#dbf!joel fluff

[chaotic-mystery]

Pairing: dbf! Joel miller x f!reader

Summary: You and Joel go to your dads annual BBQ after that shitfest at White Pony. You felt something that night in your living room with him that you are unsure to pursue. He slowly starts to realize why you have such a rocky relationship with your dad as you spend more time together, but does he defend you or sit there and let you take it when they start grilling you and embarrassing you in front of him?

Content Warnings: daddy issues out the ASS, eventual smut so 18+ only MDNI! Family issues, swearing, lovers to enemies, dbf!joel, trauma/childhood trauma, drinking, smoking, arguing, verbally abusive parent, age gap but unspecified, no outbreak! Joel, meanish Joel!

Word Count: 4.9K

Your eyes open slowly to the curtains blowing in the morning wind, the nippy air sending goosebumps up your exposed arm. As your phone buzzes on the nightstand, you wipe the sleep from your eyes. A few messages from Joel decorated the lockscreen, some from a couple hours ago and some from just a few moments ago.

“Do you wanna ride with me to your dads later? I can fix your car later this weekend if you want.” 2 hrs ago

“You plan on wakin up anytime soon?” 1 hr ago

“Stop snorin so loud I can hear you in the garage!” 20 mins ago

You giggle softly and swipe away the message, sitting up to look out the window when your eyes find Joel outside in his front yard putting out new landscaping lights by the porch steps.

“I don’t snore that loud, asshole!” You flip him the bird as soon as he shields the sun from his eyes to look at you in the window.

“Like hell you don’t! Come down’ere and help me would ya?” He hollers back and nods down at the lights that haven’t been put in the ground yet.

You think about it for a second before you pull the screen back down on the window and throw on something more appropriate than your big t-shirt and panties combo. Cascading down the stairs outside to his front yard, he tries not to watch you walk up to him but he just can’t help himself. The way your bed head is still so noticeable he can’t help but chuckle to himself.

You cross your arms when you stop right in front of him, casting a shadow onto his direction manual from the box.

“Would ya mind steppin’ a little to the left please, darlin’?” Something about the way he calls you darlin’ makes your heart flutter a tad and the heat rises in your cheeks.

You sit on your knees next to him and start to put the lights together while Joel takes another look at you, watching your hands twist and turn to get the post in the correct way.

“So uh, not too sure if you read my messages, lord knows it took me forever to type them. So whaddya say? Carpool with me and I’ll fix your car tomorrow, how’s that sound?” He sounded nervous asking even though he had no reason to be. It was just carpooling.

“Uhh yeah, w-we can carpool to my dad’s together. Just remember- don’t tell him about White Pony, okay?” You glance at him and give a small smile and hand over the light so he can put it in the dirt.

“I know, I know. It’ll be okay. I’ve got shit in the house Sarah made to bring over before she left for her friends house so we’re squared away with that.” He grunts as he pushes another light into the dirt.

“Do you think we can go into town? I need somethin’ to wear and since my car doesn’t work…” Your eyes look up at his and his eyebrows drop, staring at you with a deadpan face.

“All those goddamn clothes in your closet and there’s nothing in there you can wear?” With a smile growing on your face and a laugh erupting from your lungs, Joel groans in frustration.

“No, Joel there’s nothing in there cute enough to wear! Cmon I’ll even give you gas money! Please?” You beg and plead, grabbing onto his arm and throwing yourself back and forth dramatically.

“It’s a fuckin’ family barbeque, who the hell are you dressin’ to impress at a family event?” Joel raises an eyebrow in your direction, glancing down at his arm that’s in your hands. You two just stare at each other and without blinking you give him an honest answer.

“You aren’t family.” A small grin appearing on your lips, Joel chuckling dryly.

“Didn’t answer my question, little girl.” A small tickle inside you starts forming and suddenly your hands get clammy.

“Myself, of course.” Was all you managed to get out before getting yourself to your feet and brushing your ass free of any dirt you may have sat in. Little girl. It kept replaying in your mind and egging on that tickling feeling. There was no denying everything felt different ever since the other night when he beat up those assholes. Michelle hasn’t been around much but you knew he still was with her considering the loud phone calls you could overhear through the open windows late at night.

Joel shook his head and grumbled as he stood up, his hands rubbing over his knees gently. “Well let’s go then, don’t got all damn day.” He starts walking to his truck and you run over to your place to grab your purse and keys, spraying some perfume on you before you close and lock the front door, Joel already backing out of his driveway slowly.

He stops just at the tail end and lets you climb inside on the seat, bouncing around to sit up straight and get your seatbelt on. “Try that little thrift store on fifth avenue, I heard it was good but I haven’t been there.” You adjust your jacket as he starts to take off down the road, pulling down the center console to lay on the middle seat for an arm rest. Joel nods and heads that way into town.

Since you left all those years ago to follow your mom, you didn’t realize the town had changed so much until you came back. The empty building where your favorite little grocery shop used to be was the first thing that caught your eye. Your dad would take you there all the time and get stuff for breakfast on Sundays. Waffles with whipped cream and apple pie filling on the top. The cashier would give you a sticker with a smiley face on it and your dad would hate it because you’d stick them everywhere in his truck. “Wait- slow down, Joel.” You sit up in the truck, grabbing onto the handle above your head and you look closely at the shell of the place you had some great memories from.

“What happened to the grocery store?” Joel glances out your window and looks at you like you’re joking.

“It burnt down all those years ago, remember? Thought you heard about it, I’m surprised your father didn’t tell ya.” You could feel the tears pricking your eyes and you blinked slowly, taking in the memories flooding back to you. It was a stupid fucking grocery store, that’s all it ever was. You couldn’t figure out why it was making you so fucking sad. Maybe because there was no way of ever going there one more time with your dad, him chasing you down the small isles with the cart trying to hit your feet and your giggles filling the shelves with life. You knew you were never going to be that little girl ever again.

Joel notices how quiet you’ve gotten and he dips his head down to see what you’re feeling, what you’re thinking.

“You okay, sweetheart?” His soft voice brings you back to the present time, snapping you out of the sappy memory lane you put yourself in.

“Hm? Yeah I’m fine. You don’t have to go in with me if you don’t wanna, I won’t be long.” You give Joel a fake smile but he can see right through it. Joel parks in front of the thrift store and turns off his truck, unclicking his seat belt.

“I’ve got nothin’ else better to do anyway. Let’s go.”

He’s out of the truck and walking to the door before you even have your seatbelt off and you chuckle softly, making your way next to him. Joel opens the front door for you and you’re hit with that smell of old clothes and an air freshener plugged in somewhere to mask the old smell. A woman greets you and you start running your hands all over the clothing racks, Joel following closely behind.

They had just a little bit of everything, most of it was old lady clothes. Joel never wandered away from you though, not even to go look at the mens clothing.

As you fished through the third rack of clothes, your eyes find a dress that you immediately want to try on. It was pink and had little white flowers all over it, knee length. With some quick alterations you could probably save it and make it look somewhat decent.

“I’ll be right back, gonna go try this on.” You mutter to Joel and disappear behind a curtained dressing room. Joel kept looking all over the room, scanning clothing racks that were piled full of shit no one wanted anymore.

He walked over to sit down in the chairs they had out for customers and tired husbands who were groaning about being there, and in your case: your dads best friend. You tugged the dress over your hips and stared at yourself in the mirror for what felt like ages. Nothing was looking good on you. A pile of stuff you previously tried on was becoming bigger on the floor but never once did you hear Joel complain. “Joel nothing is working out. I’m sorry I didn’t mean to waste your time.” You called out from behind the thin curtain and you groaned in frustration.

“Let me take a look, see if I can find ya somethin.’”

Joel’s callused hands start to flip through the hangers like a book with thousands of pages, not stopping until he found exactly what he was looking for. He was making it his mission to at least make your day a little better, even if it was a dress that you’d wear once and forget about it in the back of your closet.

As Joel moved onto the last rack along the wall, he spotted a dress hanging lower than everything else around it and he parted the clothes around it, observing the material. A floral cami mini dress with a small slit on the side. It wasn’t something Joel would want you to wear by any means but it wasn’t for him. He knew you’d like it, the way the lace lays over the satin material, just the right length for you. God was he aware you loved short dresses and skirts.

You watched the tall shadow get darker as he got closer to the curtain and suddenly there was fabric being held over the top of the dressing room rod holding up the only thing separating your half naked body and Joel.

“Try this, let me know whatcha think?” He grumbles and lets go of the hanger when he feels your hands and he steps back, clearing his throat before sitting down once more. Joel taps his fingers on his knee a few times as he glances around the place to take in everything on the walls.

You zip up the back and smooth down the fabric, loving the way it hugs you just right. Of course he picked one out with a slit on the side, why wouldn’t he. With your hair tucked behind your ears, you push open the curtains and step out to where Joel can see you and tell you how fucking amazing you look.

“So uh..how do I look?”

His head snaps up in your direction and you can see him freeze in his seat. His hand rubs over his scruffy beard in complete awe of what’s before him.

“Doesn’t matter what I think. You like it? Make ya feel pretty?” Joel watches you closely when you turn to look at yourself in the floor length mirror. The smile on your face is infectioness, he can feel one growing on his lips.

“Yeah, I like it.” Your eyes lock with him in the reflection and for a second everything goes silent. You suddenly can’t hear the music on the speakers above you, you can’t hear the hangers being scooted back and forth, gazed at over and over.

For a moment in this weird situation, Joel didn’t feel like someone you shouldn’t be longing after. He felt like someone you wanted to impress, to seek his approval from.

“Darlin’ c’mon we gotta get movin’ before we’re late.” His voice makes you aware of everything and you’re yanked out of your own world once more.

The curtain is drawn before you can slip out of the dress and into your clothes, trying to be as quick as possible so you can hurry home and get prepared for the circus about to happen tonight.

-

It was getting closer and closer to 5 o’clock when Joel said he’d be ready and for the first time in your life you were ready on time. With your hair all done and the dress on, you felt some butterflies in your stomach waiting for Joel to see you. A honk from outside signaled you to come on out, and you made your way down to his truck. Joel was thankful his windows were up so you couldn’t hear everything he muttered on your walk to him.

“Well c’mon know we don’t have all damn night, watch the potato salad with that thing!” He hollered as you tried to toss your purse on the seat and barely missed the container with foil over the top.

You poke your tongue out at him and buckle yourself in, turning on his radio to something more your style. Joel just shakes his head at you and starts driving to your dads house. With one hand on the steering wheel and the other resting against the side of your headrest, he looks over at you a couple of times and wonders if he should even ask this or not.

“So is there anything I should watch out for tonight at this thing? First one you’ve been to in years and I dunno what a lil firecracker like you is gonna say.”

Flashing Joel a devilish grin, you light a cigarette and hold it between your index and middle finger just outside the window, finding the words to say to ease his mind.

“Well, I could pick a fight with almost everyone there if I get enough tequila in my sy-”

“Absolutely no tequila- uh uh. Not happening.”

You roll your eyes and continue your answer.

“Anywayyy! Or I could sit pretty and let everyone rip me to shreds and hear from my dad about how a phone works both ways and I should’ve come to see him more. How I was the coward for leaving when I got into an argument with Janet and my dad followed me to the porch, he grabbed me and shook me around calling me a bitch while telling me not to talk to her that way. Ironic, isn’t it?”

Joel’s brows furrow and he glances at you a few more times before gripping the steering wheel tighter.

“T-that actually happened?” He sounds surprised as if he was never told about this. Crazy to think that considering your dad likes to tell everyone why you left.

“Mhm. I was sixteen when he did that. He came close to hitting me but he didn’t. I was scared of him back then, back when I didn’t have a voice. I never argued with him or raised my voice, contrary to what he says.” You take a drag of your cigarette and decide to keep going.

“That was the day I decided I couldn’t do this anymore. I stopped going to his house every other weekend, I stopped calling and texting him, I did that for a year. He swore my mom brainwashed me but it was never about her. He just didn’t want me to see the monster he truly fucking is. Anyway, there’s more horror stories I could share but honestly? I’ve forgotten a lot because of how fucked up it was. He always chose his girlfriends over my siblings and I thought that was never going to change and it still hasn’t. I’m just full of so much anger now, I think. I wanna watch him crumble to fucking pieces.”

You told him a couple more stories, only the ones you knew he could handle. It was clear Joel knew none of this, your dad painted you as the bad guy and he loved doing that. By the time you were done, your cigarette was finished and you were pulling into your dads street. Joel’s knuckles were white from gripping the wheel so hard.

“He did that to ya? What a fuckin’ asshole. Darlin’ I’m so sorry- I didn’t know-” He was searching for the right words to say to you, something other than sorry. There wasn’t though, there was nothing he could say to take the sting away from that wound.

The look of shock on your face was all Joel needed and his hand grabbed yours after he put the truck in park. His thumb rubbed your skin softly and he met your eyes.

“I’m sorry he did that. I have your back in there tonight, I promise.”

Your stomach felt the butterflies again and you took a sharp breath in before tripping over your words, “We should go. The faster we go the faster we can leave this shit show.”

You two make your way to the backyard, Joel carrying the potato salad. No one except your dads family showed up and Janet’s sons. Joel’s greeted with open arms and hellos, while you’re met with stares and scoffs about your outfit. Oh how things never change even with company present, you think to yourself.

“Well hello everyone, Dad.”

He stops patting Joel’s back and looks at you, not a word coming from his mouth for a moment.

“Well hi, sweetheart. How are you?” He didn’t really care, he just wanted to know if you were staying out of trouble.

“Fine, how are you?” He looks at Joel and Joel nods awkwardly.

“I’m fine honey. Say hi to Janet.”

“Not a chance in hell.” You laugh and light another cigarette, pouring yourself a whiskey. Joel never said anything against having whiskey.

Joel set down the potato salad on the glass patio table and grabbed a beer from the cooler as he watched you sip your drink, the gears in your mind turning while you thought about how you wanted this night to go.

Everyone sat down after making up their plates, Joel at one end of the table and your dad on the other end. You sat next to Joel, feeling a sense of comfort and safeness from him.

Janet cleared her throat as she poured more wine in her glass, a spiteful look shooting at you.

“So I heard you have a job now? What is it exactly?” Even her tone was like nails on a fucking chalkboard.

You take a bite of potato salad and brush your hair behind your shoulder. “I’m a waitress at a bar.”

She laughs sarcastically and takes a sip of her drink. Her claws are in you now and there is nowhere to go. Your dad just shovels food into his mouth and lets her start her shit with you, clearly not seeing her game.

“You mean the bar from the other night some guys got beat up at for no reason?” She squints at you and smirks. You can feel your face get hot with anger and Joel’s hand reaches under the table to rub your knee, calming you down.

Joel takes a drink of his beer and looks at Janet, his hands folding in front of his face as he thought carefully on how he wanted to dive into this topic.

“If i may..they weren’t beat up for no reason. They were grabbin’ on her the whole night and being assholes. I did what I thought was best, she deserved a better tip than what they left her so I tried the calm approach and they escalated it.” Joel’s stare was tight on Janet, who was turned to the side fully to give Joel her full attention. The wind started to blow softly against your hot face but something inside you told you this wasn’t even close to not being talked about anymore.

Everyone was silent. Not a scrape of plastic utensils on the paper plates, not a bottle of condiments being squeezed. Just the wind in your ears. As you dropped your head down towards your lap you could feel the flame still burning inside you, Joel still rubbing your knee to sooth you.

“But honey you can’t just chase after customers because they tip badly. Your service reflects your tip. I raised you better than that, now.” It was almost impossible not to visibly react to every word falling from his mouth. He didn’t raise you, he never did even when you were at his house for the weekend. He could sit at the end of the table all he wants and pretend like he had some credit for how you turned out but you knew the truth and that’s all that matters. Your dad was so deep in his lies he fully convinced himself he was a good father to you, to your siblings, and the reason you fucked up so bad and had to move back to Texas was because of how your mom raised you.

“You didn’t raise me.” You mutter quietly under your breath just before you swallow your words with whiskey. Thankfully he didn’t hear you as Janet was talking to him, probably talking about you under her breath.

“Alan, I just told you I was the one who went after them, not her. She was in the bathroom crying and Michelle and I felt bad, so I took care of it. No need to make her feel worse about shit she didn’t have any say in.” His tone was getting more and more agitated the more he was brought back to that moment, seeing the sadness wash over your face and the humiliation you felt having to pick up that three dollar tip. It was unclear though as to why Joel said Michelle felt bad for you too. She didn’t give a second look to you when you ran to the bathroom. Not once did she ask if you were okay, her man did. Joel. did.

Joel’s jaw clenched as took another sip of his beer, a small glance to you from the corner of his eye. He turned to look at you fully and mouthed softly, “ You okay?” A soft smile and nod was all you answered with and that was enough for Joel not to push you further.

Your dad groans at the opposite end of you and fiddles with the napkin on the table, smoothing it over with the fork a dozen times. “You don’t have to stick up for her, Joel. She’s a big girl. Think she’s had enough people clean up her shit for her and she’ll never be responsible if you keep bailing her out. Lord knows I did it too much and her mother certainly didn’t care to raise her right. Hell, she’s got no manners, she doesn’t greet my wife who I’ve been with since that girl next to ya was twelve years old, over some bullshit I can’t even remember. She’s gonna amount to nothin’ if she stays on this path. Insane she still has her job after that stunt.”

There it was. The real him. The real him he’s been hiding from Joel for all these years. This was the exact reason he never talked about you to his friends, you pissed him off so much for who you were and he hated how you could make him show his true colors just by speaking about you.

“Where did I go wrong, dad? Tell me! Tell me where I went wrong in my life for you to hate me!” You shot up out of your chair and threw your glass down, spilling whiskey everywhere and your chair flying back. “You tell me where I went wrong for you to despise me so much to let her sit there next to you and talk about your flesh and blood like that.” By this point the hot tears streaked down your face and Joel’s head was in his hands. “Baby girl..” Joel whispers only enough for you to hear it and he sighs, shaking his head.

Your brothers left the table and all that was left was the four of you, Janet with a smirk plastered on her face. “I haven’t done anything, this is all your mess. Your father has done nothing but take care of your sorry ass while you mooch off him and take his money, you fuckin’ gold digger.” The spitefulness dripping off her words didn’t even faze your dad. He didn’t move an inch. His arm was pushed against the table as he leaned back in his chair, those stupid fucking sunglasses on top of his head like he always wore them.

“He was my dad, you stupid bitch. That was his job, to take care of me.” You choked out and your stomach dropped, heart feeling that familiar hollowness you haven’t felt since you were a teenager.

“Don’t call her a bitch, you know better. Why did you have to do this shit tonight? Huh?!” Your dads voice booms against the trees and through your lungs.

There was no room in your body to hear anymore of this bullshit, so you grabbed the whiskey off the table and Joel’s keys from his belt loop, walking to his truck with mascara running all down your neck. Janet and your dad were shouting but it was muffled and it was probably for the best if you didn’t catch a single word, you wouldn’t survive in jail. You could barely get the passenger side door open before you collapsed over the seat, sobbing your eyes out onto the felt material. Finding all the strength in your body to get in the truck and wait there for Joel, you climbed up like you had wounds all over your body, sobbing and sniffling until you got upright.

