: garnish #the last of us #the last of us au #tlou #tlou fic #tlou fanfic #tlou au #restaurant au #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #chef joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #food industry #restaurant lingo #chef! joel x bartender! reader #joel is still a meanie #tommy miller #line cook joel miller #joel miller's hands #ao3 #ao3 link #ao3 fic #archive of our own #secret relationship #work dynamics

[fanficbarbie]

❝sweetest pie❞

posting on weekends, other joel fics

─⋆♡ summary: Gordon Ramsey has nothing on Joel Miller. The owner and head chef of a Michelin Star-worthy restaurant couldn't have predicted anyone would give him a bad review. But, the baker who hates his food saw a perfect opportunity to bring him down a notch.

─⋆♡ main tropes: Pre-outbreak!Joel Miller x Fem!Reader, Chef!Joel x Baker! Original Character, Chef x Baker, Grumpy x Sunshine, Joel x Black FMC

─⋆♡ series warnings: smut, fluff, angst, 18+ black!writer, language, mentions of death of parents, fighting, alcohol, physical descriptors (brief), rip sarah, characters affected by symptoms of anxiety or depression.

Faceclaims ෆ Spotify Playlist.

Tracklist:

prelude I II III IV V VI

VII - coming soon VIII IX X

Singles:

Joel and Imogen's first date - between III and IV

some of my characters are clearly affected by symptoms of anxiety and/or depression. because i want y'all to be healthy and take care of yourselves while reading, here are some resources

take care of yourselves, plz. xoxo, liv ⋆˙ᵕ˙

#joel smut #joel fanfic #joel tlou #joel miller #joel miller x oc #joel fluff #joel fic #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #sweetest pie barbieliv #Spotify #joel miller fluff #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #chef! joel #chef joel miller #chef x baker #pedro pascal x ofc #joel x ellie #pedro pascal x oc #joel miller au #joel miller fanfic #joel miller series #joel miller x black oc #joel x black oc #joel x oc #joel x black! fmc

[joeldidnothingwrong]

bad dreams?

#cmere baby #u want some chef boyardee #joel miller #the last of us #pedro pascal #my gifs

[kaptainandy]

she essentially just "babygirled” him 😭😭😭

#the tone and everything and his reaction hhhhh #bruh this whole episode tho #*chef's kiss" #tlou #the last of us #tlou hbo #the last of us hbo #joel miller #ellie williams #pedro pascal #bella ramsey

[veryberryjelly]

yo yo

so i've lost a bit of inspiration lately due to some mental health issues, but i love writing, so i am trying my best to get that inspo back.

to do this i have accumulated 34 lyric prompts and randomly assigned them to my 34 favourite characters to write for.

and y'all get to decide which you want to see first.

either comment/send in a number or character and i'll post that fic !

prompt playlist

all these fics will be under the tag #*ੈ⸝⸝🦢⋆𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐣𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐩𝐭 so you can see which fics i’ve written !!

#*ੈ⸝⸝🦢⋆𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐣𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐩𝐭 #felix catton x reader #pansy parkinson x reader #james potter x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #jason todd x reader #wednesday addams x reader #tara carpenter x reader #remus lupin x reader #evan buckley x reader #marlene mckinnon x reader #jamie tartt x reader #jj maybank x reader #lucy gray baird x reader #nick miller x reader #leighton murray x reader #chef luca x reader #luca x reader #joel miller x reader #mattheo riddle x reader #sarah cameron x reader #eddie diaz x reader #eddie munson x reader #spencer reid x reader #coriolanus snow x reader #luke castellan x reader #steve harrington x reader #finnick odair x reader #jake peralta x reader #peter parker x reader

[prolix-yuy]

Writers' Iron Chef #13: Lovesick

[PROMPT] Patching up a wound

[ADDITIONAL PROMPT] “Why would you put yourself through something like that?”

[TIME LIMIT] Optional, 10 minutes prep. time 30 minutes writing time Optional, 10 minutes editing time

Pairing: Joel Miller x GN!Reader

Rating: M, descriptions of wound care and blood, allusions to dubcon due to drinking and drug use. While this story is not explicit, my blog and the content shared on it is 18+ so MINORS DNI.

Summary: You've been greedy for Joel for too long.

Notes: Written for Writers’ Iron Chef Prompt 13

I've had a Joel story idea bouncing around in my head for several months now, but it's not much more than disconnected scenes and a vibe, you know? I decided to try and exorcise a part with this prompt. This was imspired by a scene in the movie Foe with Saoirse Ronan and Paul Mescal (which was excellent, btw) that got the creative juices flowing.

Thanks to @writersironchef for always giving the best prompts!

The blood that runs into the sink isn’t yours, but it is Joel Miller’s and that’s hardly better.

Laying the needle and scissors beside the sink, you dry your hands on a towel that doesn’t make you feel much cleaner. There’s probably still blood under your nails, half moons of frenzied memories you can look back on when you’re in bed tonight.

“Joel, what the fuck?”

“I need…”

He didn’t have to say much more, and your stomach sours for it. Joel could say he needed you to balance on the edge of a razor and you’d do it just for the fact that he needed you. Pitiful, lovesick, desperate you.

He’d shredded his back coming back into the QZ scrambling away from patrol lights. Tess split off from him, trades to be made and deals best done without her loyal attack dog. So he’d stumbled back to his apartment, stopping just long enough to knock at yours across the hall.

“Jesus Christ, how did you fuck yourself up this badly?”

“FEDRA’s patrolling our usual spots, think they’re onto us…fuck!”

You salved his wounds with apologies as you cleaned grit from long scrapes and worried at the beads of blood that melted across your fingers. The worst was a gash you had to close, infection too present a worry. Hardening your gut, you tried to disassociate how much like sewing leather it felt. Joel bit down on his belt and stuffed his face in a pillow, but fists still slammed on walls around you at his ruckus. 

“I’m done, I’m done, it’s finished.”

“Jesus ‘n Mary, there ain’t much left for you to piece back together at this rate.”

Walking back to the bed, he’s disheveled but alive. He asks for booze, which you find in a high cabinet. He asks for pills, reluctantly revealed to live in a false drawer bottom. You don’t have to say he can trust you with these secrets. Vices were too expensive for you most days. Once he downs both he lays back, injury padded with the cleanest cloths you could find. His breathing hitches, pants in pain, then slows as the drugs and drink take effect. 

And then it’s just you, sitting next to your neighbor as his body releases. 

You should go. Tess would be back any time now and you didn’t want her to see your longing. There are whispers about if Joel is hers, and while you know they belong to each other in a way drenched in darkness, you’ve never been sure if the claim is on their hearts as well. It’s just vague enough of a partnership that when Joel has a good day and shares an extra ration card, your heart flutters. 

But it’s too dangerous. He’s too dangerous, the both of them. You can’t get mixed up in whatever they have going on. Why would you put yourself through something like that?

It’s not the first time he’s come home bloodied, and not the first time you’ve pulled him back together. There’s trust there, but also foolish hope that life could march on and a man could desire you again. Maybe even care for you enough to break teeth and bones. 

A brush against your arm turns you back to Joel, eyes half-lidded but trained hazily on you. One large hand skims over your shoulder, down your arm and lands heavily in your lap. 

“Joel?” you ask, looking down at his thick fingers splayed across your thighs. He hums, low and rumbly as his lips part. 

He’s surely too far gone to know you’re even here. It would be best to slip out unnoticed, talk to Tess tomorrow about checking his injury for infection. 

But you don’t. You’re frozen as the calloused skin of his thumb catches on the worn fibers of your jeans. It’s a caress you haven’t known for years. 

He doesn’t know it’s you.

“Joel,” you say again, and enough courage bolsters you to slide your hand into his palm, the other circling his wrist. He’s so warm, thick-skinned against your fingers. You start to lift from the bed, intending to place his hand where you sat, when it makes a drunken path to cup your chin. Pressure against your jaw turns your face to him spread out on the bed beside you. His chest is bare, light perspiration beading along the cut of his collarbone. He licks his lips slowly, the slip of tongue drawing an ache up from the deepest well. 

“Hey there,” he drawls, and god, you could shatter from it. Tears build in your eyes but you can’t move, his hands drawing you down to him. 

“Joel, it’s…I’m not…” you choke out. It’s a final defense. He’ll hate you tomorrow, but you’ll have said something. His lip quirks, not quite a smile. 

“I know,” he husks before leading your lips to meet his.

You’re not sure he does, but you’re too greedy to say more.

END

#lissie’s writers’ iron chef #writers’ iron chef 13 #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x gn!reader #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fic #prolix fics

[sempersirens]

yes, chef

part two

read part one here | original request

summary: navigating work and home with joel was tough but sweet, with you both learning to manage in your own little ways

pairing: no-outbreak, chef!joel x f!reader

content/warnings: 18+, mdni. slow-burn smut, tenderness, pining, angst

a/n: you ask and you shall receive. you guys know i'm a slut for a spotify playlist, and this is what i imagine reader and joel listening to while they cook together. i took inspiration for this chapter from @spookyanamurdock's comment on the previous chapter because i loved her ideas so much.

There was no such thing as a quiet shift at the restaurant. Whether it was the clatter of pots and pans, expletives darting across the room, or the unrelenting tick of the ticket machine rolling off order after order. It was exhilarating. The constant loudness quietened every decibel of noise in your mind; no matter what was happening outside of work, you could count on the pressure of controlled creativity to drown it out. Family drama, heartbreak, grief - it all slipped away as soon as you slipped your uniform on and heard the first shout of fuck! blaring across the room.

It should've been impossible for your heart to race any faster than it already did. But there it was. So subtle, unnoticed by all except you. His fingers brushing against yours when he would snatch the knife out of your hands, loudly berating you for dicing the onions too damn big. Your eyes would catch for just a moment, but it was enough. You were obsessed, infatuated.

Not only with the feel of his rough skin against yours, or the intoxication of his scent but with the secrecy too. Something stirred inside of you every time you would pass him, knowing he could still taste you on his tongue, your perfume lingering in his nose. At any moment to yourself, you would squeeze your eyes shut and remember the feeling of his hands on you. Grabbing for god knows what, the thrill of it all, taking any inch of your skin in his grasp that he possibly could. Devouring you in the knowledge he would have to wait hours until he could have you like this again.

Working beside him drove you insane. You constantly toyed between accidentally slicing a carving knife through your pinky just to feel his touch on you, or being a good girl for him, knowing you would relish in his praise later that night.

You didn't know how no-one else could feel the spark between you both. It consumed your entire being, only ever finding sweet release pressed up against the shelves of the supply closet. You managed to keep your meetings secret. Sometimes they felt concealed even between the two of you, never wanting to brave the question of what you even were in fear of it all dissipating beneath your fingers.

Most mornings began with your bare feet padding across his kitchen floor. He always woke before you, the smell of coffee coaxing you from his sheets. You felt feral. You were drunk on the sheer scent of him like an animal searching for its first meal after hibernation.

What had begun as lust had turned into something almost ugly, you didn't want to acknowledge the person you had become. Desperate for his affection, his praise, him. Each touch, kiss, and clash of your hips, felt like a nicotine rush surging straight to your head. You were addicted.

"So fuckin' needy for me baby, ain't ya?" He would laugh into your hair, whether he had you pinned against the bathroom door or tucked softly between his torso and bed sheets.

In the kitchen, you would find yourself subconsciously gravitating toward him.

"Back to your fuckin' station." He'd growl, loud enough for the others to hear.

"Yes, chef. Sorry, chef."

Later, tangled in his bed, he would coo "you gotta stop doin' that, baby. People are gonna start noticing."

"Maybe I want them to. I want them to all know I'm yours." Fingers in his hair, his teeth gently sinking into your shoulder. Yes, you would think, mark me, brand me yours.

"You're too good for that, baby. You gotta make a name for yourself."

"I know, I know." You'd whine. He was right, and you knew it. You didn't want to be known as Joel Miller's girl. It was a cut-throat, misogynistic business as it was, you had to have your own exposure, not be known as the poissonier chef fucking her head-chef.

The restaurant was always closed on a Sunday. Saturday nights rolled into Sunday mornings so sweetly. Peeling each other's garlic-scented clothes off, a smell only you could find satisfying. In those long-awaited moments alone, the collision of your bodies was ravenous. You were ruthless in the greediness of taking everything from one another.

Those Sundays would flow like honey, sickly sweet, slowly sticking to every inch of you. You savoured every moment alone with him. At around 7 pm, you would begin prepping dinner together. Experimenting with love, trust, and maybe a new recipe you had found in an Ottolenghi cookbook. In his kitchen, you bounced off one another. Otis Redding flooded the background, mangled with the sharpness of metal cutting into the chopping board.

"Did you get the parsley from the market?" You shouted, rifling through his cupboards.

"Still in the bag, on the table."

Tonight, you were making a pumpkin and cinnamon oxtail stew. The oxtail had been slow-cooking all afternoon, filling his small apartment with a warm, hearty smell. You chopped the parsley, lemon, and garlic for the gremolata, while Joel decanted the mixture of tomatoes, thyme, and rosemary into an oven dish.

"Smells so good, baby." He kissed your cheek, hands around your waist. "I'll set the table. Want a glass of red?"

In moments like this, maybe you didn't need the world to know Joel was yours and you were his. His kitchen was your utopia, and you would happily live out the rest of your days bathing in the smell of simmering vegetables and his cologne.

taglist: @cool-iguana @skysmiller @lhymer1995 @brittmb115 @moonlightdivine @reallyidontcare @nana90azevedo @spookyanamurdock @lovely-ateez

#joel miller x f!reader #my fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel tlou #the last of us #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #yes chef #dee writes #pedrohub #pedro pascal fanfic #pedrostories #joel miller #the last of us hbo #tlou hbo #chef!joel

[apolloskazoo]

ELLIE & JOEL HEADCANONS PART 2

Here’s the part 2 you people (me) have been asking for. Once again 1k words because I cannot control myself

• When Ellie is looking a little down or bored and Joel isn’t right beside her, he’ll make a silly little face at her from across the room to get her to laugh a little. She always makes one back to get him to laugh, too. They can make each other laugh from literally across the room with one single look. 

• Joel keeps everything Ellie makes. Drawings, school assignments, anything and everything he can get his hands on. He has stacks of papers and other things Ellie has made just lying in his drawer or pinned up on the fridge. Ellie always talks about how lame it is, and how they’re not even good, and blah blah blah, but Joel just snatches that paper right out of her hands and pins it up on the wall because he LOVES HIS DAUGHTER. 

• One time Ellie got a cut, and while Joel was patching it up he jokingly said, “want me to kiss it better?” Ellie doesn’t understand what that even means and Joel has to explain. Now whenever she gets a cut she forces him to kiss it better because 1) it’s funny 2) to make fun of him when he said it the first time and 3) maybe she wants a Joel kiss, is that so much to ask for?

• In Jackson, Ellie learns that hardwood floors and socks can create a Very Fun Activity (sliding around a room in bare socks) and Joel has a near death heart attack every time she does it because he’s convinced she’s going to slide into a wall one day (she does).

• Joel 100% snores SO LOUDLY like the dad he is and Ellie complains about it non-stop, but in reality she can’t fall asleep without the sound of his annoying dad snores, whether they’re right in her ears or coming distantly from down the hall. It helps her know that he’s alive and okay and that he’s with her, and also it’s become like white noise since it was all she could hear during the nights they were traveling (she would tease him endlessly about raiders finding them by the sound of his snoring alone. He did not find it as funny as she did). 