Not even five minutes went by before you watched Joel trek across the tall grassy front yard, his jaw still clenched with the wind blowing against him, pushing his shirt against his body. He got inside silently, placed his hand on the back of your seat, and reversed out of the driveway. No one said a word on the way home, no one moved. The radio was playing softly like you had it earlier, now the songs sounding so boring.

Joel pulls into your driveway and shuts the truck off, keys still in the ignition. All that could be heard was the crickets coming out now that the sun was set and the keychain of the soccer ball Sarah got him as a christmas gift you guessed.

You wipe the back of your hand under your nose and sniffle loudly, Joel turning his entire body to you. His hands gently made their way through your hair to the back of your skull, and he lightly pressed a kiss to the top of your forehead. The gentle nature from Joel only made you cry again, this time from just missing that feeling. You missed someone being gentle with you, an older man being gentle with you and caring about you and how you feel.

“Baby…I’m so fuckin’ sorry that happened. No one should talk to their daughter like that and I’m sorry I didn’t see it before. I’m sorry you had to go through that. You did nothing wrong-” You start to sob and drop your head further into his hands. “Look at me, baby. Look at me.” He softly instructs, lifting your head up once more. Your blurry eyes meet his and you can see the pain he’s feeling. The anger.

“You did nothing to deserve that, okay?” He quickly pulls you against his chest as you start to sob again, your tears running off your cheeks and onto his shirt. Joel kissed the top of your head as he smoothed over your hair, just holding you until you felt like you didn’t want to cry anymore. You two stayed like that for a half hour, Joel humming soft songs in your ear as he held you and let you cry on him.

There was nothing Joel could do to fix your dad. Nothing could fix your dad. He was too set in his ways and nothing was ever going to happen. Part of you wanted to know what happened after you left, why you heard all the shouting.

“J-oel what happened after I left? I heard you guys shouting..” You whispered as you sat up slowly, looking at his face with puffy eyes.

A small smile is all he gives, “I’ll tell ya one day, but that’s not right now. Okay sweet girl? You’ve dealt with so much today and I’m so proud of you.” Joel leans in just a little and you close the space between you two, pressing your lips on his softly. He didn’t kiss you back immediately, but once he did, he didn’t want to take his lips away from yours. Not for a second.

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[talaok]

a smutty joel imagine with him saying, “you’re in trouble doll”

Pairing: dbf!Joel Miller x f!reader

summary: Joel, your dad's best friend, has pissed you off once again for his constant fear of your father finding out about you, so you decide to make him jealous, only he doesn't take it as well as you expected... or maybe exactly as you had

warnings: jealousy, he grabs you by the neck at one point, possessive!Joel smut| a bit of thigh riding, unprotected p in v sex, creampie, she calls him daddy ONCE bc I need to cut back on the daddy kink it's becoming a problem, kind of exhibitionism, and unnecessary feelings cause i can never fucking write a story where they're just fucking for some reason

You were flirting good

The way you only did when you weren't really interested, when it was just a game, when you were bored, or perhaps... in the mood for taunting someone

Maybe someone who was across the backyard, his hazel eyes burning a hole into the back of your head as he gripped his beer hard enough to shatter it, his head nodding slowly at whatever your dad was saying, but his thoughts only to you, only to that little asshole who had his hand on your cheek- on his girl

"I'd forgotten how funny you are" you said, after falling into a more than exaggerated laughing fit at one of Kaleb's miserable jokes.

He grinned with that smile guys have when they think they have it in the bag, when they’re already picturing you in their bed

As if

“Tell you what, I'm even funnier in front of a drink,” he said, his eyes glinting with victory “you free tonight?”

But before you could respond, a very much non-friendly voice barked from beside you

"she's not"

Joel looked even hotter than usual with that t-shirt clinging to his toned biceps and pecs, and the way he was looking at Kaleb... he looked ready to kill, and fuck if that didn't make him even hotter

"Tommy needs your help on the grill, I'm takin' a break" he nodded toward his brother, giving the guy a chance to scramble before he had to punch him in the face

"now?" Kaled wined, his gaze trailing to you, as if counting on the understanding of another man of what he was interrupting

"Now."

There was no room for negotiating, and the guy finally got it, sighing loudly before nodding

"Fine, I'll catch you later then," he smiled, watching you reciprocate, before he started for the grill

You squinted your eyes against the sun as you looked up at Joel, making a show of rolling your eyes as he gave you that stern, angry look he was always so good at giving

"Cockbloker"

You didn't wait for whatever smart retort he was gonna send your way as you turned around and started making your way into the house,

only of course, he was right behind you, closing the glass door to the kitchen with a loud thud

"you're in trouble doll"

again, you could only roll your eyes as you opened the fridge to look for what you didn't even know

The party of people just outside the windows was loud, but his steps as he stalked to you were the only thing you could hear

"I'm talking to you"

You could hear the restraint in his voice, almost feel it oozing off of him, the way you were getting under his skin, the way he was controlling his own rage

And when you only sighed, still not acknowledging his presence... then his self-control slipped, and his hand had forced the fridge to fly shut, the bottles rattling inside.

maybe this will get your attention

And it did, you turned to him, a bored, stoic look on your face

"what do you think you're doing?" he hissed, his jaw ticking 

"what?" you cocked a brow "I'm not allowed to talk to people anymore?"

The way he tilted his head, flames of anger lighting his eyes as he took a step towards you made you want to get down on your knees and suck him off right there and then... but then again, you were supposed to make him pay

"Don't give me that bullshit" he growled "That wasn't just talking, there's only one thing that guy was after and you know it"

You scoffed, taking a step closer to him in affront

"so?" you asked, raising your brows "What I was after the same thing Joel?" you argued "You know, since you're so scared of my dad finding out... since you're always saying I should find someone more age-appropriate, I figured... why not Kaleb?" 

Oh he was fuming

"At least he's not scared of my dad" you mocked "At least he wouldn't have to sneak out of my house after he's done fucking me-"

you didn't even see him move, the only thing you felt, was the back of your head hitting the fridge, and seconds after, his hand gripping your throat, and only then did you hear the gasp fleeing your throat

he had moved you to the other side of the fridge so that from outside, no one could see your dad's bestie choking his daughter without so much of a hair of second thought.

"If he even tries to come near you" his face was but an inch from yours "He won't have a dick to fuck you with sweetheart, got it?"

What did he think? That he was gonna scare you? please

You snorted, your mouth twitching in a smirk

"You don't own me Joel" you only purred "I can fuck who I want"

The snarl he let out was nothing but predatory

"You think that fucking guy's the right one for you?" he asked, his right leg in between yours, the top of his thigh dangerously close to your core 

"you think that little asshole's gonna make you come?" his breath was ghosting your mouth, but he ducked lower, murmuring against your ear now 

"You think Kaleb's gonna fuck you better than I do?"

Although shivers were running down your spine, you chuckled, as you murmured "Maybe"

He groaned, his thigh immediately going to your center, rubbing against your clit as his fingers tightened on your throat.

"say that again" he challenged, his voice rough and throaty

"what," you grinned, "you think you're some kind of sex god or something?"

The fact that he could hear all the little whimpers you were swallowing down your throat didn't help your case

"Have you forgotten already about all the times you were begging for my cock sweetheart?" he teased, his jeans damping with your slick as you parted your mouth in pleasure "All the nights you spent screaming my name, mh?" 

His warm words felt so good on your neck, and his leg... if he kept at it you might just fall apart like that

"you think another man can do that for you?" his eyes were boring into yours now, his hand forcing you to meet his gaze 

And when you didn't answer, the same smug grin on you, he understood what he needed to do

"You need a little reminder, 's that it?"

And just like that, you had exactly where you wanted him.

If he was aware that this was your plan all along, he didn't show it, probably because you had turned his brain into a jealous angry heap.

He watched the way you bit your bottom lip, the same way he's seen you do thousands of times before, need pooling in your iris and panties at the same time

"ah that's it, isn't it?" he growled, his right hand going to squeeze your ass "my dirty girl needs me to remind her who's the only man that can make her feel good huh?"

And fuck it, but you were already palming the bulge at the front of his pants

"whose cock she needs to be filled with" he smirked, watching your pretty eyes fall to his mouth

"then I guess I just have to, don't I?"

His lips were on yours faster than you could blink, his mouth ravenous and hungry as much as his tongue, which was exploring every inch of you as if he needed to have all of you, right there, right now.

You felt his hand leave your neck and seconds after your ear picked up his zipper getting undone and then he was picking you up and he was hastily freeing his cock from his boxers and-

It was all so fucking fast- he felt like a man possessed

For this much talk of you being the one to need a reminder, it looked like it was him the only one to need this

And maybe it was because seeing you talking to that guy made him see red, or maybe because it had been more than 24 hours since he had a taste of you and missed you more than anything, or maybe... maybe he was just starting to realize that it wasn't the 24 hours, and it wasn't Kaleb, but it was you, it had always been you, with that smart mouth and that smug attitude and your determination and kindness and beauty and fuck- this had never been just fuking- he could never just be having sex with you, he wanted to have you, all of you, not just like this, but in public, in front of everyone, in front of Kaleb and you pissed off dad- he wanted to- to bring you on a proper date and pay the bill and only then fuck you so good you forgot your name- he wanted, he wanted everything, he wanted you, completely.

"You know anyone could come in here at any moment right?" you asked breathlessly as you leaned away, your lips swollen already 

He had you propped against the part of the fridge facing the wall, so you were hidden from the outside, but anyone could have just taken a closer look, or come into the kitchen for a fresh beer and caught you just as he railed into you... and he couldn't have fucking cared less

"What, you scared?"

And the way you smiled- the way you smiled was enough to make a grown man drop to his knees in an instant

"fuck me, daddy"

God fucking damn him, but he might just be in love

"Jesus fucking Christ doll"

He didn't let you laugh at him before he had pounced into you with one hard and deep thrust, his mouth crushing into yours simultaneously to drown out that clamorous moan he already knew was coming from your throat

He didn't let you get used to him, he only started fucking up into you like he needed to split you in half, like he needed to get deeper into you that he'd ever been.

He was grunting with each push, and you could faintly hear the fridge beside you move in tandem with his movements, but you couldn't have cared less about worrying whether or not it could be seen from outside.

he hit a particularly deep spot inside of you and just as you were about to cry out like a mad woman, his hand was on your mouth, shutting you up for good

"you let another guy touch this fucking pussy and they're dead" his eyes were just as brutal as his thrusts, although a veil of harrowing honesty lay beneath them

He was being serious, he needed you to know that

 "got it?" he asked, your mind only half listening as your walls tightened around him "It's fucking mine" he purred, the hand he had on your waist tight enough to bruise "You're fucking mine," he said, "all of you" 

You swore you felt pain underneath the anger in his voice

"I don't care what you say, I'm the only one that can make you come, 'm the only one who can touch you or fuck you or- or fucking take you out to dinner- got it?"

If it were any other moment you would have teased him, but this... there was something too precious- too honest about this

"yes" you whimpered into his palm, 

And that sent him straight to fucking heaven, he couldn't help but relieve your lips of his hand and kiss you again, kiss you with every inch of life he had in him

"You're mine" he breathed, both of you breathing so heavily you were nearly hyperventilating

"I'm yours Joel" you promised, your core wisting and tuning as he drilled you closer and closer to the edge "I'm yours" you repeated, watching what it did to him, the relief plastered onto his face, the want only multiplying in his pace "only yours- all of me-"

"that's right" he breathed, his skin slapping with yours "My pussy, my body, my girl" he purred "You're mine, doll"

And just like that, he had pushed you over the edge, watching you fall apart closely before he couldn't help but follow suit, kissing you as he silenced both your moans, bottling them up inside of him, so he could never forget them, forget this.

You opened your eyes to find his already on you, so many unspoken words, feelings, hopes in them, and you couldn't help but smile, dropping your forehead to his as he settled you back onto the ground

"That was- wow" you sighed, still grinning like a kid "I should make you jealous more often"

"Please don't" he begged, his fingers drawing circles on your waist as you kissed him again, smiling softly onto his lips

You needed to talk, about what happened, about what this was, about everything... but as you both leaned away, a mutual understanding passed through you

Later

"You should get back out there" you murmured, although halfheartedly.

the prospect of moving away from his embrace felt like hell right now

"what about you?" he asked, his nose nuzzling against yours

"I gotta clean myself up" 

"I could help" 

You rolled your eyes playfully as a small laugh flowed through you

"Joel" you said, still smiling "go"

And so even if his whole mind, body, and soul were fighting against it, he did, kissing you one last time before he leaned away, fixed himself up, and looked at you one more time, before walking out of the kitchen and into the backyard

And as if on cue that fucking asshole had to come in and ruin his fucking vibe

"Hey, where's y/n? I've been looking for her" Kaleb asked, walking up to him.

Joel didn't even try to be nice, he didn't even bother with that "count to ten before answering" bullshit Sarah was always telling him about

"She's not interested, and if I see you even just looking her way ever again, I am going to kill you Kaleb, understand?"

To say the guy was taken aback was the understatement of the century

His eyes widened so much he didn't even look like himself

"w-what the fuck?" he spat "Where is she, I need to t-"

"she's in the bathroom" Joel cut him off, pure rage and annoyance in his voice, in his stare "cleaning my come off of herself"

Kaleb stumbled back, literally now

"w-wha-"

"I told you buddy" Joel said simply "she's not interested"

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #dad!joel miller #dbf!joel miller #joel miller x f!reader #dbf!joel #no outbreak!joel miller #joel miller fluff #tlou #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfic #smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #fluff #joel miller imagine #joel miller blurb #joel miller angst #fanfiction #the last of us #the last of us hbo #tlou hbo #joel miller tlou

[macfrog]

cowboy like me | masterlist

dbf!joel miller x f!reader | ao3 | playlist

back home in austin after five years away, you're looking for something to do with your summer. what you don't expect, is to find that something in the form of joel miller. quietly charming, ruggedly handsome, flannel-donned joel. you know. your dad's best friend.

please check out individual chapter content warnings before reading!!! this series features adult content.

series warnings: age gap (reader is 23, joel is 48), cursing, alcohol + dr*g use, mentions of pregnancy & periods, physical violence, allusions to cheating, smut, angst, fluff, softdom!joel mostly (some jealous/protective/possessive!joel along the way).

main series

chapter 1: greetings from austin, tx

chapter 2: shameless

chapter 3: grilled

chapter 4: moneyball

chapter 5: welcome home

chapter 6: company

chapter 7: bloodstream

chapter 8: lend me some sugar

chapter 9: checkmate

chapter 10: ride it, cowgirl

chapter 11: illicit affairs

chapter 12: hits different

chapter 12.5: if i had a gun

chapter 13: heart, body, soul

chapter 14: secrets

chapter 15: the sweetest con

bonus

➵ if patrick bateman were a woman

drabbles

➵ dragging joel to the eras tour ➵ sex tape [prelude to chapter 11] ➵ books joel would be into ➵ slow dancing in the kitchen ➵ joel versus a nightmare

#hello apologies for sharing this again i'm fixing my masterlists lmao hope ur having a nice day #cowboy like me #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #the last of us #tlou #tlou fic #dbf!joel miller #dbf!joel #dad's best friend #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #pedro pascal #pedro pascal joel miller #joel tlou #joel the last of us #joel miller fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfic #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us hbo

[meshlasolus]

Take It Off

Dbf!Joel Miller x College!Reader

A/n: y'all i know this is like... campy or whatever but humor me. I'm on a dbf joel kick and this was the only way I was gonna stop thinking about him 24/7. Still thinking about him rn but at least I can focus on my work tomorrow 😭 (shoutout to @theatrelove3000 for being on the joel kick with me)

Warnings: not many for this part really... the occasional swear word and like kissing but that's not really anything. Ig just the taboo relationship thing.

This is based off of a tiktok that can be found here.

Obviously, the song is Take It Off by Kesha.

MASTERLIST

- no outbreak au, age gap is about fifteen years, roughly. -

He chuckled again and nodded, watching as you almost turned away from him and his place at the bar, before catching you at the last second.

"You look mighty pretty, tonight," he let out sweetly, and your face lit up. You kept going in the direction of your friends but stepped backward in order to face him a bit longer.

The bar was always busy on Friday night, and most Saturdays were the same. Near every person of drinking age in Travis County could be found sitting at the long wood slab surrounding the bartender, or at one of the tables nearby. The busiest nights of the month, however, were the ones that cleared the floor for dancing. Line dancing, Swing dancing, and the sway of drunken people who could barely stand. Anything goes.

Music blazing through the windows brought on many patrons that sometimes never frequented the bar at all. You being one of them.

You'd never been one much for drinking your nights away, and in past experiences, you had turned out to be quite the designated driver. Your friends playfully joked time and again whenever you visited the establishment, how you never touched even so much as a beer bottle. In your own words, that doesn't mean I can't still have fun.

Dancing has always been something that could pull you out of your seat. College has been rocky, and finding fun things to do that didn't completely intoxicate you were limited... but when everyone gets up and starts kickin' round the concrete floors, you can't help but spring to your feet and join them.

Dance nights, you've been to more than you can count, but usually in places by where you go to school. College bars, campus built clubs, that sort of thing.

Tonight, you found yourself in a small bar your dad normally goes to. Of course, he hates dancing, so right now, he's nowhere to be seen. Someone you do notice on your way in, though....

Joel Miller.

Next door neighbor since you were sixteen and your father's closest friend since they started working together around that same time.

Joel was never someone you'd been able to call a personal friend, but he was someone you could depend on if you needed him. If your car wasn't working senior year and your dad couldn't pick you up? Call Joel. If you need help with the light fixture by the front porch and your dad doesn't have the right tools? Call Joel. Even just bringing home new furniture for your room while your dad was out of town... you called Joel. He was dependable, always one call away. In return of these good deeds, you'd babysat his daughter several times when she was younger. She was almost fifteen now, going into her sophomore year of high school. It felt crazy to think how long ago those memories were in hindsight.

You think your train of thought causes you to stare just a bit too long, and your friends begin to notice.

"Who's that?" Amy says with attitude... she isn't sure why the older guy in the corner seems to have caught your eye, but she doesn't hide her opposition to whatever it is.

You snapped back to the group and almost did a double take on where you were. It's Dance night, and you're here to have fun with your friends, not take a trip down memory lane. But if you did....

"That's my neighbor," you explained, smiling sweetly and trying to wipe the strange look from Amy's face.

"Oh," she dropped any hints of disgust that she wore only a moment ago and looked to the man herself. "For a minute there, I thought you might be into him."

"Amy, I know you don't go older... but that man's easy on the eyes," a voice came from your left, Kate. She had her hands mounted firmly on her hips as she took her time in scanning his appearance. Easy on the eyes, indeed. You'd always thought so.