• Joel is known as the “pun guy” by the other adults at Jackson, and whenever there’s a new resident they all tell them that if they have any puns, give them to Joel. The entire reason the name started up was because whenever Ellie was having a bad day, telling her a pun she hadn’t heard before would cheer her up, but he didn’t know enough of them—so, obviously, he went around telling everyone that if they knew any puns, give them to him. He has people approaching him and telling him puns weekly, and he suffers through it just to see the look on Ellie’s face when she’s sad and he tells her them to get her to smile.  

• Ellie eats things off of the floor. Don’t get me wrong, she’s NOT running around grabbing week old pieces of food off of the dirty ground, but she thoroughly believes in the five second rule and not wasting food (because of FEDRA school and not eating on the road and such, but I won’t get into that). So if she drops some food on the ground, she’ll quickly snatch it up and keep eating it, because of old habits. The first time Joel sees her accidentally tip her plate onto the floor, snatch it up in record speed, and keep eating it? He’s horrified. Speechless. Beyond shocked. Ellie Williams? Who? You mean the kid who just ate the same food that landed on the floor five seconds ago like some sort of deranged animal? Yeah, he didn’t know her, she was just some random kid. What do you mean, you saw him walking in with her when they first arrived? He’s never spoken to her a day in his life before, because if he had, he certainly would’ve taught her not to eat off the damn ground. He 100% pulls her aside, dumps the food into the trash, and lectures her on not trying to beat the world record of “person who caught the most sicknesses in under a week.” Ellie doesn’t see the big deal (“at least I’m not wasting food, Joel. And it’s hardly even dirty anyway, it was on the ground for, like, a second”) but after he starts listing off all of the diseases she could get she agrees to stop, if only to get him to stop talking. 

• Joel teaches Ellie how to build and fix things, and essentially teaches her all of the stuff he learned as a contractor and mentors her. He loves teaching it to her because it’s his work and he loves to share it with her, and Ellie loves to learn it, too. When he’s working on houses or repairs in Jackson, she tags along and helps, and she likes feeling like her and Joel share a skill together, plus she thinks building is pretty rad. Also, if she and Joel share work, they get to see each other more often, which is a bonus. They’re building buds. They have matching construction hats. 

• They take walks together, especially during the time when the sun is setting and it’s a bit cooler on hot days. Sometimes they just walk and talk, and other times Ellie brings her sketchbook and Joel brings something to carve and they walk to a river or back to the porch or somewhere peaceful, and they just sit down and do their thing. Joel works on what he’s working on, Ellie draws what’s around her or what’s on her mind. They just exist peacefully beside each other, silently bonding and doing their separate tasks beside one another. 

• Ellie pets every animal she sees. A dog is passing by? Joel, stop walking, she needs to pet him NOW!!!!! Is there a cat in the window? She will spend thirty minutes trying to get the cat to trust her enough that it will let it pet her, and an hour later it’s in her lap purring and whatever she was trying to get to has already closed up, and Joel is running to find her in a panic. She 100% brings a rat home one day and asks Joel if they can keep it (she named it Chef Boyardee Ratvioli. She does not, unfortunately, get to keep it). 

• Alternatively, Joel is such a big lame dad that he has to interact with every baby he sees. A baby is crying? Here, let Joel hold it, he’ll calm it down. Is that baby staring at him as he walks by? He’s waving and when the baby waves back he cannot control his smile. Yes, of course he’ll watch someone’s infant son for a second while they go to the bathroom despite not knowing either of them. Yes, he cries when he holds Tommy’s baby for the first time and yes, Ellie does indeed make fun of him for it (she cried, too, though, don’t listen to her lies). 

• Ellie has a hard time sleeping at night while they’re traveling, so instead of just lying down and struggling to sleep, she talks to Joel every. Night. About everything. She reads him stupid puns. She tells him dinosaur and space facts. She tells him funny made-up stories. She chats about literally everything and anything, and Joel is baffled on how much she can still talk after a whole day of walking. He complains non-stop on how he wants to sleep and she needs to shut up, but eventually he gets used to it and he even, gasp, looks forward to hearing her non-stop nighttime chattering, which usually ends in Ellie talking herself to sleep halfway through a sentence. 

Part 3 only if y’all like these and I get inspired again

#tlou #the last of us #ellie williams #joel miller #the last of us hbo #ellie and joel #joel and ellie #hbo the last of us #headcanons #the last of us headcanons #btw there may or may not #be a chef boyardee ratvioli fic #appearing out in the world someday #seems like it would be fun to write #and that pun? killer. joel will drop dead when he hears it #so yeah if the unseen forces allow it there will be a ratvioli!!!!!

[cat-saturn]

chef boyardee babey

#god these two #this show #uncontrollable sobbing #the last of us #joel miller #ellie williams #tlou #the last of us hbo #chef boyardee

[elliespuns]

This is more of a statement and I'm just wondering your thoughts on this

when you think about it at the end of the series when Joel is in the car with ellie after he took her back from the hospital when Ellie wakes up the 1st thing Joel does is reassure her that she is okay and that she is with him. The reason he did this is because when she went through a traumatic experience with David and found Joel after. she was so scared and confused until she realised it was Joel.

I love the way he tiptoes around her after she went through hell. Low-key trying to get her attention; finding Chef Boyardee Beefaroni, proudly showing it to her (because he wants to dad so badly he forgot how) and introducing her to Boggle. He misses her snarky remarks, bad jokes and sassy attitude. He wants her back.

#the last of us #tlou #joel miller #joel tlou #ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie and joel #joellie #pedro pascal #bella ramsey #the last of us hbo #tlou hbo #chef boyardee #boggle #elliespuns answers

[penvisions]

wish i never met you {a garnish one shot}

Pairing: Chef! Joel Miller x Professor! Reader (formally known as Bartender! Reader)

Summary: Fear of rejection and messing up so beyond comprehension makes you regret crossing the professional line and getting to know Joel as you do now.

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: canon typical language, joel thinks he's the one in charge but we all know it's really reader, religious contemplation, mentions of past trauma, mentions of bad family dynamics, smoking, consumption of alcohol, menstruation, talk of menstruation, blood, cramps, muscle soreness, unorthodox pregnancy announcement, reader is a hot mess, allusions to adult content, allusions to smut, mentions of past p in v, might need to add more if i missed anything!

A/N: wrote this as part of a fun, silly fic title prompt game submission from a sweet anon. it totally inspired an angsty din piece at first that i have in my drafts but then these two slammed into my brain and hijacked the idea. i just love them, your honor. i have so much love for them. NOW I KNOW THIS SUBJECT MATTER ISN'T FOR EVERYONE, I REALLY DEBATED POSTING THIS OVER THE LAST FEW DAYS BC I KNOW IT'S NOT EVERYONE'S CUP OF TEA but i feel like this is a good trajectory for these two, truly. i'm so sorry if anyone disagrees with the direction i took this in and i hopei t doesn't take away from the original series for y'all

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi

“No, fuck off.” Was the quick response to a wide palm caressing over your back. You were hunched over your crossed legs on the couch, aware of how bad the position was for your posture. But it was the only way to find any relief on your aching back. You had thought it was cramps at first, really, but then you realized all the symptoms of your monthly cycle fell in line with something else when the bleeding never started.

“Excuse me, darlin’? You sure you wanna use that language with me?” Joel’s deep voice was tinged with an edge, giving you the chance to retract your expletives. You were never so outright with your denial, never wanting to deny the man a few feet away. But the way in which you had expressed it to an obviously exhausted Joel was maybe too bold for the late hour. But you didn’t take it, instead repeating yourself.

“Kindly, fuck off. Don’t touch me.” You pulled away from him, hunching lower under his hand to break the contact.

“That’s not much better, ya know.” Joel’s hands shifted to his waist, a thick brow raised as he took in the sight of you nearly balled up, the faint light of the screen lighting up your face as you ignored him.

A harsh contraction of your muscles had you groaning out, “I wish I never met you.”

“C’mon now, you don’t mean that.” Joel huffed, trying to keep his calm, but you knew it was hard for him even if you really didn’t feel all that good. You never took your pain or frustration out on him like this, it was always soft murmurs of ‘hold me’ or ‘can I borrow your warmth’. Never the way you were reacting now.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into y-“ His mouth snapped shut, eyes focusing on the screen. On the words you had typed into the search engine. Normally he would tease you over the typos, your fingers not working as quick as you mind for all the grace and focus you normally had to expertly wield a sharp knife.

 Your heart thumped at the sudden silence. The fizzling tension that had filled the room.

“Don’t!” You gasped out, slamming the laptop closed and shielding the device with your body completely.

“Darlin’…” You swore you could hear the cogs turning in his head. Thinking back on the depraved as desperate way you had been seeking him out when he returned home from a late shift at the restaurant even despite the haze of sleep, in the mornings before you had to peel yourself away to go to campus, the photos you had brazenly sent him without warning that had him shielding or turning his phone over throughout the day. Thinking back on the way you had been inhaling food at any occasion, none of your normal contemplation or silence after what you considered a binge. Thinking back on the way you had begun to complain of your work clothing feeling wrong and too tight on your aching body as you dressed in the morning.

When he moved to sit on the other side of the couch, far too close for comfort, you shied away and pressed your back into the arm on your end.

“Not gonna touch ya, you have my word.” He raised his hands placatingly, his expression so soft that the tears burst from you without warning.

“You do-don’t wanna touch me. Not anymo-more.” Hiccups jolted your body, making the skin you were already uncomfortable in tingle. “I ruined ev-everything.”

He regarded you with a small frown, his plush lips pulled down as he clasped his hands together in his lap. Just as he opened his mouth to speak the words flew from you.

“I remember what you said, on the line.” You narrowed your eyes at him as they echoed in your head.

‘It had been a slow day, prep and cleaning taking over most of the evening shift. It had been back before you had taken on a role in the kitchen. Sneaking fries from the bowl of them on the expo line. They hadn’t been hot or even salted, but they were better than snacking on the fruity garnishes at the bar.

He had been passing the time with who you hadn’t known at the time was his brother, Tommy. Who had driven into the city to help take a look at the empty lot beside the restaurant, both of them contemplating the construction of a patio. But they had ended up in the kitchen, hunger too strong a call.

While Joel was on the line, Tommy was beside you, sneaking fries with a wink in your direction. But you ignored him, focused on looking through the catalogue of one of your vendors. Trying to make a seasonal menu. But your ears caught the harsh grunt of the man your eyes trailed over in the midst of busy nights.

“Wouldn’t do it, no.”

“C’mon, you seriously tellin’ me you wouldn’t baby sit for me if I were to gift you with a niece or nephew.”

“No, ‘m too old. Hire a babysitter.”

“You’re full of it ‘n you know it.”

“Brother, a baby is a lot of work. Now, your baby? Even more so.” Joel leveled his brother with a look that silenced any other argument on the matter.’

The moment he realized what you were talking about, his brows flew up into his hairline and he breathed out a hearty chuckle.

“Darlin’, I was just givin’ him a hard time. You gotta know that.”

“I didn’t know you.” You stood up from the couch, body protesting the movement. Cupping a hand over your mouth, you breathed harshly as you tried to tamp down a bout of nausea. “And now that I do, I’m gonna have to consider literally everything on my own and I’m gonna hate how much it hurts to not know you any longer. I wish I-“

“No,” He sighed, brow furrowing before he pinned you with a serious expression. “You do know me now and I wouldn’t turn my back on you, on this. I’m in it, pretty girl, no matter what you decide to do.”

When you whipped away from him, shuddering breaths wracking your sore body, the crack of your voice on a sob spurred him into motion. His arms came around you slowly, giving you the chance to retreat if it wasn’t something you wanted. But you let him, the feel of his chest warm and soothing on your aching back. The push of his soft stomach comforting. His chin hooked over a shoulder, and he spoke in such a somber tone.

“Darlin’, I always thought I was too old to do this again. But I haven’t crossed fifty quite yet and the thought of you carrying my child, of loving me and my child. God, I would give anything for it to be our future. To see you blossom into yourself more, to show our baby the same devotion you give to everything in your life, you deserve somewhere to put all your love.”

One of his hands moved over the one you had on your middle. Holding you so secure, holding you both so secure.

“Joel…it’s a lot. It’s….we’re not even-“ You turned in his arms, facing him. His beautiful, open expression so full of love and adoration, all of it for you. Your heart melted in your chest, dripping low to flutter in your stomach. You weren’t even overtly religious, left over from the trauma of your childhood. Of being forced to attend mass and important holidays alongside your grandparents. The denial of your father never urging you to seek out a higher power in replacement. But the thought of technically being single and going through something like this. It made you afraid.

“There’s a ring in my sock drawer. Got it the day of our first do over date. ‘s why I was so close to the campus. It’s yours. I’m yours. This could be yours. But only if you want it.” Joel’s forehead lightly thumped against yours as he pressed in close. His breath a warm wash over your face, smelling faintly of cigarette smoke.

Looking between each of his eyes, searching for any hint of hesitancy from him it was quiet. When you didn’t find any, you felt a smile pull at your lips as you nodded your head in affirmation. Wet laughter bubbling up as his lips pressed to yours, a smile of his own for you to feel on them.

“But I still expect you to propose, can’t skip any steps with me. I know you think you’re hot shit with being crowned the city’s most prolific chef of the year but I swear to-“

He cut you off with another kiss, his moustache ticking your upper lip as he nipped at your bottom one.

“I don’t wanna miss any steps with ya, darlin’. I’m here for ‘em all.”

It was hard to ignore the stirring of other feelings in your body, drowning out the aches and pains. But when realization hit you, you pulled back with wide eyes.

“We’re gonna have to stop drinking and smoking!”

“We?”

taglist: @tuquoquebrute @jessthebaker @littlemisspascal @76bookworm76 @hiddenbabynyc @clevergirl74 @anavatazes @samiamproductions @sarap-77 @honeyedmiller @undercoverpena

#dev writes #fic: garnish #tlou #tlou au #tlou fic #the last of us #the last of us au #the last of us fanfiction #restaurant au #chef! joel miller #chef joel miller #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfic #joel miller series #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #fluff #hurt/comfort #slight angst #ao3 #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction

[fanficbarbie]

❝i got cake and i know he want a slice.❞

read the rest of the series before this chapter or you’re getting spoilers.

A/N: we're back, barbies! i successfully survived midterms so now I can breathe!! i've been working on this all week and tomorrow i promise, i'll work on my requests. a lot of y'all have been in my comments and reposts with pitchforks because joel didn't kiss ginny yet and all i have to say is, same babes. i don't make the rules (yes i do) i just enforce them. this isn't edited so ignore any mistakes. please leave feedback in the comments ★ ˙ᵕ˙ liv

Chapter Summary: the sweetest baker enlists joel to help her volunteer at ellie's school.

Chapter Warnings: language, alcohol, slight age gap (F!MC and Joel are 6 years apart), racial descriptions (tommy says black girls are his type basically), symptoms of anxiety and depression, lmk if i forgot something.