He's a good man from everything you know. Everytime he's been at barbecues and house parties hosted in the neighborhood, he always made a point to ask you how you were doing, how you were liking college. He'd offer to grab you a drink or to help your dad with the grill. Honest to God, he's a real down to earth southern gentleman. Polite as they come, even when he doesn't speak much.

You suppose that with three younger girls staring holes through the side of him, he was bound to notice at some point. He caught your gaze and your friends' as well, offering up a nice smile and a nod in your direction. He stood away from the bar as if excusing him from any previous interaction, and you sighed, knowing that even with the music calling you to dance, you needed to make a small pit stop.

"Look at what y'all did, now I gotta go talk to 'im," you joke, starting over in his direction with a bashful smile.

You hear a bellowing 'you're welcome' from Kate, who likely could sense your faint attraction to the man. Given that you couldn't barely take your eyes away from him the second you entered, it dawned on her that there might possibly be something there. Obviously, she's just guessing, but your diminished swagger as you walk up to him tells her one thing: you're nervous.

Whether he makes you nervous, or you're just nervous to talk to him, it doesn't really matter to her. She's positive she's gained all the information she needs to know that you, at the very least, like him.

"Hey, I didn't think I'd see you here," you slipped beside him at the bar, facing his slumped over stature with a decent distance between you.

"I could say the same for you, I thought you were still in Dallas?" He asked, a confused look shown through a soft smile.

"I'm here to visit a while, might stay for the summer, actually."

He raised a brow, nodding and taking a swig of the beer he had. Maybe it's just the way him and your dad drink them all the time, but suddenly a beer of your own sounds somewhat appealing. You add on to your statement, trying to distract yourself from the new craving.

"Senior year is gonna kick my ass, so I might as well spend some time relaxin' for a bit."

Again, he nods, understanding how much stress it ought to be. He and your dad both never went to college. Thought about it, sure, maybe even looked at a couple schools... but they ended up doing just fine with the talents they had on their own.

"I imagine the last year s'not so fun... Remind me what you're going for, again?" He scratched the back of his neck, as if embarrassed to have forgotten. He reckons he asked you last time, too. Wasn't like you'd find it personally offensive that he'd not remembered. Your own grandmother couldn't even remember, so...

"Archeology, although I'm starting to think that maybe that wasn't the best Major for someone who lives in Texas," you joked, and he chuckled softly. He hadn't stopped wearing that faint smile ever since he'd noticed you were here.

"Ain't nothing wrong with it," he shook his head, trying his best to be encouraging. "Just gives you more places to go."

You gave him a look of sincerity. Even your dad had poked fun at you from time to time for your Major. 'Can't discover much out here, lovebug... just old pigskins and bottlecaps.'

"Thanks, I appreciate you sayin' that."

He shrugged as if it were no big deal. Validating your career decisions? That's an easy one on his part.

"No problem. Can I get you a drink while you're here?" He motioned to the bottle in his hands that you'd kept staring at during the entire exchange.

You finally realized how much you'd been glancing at it and had to stumble out a response under a slightly nervous laugh.

"Is it okay if I take a raincheck? I should get back to my friends, they get lost without me."

He chuckled again and nodded, watching as you almost turned away from him and his place at the bar, before catching you at the last second.

"You look mighty pretty, tonight," he let out sweetly, and your face lit up. You kept going in the direction of your friends but stepped backward in order to face him a bit longer.

"Don't look so bad yourself." And that was the reply you'd settled on. You finally made it back to your group, but you swore you saw a hint of a blush creep over the man's face. It was funny, to think that the big and strong next door neighbor was red in the cheeks by a compliment you paid him.

"What the hell was that?" Amy asked, crossing her arms over her chest. She was clearly confused and a bit peeved, but for why, you had no idea.

"What do you mean?" You didn't mean to play dumb, you genuinely didn't know what she was on about.

"You're into him," she said flatly, and you couldn't answer in words, but lucky for you, your face gave away everything you could have said, anyways.

"He's into her, too," Kate chimed in nonchalantly, and that revelation snapped your head around as quickly as it possibly could to meet her eyeline.

"No, he isn't... he's just bein' polite s' all," you denfended him, but in all honesty... if he was into you, it's not like you were appalled at the theory in the slightest. "He's my dad's buddy, I've known 'im a long time."

"Honey, let me offer you some good advice," Amy pulled you in so that only the group of you could hear. "Don't let your daddy know he looks at you like that."

You didn't even stop to think about how he was looking at you. It was the same he'd always looked at you, right? But then again, he'd never taken in your appearance and called you pretty like he'd just done. Mighty pretty...

"You guys are seein' things that aren't there..." you shook off their suggestions, and tried to get on with the night.

"If you say so," Kate replied, not without looking between you and that neighbor of yours again. He was certainly a looker. "But if you're not interested, maybe I'll ask him for a dance?"

You laughed a little, not wanting to discourage her idea, but knowing from experience that, "Joel doesn't dance, but you can ask him all you want."

"Mister neighbor guy has a name, huh? Joel..." Amy repeated it like it was some sort of spell. You laughed at her and Kate before speaking again.

"At this point, I don't care who you ask, but we came here to dance, s' I wanna dance."

The first few dances you participated in were just lines, several fun songs blasting over the speakers to bring out more patrons. Now, the lines broke apart and the song 'Step in the Name of Love' came on. It wasn't uncommon for this song to be played as it was a favorite in the bar, but you weren't interested in dancing to it at the moment, given that some swing partners started going out for it.

They seemed to agree with you and headed over towards the open floor. The lights of different colors rotated around the room to set the mood, and about fifteen other people had been drawn out to the cleared area for dancing by now, but the night was far young.

-

You watched as Amy and Kate wrangled themselves some lonely boys by the sidelines and pulled them to the clearing for some fun. Normally, you'd do the same, but something about Joel Miller being at the bar and watching the crowds made you feel like maybe you'd rather sit this one out. Didn't stop some poor soul from trying to get you out there, though.

You felt a sly hand pull you by the waist and away from the floor-to-ceiling wooden beam you'd been leaning on. He was cute, but not your type. Blondie, blue-eyed. You gave him a warm smile and shook your head.

"I'm takin' a little break," you nodded for him to go out and find someone else, but he continued to pull you, now by your forearms.

"C'mon, hot stuff," he started swaying a bit to try and get you to do the same, but again you pulled back into the beam, leaning there again and giving a slightly less friendly smile as you shook your head again. "S' just a little fun."

At this point, you knew he probably had a few drinks in him, if his glazed stare was anything to go by. You crossed your arms over your chest and looked at him more pointedly.

"There's a bunch of girls over there waitin' to dance, you should ask them."

"I didn't ask them, I'm askin' you," he started getting closer again, and you were about to just walk away and go to the bathroom. Your usual escape plan for avoiding weirdos.

"And I'm sayin' no, bud," you gave your last effort to shove him off, but he huffed, and came even closer. By now you'd missed your chance to cut around the beam and head to the bathroom. Boys down here ain't as courteous as the ones in Dallas, you guessed. That, or they didn't see unfamiliar faces around often, and tried to take advantage of it.

"Hey, baby... you ready for that drink?" A voice came from your left, and you turned to see Joel coming over, an innocent enough look on his face, though you knew he'd been watching and came to help you out.

"Yeah, definitely!" You smiled brightly at him and the guy took a step back to stare him up and down. Much bigger build, much older, and you knew him by the looks of it. The kid huffed out and knew he wasn't getting his way this time around. You sidestepped him now that you had room, and dismissed yourself, "Excuse me."

You hooked your arm around Joel's elbow as you walked back towards his spot at the bar. Standing here, now, you realize he had a perfect view of your situation.

"Thank you for saving me," you laughed, sticking close by him until you were sure that kid had gone off. "This doesn't usually happen in Dallas."

He shook his head, it was no problem. Didn't need thanks, just wanted for you to be where you were now.

"I've seen that kid here before, he's harmless... but I wanted to make sure you didn't feel uncomfortable by 'im," his explanation felt like he was trying to justify himself. As if he needed a reason for saving you.

"Even so, I appreciate it. I didn't feel like swingin' tonight," your own explanation followed, but one second later it felt like a lie... you wouldn't mind swinging with him, but he doesn't dance.

"Yeah, I'm not much one for any of it," he chuckled, confirming your last thought to be completely true. Joel does not dance. "You looked good out there, though."

You ducked your head in an attempt to hide the pink spread over your face, but he seemed to catch it. He smiled to himself. He'd never been like this around you before, but maybe the reason for that would be the lack of presence of your dad. He'd never dare to look at you like this in front of him, never did before.

"It's been a while since I came to a dance night here, figured I'd show my face again," you stumbled into your reply, a little nervous again from his words. He'd been watching you from here, you can tell just by turning your head that he had a good view of the floor, too.

"I'm glad to see you back," he tapped his beer on the counter slightly, his smile still evident. "How about that drink?"

The bartender had been close by, and you hailed him over to grab you a beer. Same one Joel was drinking. You didn't have a preferred taste to any drinks in specific, but both Joel and your dad drank Bud, so you were going to try one.

You took a sip when the bottle was in your hand, and even though you didn't expect yourself to like it... it wasn't bad at all. You went for another sip and Joel chuckled at your side.

"S' good, huh?"

"Better than I thought it would be."

By now you'd gotten used to the taste, and as you kept drinking, the words you said to him became easier to say. You weren't quite buzzed yet, but rather relaxed. Whether that had anything to do with the alcohol, or just that he was a familiar presence, you didn't really know.

"So how are things? I know Sarah's goin' into sophomore year, yeah?" you asked, the counter becoming your friend as you leaned more into it.

"Been fine," he thought about it some more, remembering what Sarah had been telling him. "She's glad to have a break from school, but she's real bright, gets all A's n' that sort of thing."

"She's probably gonna have schools lined up to give 'er scholarships in a few years," you told him, and he nodded, taking a moment to let it sink in.

"I can't be thinkin' that far ahead, already blows my mind that she's in high school."

"My dad used to say the same thing," you smiled faintly at the way he used to tell you, 'Stop gettin' so big, girl. Gonna have to start carryin' a shotgun around, keep the boys away.' "Guess I'm all grown up, now."

That, he knew for a fact.

"Yeah, grown up," he repeated, taking another swig of beer before turning back to face you.

You'd seemed to have something on your mind, but until now, weren't able to voice it. Maybe the alcohol was doing it's job after all.

"I know you don't dance," you started, and he chuckled lowly. He knew where it was going but didn't dare interrupt you. Not yet, at least. "Maybe just this once you'll make an exception."

He actually thought about it for a second. Maybe he could make an exception, just this once, for you. He'd been caught in a few conversations by some buddies who were here tonight, but besides that, he'd mostly entertained himself by keeping an eye on you. Watching you dance, talking with your friends, and then getting hit on by that blonde kid.

"How about next time?" He asked, knowing how slim the chances were that he'd be at another dance night over the summer. He'd only come tonight because a few buddies had been here.

You understood that was the nice way of saying no, and you understood he wasn't much for that kinda fun. You didn't blame him, it took a certain type of personality to enjoy the spectacle.

"I know s'not your scene," you sighed out and set the now empty bottle on the ledge of the bar. "But I'll be out there incase you change your mind."

He gave you a small nod and you turned to leave, but with the confidence flowing through your veins in the form of a beer, you stepped back up to him quickly, pressing the smallest kiss you could conjure against his cheek, "Thanks for the drink."

You didn't even wait to see how he reacted, you were already turned around and ready to go back to the dance floor. You found your friends by the edge of the room, and they'd just come off from swinging.

"Where'd you go? We didn't see you the last few dances."

"Some kid was givin' me a hard time... Joel scared 'im off easy," you told them, and though Amy seemed to not notice the implications, Kate seemed rather intrigued.

"He did, huh?" She gave you a pointed look with her eyebrow raised.

"Oh hush, I'm back aren't I?" You gave her a playful smack to the arm and she held her arms up in defense.

"So, you gonna dance now, or what? Thought that's what you came here to do?" She mocked, using your words from earlier.

Truth be told, you wanted to dance, but with the kind rejection of the person you'd wanted to dance with, the mood had been changed slightly.

The current song was ending, and in only seconds the next one to start playing drew droves of people onto the floor. It's been a pretty popular song as of lately in the line dance society.

Take it off, by Kesha.

You knew the steps, the walls, the restarts. Probably better than any other song you'd danced to tonight. It had been a favorite of yours in Dallas, and you wouldn't lie, you were glad to see it made it's way into Travis County.

Your friends squealed and pulled you along to the floor, and you didn't even try to fight them off. You went to the back corner, which coincidentally (not at all) could be seen the easiest from the part of the bar that Joel was hanging out by. At the start of the song he'd been engrossed in conversation by the person next to him, but once he caught wind of you stepping foot into the mix, he'd fixed his attention in your direction. His buddy still rambled on, but he'd only give an occasional nod, or a soft 'uhuh,' to tell the man he was listening.

You had waited for the chorus until you looked right at him. You did the steps, and given that the wall was facing the bar, you wanted to be a little punk and tease him.

He'd watched as you stepped and turned, how the jersey you were wearing loosely hung onto you when you did. You'd worn black fringe boots with a pair of black shorts and fishnets beneath them. The shorts could barely be seen for the length of the Ranger's jersey over everything.

You saw him tense up a little, and you couldn't be sure if it was your doing, but it didn't matter... you were determined to get a reaction out of him regardless.

You took the skip step and followed the instructions of the song:

Turn me on...

Now, turning towards the other side, you grabbed the bottom hem of your jersey:

Take it off....

And you did. The polyester knit fabric was pulled up and over your head to reveal the tight black tank underneath, cropped at the mid section and clinging to midly sweaty skin. You flung the jersey to a corner of the room, and some of the guys on the floor were whistling.

Joel's eyes never left yours, even as you turned and faced the next wall. Every time you turned around, you were looking right back at him, a smirk plastered over your lips as you mouthed the words. His jaw clicked, and he huffed deeply, finally out of conversation with the man beside him. He drank the rest of his beer and left the bottle on the countertop.

You didn't realize he'd left the bar until you had turned from the last wall. You kept dancing, but couldn't find him anywhere in the bar. Maybe he'd been fed up with you and gone home... but that was unlikely.

You waited for the song to end, then stepped off the floor, nodding for your friends to stay through the next song. You told them you were gonna try and find your jersey, and they were more than happy to keep dancing without you.

You scanned the room, now able to see behind the crowds of dancers, but couldn't see Joel even still. You went up to the bar to see if he'd just moved seats, but he wasn't around there either.

You figured he did actually go home, because when you looked and saw the clock on the wall, it read 12:05. Sure, it was a weekend. But Joel's a set schedule kinda guy. You knew he'd probably already been out too late.

You turned back around and went searching instead for your jersey, but it hadn't been where you threw it. You could swear tonight was just a night for you to loose things, until there was a tap on your shoulder.

You spun around and smiled widely.

"You lookin' for this?" Joel stood with your jersey clutched tightly in his hand. He held it out to you and you took it thankfully, sliding it back on.

"Yeah, thank you," you'd waited to say anything further until your head had peaked through the top. "I didn't see you at the bar, figured you'd gone on home."

"I was thinkin' bout heading out soon, wanted to make sure I saw you first."

You weren't exactly sure of his meaning, but damnit, the sparks in your skin when he said those words. Your stomach fluttered and you almost didn't know what to say.

"Well to be honest, I'm glad you caught me... I'm thinkin' about calling an uber and gettin' outta here, too."

He raised a brow and proposed an idea.

"I can take you home, if you want." The offer was kind and genuine, but to be completely honest, he just wanted the extra time with you. He liked being near you, because you were good company, and also... mighty pretty. "Not like it's out of my way."

You laughed lightly at his joke. Truly, why waste the time in calling someone else to drive you home when he could do it? He lived next door, it would be crazy not to.

"That would be great, actually," you agreed, smiling to him in thanks but then turning back to the dance floor. "I ought to go let them know."

He nodded and let you off, watching as you went to find your friends. They seemed like nice girls. Not quite like you, but nice all the same. You seemed to enjoy their company well enough.

You found them by the edge of the floor, heaving and sweaty from the last dance. They saw you and waved you over, sitting into some chairs by the wall.

"Are you gonna swing at all?" Amy asked, her hands on top of her head to control her breathing.

"No, I think I'm done for tonight," you handed Kate the watter bottle she'd gestured for you to grab her on the next table. "But you guys are good, I got a ride home."

Amy dropped the look of neutrality on her face when she realized.

"With the neighbor?" Her eyes went wide when you nodded, but you hadn't illuded to anything else, just that he was giving you a ride home.

"Girl, I knew it. I'm never wrong," Kate jumped in, looking around the bar to see where he was at. "That man's got it for you."

"Y'all just needa calm down, alright? He's just bein' nice... Besides, he lives right next door, it's not like he's going out of his way for me."

Kate rolled her eyes and sat back in her seat, waving you off. She wasn't annoyed, but she knew you weren't telling them everything, and she knew that the man next door, Joel, was clearly attracted to you in some capacity.

"Alright, girl, you go on, now.... and enjoy your ride."

Amy winked at you before you started walking away, laughing at her antics and flipping her off as you left. It was always in good fun, but sometimes they were just too accurate on their assumptions.

You found Joel where you left him, scrolling through some texts from your dad. He probably was letting him know he'd be dropping you off. He looked up when you stopped in front of him, a sweet smile he was met with.

"Ready?"

"Mhm," you hummed in response, watching as he held out his elbow for you to take, just like earlier. "Ever the gentleman."

He chuckled, waiting until you hooked your arm around his to start walking to the door.

Being so close to him all throughout the night, you'd started feeling a sense of familiarity that hadn't been there before. His smell, his energy, the way he walked. It all became so much more apparent than it ever had been. You noticed how naturally big his arms were, and how broad his shoulders looked in the shirt he was wearing. Black and white baseball tee, which hugged tightly his arms and shoulders, but hung looser around his ribs and waist. He wasn't muscular by any means, and in some places, you could tell he was a little soft... but it was a good look on him. Attractive.

Getting to his truck, he opened the passenger door for you before going around to his side and jumping in. He watched you pull out your phone, and for a second, you weren't even sure why you had in the first place... force of habit.

You swiped out of instagram and opened snapchat, tapping him on the shoulder as you held the phone up. He looked over and saw you were trying to take a photo. He leaned over, an awkward smile on his face when you snapped it.

"What's that for?" He furrowed his brow, starting up the truck and pulling out.

"S' just for me," you told him. You saved it to your camera roll, discarding it afterwards and neglecting to post it. No filter, no caption, just you and Joel miller sitting in his truck.

"So, how you liking Dallas?" He attempted to keep the conversation going, and you smiled at him for it. He was normally someone who kept quiet in a setting like this. On the drive home after a rowdy night out. It was unlike him to want to speak so much, but nevertheless, you entertained him.

"It's alright, a lot bigger than here, but I kinda like the small town scene better."