Series Tags: chef! Joel, single! father Joel, no outbreak! Joel Miller, slow burn, dual-pov, fluff, flirting, friendship, eventually established relationship, eventual smut, original character, black!fem!MC, no y/n.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ series masterlist, joel masterlist ⋆ spotify playlist ˖ ݁ 𖥔.

“Taste this,” I demand Joel, shoving the spoon of icing towards his mouth.

Joel stops stacking the plastic plates, looking down at the utensil. “What did you say?” he asks with scrunched eyebrows.

I shake the fork impatiently. “Try,” I demand. He looks at me skeptically before leaning forward and taking a bite of the warm sugary liquid.

His mouth moves slowly as tastes. “Mmmhm, that’s good,” he compliments.

I want to put my hands up to hide the blush that’s inevitably covering my face right now. But I don’t want Joel to notice my reaction. “Thank you. I tweaked the recipe last week,” I say quickly, turning around so I’m not facing him.

“That’s why I’m here,” I hear Joel say.

Shaking my head, I pour the icing over the cakes. “No, you’re here because I didn’t want to be the only one working the booth today,” I defend myself.

“You would’ve called someone else,” Joel points out.

My shoulders rise with my eyebrows. “You’re probably right,” I conceded.

I enlisted Joel to do a booth with me instead of having two separate booths. Neither of us wanted to pull staff from the floor but still wanted to participate for Ellie’s sake. The two of us could handle it, with the help of some friends.

Joel and I mirror each other's movements in the kitchen. He makes sure the COVID-safe fall fest meals are ready and me adding something sweet into the mix. The hum of Taylor Swift plays in the background and I catch Joel slightly humming to ‘Welcome to New York.’ A snicker involuntary leaves my throat and I shove it down, hoping he didn’t pick up on it.

Once my job is done, I allow the dishes to clatter in the sink. The worst part about baking is the prep and the cleaning and I don’t have the energy for that right now. 

“Hello?” Madeline’s voice rings through the stairwell.

“Don’t shoot us,” Leonardo’s voice follows shortly after.

A scoff leaves my lips and I near the island to watch Joel skillfully move around the kitchen. Every move has a crafted purpose and I can practically see the blood pulsating through his veins. 

My breathing hitches and I shift in hopes of gaining composure. “I don’t even have a gun,” I pipe up.

Joel walks in front of me and motions behind me. We dance around for a little before he grunts in frustration and puts his hands on my waist. My eyes go wide as Joel easily lifts me onto the cold island before reaching behind me. “I do,” he murmurs, sliding the pan of bundt cakes toward his muscled torso.

His smirk has me wanting to strip my clothes off and give it to him in the nastiest way possible. Bad, ginny. He was just sick of you being in the way. “I don’t think that applies to this scenario, Joel,” I stress.

Joel moves from in between my legs and I turn my head to watch Leo strolling into the room confidently. “Hey, Miller,” he boasts.

“Hey,” I hear Joel respond next to me.

Maddie follows shortly behind him, wearing brown leather pants and high-heeled boots. She’s overdressed for a school event, but knowing her she’s probably looking for a husband. “Hi, Joel,” she purs, flashing him a smile.

My body turns to survey Joel’s reaction, but his poker face is stone-cold. “Nice to see you, Madeline,” he tries his hardest to force out through a smile.

It’s not that Joel doesn’t like Madeline, she’s just an acquired taste. Too much time around her can drive you crazy and sometimes when Joel picks Ellie up from the bakery, Madeline is sobbing her eyes out with a glass of wine in her hand. 

“Didn’t know you were working the party, man,” Leo notes once he and Madeline cross the large open floor plan into the kitchen.

“Joel’s daughter, Ellie, goes to school with Dina,” I tell Leo, motioning towards Joel.

Madeline nods, sliding into the bar stool and putting her shiny silver purse on the counter. “That makes sense.  What are you making?” she leans forward and asks Joel.

Joel rolls his shoulder forward, hunching over to plate the food. “Thanksgiving meals. Each meal comes with turkey and 3 sides. My brother Tommy’s bringing the rest,” he informs her.

Maddie's eyes light up and a smirk creeps onto her face. “I didn’t know you had a brother. Is he a chef, too?” she asks, voice laced with mischief.

Joel shrugs, not bothering to make eye contact with her. “Mostly just a pain in my ass but, yeah. He helps out at the Austin from time to time,” he grumbles.

“That's awesome! Is he cute?” Maddie asks excitedly.

“Maddie!” I hiss towards the blonde.

Joel’s phone buzzes on the counter next to us and he picks it up, turning the screen towards the group. “That would be him,” he says, shaking the device lightly.

Once Joel exits the room, I hit Maddie on the arm with the back of my palm. “What?! Not everyone has a Michelin-star chef whipping meals in their kitchen trying to get in your pants,” she frowns.

My eyes widen and I feel the sudden urge to yank my hair out. Now I know why Joel tugs on his roots. “Joel’s not– he’s not,” I stammer, pausing to collect my breath. “Joel’s not trying to get in my pants,” I sigh.

Maddie raises a brow, looking me up and down. “I beg to differ,” she counters.

Jumping down from the counter, I start to pick up where Joel left off with the meals. “He doesn’t have time to– Leo, don’t eat that,” I swat Leo’s hand, stopping him from picking up a bundt cake prematurely.

Leo winces, putting his hands up in defense before sliding into the bar stool. “So, how’s things been between you two?” he questions.

My brows furrow and I feel confusion wash over me. “What do you mean?” I ask.

“I mean, you’ve been seeing each other for what, a month. Right?” he asks.

Maddie snickers next to me and I shake my head, resuming my careful placing of the assorted dessert flavors. “No, Leo. We literally haven’t even been on a date,” I point out.

Leo twists back and forth in the spinning chairs like a child who’s bored out of his mind. “That means nothing,” he scoffs.

My head tilts and I point the spatula at Leo. “To you, you whore. To me it means something. We’re just friends,” I inform him.

Leo purses his lips and his brows furrow. “Oh, fuck off,” he nips at me.

“What?” I ask him.

Leo rolls his eyes and I want to lean forward to snatch them out of his socket. “I still don’t know how you’re blind to him flirting,” he complains.

Maybe I am reading things wrong. Maybe Joel is interested. “If he flirts with me so much, why hasn’t he asked me out on a date or kissed me?” I ask the pair confused.

My head darts back and forth between my friends. “Maybe he just wants to take things slow,” Maddie tries to explain.

Leo clears his throat and my head whips to face his. “Yup. You said yourself he has a daughter,” he shrugs.

My eyes look at the clock to check and see if we’re doing good on time. Ellie and Dina will be bursting in at any moment. They don’t need to be privy to this conversation. 

Once I have my confirmation, I refocus on the to-go containers in front of me. “Then why would he and his daughter sleep in my bed with me the other night?” I ask. 

Maddie's jaw drops and her eyes widen. “You slept in the same bed together?!” She practically shrieks.

“Yeah, I told you,” I remind her.

Maddie shakes her head in disbelief. “No, you told me they stayed the night. Not that you were cuddled up with Joel Miller,” she hisses.

I shake my head and begin pleading my case, “I wasn't cuddled up with him. Ellie had a sit–”

Joel walks in and I shut myself up, my eyes immediately finding his. “Hey y’all, I want to introduce you to my brother, Tommy,” he bellows with a smile, stepping to the side. 

A man a bit younger than Joel steps through my entryway, his hair slightly slicked back. He’s not my type, but he’s definitely Maddie’s. I stop placing the cakes in the to-go boxes, crossing the floor to meet them halfway. “Come on in. It’s nice to meet you,” I smile, putting my hand on his arm to pull him into the kitchen.

Tommy looks down at me and smiles. “Likewise. Heard a lot about you,” he confesses with warmth in his voice.

Fucking attractiveness and charm must run in the family. “Good things, I hope,” I suggest to Tommy, peering up at him.

Tommy nods, chuckling a bit. “Fantastic things, darlin’,” he assures me and I almost melt. It’s good to know that Joel and Ellie talk about me positively.

When we get to the kitchen, Maddies is already standing seemingly posing by the counter. “Hi, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Madeline,” she flirts, extending her hand for him to shake.

I let go of his jacket, sliding into Maddie’s seat at the bar. “Tommy,” he shakes her hand before awkwardly turning toward me.

He raises his brow almost as if he’s asking how I know them silently. “Madeline and Leo are my friends from elementary school,” I quickly explain.

Tommy lets out an ah sound, nodding a bit before Leo clears his throat. “Nice to meet you, man,” Leo chimes.

“Likewise,” Tommy returns.

I clap my hands softly, clasping them together in front of my chest. “Now, Tommy. I hate to put you to work but can you help me carry this stuff out to the van?” I request.

Tommy smiles, pushing his hair back with his fingers. “Of course,” he agrees.

My body turns towards my best friends. “Maddie, can you and Leo grab the cookie tubs and put them in the other van?” I ask the pair.

“I can do it by myself,” Leo grumbles and I realize I’ve hurt his ego.

“I know you can. Maddie is just the brains of the operation,” I soothe him.

Maddie snickers and Leo rolls his eyes. “Fine, let’s go brain,” he says, putting his arm around her shoulder.

“Aye aye, Pinky,” Maddie salutes him as they stomp out of the room.

Tommy and I get to work grabbing the Fall Fest dinners and putting them into a large box. After they’re stacked on a dolly, we begin to load them one by one onto the first bakery van. A comfortable silence fills the van as we secure the last of the food. “So, are you single?” I ask Tommy, attempting to play matchmaker for Maddie.

Tommy wipes his hands on his pants and my nose scrunches. Later he’s going to wonder where that stain came from… men. “Depends on who’s asking,” he drawls suspiciously.

I scoff, hopping down out of the van. “You and Leo are the biggest whores I’ve ever met. It’s a simple question Tommy,” I rant before forcefully pushing another box towards him.

Tommy stops the box from moving so quickly across the large metal floor paneling. “Who’s asking, Ginny?” he directs.

My leg bounces and the ways Maddie will kill me for this runs through my brain. “Madeline,” I jabber, hoping he won't tell her.

Tommy looks up at me blinking rapidly. His mouth forms a large o and his brows furrow. “I’m single, but I’m not interested,” he declares.

I put my hands on my hips. “What do you mean you’re not interested? She’s literally perfect,” I say, pointing out the fact that she’s a blonde with blue eyes. She’s every man in America’s dream.

Tommy shrugs. “Hate to say it but we Millers have a type. She’s beautiful, just not my cup of tea if you catch my drift,” he explains resuming his work.

Ohhhh. I didn’t know the Millers prefer brown women. But then again, I’ve never actually been to Joel's house or seen a picture of Sarah, or his exes. How the fuck was I supposed to know? “100%” I confirm, pushing him another box. “Can I ask you something?” I ask.

“Depends-” Tommy starts and I cut him off.

“On what it is I know,” I snap, gnawing on my bottom lip. “How do I say this?” I think out loud.

Tommy's choleric disposition takes over his face, similar to Joel's when he’s had enough. “Whatever it is spit it out,” he growls lowly.

The sweat on my forehead collects and I feel like hot water is being poured onto my scalp. But I have to know how Joel feels about me, and Tommy would know. “Is Joel interested in me?” I blurt, feeling like I’ve finally submerged myself in a cool bath.

Tommy doesn’t say anything, he just purses his lips. The comfort I felt turns into pain when the water turns into ice. My body is frozen and I’m rendered speechless.

I want to flee. I need to get out of here. I shouldn’t have asked. “Oh my god,” I finally speak.

“Mmmhm,” Tommy hums, motioning for me to pass him another box so I can continue t

I rub my eyebrows as the pit in my stomach fills with anxiety. “Oh god, Tommy. What am I gonna do?” I ask, unable to stand anymore with the alley seemingly spinning.

I take a seat in the back of the truck, putting my head in my hands. “What do you want to do?” Tommy asks.

“I don’t know, that’s why I’m asking you,” I groan towards the ground.

“Well the way I see it, lean into it or tell him so he doesn’t fall harder for ya,” he advises.

My brain runs through all the moments that I’ve had with Joel. How the first day we met he offered to cook for me. Every lingering touch, all the compliments he’s given me, when vulnerable he’s been with me. You don’t do that with someone who’s just a friend. 

I peel my hands away from my face with realization. “Oh my gosh, he’s been sending so many signals. I’m going to throw up,” I groan.

Tommy steps out of the van, looking down at me. “Please don’t,” he pleads.

Suddenly, Joel comes around the corner at the most inappropriate time. These Millers just pop up anywhere and one day, they’re going to make me piss myself. They need a bell on their ankles. He hands the last boxes to Tommy and I pray to the gods above he didn’t overhear our conversation. “Don’t what?” Joel asks.

Fuck. My body tenses and I try to focus on containing the bile rising in my throat. “Ginny’s feelin’ dizzy. I’m almost finished here. She’s just gonna sit for a second,” he tells his brother.

Joel sits down on the metal butt of the truck next to me. He puts his hand in my lap, palm facing up towards me. I accept his offer, intertwining our fingers. “You need anything, sugar?” he asks sweetly, and I sigh.

I nod, running the back of his hands with my thumb. Attentive Joel is my favorite, but only because I’m an attention whore. “Can you get me a Coke from the fridge? Maybe I just need some caffeine,” I request.

Joel nods, trying to let go of my hand. Although I don’t want him to, I allow him to disconnect from me. “Of course, I’ll be right back,” he says, petting my head before turning around and disappearing behind the van.

A sigh of relief slips my lips and I try to refocus on calming my breathing. “So are you?” I hear Tommy say behind me.

I scoot back against the inside of the van walls, allowing the sides to cool me down. “Am I what?” I ask him with a raised brow.

“Are you single?” he reiterates.

A smirk creeps onto my lips. “Depends on who’s asking,” I taunt him.

“Joel,” Tommy cuts straight to the point, unlike me.

I giggle and I feel like the panic has finally subsided. “Yeah, I’m single,” I tell him.

Tommy finishes securing the last box and he turns around to face me. He puts his hands on his upper thigh, leaning on one leg. Jesus Christ, now that’s attractive. “And open? Ready?” he interrogates.

I nod, sliding out of the truck. “Tommy, I mean it. Make sure Joel knows how ready,” I say to him as he shuts the back doors.

Joel turns off the engine to the bakery van, having pulled into the spot at the school where vendors unload. He turns to me and flashes me a smile. “You alright?” he asks concerned.

After that conversation with Tommy, I needed more than just a Coke. I needed multiple shots of tequila. I forced Tommy and Maddie to join me, leaving Joel and Leo the only sober people to drink the trucks.

I nod, and my body bobs unstabily. “Yes,” I slur.

Joel shakes his head and his head falls back. He lets out a loud bellowing laugh, holding his stomach and I know he’s caught me in the lie. “Well, you are not talking to any parents tonight,” he chuckles, wiping his hands over his face.

I roll my eyes at him. “I wasn’t planning on it. Besides, all the moms are going to be all over hot Chef Miller,” I complain, hoping he doesn’t notice my jealousy. 

He laughs again and it’s so beautiful, I want to make his laugh featuring Ellie’s giggle my alarm clock so I can wake up peacefully. Snap the fuck out of it, Imogen. “That’s not going to happen,” Joel says, opening his door.

I don’t get to respond before he shuts it, jogging over to my side to retrieve me. Joel opens the door and I’m reading to pounce. “Yes, the fuck it is,” I counter, feeling my emotional drunk alter ego arise.