"I never took you for a city girl, but I knew you could do well there," he replied honestly. He kept his eyes on the road, every once and a while into his mirrors. You figured that was for the best, because then he couldn't catch you staring so much.

"Still prefer this, though," you said softly. You'd looked back to the window, and missed when he finally looked over at you, a sweet look in his eyes. He's happy you're home. You know that much... but he can't tell you outright because, why is he so happy that you're home? You're not his buddy, you're only his buddy's daughter.

"Everyone's gonna be glad to have you 'round for the summer," he said it as inconspicuously as he could... but you still read between the lines. He's happy you're home.

"Maybe not Mrs. Stanton," you joked. The woman had been your elderly neighbor to the other side of you and wasn't necessarily a fan of any person younger than thirty. She liked peace and quiet and mundane life. Parties and Barbacues were not her setting, and she loathed your dad and Joel for throwing so many over the years. All for the sake of you and Sarah, of course, birthdays, graduation, etc.

"She's never glad about nothin', I don't count her."

Nearing the edge of your neighborhood, you yawned and turned back to him, seeing as he was carefully making his way onto your street.

You laughed a little, then fell into a comfortable silence the rest of the way. Travis County is a small place, not much around, everything is within twenty minutes distance or less, just about.

-

"Thanks for drivin' me home."

"No problem, darlin'," he parked in front of your house, even though he could have just pulled into his driveway and made you walk across the yards between.

You smiled at him sweetly and he couldn't help himself anymore, he just had to ask...

"And thanks again for that drink," you said, looking at him over the console. He'd leaned ever so slightly closer to you, and you could swear neither of you were gonna look away.

Those brown eyes were so damn captivating. Ain't no way you'd survive being a victim of their longing stare. Just as well, he seemed to be in a similar trance, with you being the one to cast the spell.

"Can I kiss you?" It was almost a whisper, and though soft in your ears, it rang out over and again.

You didn't even answer him. You just closed the space between you, pressing your lips against his in a gentle motion that was almost too much for him to handle. He'd not even thought twice before asking you, and now he was kissing his best buddy's daughter. You were always wordlessly off limits to him, but right now, it didn't feel that way.

He held you by the back of your neck, pulling you deeper, closer. He didn't stop it from getting hotter, heavier, and maybe he should have. It was far too late for that, now.

Your arms dangled over his shoulders, the broadness of them that you'd admired only twenty minutes ago. So broad, so strong.

He raised the center console up for you to slide across, and you didn't bother to say a word before you straddled his waist, still buckled in his seat belt.

The audacity of this scenario. Your dad was in the house the truck was parked in front of, and here you were sat on his best friend's lap and making out with him shamelessly. Joel was playing with fire, and buried in the back of his mind, he was well aware of that fact... but damnit, he wasn't stopping for nothing.

His hands rubbed up and down your thighs, covered in the fishnets he'd kept such a close eye on earlier. Something about the secrecy of this, the fact that no one could ever know, made it that much more exciting.

You both jumped apart at the light over your driveway turning on, being caught by the suddenness of the flash. You saw a neighborhood stray cat walk across the yard soon after, and realized it had set off the censor for the light.

You breathed out a breath you didn't remember holding, and looked back to Joel with sleepy eyes and swollen lips. "I should go."

He nodded, helping you slip off of him and into your own seat, gathering your phone and keys before opening the door. He caught your hand just before you got out, and gave it a tight squeeze.

You smiled at him and continued to get out of the car, giving your last words before you shut the door.

"I'll see you," he promised, his eyes assuring you of his words. To hell with those brown eyes, they were gonna be the death of you, and you knew it.

"I'll see you."

A/n: if anyone wants a part 2 lemme know otherwise this is a oneshot lol

(Tags are always open!)

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #joel miller #joel the last of us #the last of us #dbf!joel #dbf!joel miller x reader #joel miller x reader #ellie williams #dbf! joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #joel x reader #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fluff #dbf

[notjustjavierpena]

Reunion - Part I

A/N: I have wanted to post this for a week now, expanding the dbf-universe a little more than it just being smut. It’s cliché-filled and lovely, and I sincerely hope you enjoy it.

Summary: You're flying back to visit your parents (it’s Joel, you’re actually home for) after a month at college.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader/You (No y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, dad’s best friend joel miller, daddy kink, sooooo much longing and love and fluff and teasing, Joel gets a blowjob, pet names, PIV sex, rough sex, dirty talk, cuddles, reader’s dad is oblivious 

Word count: 6.3k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49869355/chapters/125892244

Tonight

You feel giddy as you walk through the airport with your headphones on, your bag slung over your shoulder, and with a bounce in your step. Your feet’s movements have automatically adjusted to the beat of the song that’s playing in your ears, setting a late-summer soundtrack to your life as unimportant faces pass. 

It’s sunny and warm inside the glass building, and whilst you cannot wait to get outside into the colder weather, it’s actually because of your father’s work emergency that you are excited; Joel is picking you up instead.

Joel at 11:06 a.m.: I can’t wait to see you. -JM

Your eyes roam over the screen of your phone whilst you pass through the crowd, smiling in a way that would make your parents ask why. Who knew that Joel Miller could make you feel like summer was still at its peak? 

“There you are,” Joel says when you find his car in the enormous parking lot. He is leaning against the side of the vehicle, and you approach him whilst taking off your earphones to let them hang around your neck. 

When you are less than twenty feet from him, you stop walking and run the rest of the way. You close the distance between you by throwing your arms around him in a tight hug, a happy squeak leaving your mouth. He lets out an ompf-sound but embraces you when the car saves him from falling backward.

“Hey,” he says into your hair, noticing the volume of your music when he can hear it play through the speakers, “You hate your ears?”

You are too busy breathing him in, head swimming from the very first inhale of his cologne, “Hm?”

“Turn that music down,” he tells you. 

“God, stop sounding like my dad,” you groan and step back from him to do as you are told, “Fucking boner killer.”

“Don’t swear at me,” he warns but his tone tells you that the way he rolls his eyes at you afterward is more playful than impatient. He holds out his hand, “Bag.”

You stuff your headphones into the bag before giving it to Joel and watch him throw it into the backseat before circling the truck to hold the passenger door open for you. It feels stupid when your heart flutters at the sight of both of your bags lying side by side. 

“Thank you,” you smile politely as you crawl into the car, “Even if you just hurled my possessions into the car.” 

“Brat.”

You ogle him in the few moments it takes him to walk around the front of the car. He wears a green flannel shirt over one of his usual t-shirts, chest threatening to pop the buttons with how tight it is across his broad frame. A part of you hopes that he has dressed up for you, and the image of him fussing over his appearance in the mirror before leaving to pick you up is enough to make you smile goofily to yourself. 

“What?” He asks when he finally sits beside you, turning the key in the ignition. The truck comes alive. 

“Nothing,” you shrug, but then lean across the console center of the car. You reach up to cup his cheek and turn his head towards you, “You just look very handsome today.”

Then you kiss him softly on the mouth, seeking him out in the way that only you are allowed. He turns his body towards you, slides a hand around your back, and rests the other on the back of your neck. 

“Mhm, and you’re lookin’ pretty, princess,” he hums against your mouth.

You kiss for a while, intimate and soft. When you try to move closer and escalate things by nearly crawling into his lap, he grips the hair at the back of your neck and holds you in place.

“No,” he tells you and you whine in response.

The hand you have on his cheek slips down to rest on his shoulder, but only so you can reach down on his back and scratch affectionately between his shoulder blades, “Please. It’s been forever, and— and I’m getting wet just thinking about it.”

Joel’s jaw tightens as he restrains himself. He shakes his head, eyes only going down between your legs very briefly, “Promised your old man to feed you on the way back since he ain’t at home, and your mom’s gone out with her colleagues. Plus there’s no way I’m screwin' a girl twenty years my junior in my car… in a public place. Don’t care how busy it is here.”

You slip from his grasp and sit back into the passenger seat with a huff. Out of the corner of your eye, you see him adjust himself in his washed-out jeans, “When then?”

“Tonight,” he promises as he pulls out of the parking space, “Think of how good it’ll be after bein' worked up all day.” 

“If you can wait that long,” you sigh dramatically. 

Joel scoffs and then starts to drive. Your clit throbs during the whole duration of the car ride.

*

He eventually pulls into an IHOP parking lot after you’ve begged him since seeing the billboard a few miles earlier. It is better than one of the roadside diners and more crowded too which gives you a greater sense of privacy. 

You step out of the car, immediately met with the smell of sugary fried food. It makes your stomach growl, but still, and you’ll admit it, you are more excited to see what feast Joel will choose than you are about eating pancakes for lunch. 

“C’mon,” he says as you lose yourself to basking in the sunlight and listening to the cars driving by on the highway.

“Lemme just get my wallet.”

Joel makes a sound of disapproval, “Food’s on me. Get your ass in there.”

The restaurant looks less rundown than you’d expected, and the sweetness in the air hits you like a brick wall as soon as you step over the threshold of the entrance. People are chatting loudly whilst eating breakfast foods, somewhere a baby cries and you have to actively search for a free table.

You walk across the tiled floor which is meant to look like wooden boards, not able to see Joel but feeling his presence a few steps behind you. When someone walks in front of you, you hear him grumble and feel his hand on the small of your back. Your head swims, your stomach swirling at the warmth of his touch.

Unsurprisingly, this means that it ends up being him who finds an unoccupied corner for you, one that doesn’t have anything sticky on the blue cushions of the booth. He offers you the booth and takes the chair on the opposite side. 

You pick up the laminated paper menu from in front of you, studying it intensely. In the many years that you have known Joel, you have never actually been out with him where it’s just been the two of you because why would you? It makes butterflies fly around in your belly, fighting their way out until they are everywhere in your body. Especially between your legs when you see him scratch his beard whilst also looking for something to eat.

“This is our first date, you know,” you note and see Joel tense a little. You try to sound cool and indifferent whilst hiding behind the menu, “Are you nervous?”

“I’m usually always a lil’ nervous when I’m with a pretty girl,” he replies nonchalantly too, “But actually no. Even if she’s the prettiest girl I ever saw.”

You dare not open your mouth at that, scared that the butterflies might actually escape your body at this point and fly off into the air. You are hot in the face, resting the menu against your forehead to hide your face from him, “Shut up.”

“You started it.”

You peek over the top and are just about to say something when—

“Hi and welcome to IHOP!” A way too cheerful voice says and interrupts the tender moment. You slam the menu into the table a little too hard.

Both of you stare at the waitress, but Joel looks more like he has been offended by her bubbly attitude. She has a heavy southern twang. vibrant red lipstick and thick-framed glasses that suggest that she’s trying to go for something vintage and modern at the same time, “What can I getcha?”

Joel mumbles something about bacon and eggs along with the blackest coffee they have. The woman scribbles erratically on her notepad whilst complimenting his choice.

“And for your daughter?” She continues. Joel looks horrified, and you try to hide your giggle. 

“I’ll take your cupcake pancakes, please. And a strawberry shake,” you reply, “And hash browns for me and my dad to share.”

“Alrighty!” The waitress concludes, collects the menus, and turns to Joel, “And for you, I’ll be right there with your coffee, sir.”

Joel kicks you under the table as soon as she has left. You stick out your tongue at him, but he fixes you with a stern look, “Don’t fuckin’ do that.”

“Why? It’s just a joke,” you shrug and lean back into the booth, “Not like anyone knows us here.” 

It’s then that you realize that it probably has more to do with him than you; Joel probably feels like the comment was a slap in the face and a way of illustrating how fucked-up his relationship with you is. You find that you don’t actually care if the relationship is known to the whole IHOP, but with the way that Joel is looking away, you don’t dare to lean over and kiss his lips.

“Hey,” your voice is gentle as you place your hand on the table, palm facing up, “I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.”

Joel curls his own hand around yours but still doesn’t say anything. His eyes are focused somewhere else as if he doesn’t dare to look back at you. You don’t think you dare see the wounded look on his face.

“This isn’t just fun ‘n games to me, you know. I mean, it may have started like that, but over the summer…” you try to fill the silence, background chatter fading from your ears as your pulse picks up, “I do mean it when I say I mi—“

“Stop,” he warns, eyes snapping back to yours and stealing your breath for a second, “We ain’t talking about that in a goddamn IHOP.”

“I feel like there’s no better place to do it,” you retort but he just shakes his head with a mix between a chuckle and a scoff. 

“Tonight,” he says just like earlier. 

When the food arrives, you eat in comfortable silence for the most part, and the conversation revolves around mundane things such as how you find the start of the semester and what projects he has coming up at work.

You barely give him reason to tut at you. You play nice and sweet, and make him laugh genuinely so you can admire the tiny lines around his eyes. He only makes a parental comment when you start to wolf down the plate of hash browns, and you respond by stuffing the last one into his mouth. It earns you a laugh that nearly sets your heart on fire with how rapidly it ticks.

*

He drives you all the way home afterward, and you dare to steal a kiss from him before exiting the car. You’ll be around later, you say, and he suggests picking you up, but you tell him you'd rather just take your bike and save him the gas money. He somewhat accepts. 

When you step inside your childhood home, you lean against the door with a giggle. Your cheeks burn as you cup them, staying like that for a minute whilst you try to calm your pounding heart. You run your fingers up and through your hair while sighing, “Shit.”

You think back to the first time Joel had fucked you in your bedroom. It had been rushed, intense, and frankly terrifying, but then it’d been good. More than good. The greatest, actually. It had opened something up inside your chest, provoked something between your thighs that you didn’t know existed. In return, Joel has become more gentle with you, softened under your touch every time you are together. You wonder if…

He still yanks your hair, reprimands you, and practically makes you feel like you’re on fire when he touches your pussy like no one has ever done before, but you could swear that he kisses you like you’re more than just fun.

You distract yourself with a shower, find yourself dipping the shower head between your legs for just a moment before shaking the thought. You’ll get what you want soon enough, no need to fantasize. Instead, you do the mind-numbing task of shaving your legs. 

Just before leaving for Joel’s, already sitting on your bike, you shoot your father a text. 

You at 6:55 p.m.: House is empty. Going out. 

Dad at 7:15 p.m.: I’ll be home in 2-3 hours. Did you eat dinner? -Dad

You at 7:17 p.m.: Yep, see u tomorrow :)

And then you start pedaling.

*

Joel opens his door with a smirk, grabbing your wrist and pulling you inside his home after making sure that no one is watching. You didn’t even know that you could pine for someone you already have. Yet here he is looking young, beautiful, and full of life when he is sneaking around with you, and you want him to kiss you silly. 

He reads your mind, closes the door quickly afterward, and doesn’t hesitate. He kisses your giggling mouth with the determination to follow up on your make-out session in the truck earlier. He has his arms around you, pushes you gently against the front door, and practically eats at your open mouth. It makes you sigh softly, your heartbeat racing and your skin prickling with electric excitement. 

“I’ve missed you,” you confess when you pull away from his lips to go down his neck with the same enthusiasm as a puppy who hasn’t seen their human in forever. Usually, Joel is the one who is eager to move on with less innocent things, but you have been in his company half the day without permission to touch him like this, so you are starving for him.

“We saw each other a few hours ago,” he argues, relaxing his grip on you as your tongue goes over a certain spot that has the ability to bring him to his knees. He groans quietly over your shoulder. 

“Wanna suck you off,” you whisper in his ear then descend to your knees right on his scratchy doormat. He rests his hand on your head and runs it over your hair with the gentleness of someone who has nothing to prove, shakes his head at your suggestion that’s hardly a suggestion. 

“Not here, your knees gonna hurt,” he insists. 

“Don’t care,” you say and mean it; you’ll take the rug burn. You don’t stop your hands from unbuckling his belt, looking up at him through your lashes with a devious smile on your face. He strains, half-hard, against the zipper, and when you pull it down he seems to give in completely. 

You yank his jeans down over his hips, and he starts helping you by stepping out of them until they lay forgotten on the floor behind you. As soon as you lay eyes on the outline of his cock, you run your palm over it from tip to base. A wet patch is already threatening to form on the front of his boxers with your simple touch, his length coming to full size as he swells completely underneath your hand. You can see the head starting to poke out from underneath the waistband, so you take pity on him and yank his underwear all the way down as well. They pool around his ankles until they end up in the same pile as Joel’s jeans. 

Your mouth is salivating at the sight of him fully hard after a good month without him. Joel is shaking in anticipation, his usual calm and collected facade crumbling.

You waste no time; your hand wraps around the base of Joel’s cock to guide the head to your mouth. The ache to taste him has settled between your legs, clit twitching as you let out the flat of your tongue, curling it around the underside of the head to lick along the frenulum. Your eyes nearly roll back into your skull, and Joel seems to enjoy it because you hear his head bump against the door. 

He moans and shudders above you, but he doesn’t yank at your hair like most stupid college boys would already have done because they’ve seen it on the internet. He takes his time with it, instead spreads his fingers over your scalp, scratches, and lets you move freely, “Ohh, you’ve been hungry for it, haven’t ya?”

You smile up at him, nod eagerly to earn praise, and then lick along the underside of the head again. You catch a droplet of precome with the tip of your tongue as you reach the slit, tasting the slight bitterness on him with a hum before repeating the move. 

“Mhmmm, that’s it, good girl,” he says breathily.

When you want to tease him a little more, you move to nose along the shaft until you can press a wet kiss by the base. He twitches a little in your fist. You start planting open-mouthed kisses all the way up to the head again, stroking him a few times after getting to the tip.

Your free hand skims up underneath his t-shirt, over the trail of hair that you sometimes bury your nose in whether it be during this sort of thing or just when you feel extra cuddly, mirroring the hand on your head and splaying across his soft stomach. Your nails scratch too, affectionately almost, and then you prepare yourself to take him into your mouth. 

Joel looks down as you stop, but groans as he sees you let a good amount of spit gather in your mouth. You let it drip down over the head. His stomach jumps underneath your palm, “Fuck, you are trouble, ain’t ya? Can’t wait to see that pretty mouth around my dick.”

You hum. A few kisses to the head, and then you slide your lips down over him. It is quite the stretch to fit him as far inside as you want in this insatiable state, but you are satisfied with your work when he chokes out a noise that you only thought you were capable of making. That weak croak is worth the ache that will eventually overtake your jaw.

Joel bucks his hips as soon as you encase him in the heat of your mouth. The fat head stabs at the back of your throat, causing you to gag and clench around him but he seems too far gone to even register its doing on you. You let him do it again, blinking rapidly to stop tears from spilling down your cheeks. 

Instinctively, his free hand wraps around the wrist of the hand you have on his stomach. He groans as you bob your head and make tiny noises that sometimes develop into wet gagging. 

When Joel’s hips start to move, you begin to feel the doormat underneath your jean-clad knees. He isn’t being particularly rough with you, but it’s his size that makes the tears, that you’ve blinked away successfully so far, spill from the corners of your eyes. He is so big, hot, and heavy on your tongue, and filling your belly with the sweetest ache for him to wear you out tonight. 

The other hand finally grips tightly, pulling your hair into a makeshift ponytail. You whimper as he tugs, fucking you onto his cock, and he nearly loses his mind as your throat squeezes around him with the sound. 

“Filthy, filthy girl,” he scorns as spit starts to dribble down your chin, continuous wet noises bouncing off the walls of the living room, “God… You’re gonna make me come down ya tight throat.”

Perhaps after he has fucked you, you think, and then barely shake your head. Joel notices though, slows down as he gets too close, dick twitching inside your mouth before he, albeit reluctantly, draws back out. His breathing is ragged, trying his hardest to calm down and stop himself from teetering around the edge. 

You swallow down the remainder of spit in your mouth and pull your hand out of Joel’s grip to wipe the back of it over your soaked chin, shiny with saliva and tears. Your eyes are red, your lips puffy, and your hair a mess. Your jaw hurts from the strain on it but despite this, it hurts more between your legs by now; the throbbing sensation has started to become uncomfortable, your clit desperate for friction and your cunt feeling so empty that it clenches again and again. You need to be filled right now, think you might die if he doesn’t shove his cock in you soon.

“Need you,” you say to break the silence and start to get up on your feet again. You want to cling to him, shed him of the rest of his clothes, and crawl under his skin to live there. You almost sob, “So bad, Daddy. Please please please.”

“Shh…” he coos, toeing off his socks and reaching for the hem of his shirt. He pulls it over his head, revealing his beautiful tan skin and the faint amount of hair on his chest. You reach out to run your nails through it, but he grabs both your wrists and starts taking off your top instead. 

“Let me touch you,” you whine but still let him undress you slowly, piece by piece of clothing ending up in the same spot on the floor. 

“Y’just touched me,” he says simply, reaching around you to undo your bra. He slides the straps down your arms, the cool air of the room hitting your chest and making your nipples harden. He hums in approval, “So fuckin’ pretty. Been too long.”

He cups your tits, pushes them together, drags his thumbs over your taut nipples, and then lets go when you’re just about to let out a moan. He looks as starved as you and he satisfies his hunger by kissing you with bruising force, his chest against yours to feel your breasts press against himself. 

You hoist yourself up and wrap your legs around his waist, his thick cock trapped between your stomachs. He groans at the friction with each step he takes towards the couch and you kiss the noise right off his tongue, sucking at the tip as a reminder of what you have done minutes earlier. 

When he reaches the destination, he drops you down onto the leather. Then he leans over you, one knee beside you to reach for the curtains to close them, and you almost give in to the urge of sucking him off again because he is so close. He seems to notice.

“Sit back, panties off,” he orders whilst making sure there are no gaps that anyone can peek inside of. 

You follow orders so quickly. He takes no time to tease either, sinks to his knees, yanks your ass further to the edge, and parts your legs until he can get in between them. Your hands rest on the back of your thighs, holding yourself open for him as he guides his cockhead inside of you.

The slight breach makes your breath hitch in your throat until it comes out in a wanton whine, walls already trying to pull him In further. Joel joins you with a guttural groan, staring down at your stretching cunt as he feeds it inch after inch. Usually, there’s some resistance, a pinch, but he bottoms out inside of you so quickly now that you’ve been wet since you saw him before lunch. 

You throw your head back against the back of the couch and let him have his way with you, feel him repeatedly pull out almost all the way until he slams right back in and sets a desperate pace. His hand rests on your mound so his thumb can circle your swollen clit, and you don’t think you’ve ever felt so fucked out in mere minutes. 

Your breath catches, your pulse quickens, the first time he slides over your g-spot which he immediately notices with the way your pussy clenches in surprise pleasure. It makes him repeat the move, tilting his hips to ensure he won’t miss it with every crash of his pelvis into yours.

“Don’t stop, ah-ah! Joel!” You practically yell for him, digging your nails into the plump flesh of your thighs and triggering a growl from him. He cants his hips again so he can move forward and lean into you, still rubbing your clit with his thumb, but now also losing himself in a kiss that’s surprisingly soft compared to the crushing force of his thrusts. 

When he pulls back, his body needing the air through his mouth again if he is to continue fucking you like this, he rests his forehead against yours. His breaths are damp and exchanging with your own. Your eyes meet in a fiery gaze as filth starts pouring from his mouth. 

“I’mma fuckin’ wear this pussy out tonight, princess,” he tells you with a moan, speeding up the taut circles on your throbbing clit as if to make a demonstration of his next promise, “Make you come and come and - shit, that’s good - fuckin’ wring them out of you.”

“Yes, Daddy, I’m gonna come right now,” your voice is frantic and your toes are starting to curl. 

“Fuck yes, you are, can feel it,” he pants, “Right on Daddy’s cock, just like he wants it.”

You come undone under his intense gaze with an orgasm that knocks the wind out of your chest to the point where your voice disappears, the only evidence remaining being the furrow of your brow and the open-mouthed yet silent ah. Joel can see it, sense it. 

When you come back to earth, greediness bubbles up in your chest. Despite your voice still being caught in your throat, you manage to croak out a wish, “Wanna get on top. Not finished.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” Joel groans in unison with you as he pulls out of your oversensitive cunt. It doesn’t take long to switch positions, and with a steady grip on the backrest of the couch, you drag your wet heat across Joel’s painfully hard dick. It twitches against your cunt, and he whines when he holds it steady for you to sink down onto.

He fills you differently like this, goes deeper, and feels impossibly bigger. You give an experimental roll of your hips and Joel’s hands fly to your hips, his head falling backward and his body slumping into the seat. 

Your initial pace is slow but you want to move faster, yet your body is held in place by Joel’s hands having slid up to hold around your waist. He sets the pace just like before, pushing a little on your back to arch it just how you like to do it yourself. The tip of his cock pokes into your front wall, and the slow sensation of getting it to slide over your g-spot has you thrashing in his lap.

“Need ya to come without me touchin’ your pretty little clit,” he begs without saying please and then slides his thumbs down to rest below your belly button, “Missed it so much, couldn’t stop thinkin’ about it.”

He presses the two digits into your flesh, adding the amount of pressure that he has found out is just right by playing with you for hours during the summer. You keen, head lolling to the side and your jaw going slack, “Just like that, Daddy. I’m gonna come if you keep going like that!”

He allows you to ride him in earnest after that, bouncing in his lap and causing the front of his thighs to slap noisily up into your ass. Your whole body trembles at the force, building the pressure that you’ve come to know so well after Joel pulled himself together to fuck you that one day. 

“Fuck, you givin’ me another one already? Lucky Daddy,” he growls, still denting your belly with his thumbs. Your pulse is so incredibly fast, and your breaths are nothing but squeaks. 

You let out a high-pitched sound as your orgasm rolls through your body, electricity spreading out from your cunt to make your chest blush. You clamp down rhythmically on Joel’s cock and he nearly slides down onto the floor with the way that he melts under you. The thick head continues to ram into your g-spot to keep the second high going for as long as your body will allow, but whereas your voice was gone earlier, you force out a request.

With your hips not stilling, you lock eyes with him and give him a lazy smile, “Tell me when you’re about to come, Daddy.”

“Fuck, won’t be long,” he pants.

“Tell me when,” you repeat.

“N-now, princess!” 

You don’t warn him as you lift yourself up from his dick to slide down onto the floor, kneeling with a dirty smile. He catches on fast, swearing under his breath at the realization, and spreads his legs so you can settle between them. 

Quickly, you guide his cock to the far back of your mouth and suck him like he is a popsicle and it’s a hot summer’s day. He sure tastes good, arguably better than normally because he is coated in your sweet slick. The dramatic part of you would say that he tastes like sin. 

He hisses loudly above you, immediately yanking at your hair when you swallow him down enthusiastically. You make sure to hum so that your muscles clench around his length and the vibrations go down his shaft. 

You’re delusional with post-orgasmic pleasure as you bob your head, squeaking as Joel painfully pulls at your hair to the point where you can hear a few strands of hair pop off your scalp. He is so close, twitching in your mouth with every beat of his heart.

When you hollow your cheeks, he comes on your tongue with a loud groan. His hips stutter slightly but you expertly move with him so nothing spills, and so you can push it to the back of your mouth and swallow. 

You radiate pride as you pull off of his spit-slicked cock. He breathes heavily, utterly spent and relishing in it. 

“See? No mess to clean,” you rest your cheek against his knees as his cock softens. 

“Wow, clever girl,” he praises with the little energy he has left whilst you beam. He holds out his hand for you to take, “C’mere, baby.”

You don’t know how long the two of you lie down on the couch together, naked bodies completely entwined. Your back is pressed against Joel’s chest, and you are giggling as you talk about tedious date-like things that somehow feel like they’re the most interesting things in the world. You ask Joel about his favorite color to which he says that he doesn’t have one because he’s a grownass man. So you playfully roll your eyes and continue on to the topic of favorite songs, would-you-rathers, embarrassing habits…

Joel answers them reluctantly and shyly at first but then seems to relax into it when you answer your own questions with a laugh that has his heart beating so fast that you can feel it against your back. 

And then you go again, spooning this time, and you don’t make a joke about his outstanding refractory period because you are too busy trying to make sense of how many orgasms he pulls from you by sliding his hand down your belly and between your thighs.

The pattern starts over. You talk a bit more, but the topic never lands on what you had planned during your way-too-sugary (Joel’s words) lunch together.

Instead, Joel suggests bringing you to his shower, but you reassure him that you are far from done with him for the night, so he might as well save the hot water and the money for the heating bill.

He hums in agreement but does, however, convince you to hydrate with a huge glass of water and to wipe yourself down with a damp flannel that he gets for you during a lie about having to pee. The flannel has cooled down on its journey from the bathroom but it soothes your aching clit the second you hold it over the swollen nub. You sigh contentedly whilst Joel lays down behind you once again. 

“Right, where were we?” You say excitedly. 

Joel sighs into your neck and tightens an arm around you, “Thought I had made ya forget about that.”

“Well excuse me for wanting to get to know you better,” you tut, patting the hand that splays on your belly, “Now tell me if you were a jock in high school.” 

“You got some nerve,” his chest rumbles as he talks, “Definitely wasn’t. I spent all my teen years keepin’ my baby brother outta trouble, you think I had time to play football? Did try baseball once though.”

“I feel like there’s a joke about balls in there,” you lean back and turn slightly to look up at him, wiggling your brows. 

“Shut up,” he laughs, and you don’t think you have ever witnessed the man laugh as much as he has done in the last hour. 

“I’m just saying you don’t know if you haven’t tried it,” you continue. A warm feeling settles in your heart as he breaks into another grin followed by a chuckle. The hand on your stomach digs into your side, triggering a fit of gleeful giggles as you are tickled. He overpowers you so easily and you quickly find that he is relentless. It’s a fight, a struggle that turns into several kisses everywhere on your face when he is suddenly on top of you again.

That’s when you hear a knock on the door. You look at each other for a second before Joel shoots up from the couch, already pulling on his boxers and fighting to make his semi-hard cock go down. He points at you, “Stay down. They can’t see you if ya just stay down. Ain’t gonna invite anyone in.” 

You make yourself as flat as possible and hear Joel’s sharp intake of breath as he looks through the spy hole. 

“‘S your old man,” he says, flinching when there’s another rap on the door. 

Your pulse spikes, “Well then don’t act suspicious.”

“Right, didn’t think of that,” he deadpans, quickly flattening the hair that has been yanked by you a few times tonight, “Don’t say a thing, okay?”

Joel opens the door after your dad starts calling for him on the other side. He smiles a little forced at first, “Sorry, was just tryna look presentable.”

“Family’s out, so I thought I’d see if ya wanted to catch a game,” your dad says, and you can hear the smile on his face and him holding up what you assume to be a six-pack. 

“Now’s not really a good time,” Joel replies. You dare to look up through your lashes in the front door’s direction. Joel has a hand on the doorframe, barring the door in case your father tries to invite himself in. 

“I won’t be here long!” 

Joel’s feet shift a little, “Just ain’t a good time, buddy.”

“What does that mean? And why are ya barely dressed—“ there’s a brief pause, then, “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Got someone over? Ya old dog. Damn, look at you. Still got it,” your father’s hand is visible in the doorway. It nudges Joel’s shoulder, “Why didn’t you just say so?”

Because it’s your fucking daughter and it’s the best sex she’s ever had, you think to yourself and consider screaming into the cushions. 

“Right,” your dad hands over the sixpack, “You need this more than me. I’m proud of ya, Miller.”

“Yeah yeah, whatever,” Joel rushes to end the conversation, “‘Nother time. I’ll call you.”

They exchange goodbyes. You peek up at Joel when he closes the door, awaiting his next words to figure out how to react. He stays silent though, even as he walks to the couch again. 

You bend your knees to let him fall into one of the seats. He runs a hand over his scruff, and you refrain from placing your feet in his lap. 

“That was…” He eventually breathes without any tone to his voice, “Somethin’.”

“Good for you for getting laid,” you joke. 

He clicks his tongue at you, “Hey.”

“Hey yourself,” you move to get up from your seat, hold your hand out for him to take, “C’mon. Let’s go shower, wash that guilt off your face.” 

“Ain’t guilt, just concern,” he promises as you help him up. He makes a gesture to the both of you, “Could never feel guilty 'bout this.” 

“We ain’t talking about that after we almost got busted by my dad,” you repeat his phrase from lunch, mocking his southern drawl. 

“I feel like there’s no better time to do it,” he catches on with a smile. 

You kiss him, and start to pull him along, “Tomorrow.”

.

.

.

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#pedro pascal characters #joel miller #joel miller x reader #the last of us #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel x reader #joel x you #joel miller the last of us #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #joel the last of us #joel tlou #joel miller fluff #joel miller imagine #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal smut #my writing #dbf!joel

[honeyedmiller]

Shotgun | Joel Miller

pairing: dbf!joel miller x f!reader

warnings: very poorly written smut (literally just high sex), usage of marijuana, smoking, dbf!Joel, no outbreak!Joel, age gap (reader is in late 20’s; Joel mid 40’s), explicit language, Joel has stronger feelings for reader than he can admit… like it’s so much pining omg, no use of y/n, tiny bit of a plot. 18+, minors do not interact.

word count: 2.3k

synopsis: you and Joel smoke together for the first time.

You knew it was wrong—both of you did. But did that stop you?

Absolutely not.

You see, Joel should be completely off-limits. He was your dad’s best friend, after all. But, you couldn’t help yourself. Neither could he. After one drunken evening about a month back, both of you gave in to satisfy your cravings for each other. No one had to know, and they were never going to know.

Messing around in secret was exhilarating and honestly, pretty fucking hot. Joel Miller has fucked you like no man ever has before or ever will, and he made sure you were aware of that. He satisfied all your needs which kept you craving more of him. That explains why you’re sitting on the couch on his back porch at nearly midnight.

The cool night breeze wrapped around your body in comfort. You winced at the pain between your legs, having just gotten the life fucked out of you by said hottest middle aged man you’ve ever laid your eyes on.

“Here darlin’.” Joel steps outside in nothing but his boxers while you sport his oversized t-shirt with nothing underneath.

Joel hands you a water bottle and you thank him, uncapping it and taking a few much needed sips. He sat beside you on the loveseat, spreading his legs as he rested his head on the back of the couch. He closed his eyes for a brief second as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

His tan skin glowed under the moonlight, muscles outlined by the shadows the light cast. Joel opened his eyes again and looked at you, eyes dark and seemingly hungry for more.

“Look better in my shirt than I do, baby.” He chuckles, sitting straight up before reaching for something on the table beside him. He pulled out a small tin box, opening it swiftly before taking out its contents. It took you a second to register what exactly it was, and when you did, your eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“You smoke, Miller?” You laugh as you eyed the joint between his thumb and index finger.

“Only sometimes. You?”

“Mhm.” You nod, pursing your lips.

“Here.” Joel held the joint up so you could take it between your lips, which you accept gingerly. He grabbed the lighter from the tin box before flicking it on, the soft glow of the orange flame illuminating his features. He brought the lighter to the end of the joint, lighting it for you before flicking it off as the end of the joint crackled.

You inhaled deeply, taking the joint from your lips before handing it to Joel. You exhaled as he took a hit, taking the time to look at him. He looked freshly fucked, but peaceful. You smirk at the thought as the sounds of his moans replay in your head, arousing you once more. You squirm in your seat, and Joel notices.

He looks at you with a quirked eyebrow but doesn’t say a word as he hands you the joint again. You take it and move closer to him, inhaling before grabbing his jaw softly so he had to open his mouth. Your face was mere inches from his when you blew the smoke into his mouth. His warm hand grasped your bare thigh, giving it a squeeze. He took one more hit before he leaned forward to stub the half finished joint in the tin box.

He leans back and looks at you, tongue poking out to wet his lips. The tension was thick and god, you just wanted him to fuck you again.

You don’t know if it was the way he was looking at you or the weed (hell, could’ve been both), but you took the initiative to straddle his lap and kiss him hungrily. He chuckled into the kiss at first before moving his hands over your ass, giving it a firm squeeze. You moaned into the kiss, bucking your hips down onto his now half-hard cock.

You pulled away for a quick breather, and Joel had a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Insatiable little thing, aren’t ya?” He tsked.

“Don’t act like you don’t like it, Miller.” You retorted, grinding your hips down onto him. He could feel how wet you were through the thin fabric of his boxers, and he groaned softly.

“Fuck, angel. You’re gonna be the death of me.” Joel brought his lips back to yours and you both kissed each other with such fervor. Your hands tangled in his hair as you rocked your hips back and forth, the friction from the cloth of his boxers catching your clit just right. You separated your lips from Joel’s and trailed soft kisses down his jawline, taking your time as you moved down to that one spot on his neck that you knew drove him wild.

You nipped at the spot, licking it to soothe the bite as his fingers dug into your flesh. Your kisses trailed even further to his collarbones and dragged your lips back up to his. You separated from him for a second, staring into his dark eyes as you felt the high consume your body. You lazily smiled at him before toying with his hair.

“Need you, Joel.” Your voice is a soft purr, and he grips your hips in response.

“Guess I can’t keep you waitin’ then, huh baby?” He teases. His eyes were hooded as they stared over your features, not giving one damn in the whole world in that moment that you were his best friend’s daughter.

You made him feel things he hadn’t felt in a very long time, but he’d take those feelings to his grave before he ever admitted that to you.

Wordlessly, Joel picked you up by your thighs and brought you both into the house, back door slamming shut as he made his way upstairs with you. You littered his neck with slow, wet, sloppy kisses in the meantime. When he got to his bedroom, he laid you down on his bed. He couldn’t help but admire you from above, taking his time to soak in the view of you in his t-shirt.

You whined softly, bringing yourself up on your elbows so you could pout at him playfully. “Don’t keep me waiting Mr. Miller.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He slots himself between your legs, holding himself up by his forearms. He could feel the weed taking its affect on his body as his mind begins to become hazy. He feels elated and all he wants to do is kiss you and fuck you slowly. It was his way of showing you how much you actually meant to him without saying a single word.