Joel leans against the door frame, extending his hand to help me down. “Well good thing I don’t want any of them,” he claims.

I accept his hand, looking at him with hope in my eyes. “Really?” I ask.

Joel’s pupils dilate and he flashes me a smile. “Really,” he confirms, putting his hands on my hips.

He guides me until my back is pressed against the cool metal of the truck. His eyes flicker down to my lips before back up to me. If he’s going to do anything, he better do it now before someone sees us.

“Joel!” “Ginny!” I hear Ellie and Dina’s voices call from behind Joel. Fuck, scratch a bell bracelet. They need a fucking air horn.

Joel steps back, putting some space between us. “Hey kiddo,” he greets her, wrapping his arm around her shoulder.

Fucking cock blocking crotch demons. Let it go, Imogen. He was probably just trying to perform a wellness check on you. “Hey, Dina,” I say, teetering over to her in my heels.

“Thanks for coming,” I hear Ellie say to her dad.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” I hear Joel say before the second van pulls up in the spot next to us.

Ellie gasps when she sees who’s in the passenger seat. She slams her hand on the glass window, effectively scaring Leo who’s on the other side. “Uncle Tommy!” she cheers before running over to the passenger side.

Joel leans over until his lips are touching my ear. “It’s always ‘Uncle Tommy, Uncle Tommy.’ But never ‘Dad’,” he complains in a whisper.

I sway a bit, unstable from the drinking. “Patience, young padawan,” I quote Star Wars to him.

Joel wraps his arms around my waist to stabilize me. Dina’s eyes look us up and down. She leans forward and sniffs the air in front of my face. “Ginny, are you drunk?” she asks loudly.

“Shhhhh. You’ll tell the whole fucking school,” I shush her, pulling her towards me so Leo can get out of the car.

Dina snickers, lacing her hand in mine. “Come on, we’re walking to the corner store for snacks before it starts,” she enlists me.

I nod excitedly, thinking about the possibility of having slushies and Hot funyons. “Count me in. Got any cash, Joel?” I ask the resourceful man. He’s bound to have something on him and I don’t feel like bringing my purse.

He nods, reaching into his back pocket to pull out a brown leather wallet. “Mmhm. Take Tommy with you, Sugar,” he hands me back two twenties and I gladly accept them, slipping them into Dina’s hands.

I wine, squirming a bit. “But Joel, Maddie will be with us. All girls with Tommy would just be weird,” I complain.

Joel brushes past me, heading towards the back of the trucks. “I don’t care, you’re both drunk. You need someone out there lookin’ after y’all,” he says over his shoulder.

Dina tugs my hands a couple of times, dancing in place. “Awwww,” she coos.

I cover my mouth to try to stop the giggle that slips out. He’s cute when he’s all protective and shit. “Hehe. Does he have a gun?” I ask, pulling Dina towards the back with me.

Joel grabs the handle, opening the heavy doors. “Yes,” he answers.

“Well okay, as long as he doesn’t bother us,” I conceded.

The 3 others from the van join us along with Ellie. Dina immediately ditches me, joining her now best friend. “Tommy, walk with them to the store,” Joel commands his brother.

“Why can’t Leo do it?” Tommy groans like a child.

Joel takes out the Dolly to start unloading the items. “Because Leo’s sober, and I need his help with this shit,” he states frustratedly. 

Leo snickers, walking over to the truck to start unloading the boxes. “Ahem,” I clear my throat at Joel.

That fucker forgot one crucial part. “And stay ten paces behind them,” he adds.

Tommy puts his hands up. “Fine by me. I don’t wanna know you’re girly bullshit anyways,” he jeers.

Madeline pats him on the shoulders. “That’s what they all say, Tommy,” she argues.

Maddie links her arm with mine. “We’ll see you guys later,” I say to Joel before joining the teenagers for the walk down the block.

We walk through the parking lot for a bit before entering the school. Whenever I have a drop of liquor in me, I have the urge to Irish goodbye. I drag Maddie with me until were walking closer behind the girls. “We should really lose him,” I suggest.

Ellie looks over her shoulder at Tommy before nodding at Dina. “Okay, follow us,” Dina intrusts.

I nod as we move quickly through the hall taking a left and running into a room. We quickly shut the door behind us, and I peer out the window waiting for Tommy to walk by. When he does, he looks confused turning around in circles. I snicker and he seemingly hears. I quickly pulls my head away from the small plexiglass, hoping he didn’t notice me. “Did we lose him?” Ellie asks, looking over my shoulder.

Maddie takes matters into her own hands, stepping past me to check. “Coast is clear,” she informs us with a smile.

We break out into laughter and I feel like I’ve just pulled off the greatest inside job ever. “Let’s go,” Dina says, reaching for the door handle.

When we get to the store, I bolt toward the Slurpee machine. I grab the largest cup size, filling it with cherry and coke flavors. Once my drink is secured, I grab and fill two cups for Tommy and Joel. Ellie finds me, grabbing Joel's cup, and together we wander the store looking for the spicy chips. 

I snatch three bags from the top shelf, figuring someone will stick their fingers in my bag and piss me off. It’s always good to have extras. “You know, I’d be okay if my dad dated someone like you,” Ellie pipes up randomly next to me.

I almost drop the Slurpee onto the tile floor beneath me. “Oh. Where is this coming from?” I ask her with a raised brow.

She grabs some chips before we walk towards the candy aisle to meet with Maddie and Dina. “He asked me if I was okay with him dating someone the other day,” she leaves me hanging on her every word.

“What’d you say?” I dig deeper.

She turns towards me with a smirk on her lips. “I said I wouldn’t care as long as it was you,” she admits.

The door to the corner store dings and Tommy is pushed in by the windy city. He looks pissed as fuck as he stomps over towards us. “The hell? Your dad is gonna kill me if he finds out–” he starts before Ellie cuts him by shoving a Slurpee in his hand.

“He’ll be fine. Let’s go, Uncle Tommy,” she motions towards the counter.

By the time we’re back in the gym, everything is set up. Joel graciously accepts the Slurpee, which turns his tongue blue, sending Ellie into a fit of giggles. Now hours later, I walk around the gym shopping at other booths with Madeline. I can’t deny that every time I look at Joel, our eyes link for a second too long. The simple interaction causes my breath to catch in my chest every time, and I try to ignore it. 

After some time, we’re finished looking in the main gym, and we head into the hall to see the art auction pieces. Eligible students can create anything they want; a poem, a painting, or a sculpture to put up for action. The people who come to Fall Fest pledge money towards an art piece, and the money earned goes towards the student’s college tuition.

We stroll down the hall, mindlessly chatting about which pieces we want to bid on before Maddie points at a specific piece. “That’s fucking gorgeous,” she blusters.

A smile creeps on my face when I look closer at the signature. The familiar white calligraphy makes my heart sing. “It’s Ellie’s,” I boast about the talented young girl.

“Now I see why she’s painting the mural. This is some good shit. I’ve gotta commission her for some art,” Maddie rambles, seemingly entranced by the swirls of paint before her.

I nod, smiling at the though of Ellie becoming an artist of some kind. “She’d probably love that,” I tell her.

When I turn around, I see Joel walking through the door of the large hall. His eyes dart around till he finds me, b-lining for us. He stands in front of me awkwardly and when Maddie turns around, she jumps from being startled a bit. “Well, I’m gonna just go look…” she trails off, effectively excusing herself.

“Can we talk?” Joel asks, tilting his head towards a darker secluded hall.

“Yeah,” I say to him, pulling him into the area not lit by prison lighting.

Once we’re alone, I lean back against the wall. “What’s wrong?” I tilt my head attempting to cajole him into telling me.