So, he did just that. He leaned down to capture your lips with his, cradling your face softly with one hand as the other cupped your heat, sliding his fingers against the slickness that had once again gathered.

He went slow. Gentle. Like you were a precious doll made of porcelain and if he made any sudden movements, you’d crack. He doesn’t know how he got tangled into this, how he fell for his best friend’s daughter. It was unfair. Unfair that he couldn’t like a woman his age, nonetheless a woman that wasn’t his best friend’s daughter. Unfair that you were perfect to him and everything he’s ever wanted. It was so fucking unfair.

Your wanton moans broke him from his heavier thoughts, ones that clenched at his heart in the slightest. He moved down your body, leaving sloppy kisses along the way until he was faced with your slick, aching cunt. You shivered as his hot breath hit your core, silently begging the man to use his skilled tongue on you.

Luckily he didn’t keep you waiting much longer. He delved his tongue into your heat, starting with precision as he flicked over your clit multiple times. You inhaled sharply at the sensitivity already there, but bliss soon took over and you tangled your fingers through his already disheveled hair, pushing his face into you more. He moaned at the action, completely blissed out while he was eating you out like a man starved.

He was sloppy with it this time, not caring that your arousal was on his bed sheets and all over the bottom half of his face. He took two fingers and sunk them into you, curling them up to find that spongy spot that drove you wild. Your hips were writhing beneath him, and he looked up at you with an adoring stare.

He loved to see the way he made you feel, at least physically. You never really spoke of your feelings or emotions toward him, if you had any in the first place. Maybe this was just sex for you. An experienced, older man knowing what makes your body tick. What you like, and how you like it. The thought made his heart sink a little but he always had to pull himself back to the reality of it all: you two were never going to happen.

Joel admits he’s a bit delusional for having such thoughts, and he wishes he could whisk them away and forget he ever even had them. But, the more time he spend with you, the harder he found to do so.

Your unraveling is what pulled him from his nagging thoughts. You moaned loudly, cumming hard around his fingers and mouth. He made sure to clean every drop you gave him, like the gentleman he is.

He moved up your body again and pressed kisses against your abdomen, sliding his shirt on you up with his hands so he could envelope the soft flesh of your breasts into his mouth. You whined at the feeling, his hot tongue making you flutter around nothing once again.

“Need you, Joel. Please.” You repeat, voice much more coarse post-release, but who could blame you? Joel Miller was a man who knew how to give earth-shattering orgasms.

“Need you too, baby.” In more ways than one.

He slid his boxers off to free his painfully hard erection, sliding the tip of his cock against your folds before pushing into you slowly. No matter how aroused you were, you always found yourself having to adjust to his girthy size. You two’ve fucked countless times before in the past month and the sheer size of him astonishes you every single time.

You gasp softly as he sank to the hilt, bottoming out into you with a low groan. You lazily wrapped your legs around his waist, breath ragged as you focused on the pure pleasure that is Joel Miller. His pace was slow and his lips were tentative. He made sure to kiss you all over your face and neck as he slid in and out of you languidly.

The room was a mix full of moans and skin on skin and the smell of sex. It was impressive how Joel’s libido really was. But, then again, you never took into account that it was just you that drove him wild. Your eyes fluttered open for a second and you saw Joel staring down at you with a look in his dark eyes that you couldn’t quite decipher. It was one you’d never seen before, but it was soft and full of emotion. You batted your lashes before bringing him down by his neck gently to kiss him, and in that moment, it felt so intimate. His slow pace, the passionate kiss, the unsaid words and the look in his eyes was telling you that this was more to him than just sex.

But why you? Fuck. Maybe it was just your stoned mind overthinking everything. Yeah—that’s it. This meant nothing more than just a casual fuck, as you two’ve been doing all along.

Joel’s pace got slightly faster, but not by much. If you were completely sober you’d be well aware of the fact that this was like him making love to you. Sober you would’ve stopped this from the jump. Sober you would’ve told him to fuck you until you saw stars. But, intoxicated you secretly enjoyed the slowness and fullness of the man above you, rocking in and out of you with such tenderness.

Joel’s hand moved down to your already aching and swollen clit, rubbing small circles around it. You clenched around him which caused him to groan, and you knew you both were close.

“‘M close.” Joel choked out the words, and you nodded in accordance.

“Me too.” You meekly uttered, head tossed back onto his pillow as your jaw fell slack. The burning heat in your core rushed throughout your body, and Joel came undone at your undoing. You both moaned loudly in unison, thanking the heavens above that Sarah was at a friend’s house tonight.

Joel plopped down beside you on the bed, both of you breathless and fucked out. You noticed that your high was sadly starting to waver, but you got the munchies. You sat up slowly, brushing your hair out of your face before turning your head to look down at Joel. He was already looking at you with curiosity, and you offered him a small smile.

“Got any snacks?” You ask, and he laughs.

“C’mon darlin’, let’s satisfy those cravings.” Joel’s cheeky innuendo didn’t go unnoticed as his shirt fell down your bare body once again. You both went downstairs after he put his boxers on again and raided the cupboards for the good snacks, which were indeed Sarah’s. Joel made a mental note to replace them later.

He looked at you as you munched on some chips ahoy cookies from a small bag. This felt way too domestic, but a part of him didn’t mind it.

Maybe in another life, in another universe, you wouldn’t be off limits. You’d be his, and you’d both be happy.

Maybe in another life, in another universe, you felt the same way about him as he did for you.

Just maybe.

i don’t really have a tag list but as promised i’d tag you @cool-iguana i hope you enjoyed this <3

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller one shot #dbf! joel miller #dbf! joel smut #joel miller smut #joel miller imagines #joel miller imagine #joel miller story #joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #no outbreak!joel miller #joel miller fluff #joel miller pining #pedro pascal imagines #pedro pascal one shot #pedro pascal imagine #joel miller #joel miller fic

[zialltops]

honeysuckle’s & huckleberry’s

Cowboy!Joel (41) X F!Reader (25) | 42.1k words | wip | explicit | 18+ minors dni | enemies to lovers | slow burn | au: no cordyceps outbreak | oral (f receiving) | (semi) public sex | vaginal fingering

masterlist | ao3 | spotify playlist

“In just—“ His eyes slip closed when his mouth connect with the inside of your wrist. His lips are warm and so tender you fight down a soft whimper at the intoxicating sensation. When they open again, dangerous amber irises peer back at you like you’re their salvation. “-my cowboy hat.”

Oh—fuck.

a/n: this chapter was so fun to write, I accidentally made it 9.5k words lol, but it was such a relief (ish) to write. Some new warning apply to this chapter, so please be advised of those. We get to see a whole new side to Joel this chapter and we’ll get to see some “in the making of” this chapter in the following one. A little bit of context on why Joel changes so abruptly and the reasoning behind his decisions. I hope you all know how much i love love love you guys for being here for me while i struggle to find time to write. I’m working on getting back on my feet every day and this is the one safe place I have to escape and indulge in my favorite coping mechanism. Much love, H 🤍

Chapter 7–You Don’t Want That Smoke

Your birthday falls on Friday this year, (lucky you) but it also means the First Friday dance falls on your birthday this year as well. It’s the first community event after the cold winter months and by that time, most people are itching to get out of their snow-buried homes. The town usually puts on the event to celebrate the coming spring, hosting venders of all sorts and games for the families. Growing up, your parents would take you to the petting zoo and let you ride the ponies, like you didn’t have a horse at home, like there wasn’t a whole ranch to attend to, animals to raise up and sell, like you could just for a moment, be a normal little girl from a quiet street who’d never sat in a saddle in her life.

If only that had been the case, ever. If only you’d had parents who pursued safe, reliable careers, where they had pensions and retirement, insurance and benefits, instead of breaking their backs for a ranch that had been dying long before it was left to your mother by her parents. Was it obligation that kept them here, or was it something else? Was it the same thing that got you through years of college, all in an attempt to keep your parents' dream alive for a little while longer?

It’s Wednesday, which means you have two more days before your birthday and Melly’s plane lands in a few hours from Colorado, but so far your morning has taken you five rounds in the octagon and is currently coming back for more.

“—No! The statements I just got in the mail yesterday said we have ninety days to come up with three months worth of the mortgage before the property faces foreclosure.”

The woman on the other end of the phone sighs at you and you can hear the way her hands hit her keyboard. “I know that, ma’am, but that was a month and a half ago and we still have not received any payments. The bank sent another letter, requesting that the entire six month worth of back payments be received by the end of the ninety days or the property will be foreclosed on.”

The routinely scripted response feels like an open handed slap to the face, white hot pain snapping through your veins like lightning on the Wyoming plains. You sink down into the dining room chair and let it soak in all the way.

“How many days do we have left?” You hear yourself whisper into the phone but it’s not you speaking, not really—its a absent reflex like blinking or breathing.

“That's…51 days, ma’am. We’ll contact you again in thirty days if we have not received the entire amount by that time.”

Your eyes burn and blur, tears for the years of your life wasted on a useless education, until they surge past the dam and plummet to the paper below. When you look down at the document, your tears are stained red by the ink on the foreclosure notice. “How much will it be, again?” Defeated, Inadequate and Doomed.

“Fourteen thousand, three hundred and forty dollars, for six months worth of the Mortgage and late fees accumulated.” She sounds annoyed when she reads off the obscene number, like she isn’t sealing the fate of your family home, the dream your parents have worked their whole lives for to pass down to you—all wasted on a backed mortgage that your parents took out on the farm when you were born.

The full circle indicates that losing your family’s livelihood was your fault, from start to finish. You didn’t make it in time. All your hard work, and you’re still going to lose it.

“Is that everything, ma’am?”

Click

You drop the phone and sob into your arms, your whole body shaking and heaving with every sharp inhale. In your best attempt to keep quiet, you attract the attention of the one person you long to keep this from, your sweet, well meaning mom.

She’s soft spoken when she soothes you, rubs your back while you dry up your tears against her chest and she doesn’t ask why, just kisses your forehead and smiles one of those sweet sweet smiles at you and says, “We’ll get through this, Honey, don’t you worry about that. We’ll figure this out together.”

And you believe her, enough to reel in your hiccups, enough to ease your searing tears. “Why don’t you take a break from work, Melly gets here soon, yeah? You got everything you girls need?”

You smile at her, thankful for her ability to distract you from the things that keep you up at night. She knows you better than anyone, she’s your best friend. “Maybe we can stop at the store after we get her, but we gotta leave soon—“ you check the time, one hour until her plane touches down in Jackson and it takes forty five minutes to get there alone.

“Actually Honey, about that…I can't go with you. I’m not feeling up to it and I thought I would whip up dinner for you girls. But I got someone to go with you,”

You stand up from the chair and put the papers back into the envelope. “Mom, I really can go alone, I drove all the way here—“ she stops you with a quiet scuff. “You got stuck in the snow and Joel had to pull you out.” Joel, that son of a bitch…that big, sexy cowboy son of a bitch who left you in the snow. Who huffs and puffs and walks around like the sweatiest, filthiest, most delicious version of every nasty fantasy you’ve ever had. Of course she would drag him into this, maybe she’s the one who’s after the help.

“Speak of the devil,” she has this knowing look when her gaze travels past you to the doorway of the dining room. You glance over your shoulder to find yourself smack dab in the middle of one of those filthy dreams, dressed in green plaid and his brown Carhartt jacket, his black cowboy hat resting atop his head with curls peeking out of the sides, kissing the tips of his ears. His beard has grown out a tad too, making him look soft all over, scruffy and curly with a dimpled smile. The sight of him comes with a sudden rush of soothing comfort, warm eyes that make you feel safe, hidden in the shadows of his hat.

“Heard I was takin’ you somewhere?” He’s broad and sturdy, with a slight sheen of sweat on the peaks of his collarbones under his shirt. Under his beard, his neck is taught and his muscles are strained, his pulse visible beneath his skin despite his cool composure. If you know Joel, he did a days worth of work this morning to clear his schedule for the rest of the afternoon. He probably smells like sweat and dirt, like horses and leather under all that damn southern charm he possesses.

Actually, you can take me anywhere. On the couch, in my room, hell—in the glow of a fridge light.

You sink your teeth into your bottom lip to bite off your involuntary groan, shooting your mom a sharp look. She may play coy, might act like she's this innocent and sweet, cookie baking, laundry folding, house making mom who knows no better, but you see what she’s really up to. How she hides behind her little false oblivion, a facade she usually only uses for good. This doesn’t feel like it was for the greater good.

“You—“ you sneer at her quietly and she smiles with a “Not sure what you mean dear, but you better get a move on. I have to get dinner in the oven!” She scurries out of the room and into the next, letting the door swing closed behind her. Joel remains in the same spot, one shoulder pressed against the white wood frame of the old door, his muddy boots on the dark hardwood floors. Your eyes drag up the rest of him, his pants are tight in the middle, hugging his hips and probably just barely restraining what lays below the dark blue denim. There's a soft curve to his belly, made apparent when his arms cross over his chest and pull his shirt tight against his front.

His belly looks so damn soft. So fucking round and bite-able. A few more clicks up, his chest nearly bulging out of the buttons of the flannel. The buttons hang on for dear life, but you’re afraid if he flexes, they will scatter to the floor with your resolve.

He clears his throat and you finally meet his eyes. “Doin’ alright there, darlin’?” If his presence wasn’t enough, the bourbony southern drawl and the way he cocks his hip makes your thighs squeeze together involuntarily. “Yeah—Yep, just need to get dressed and I’ll be ready.” You’re still in a big sleep shirt, have been all morning because work for you doesn’t require pants half of the time. When you start to breeze past, his eyes drop to the exposed skin of your thighs.

“Been wonderin’…” he stops you with a big hand, pressed against your sternum when you try to pass by his solid form. He’s still faced the opposite direction than your body, only his head turns to look down at you, gone still beneath his stern fingertips. “If you always walk around naked under these shirts, or if you’re wearin’ somethin’ under there when mom and dad are ‘round?”

His eyes flick back to the door leading into the kitchen, where your mother is currently hiding from your scowl, then back down to the hem of your oversized shirt. The hand on your ribs shifts when you haul in a deep, stuttering breath. It slips a few inches lower, the tips of his thick fingers dipping into the flesh of your stomach, just below your belly button. He’s so close and so fucking firm where he holds you in place.

“Why don’t you have a look for yourself, Cowboy?”

You challenge him back and you swear he stops breathing beside you. He meets your dare with a low growl, reverberating inside his rib cage like a shout in a vast canyon. What the hell is happening right now, did he hit his head or something? Is he finally getting the fucking hint? How desperately you want him to have his way with you? Then again, the last time he saw you dressed like this, you were bent over, knowingly showing off everything you had to offer, the place you wanted him most, while you listened to the guttural sounds leaving the unsuspecting man behind you. You aren’t going to complain about the sudden shift in his attention, hell no—you’ll soak in what you can get from the leery cowboy.

You hardly register the way he moves until he leans forward and warm fingertips graze the skin just under your ass. He’s looking when he lifts the shirt all the way up to your tailbone slowly, covered by smooth black satin, a thong that hugs your hips but leaves your cheeks exposed to his greedy sight. His eyes are everywhere, your thighs and the curve of your bare behind. His fingers dip just under the black satin band on your hip, his expression is just shy of a devoted man as he drinks in the contrasting sensation of your smooth skin and the silky material.

“Fuck,” he murmurs under his breath, letting his hand slip from your panties to travel back down, unsure fingers tracing along the crease of your ass, curling under your cheek when he gets to the bottom. It’s the softest touch you’ve ever felt, full of admiration and barely restrained desire. It sets your skin on fire, radiating behind your eyelids. “Those are…damn pretty, sugar…but you better go get yourself ready, before you’re late.” His hands slip away from you completely and he turns in the direction of the door, already on his way out before you even fully process what just happened. What flipped inside of Joel on a random Wednesday afternoon in late February?

He leaves with a satisfied smirk with intentions of starting the truck while you stammer against the doorway and remind yourself to breathe. When the front door closes behind him, you lean against the wood he was just propped against, hoping his heat will still linger there. He instigated something, a secret whisper of want, the thought makes a grin break out from one side of your face to the other, pulling your cheeks tight. He wants you.

You get dressed with that same stupid grin plastered on your face. You shift through your closet a few times, but you keep falling back on the same outfit. A pair of flared jeans, light in color with stitch work on the sides. With a pair of boots, they make your ass look like a dream—just what you are going for, just so you can rile Joel further. You find a tight top and a thick wool flannel to throw over it, before tracking back down the stairs to the front door.

It’s the rush of adrenaline that shocks the agony from your brain, but the moment you bound down the front steps to his waiting truck, the door already propped open, you pause.

You stop at the foot of the stairs and turn, looking up the steps you’ve known your entire life, the screen door you’ve spent numerous summers swinging in and out of. The porch you’ve watched storms roll in from, the porch swing where you had your first kiss. All this and…your heart sinks. When you turn back towards the running chevy, Joel is staring back at you, his once knowing smirk traded in for a furrow of concern on his handsome features.

You climb into the passenger seat and fasten your seatbelt while Joel puts the truck in gear and pulls away from the house.

There’s a long stretch of road that passes in near silence, before it’s you who just can’t take it anymore. Joel, sweet fucking Joel sat beside you, respecting your emotions and your boundaries once again. “Ranch is ‘bout to be foreclosed.” You tell him. Once it’s spoken aloud, you realize just how imminent your family’s demise really is. How quickly you are going to lose everything, watch your parents walk away with no retirement and nothing to show for themselves, for generations of hard work.

You expect something, questions about how you know, how long you have, if there's anything he can do to help you, but the questions never come. Instead, Joel reaches over and presses his fingers into the latch on your buckle, pulling it off of you with one click.

“C’mere, sweet girl.” His tone is low, soft enough to not interrupt your thoughts, but enough to have you drawing across the bench seat and slipping under his sturdy arm while he drives. He keeps you tucked in close beside him, his hand trailing up and down your arm to ease out the pain residing in your veins. He takes one glance down at you and leans forward, his lips connecting with the crown of your head. “We’ll get through it. We ain’t goin’ down without a hell of a fight.”

We

We

Because after the years you’ve spent away from this place, Joel has come to think of the Rising Sun ranch as his home just as much as it is yours. He’d raised every one of the cattle on that ranch, he’s worked day and night to ensure its survival, he’s lost sleep and nearly limbs fighting to keep them afloat while you were gone. This is his home, his fight right alongside yours. Finally, the weight seems to ease up, shouldered by Joel's sense of responsibility for your family’s livelihood.

Beside you, he’s solid and warm, he’s alive and overflowing with strength, enough to spare, for something to cling to. You turn your head and bury your face in his shoulder, covering yourself in the shield of protection he has to offer, sturdy, devoted support that makes you feel lightheaded with security. He doesn’t push you further, doesn’t prod you for details. He just hangs on, keeps your body tucked in close to his while he drives into town. At some point, the rattling of the old truck along patchy highway roads lulls you into sleep with your head against his shoulder and one leg across his lap.

Joel, with all the strength he can muster—holds on tight.

“Hey,” your senses come rushing back when the truck comes to a stop and your warm pillow jostles under your head. You lift up off his weight a little and glance at him through a sleepy gaze, a soft smile present on his lips. “As much as I like you droolin’ all over me…” he gestures to wet stain on his flannel. “Think your friends plane lands soon, don’t want you to miss it.”

You get yourself together enough to look out the window. Joel parked right outside of baggage claim at Jacksons little airport and his arm still sits tightly around your shoulders. A deep sigh sets in to your bones and you lean against him for just a moment longer to soak in the warmth. “Hey, look at me, darlin’,” his hand wraps around your chin gently, coaxing your eyes up to his. “Don’t think about the ranch, at least till the week is over. Ain’t nothin’ you can do right now, so don’t let it ruin your birthday. Everythin’s gonna be alright.” His words trail off when a broad thumb swipes across the underside of your bottom lip, his gaze caught in yours so tightly you’re half sure the jaws of life couldn’t draw you apart. He breaks out into a grin and heaves a shallow laugh. “Had a little drool there.”

The little laugh that bubbles up in you breaks the eye contact and Joel shuts off the truck, untucking you from his arm. You check the time for safe measures, there's still a few more minutes before the plane lands and she still has to make it out the gates.

“Joel?” He’s fiddling with his key chain, adjusting a few backwards keys. “Hmm?” He barely makes eye contact—is he embarrassed? From holding you while you slept? “Thank you. For everything you’ve done for me—for my family while I’ve been gone. I can't think of a way to…repay you for everything.”

Joel glances over at you and something flashes in his brown eyes, something that looks like discomfort and shame. He takes a sharp breath in and squeezes his knuckles around the keys. “I didn’t do it all selflessly…please don’t take this wrong. I haven’t felt a sense of belonging in years. Me and Tommy have been drifting since I was twenty eight, working on one ranch after another. We’d stick around a town for six months and he’d get antsy, stir up trouble and we’d have to hit the road again.”

He brings his hand up to his mouth and chews on the corner of his thumb. He’s anxious, you can tell by the way his eyes flitter to you then away quickly. “I’ve covered his ass more times than I can count because I don’t know if I’ll be the same if I have to leave here. It feels fuckin—selfish, like I’m usin’ your folks. M’gettin’ old, my bones are tired and all I want is to…stop. Slow down for once in my life. I’ve never been more at peace than I am here, with your parents and the ranch. I was doin’ so good, gettin’ my mind right, hatin’ myself a little less and then—“ he trails off with a distant look in his eyes.

And then…what? What’s caused Joel to lose that sense of peace and stability? “What happened?” You sink back in the bench seat, run your fingers along the stitched pattern of color adorning the warn padding. “S’big snow storm came in…I was comin’ back from town because I took Tommy to pick up flowers. He’d been a real asshole to a sweet lady who didn’t deserve it. Was pissed off he was smokin’ in the truck, pissed he was jeopardizin’ our home again, when we see this little car stuck in the embankment, met this—real pretty girl, and she…” he sneaks a glance over at you, but he’s doing his best to find anywhere, anything else to look at. Cars passing by, the sun reflecting off the bright white paint on the cross walk. The older woman in-front of you, helping what looks like her daughter, load her luggage into the trunk.

“She got under my skin and I was flustered for the first time in a really long time. Kinda freaked me out—and then I left here there—‘cuz I was scared shitless and nothin’s ever been the same since. Sorta think she hates my guts half the time for it.”

There's this unsettling silence in the cab, Joel's nerves and his admission hanging in the air between you. He’s never ever been this vulnerable and honest with you before. You’ve talked to him more times than you can count now, a meaningless little conversation where you found everything you needed to change your mind about him. But he’s never opened himself up like he was right now, in the damn pick up line of the Jackson airport.

“Joel I…I already forgave you for that.” You forgave him for that when he gave you your necklace for Christmas. You forgave him when he carried a newborn calf half a mile through a snowstorm for you. You forgave him when you came down the stairs to him in that damn cowboy hat.

You forgave him when he came back for you and looked at you with those pretty brown eyes.

“What?” He looks over at you and you hold onto the eye contact for as long as you possibly can. “I don’t hate you. Furthest thing from it actually—I do hate how much you avoid me. Like I’m going to bite your head off any second—“ he snorts, cracks a white smile at you and his eyes crinkle at the sides, making your stomach flutter, little blue butterflies soaring through your abdomen. “You do bite my head off—often.”

Okay—maybe he’s a little right, maybe you let it get too far a few times, spent too many afternoons angry at his distaste for you, when all you wanted was a taste of him. “Well, I’m sorry…for all the things I’ve said to you, the things I’ve called you. But I’m not upset about that anymore. I forgave you for that a long time ago. You’ve already made up for it a million times, Joel.”

He’s grinning at you like you just told him he won the fucking lottery, his nervous hands drumming a absent tune against the steering wheel. He’s looking at you like it’s the first time you’ve ever met him, his eyes shining with mirth and admiration. “Think…you could give this ol’ cowboy another shot?” That nervous little shake of his jaw, the tick in his voice and the hopefulness in his eyes is enough to break anyone, but you? You’re so lost on him you never want to find your way back. Throw away the maps, toss the keys somewhere you’ll never find them again—you never want to go anywhere else in the world. Another shot? You’d give him all of them.

“Pretend you’ve never met me before.”

He blinks, cocks an eyebrow and makes a face of confusion at you. “I’ve never met you?” You nod, turn your whole body to face him on the bench seat of his old beat up chevy. “Like it’s the first time we’ve met. I’m Hank's daughter and you’re picking me up from the airport to take me home for the first time in years. We’ve never met. Try again, shoot your shot, cowboy.”

You’d like to imagine that's how it went—your mom and dad were too busy to come get you and you decided to fly because you knew your little car wouldn’t make it. They send Joel, because he’s trustworthy and punctual. They know he’ll treat their daughter with respect, they trust that he’ll use his better judgment, because they know he’s a good man. You know that under that rough, hard exterior is an anxious man searching for belonging, a good man.

Joel takes a deep breath, lets his mind drift out the window before he turns it back to you with a charming smile, one you’ve never been on the receiving end of. It’s smoldering, flirtatious—everything you imagined Joel to be after all those years of pinning after a man you’ve never laid eyes on. A Joel you’ve never met and desperately need to get to know better. “Prodigy daughter finally returns,” his drawl is thick and his eyes rake over you once, twice, before settling on your own. “I’m Joel.”

You giggle—rightfully so, because this Joel? This Joel is all quick wit and chivalry. You fake introduce yourself back, your grin mirroring his own. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Joel.”

“Pleasure is…all mine, darlin’.”

You could stare at him forever with that damn goofy smile on his face. “Anyone ever tell you—you look good in this?” You tell him, reaching up to flick the brim of his hat, but it stays firmly in place despite your efforts. He snorts and snaps up to catch your wrist, holding onto it tightly in his big hand. “S’funny, I was just thinkin’ about how good you’d look in my hat.” His thumb circles the inside of your wrist slowly,’ pushing down the fabric of your sleeve with the effort. Slowly, he draws your appendage closer, till his mouth hovers just above your skin. His eyes are like witnessing something tragic, so devastating you can't bring yourself to look away.

“In just—“ His eyes slip closed when his lips connect with the inside of your wrist. His lips are warm and so tender you fight down a soft whimper at the intoxicating sensation. When they open again, dangerous amber irises peer back at you like you’re their salvation. “-my cowboy hat.”

Oh—fuck. There’s an image you’ll never get out of your mind—your hands on his sweaty chest, the brim of his hat falling in front of your eyes while you try to keep it in place, despite the way you ride him—

“Joel—Jesus, you can’t just—“

He breaks out into a chest filled laugh, his eyes slip close and his head falls back. His whole body responds to the way he laughs, his legs kick up, his chest heaves and his belly bounces. He’s a menace, a damn trouble starter—he makes you see hearts around his head and a sparkle in his eyes you’re sure you’re imagining. He calms his laugh down with a few deep breaths, a grin still plastered on his handsome face. “What can I say? I’m really bad at first impressions.”

He is, but it doesn’t bother you like it used to. Joel isn’t and never will be the perfect man you’d envisioned. He’ll never be the Joel you’d made up in your head for so long, because that Joel was made solely for you, from your interpretation of a man who’s perfect for you in every way. But that Joel and the one in front of you are two vastly different people—this Joel is gruff at times, opinionated and flawed. He wasn’t made perfect for you, but you find that the things that make him the least like the Joel in your mind—are the things that you like most about him. He’s gruff, but he’s punctual and takes no shit. He’s opinionated, but he’s wise about life, he’s earned the right to voice his beliefs. He’s flawed—he has crows feet by his kind eyes, graying curls and weathered hands—but it’s his flaws that entice you to learn more about him. They make him real in front of you instead of a made up, faceless man in your dreams.

Your phone chimes in your pocket and it sucks you from the void in the cab of this old truck, away from Joel's charming smile and his burning hand on your wrist. He pulls away and the moment dissipates into dust on the dashboard.

Melly: I just got my bag, headed out now!

“Be right back,” you slip out the door with a firm shut and try your hardest not to glance back at the man in the cab of that blue and white truck.

Finding Melly is easy, she sticks out like a sore thumb with her blonde hair and too-blessed chest. What did she do in a past life for tits like that, anyways?

She comes out the double doors and jogs to you with a grin your wearing on your own face. “Oh my gosh!” She squeals, finally getting close enough to throw your arms around each other. It’s been months since you’ve seen each other after spending everyday together for the last two years. You tumble around together in your hug for a few minutes before she pulls back to look you over, in a pair of flared jeans and boots. “Oh man, the country got you.” She jokes, faking a deflated sigh. “Would you fuck off?” She laughs menacingly, slinging her bag over her shoulder for more security. “Let me guess, you’re still trying to drive that cowboy crazy, right?”

With a deep eye roll, you finally look back at the truck. He’s looking right back at you, an easy smile on his lips when your eyes connect. You look back to your best friend and make a face. “He uhm…he actually drove me…to come get you. He’s in the truck, please be nice to him, okay?” She sneers and you know she means trouble when you help her with her things on her way to the truck.

“Please don’t fucking embarrass me, I swear dude—“ Mel gives you a little shove and huffs a laugh when you put her suitcase in the bed of the pickup. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to ruin your shot with the old dude.” She looks around you, eyeing him from outside of the truck without his knowledge. “Holy shit, dude he’s hot. He’s like, stupid hot.”

You look over at him too and like he can feel your eyes on him, he looks over his shoulder, smiles warmly and you know it—

Know you’re fucked.

“Not a word.” Mel throws her hands up innocently and follows your lead when you open the door of the truck and climb in the middle, sliding in right beside Joel, reclaiming the space you’d taken up on your way here.

The whole drive back to the ranch, your body is on fire along the parts that connect to Joel, pressed so close you’re afraid you might melt into him.

Two days pass in a blur.

You spend a lot of time with Mel, catching up on how she's been doing since graduating, how she likes work—she’s a wildlife biologist in Colorado, who’s still learning the ropes of the job but she’s never been more excited to be a part of something. You don’t tell her about the ranch for a good reason, but she still asks and doesn’t say anything if she notices the look on your face when you lie to her.

We’ll get through it

You love spending time with her, but you don’t see a lot of Joel besides meals. He’s pleasant and soft, smiling at you like he’s never worn a frown on that handsome face. He sits too close at dinner, draws your gaze in far too many times for it to be an accident. It’s not anymore but it’s still so damn hard to make yourself believe that this isn’t just a fleeting moment—temptation breathing life into you for the first time in years, teasing you with possibilities.

He makes you burn but he doesn’t push further, doesn’t chase that desire down its narrowing path. It’s so close—you’re so close to finally making him yours.

When your birthday rolls around, he’s nowhere to be seen at breakfast. When you head out to the stables, the horses have already been fed and there's no trace of the man who plagues your every waking moment. The truck is gone and the tire-tracks in the driveway look old, like he’s been gone for hours. It’s not that he’s required to see you on your birthday, but you thought things were going to change. You thought that re-meeting him in the truck at the airport would restart everything, he’d realize you want him around more than the ranch hand who got under your skin and made you desperate for his attention. It feels naive, to watch out the window for his truck for most of the morning, pining after that faded powder blue and rust.

“This is depressing to watch from the outside, you know that right?” Comes Mel’s voice from the other side of your room when you check the window for the first time in the last half hour. She's painting her nails on the chair in your room while you peer through the blinds like he might appear out of thin air without you hearing the rumble of his old chevy. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You do your best to defend yourself, stepping away and crossing your arms as you trudge to your bed.

“Don’t play dumb with me, I know you. You’re pacing your room wondering when you’ll see him. You know everyone can see the way you guys look at each other right? When are you guys going to like…kick it up a notch, get in his pants?”

You toss yourself on the fluffy sheets and close your eyes tight, letting your mind wander for a moment. “I don’t know…” what are you going to do, if you cant even see him long enough to get him alone? Tonight is the dance and you were hoping he’d be there, maybe he’d ask you for a dance. You’ve never told a boy in your hometown yes to a dance at this thing, but you’d change that for Joel. If he asked, you’d let him spin you around all night long.

Only problem is, he can’t do that if he’s still avoiding you like you're an illness he can’t afford to catch. “He’s so confusing. One second he acts like…he wants me, the next he’s hiding from me, probably—ugh, I just wish I could get him out of my head if he wants nothing to do with me!”

The room is silent, still for all of five glorious seconds before Mel breaks it. “Does he still run away to jerk off?” You snap your eyes over to her with a sharp glare. “Yes! And he drives me up the fucking wall, dude! All I want is to get my hands on that delicious man and he runs away every time. How am I ever supposed to accomplish anything if I can't even get him alone for five minutes. And every time I do, something happens and ruins it all.”

You can't seem to get a second with him no matter how hard you try. The last two days, he hasn’t been around aside from his work in the morning, a few meals he makes it to in between. If you’re being honest, it's painful to think about the way he’d smiled at you a few days ago and the way he doesn’t have the time of day now.

“If he shows up at that dance tonight, I’m making sure you get your second alone. Now come on, let me help you pick out your dress. He won't know what he’s missing out on.”

By the time you’re headed out the door for town, Joel is still nowhere in sight. You thought you’d heard his truck for a moment earlier, but when you’d peered out the window a few minutes later, there was no blue chevy in the driveway. No cowboy waiting out front for you.

You trudged to the car in your black dress, two slits up the sides where your thighs peak out and a back so low your half afraid your ass is going to fall out of the damn thing. You do your best to hold it up when you walk through the dirt, a pair of knee high red cowgirl boots are the only thing saving you from the mud right now.

Melly isn’t far behind, but she's not dressed in anything nearly as revealing as you. She’s making friends with Tommy who surprisingly hasn’t tried to flirt yet and claims to have no idea where his older brother has disappeared to. He’s endearing, but you know he’s playing for both sides here, hiding something for his brother.

On the drive into town, your parents take your dads truck, leaving you, Mel and Tommy in your car. When you get about half way, you finally break and ask if Tommy has seen Joel, if he knows if he’s coming. Tommy shrugs in the rearview mirror with a smile.

“I’m sure we’ll see ‘em.” Is the only answer you get.

It doesn’t happen for hours.

Hours of forcing a smile through mind numbing conversation with people you haven’t seen in years. The same old how have you been in the big city? and you tell them it was hard work and commitment. They ask no plans for the future? like you’re doomed without a ring on your hand at your age. You keep your head up through every comment, back handed compliment and pick up line that passes you by for a whole fucking hour on the dance floor alone.

“I think I want to go home soon. I’m having the worst fucking time, my feet are killing me and I think my eyelash is falling off.” Your whining and limping, faking distress and discomfort for any shot to get the fuck out of here, go home and maybe you can chance a run in with Joel.

Maybe he’s coming in from the north pasture where he’s probably been hiding all day. He’d be covered in muck and sweat, dirt clinging to the creases in his face. He’d be tired and worn out, vulnerable to the way you’d take advantage of his weakened restraint. “You sure you don’t want to stay a few minutes longer?” Melly muses beside you sipping on a tall glass of tequila on ice, watching the small town’s people converse and dance, laugh and gather together under the low string lighting.

You take a long drag of the drink in your own hand, your third of the night that's finally starting to warm your insides. It’s not enough to ease the ache of wishing Joel would appear. You know he won't, there's only a few hours left and people are starting to get tipsy. “I think you might want to rethink that…the devil himself just walked in, twelve o’clock.”

You look up at her, in a pretty green dress with curly hair framing her face. She’s smirking over your shoulder at something—or someone behind you. You turn the rest of the way around and swear you’re in the middle of one of those movie scenes.

The ones where the love interest walks in and sexy rock plays while they walk in slow motion. With wind blowing this hair back even though they are inside. Joel fucking Miller was doing exactly that at this very minute, striding through the hall in his cowboy hat and a black button down, dark wash jeans and his boots. He looks like a wet dream standing there, looking a little bit lost and so damn handsome. Under his hat, you can see that his hair is slicked back and he looks clean like he’d gone home and gotten ready.

He’s here.

“Oh he looks…if you don’t ask him to dance, I will. He’s hot.” You wish you could explain to her that Joel is more than that, that he’s funny and endearing, that he’s honorable and loyal to a fault. He’s so many more things than just hot. You swivel around as he makes his way through the crowd, he’s bound to find you and you don’t want him to spot you gawking at him. “Do I look okay? Fuck he looks so good—is my hair alright?” You try to do a quick pat down but Melly grabs your hand with a smile. “You look fine. He’s not going to know what hit him, I promise—but he’s coming this way so whatever you do, chill out.”

She sets her drink on the tall table, the ones that adorn the outside of the dance floor for people who want to mingle. You take a long drink of yours and move to set it down when someone clears their throat behind you. The drink hits the table and you turn slowly, till you rotate around to face him completely. He’s even more devastating up close with pearl snap buttons on his shirt, his arms nearly bulging out of the damn thing. His facial hair looks shorter, his eyes shimmering with reflected light.

“What’s a pretty thing like you doin’, standin’ here all by herself on her birthday?” He grins at you and takes another step forward. “Guess I’m just waiting for the right cowboy to ask me for a dance.” You tease back, reaching out for him once he’s close enough for you to touch. You start at his stomach, soft under his dress shirt. When your hands make contact, a visible shiver runs through Joel.

There’s suddenly two more hands to join the party, one high up on your waist while the other curves around low on your hip, his digits digging into the top of your ass. “I’ll be real’ honest with you here, doll—askin’ you for a dance is the only reason I came tonight.” He smells good for once, usually you catch a hint of his shower under the smell of dirt and manure, a faintness of his once clean skin. Now, it’s all you can focus on—how he’d taste like his soap, smooth and clean, every part of him reachable by your watering mouth. “Well, Cowboy…go on.” Your hands slip up his chest and over his broad shoulders, like you’ve imagined yourself doing a thousand times. He’s responsive, lowers his shoulders so you fit along him perfectly.