“Nothin’ it’s just, I’ve bit my tongue 'cause I was unsure if–” he pauses and takes a deep breath. “I enjoy spendin’ time with you, Ginny. You’ve become important to me and you should know that I care about you deeply, sugar,” he confesses.

Oh, I wasn’t expecting that. This train has a one-way route towards the friend zone. “I care about you too Joel! And I like spending time with you too. And Ellie,” I sadly follow his lead.

Joel steps closer, putting his hand over my head and leaning forward. “I just really don’t wanna lose you,” he expresses, voice laced with sincerity.

My hands snake up around his waist and I grip the grey shirt he’s wearing. “How would you lose me, Joel?”

Joel's eyes stay fixed on mine and the brown in his eyes swirls like hot chocolate. “Sugar, I feel more than just a friendship level for ya. I like you,” he stresses.

“Oh, Joel. I’m not going anywhere. I wouldn’t,” I promise him, pulling him closer so our upper bodies are pressed towards each other.

He sighs, looking down at the ground between us. “I know, but telling you that means changing our relationship. I don’t want to scare you and I didn’t know–” he starts before I tap his side, cutting him off.

“Joel, I like you too. Like… a lot,” I confirm.

His head quickly rises and he sighs, “Oh.”

I’m starting to feel embarrassed by the whole situation. “Dear, god. I-I don’t know why my brain goes blank when I look at you. I think I’m going crazy. I feel like a high schooler,” I falter.

Joel chuckles, leaning forward to press his forehead onto mine. I clear my throat, impatient tugging at his side. “So, I think this is the part where you’re supposed to kiss me,” I murmur.

Joel takes his forehead off of mine, searching my face seemingly wary of crossing the line. All he’s going to find is my stupid shit-eating grin. “Are you sure?” Joel asks for consent and I think it’s the most sexy thing I’ve ever heard leave a man's lips.

“Positive,” I nod, radiating with excitement.

“Okay,” he sighs and a wolfish grin creeps onto his face.

His hands slide up to my neck, pulling me closer. “Okay,” I murmur.

He grabs the back of my neck, crashing his lips onto mine. We both smile into the kiss and I force a giggle back down my throat. My lips open slightly, granting him entrance. His warm tongue dances with mine and I marvel at the taste of whiskey and apple on his lips. It’s filled with so much passion, that I feel like my heart is about to explode.

His fingers thread into my hair, massing my scalp as he kisses me. I moan into his mouth and my clit pulsates with a hunger for him. He disconnects our lips, leaving us both panting because of the other. “Was that as good for you as it was for me?” I murmur against his lips.

“Probably better,” Joel grunts before pulling back and motioning towards the hard member protruding through his jeans.

“Joel, oh my gosh,” I giggle, stepping forward and wrapping my arms around his torso. “Can I have one more?” I practically salivate, batting my lashes at him.

Joel nods, snaking his hand back around my neck. His thumb strokes my jaw and I lean into him. “Mmmhm,” he hums, dipping his head back down.

His lips connect with mine and my tongue continues to explore his map. I want to stay in this moment forever. It feels like a dream and I don’t want to wake up. His lips are surprisingly soft and I kick myself for not doing this months ago.

The smacking of our lips is apparent when we pull back this time and I know my face is covered in pink flush. “Damn it. I was supposed to do this right. Date first, then kiss,” he curses himself.

I giggle, standing on my tip-toes to press a kiss against his cheek. “Joel, I asked you to kiss me. Besides, we’ve known each other for months,” I acknowledge our past.

Joel nods, but he doesn’t seem ready to let it go. “You’re right, but still. Can I take you out on a date?” he pleads.

I’m practically bouncing on my toes, my mind racing with thoughts of my future with Joel. Relax Ginny, he just asked you out on one date. “Yes,” I blurt.

Joel chuckles at my excitement, taking a step back and lacing his hand with mine. “When are you free next?” he turns to me and asks as we walk back to the gym.

“Thursday, but it’s Thanksgiving. After that, on Friday. Speaking of, do you guys have any plans for the holiday?” I inquire.

Joel shakes his head, confirming my suspicions. “No, just me, Tommy, and Ellie eating at an undecided time,” he informs me.

“How about you join me at Maddie’s house? Her family always orders catering for Thanksgiving,” I offer, hoping he’ll grace me with his presence sooner than a week from now. I get we’re both busy food industry owners, which I love, I just don’t think I can wait that long to be in a romantic setting with him.

“I know. They’ve put in an order at The Austin for the past two years,” Joel dictates and I nod. Just my luck, the man’s food I’ve been shoveling into my mouth for the past 6 holidays is also the man I’m trying to date.

I poke his muscular bicep with my free hand. “Even better, you can personally deliver it and tell everyone who doesn’t like it that they’re wrong. Just like you did on my birthday,” I joke with him and he puts his hands on his chest, seemingly hurt by my statement.

“I’m sorry about that, darlin’. Really I am,” Joel apologizes.

I tug on his hand, trying to grab his attention and snap him out of a spiral. “I’m fucking with you, Joel. Please come. I’m sure Ellie would love it,” I practically beg him.

Joel pauses, looking up to think about it. He’s probably worried about how unpredictable his two family members would be in this setting. “Okay, we’ll come,” he concedes, finally.

“Good. I’ll text you the details. You’re standing straighter,” I beam, pointing out his posture change.

Joel chuckles, rubbing his thumb across mine soothingly. “I feel like a house just lifted off my back. I’ve had my eyes on you since June 30th,” he confesses.

I smirk, leaning closer to him. “So Maddie was right, you were practically drolling on my shoulder,” I taunt.

“She said that?” he asks with furrowed brows.

I nod, attempting not to give him too much information. “Mmmhm,” I hum.

He tugs on my hand, stopping me in my tracks before I reach the entryway. “I’m not going to deny that, Sugar,” he looks me up and down like I’m a meal he wants to ravish.

The thought of us fucking turns me on even more, and I have to remind myself we’re in a high school. “Okay, one last kiss before we’re back in the gym?” I use my siren eyes against him, peering up at him through my lashes.

“I like how you think,” Joel mumbles, sliding his free hand up and around the front of my neck. He gently pulls me forward, connecting our lips one final time. A wave of relief hits me, and I moan as his tongue dances with mine in the filthiest way. Me and Joel Miller are going out on a date.

read the rest of the series

#joel fanfic #joel x ellie #joel the last of us #joel and ellie #joel miller #joel miller fluff #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x oc #joel x black! fmc #joel miller x female oc #joel miller x black female oc #chef joel #chef joel miller #sweetest pie barbieliv #joel tlou #joel fluff #joel fic #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #joel miller au #tlou fic #tlou fanfiction #tommy miller x platonic!reader #ellie x platonic reader #joel miller x original character

[cuethemulti]

Thinking about how the first episode immediately showed that Ellie will be the light in Joe’s life when he was in a dark place after loosing his daughter

#the use of lighting is chef kiss #the last of us #joel miller #ellie williams #pedro pascal

[colleenispunk]

here lovelies. have a joel wallpaper <3

#joel the last of us #the last of us #joel miller #Pedro pascal #he’s so pretty <3 #his smile 🥺 #CHEF BOYARDEE CAN

[darthbecky726]

imagine how terrible that interrogation was for those guys he was interrogating. like, youre getting beaten bloody by this guy who can barely stand up but you know you're not making it out alive bc his daughter is missing

#tlou #just a thought i had during the episode #those dudes mustve been terrified #their captor showing pain?? they know for sure theyre not making it #joel is such a monster i love it #pedros acting *chefs kiss* #tlou ep 8 #tlou spoilers #joel miller #ellie williams #pedro pascal #joel and ellie

[bluemusickid]

Writing something after quite some time

Hope it turns out okay YIKESSS

#pedro pascal #joel miller #private chef! joel