“Would ya make this old man's day, let me have a dance?” His hand drops lower, along the side of your thigh until he can dig them into the curve under your ass. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was trying to hoist you up, drag you into that vice-like grip you want to be at the mercy of every day of your life. “Can’t get me any closer, Joel.” You giggle, hiding your face against his neck. He smells like after shave and a little like whiskey. “I thought you were giving up drinking?” You nip at his jaw lightly, just to listen to the way he rumbles against you.

“I’m—tryin’ to keep my cool here, but you look fucking incredible tonight. Needed a little courage to walk up to you, s’all.” He leans back slightly, looking down at the way your dress squeezes your tits together, nearly pouring out of the black satin. “Fucking…gorgeous in this thing, you know that? You knew how sexy this little thing was, didn’t you?” He pulls at the slit that exposes your thighs, raking it up a little higher, until he can get a handful of bare skin. He’s not wrong—you’d put the dress on and thought about all the ways it would drive Joel crazy if he saw you in it.

“You better take me dancing before you take this off of me.” The dance around you has started to fade away. Melly took her cue to go and has started to make conversation elsewhere. “With pleasure, darlin’.”

Joel all but carries you to the middle of the dance floor before you notice his obvious nervous ticks, the shake of his hands and the way he’s fighting the urge to gnaw on his thumb. He’s anxious despite his obvious attempt at faking composure. When you wrap your arms around his shoulders again, he stammers. “Need to tell you somethin’.” His voice is a little shaky on the inhale when his hands find your waist again. “I went into town last week, there’s this dance studio on sixth street and I thought, maybe I could trade work for someone to…teach me how to use my damn feet.” For added flair, he reels away from you and spins you once before drawing you back into his chest as he moves. “So, I take it someone taught you?”

The song changes, something slow, romantic and sweet that couples join in around you, swaying together around the dance floor. “Lady said she’d been lookin’ for someone to replace the dance floor. Told her I just wanted to learn to dance, so I’d stand a chance against the other schmucks askin’ you.” He dances you around for a few more moments, pulling out all the stops—every new move he learned. Was that why he was gone so much, disappearing every time you turned around? He was replacing a damn floor and learning how to dance, all for you?

“Joel—“ you start, trying to grab ahold of him for long enough to make him still. “There's somethin’ else,” he dips you back and your insides flutter, looking up at him with those big brown hopeful eyes. He stands you up right again and the dancing slows to a stop, right there in the middle of the dance hall. You’re sure the towns eyes are on you, your mom and dad, friends from high school, older people you’ve been around your entire life. “She wouldn’t let me leave without payin’ me for it, said dancin’ lessons don’t cost that much after all.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a envelope, sealed tight with a number written on the front.

“Ranch needs it a whole hell of a lot more than I do. S’just two grand, but I’ve found a few other odd jobs, so there will be more comin’, but it’s a start—“ your hand clasps over his clutching the envelope. You push his hand down, stepping forward until you're nearly standing on his own feet. “Joel Miller…are you going to stand there all night running your mouth, or are you going to kiss me?” This endearing man, this big, expressive cowboy who can’t seem to get anything right in his own eyes, but everything right in yours.

He chuckles, the hand not holding the envelope finds the side of your face, sliding his thumb along the apple of your cheek. He’s not the one to make the first move after all—after all the leading him towards it, the teasing and the showmanship. It’s you that stands up high on your tiptoes and drags him the rest of the way in, until his mouth finds yours in the lull of the dance hall, surrounded by swaying bodies and sweet music.

He sucks in a breath through his nose and his mouth opens, slots your lips between his when he finally, fucking finally gives all the way in. It’s sweet, chaste while you stand there, smack dab in the middle of the floor. Joel stuffs the envelope back into his pocket and his other hand finds your body again, yanking until you're flushed against him, digging your hands into his shoulders when his tongue licks along the seam of your mouth, begging to be let into the slick heat. What was slow and steady, soon becomes frantic, hot and needy. Your fingers tug at the buttons of his shirt and someone shoots off a whistle from across the room, enough to have you reeling apart. Joel's mouth is red, his lips swollen and shiny from your spit.

“You want to get out of here?”

Yes. Fucking hell yes you wanted to, you’ve wanted to all damn night, but with Joel standing in front of you, a strained tent in his dark jeans, it’s all you can think about. Instead of a response, you grab him by his hand and all but drag him out the back doors towards the parking lot. It's quiet, dark—the dance isn’t even close to being over so there’s next to no one in the parking lot.

You never stood a chance, looking back on this moment right here. You never would have stood a chance, with Joel’s ragged breathing behind you when he closes the door tight behind him.

One look at his wild eyes and parted lips, you should have known how this night was going to end.

Joel was desperate. He needed you, needed to touch you every second of his day. He thought about you every second he spent awake and he dreamt of you all night long. When he’d heard about the dance, he wanted to kick himself for not learning sooner. Finding the dance studio was a fluke, learning to dance was a damn nightmare and the floor wasn’t much better, but he’d do it all again for another opportunity to press you up against the brick wall with your thighs pressed apart and his hips slotted between them while he all but devoured your mouth.

He’s ruthless, relentless as he drags your bottom lip between his teeth. You—you can't keep your sounds to yourself, hiking your legs up higher around his waist when he presses in closer. He can feel himself straining through his jeans, can feel the heat of your core against his painfully hard cock. He’d take you right fucking here if you let him. “Joel—Joel,” your hips roll down to meet his uncontrollable press forward. “I know—fuck, baby, I know.” His movements are hurried and frantic, like this might be the only shot he has to get his hands on you. His mouth finds your jaw and he bites down on your flesh, relishing in the salty taste of sweat from dancing, the tang of your perfume and the sweet taste of your skin. It’s your sharp whine that gets him in motion again, his stilled teeth still hanging on to your delicate jaw. “Touch me, please—please, touch me.”

In a scurry, he drops his hand between your bodies, pushing the fabric of your dress to the side so his fingertips can work under the elastic of your panties, past the soaked material to the place he’s always longed to touch, always wondered what it would feel like.

And you are fucking drenched under his exploring digits. He slips them through your lips, your slick already dripping down his knuckles when he finds your clit and presses the pad of his thumb to it, swirling it around in a swift motion. Your head falls back and your mouth hangs open, a silent scream on your parted lips.

“There it is, huh? S’what finally gets you quiet? Just needed me to touch your pussy, didn’t you?” He groans when your thighs tremble against him, trying to tighten up around his waist where he has you pinned to the cold wall. His thumb keeps its rhythm while his fingers dip lower, making him breathless at how easily your body draws those fingers in. You come apart like you were meant to do just that, your body rapidly chasing him towards the brink. If he hadn’t gotten himself off twice today, he’s sure he’d already have cum in his pants from just this. “Yes-Yes, Joel—make me cum, please!” Your voice is wrecked.

Your eyes rolled back in your head, your chest heaving in that pretty little dress—your tits are about to bust out of the damn thing. He picks up the pace, slams his fingers into your heat and curls them while his thumb makes quick work of your clit. It’s been so long since he touched a woman, but he’ll never forget the signs.

You are dangerously, furiously close in mere minutes alone. “That’s it, pretty girl—cum on these fingers, let me feel her squeeze me.” You cry out sharply and he nearly covers your mouth with his other hand, but he doesn’t move. Instead, he revels in the pulse of your pussy on his fingers, the way you grind down against him while your body grasps for release. It comes to you with a whole body shake, a ragged gasp of his name and his tongue on your jugular.

When he pulls his hand free, it’s with a wet sound that makes his gut tighten and his knees weak. He has to get you somewhere more secluded, away from the prying eyes of the town folks. “Wunna taste you,” he growls lowly, dragging you away from the building despite the way you stumble, the lightheadedness from cuming on his fingers.

His truck is parked in the back for lack of a better spot, due to his tardiness. He’ll thank his lucky stars for it later, if he can remind himself of it. Now, he slings the door open and nearly throws you down on the bench seat. “C’mere, girl.” He’s running out of will power and common sense, the only thing driving his mind right now is sheer want, carnal desire to get his mouth all over what he’s already ruined. He’s lucky for the part of his brain that slips off his hat and sets it on the dashboard. “Lemme see that fuckin’ pussy.”

His hands find the backs of your knees and he yanks you to the edge of the seat. At this angle, he can spread you out and kneel beside the truck, let you use the door jam to rest your foot on. When your eyes find him, he thinks you’re just as far gone as he is, blinded to the world unfolding around you, to rubber hitting asphalt nearby.

“I’m going to fucking ruin you, babygirl. Only word you’ll know is my name when I’m finished with you.” He pushes your dress up with your hurried help, both of you desperately trying to rid you of your clothes as quickly as possible. The second he has your panties dangling between his finger tips, he pushes his head between your spread legs and buries himself under your dress.

The thing about Joel is, he’s always been too good at this. Half the time, it's the only reason women stick around. It must have been the only reason he got his ex wife to marry him.

He’s abandoned his shame and better judgment. He’s starved, famished for a taste of you. This man, this unhinged version of Joel eats pussy like he’s going to die without it. From the very second his mouth finds your center, he’s lost to your immodest cries, your mindless begging for him to keep going, never stop, never stop, Joel—please. He opens his mouth wide, slops his tongue through your folds like he’s trying to lick every drop from your sensitive skin. He pulls away for a breath and his eyes bounce up to meet yours, transfixed on his relentless attack. “Wunna split this little pussy open on me,” he says, muffled against your soft mound. He takes another long lap and moans at the heady taste of you on his greedy tongue.

“I’ve been practicing—I got, oh, fuck Joel, like that,” your head tips back and he pulls his mouth away completely. “You got what, baby, use your words.”

Your body clenches on nothing and his eyes track the movement with a low rumble. “Got a toy that’s as big as you so I could practice. So I'd be able to take you.”

You’d thought about this, about him. You’d thought about him while fucking yourself on a toy you’d bought to train yourself.

He doesn’t have the words to express the way it makes his chest tighten, so he presses his face between your thighs again and gets back to work, drawing out every secret you can no longer hold onto, how good he makes you feel, how hot and devastating his tongue is—how the sound of a car pulling up doesn’t even register until—

“Jackson Police department, step away from the vehicle!”

You should have known.

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal #joel miller x reader #the last of us #joel the last of us #archive of our own #joel tlou #cowboy joel miller #dbf!joel #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller story #joel miller angst #joel miller hurt/comfort #joel miller fluff #joel miller romance #joel miller pedro pascal #joel miller au #joel miller age gap #joel miller x you #joel miller moodboard

[lokischocolatefountain]

Comfort || Taken Care of

Based on this request

Series Masterlist

Fandom: The Last of Us (HBO)

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Rating: 18+. Like extremely 18+. I’d make it 20+ if that was a thing. Serious filth.

Warnings: Chonky age gap (Joel: early 50s and Reader: early 20s), extremely naïve reader, praise kink, innocence kink, non con, face-fucking, oral sex (make receiving), name calling, daddy kink, slapping, mentions of past abuse, mentions of FEDRA school abuse, dacryphilia, moneyshot, dbf!Joel (as friendly as that grump can be). Joel is a lying liar and the creepiest creep. Proceed with extreme caution.

Word count: 1.8k words

Summary: You are as sheltered as can be in a world that has fallen apart. Realizing the errors of his ways, your father has his friend Joel take you outside the QZ to teach you how to survive in the real world. Unfortunately for you, Joel is interested in teaching you more than basic survival skills.

A/N: I finally understand all the AO3 writers who are like ‘sorry for the late upload. My husband died, I gave birth, I was called upon by the US army to stop an alien invasion, my roommate stole all my things and I’m homeless. But here’s chapter 43 of my fic’ cause I am really really going through it rn. I submitted my thesis, I am defending it in a couple hours, I have to move my things to a new place immediately, I have to go to work and yet I wrote this. Who knew writing the absolute filthiest porn could make a girl feel slightly better while being in a dumpster fire…

“It’s okay, it’s okay…” he comforts you, his large hand cupping your face as he uses his thumb to wipe your tears. Shame he had to wipe them ‘cause they made you look so much prettier, got his cock so much harder.

“Oh, you poor thing,” he cooed as he unzipped his jeans. Life on the road was hard, especially for a sheltered girl like you. Your dad did everything he could to give you the best he could within the tall walls of the QZ. You knew no pain, no suffering, and definitely knew nothing of the outside world. So here he was, on your dad’s request, taking you out into the real world. The QZ could collapse anytime as QZs often did. So when it eventually did, your dad wanted to prepare you for a harder life.

Thankfully, Joel was a kind man. He held you at night when you were feeling cold, taught you how to hunt and carried your pack for you when you were feeling tired. He also comforted you when you felt lonely.

“Daddy…” you whined, too embarrassed to ask. Calling him Daddy always did the job too. You used to call him Joel, but it changed from when he started comforting you. He told you to call him Daddy, said it was more respectful, so you obeyed.

He never made you feel ashamed for wanting comfort, but something about it made you shy.

“Yes, pretty girl. What do you need?”

You put your hand on his lap and stroked him through his jeans though he was already unzipped and ready to give you the comfort you craved.

It started just a couple kilometers from the QZ. He found you sniffling in the corner of the abandoned building you’d both found shelter in for the night. He was so sweet about it too, asking you multiple times if it was okay for him to comfort you this way. He said your dad wouldn’t like it and that was true— your dad had coddled you too much and now he’d begun overcompensating for it. He yelled at you for crying, made you take up the worst shifts in the QZ and sent you off with his friend Joel— a man feared by all of the QZ— to go out and learn the world.

So you begged him to not tell your dad and put your mouth around his cock. From then, it was the only way you could find comfort.

“I need you to say it, darlin’… What do you want?”

“Please take care of me, daddy.”

“I’m taking care of ya already, aren’t I? Make you food, give you blankets, make sure the infected don’t get to ya… What do you want now?”

“Your cock. Please.”

He nodded and took himself out for you. He sat back on the rickety chair and placed a hand on your head, guiding you down to his cock. You took his tip first and sucked on it. He hissed, so maybe it hurt. But let you keep going. You opened your mouth wider and took him in, inch by inch. It hurt sometimes, but he reassured you that you will get better. You wanted to get better.

The taste was also strange. It needed getting used to. But now that you’d had his cock a few times, you were beginning to like it, to get used to it. It was salty from his sweat and it also tasted just like the skin on your arm. But there was something distinctly Joel about it.

“Just like that, darlin’. Good girl, aren’t you? Look so damn pretty like this,” he said, pushing you gently to take more of him. You gagged a little, but went on anyway. You looked up at him, wanting to smile at his compliment but too full of him to do so. More tears rolled down your cheeks at the compliment. He hummed at the sight and twitched inside you.

“Don’t forget to use your tongue,” he reminded and you felt embarrassed for forgetting already. You wanted to be good, wanted to learn everything he taught you quickly so you didn’t trouble him with the same thing twice. But here you were, having forgotten one of the important lessons already.

You did as you were told and moved your tongue along his cock, feeling his veins and ridges. He was hard, so hard but he was also smooth. He moaned as you did, making you shiver. It felt good to hear him moan, made you feel you were doing something right even though none of this was for his own benefit.

He did it just so he could make you feel better, feel less lonely. Sometimes you weren’t even crying when you got a craving for comfort again. You asked him on random nights to fall asleep with his cock in your mouth. It was becoming a kind of an addiction, like how your dad bought those pills from Joel to keep his nightmares out and now he couldn’t go without them.

You weren’t any help with other things either, even though you’d become a better shot and were more alert when it was your turn to keep watch. Suddenly, you were reminded of the time you missed a shot at a deer and made it run off, leaving both you and Joel hungry for days. You sobbed at the reminder, feeling the sharp sting on your cheek when he slapped you.

“Useless fucking whore!” He’d called you right after slapping you. You’d cried then and you cried again at the reminder, forcing yourself to take in the last of his length to prove to yourself that you would do better. He groaned and tightened his grip on your hair before pushing himself inside your mouth forcefully.

“Look so pretty like this, darlin’. Ain’t seen a prettier sight than my whore crying on my cock.” He said, pulling back before pushing into your mouth again. He hit the back of your throat and it hurt, god it hurt so bad. But he kept a firm grip on you, kept you in your place so you didn’t make mistakes again.

“Sorry, darlin’. Daddy’s gotta do this. ‘s too much,” he said, before grabbing your head in both hands. He hammered into you repeatedly, handling your face like it was something he hated. You didn’t know why, but that didn’t make you feel bad. It did the opposite.

You felt good. Like you weren’t a ‘useless fucking whore’ like he had said you were a few times. You were learning like he expected you to. The first time he did this, you forced him to stop and crouched over a bush and threw up the little food you’d eaten. It still hurt to be this way, but you were getting better. You didn’t have to throw up anymore.

He grunted and groaned, let out a few expletives that would’ve made you embarrassed if you were still back in the QZ. They were words you weren’t allowed to use back there. You’d come back from FEDRA school one day, using a bad word and it set him off. He slapped you, much like Joel would slap you later for missing the shot. When you did it again a couple of months later, he slapped you more times.

It was Joel then who came to your rescue. Promising your dad that you would behave better from now, he carried you off to his apartment and tended to your wounds.

“Ohh, of fuck. F-fuuuck… Mmm, such a pretty hole. Such a good hole for me,” he praised before pulling out of you. You inched closer to him, but he pulled you back by your hair, putting you back in place. You gasped softly when something warm hit your face. You tried to move away from it, away from him. It was wrong. How ungrateful did you have to be to jerk away from him like that when he was taking care of you.

“Fuckin’— fuck. Fuckin’ take it, bitch. Take my cum,” he struggled between pants as he continued doing— doing that. The warm sticky thing came out of his cock. You didn’t know what it was, didn’t know if he was okay. It had never happened before. You panicked and held on to his legs, afraid you did something wrong to cause this.

His jaw was clenched and his eyes were screwed shut. He grunted and moaned like he was in pain.

“Daddy…” you called for him gently. When he didn’t respond, you touched his thigh and began caressing it. Slowly, gently like he sometimes did to comfort you.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, afraid of what you’d done to him. He leaned back on his chair, his hand still in your hair. His breathing slowed down and his fingers massaged your scalp, making you feel good.

“Why’re you apologizing, pretty girl?” He asked, making you sigh in relief.

“I— I don’t— this,” you said, pointing to your face that held the white thing that came out of him. “And you looked like you were in pain.”

He chuckled and looked down at you, before cupping the cheek that didn’t have any of the white thing on it. “You really are so dumb.”

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” you blurted out, not even knowing what you’d done this time.

“I wasn’t in pain. I was feeling good.”

“Really?”

“Mhmm… I know your dad did a lot for ya; you’re his whole world. So it only matters to you when you feel good. But sometimes I need to feel good, too.”

“What makes you feel good?” You asked, desperate to learn, desperate to do for him what he did for you.

“It really helps to have a pretty girl. And you’re a pretty girl, ain’t you?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Good, good. ‘s long as ya know. Pretty girls like you, you have three holes. It’ll make a man feel good. Just like when I put my cock in your face hole to make you feel good.”

“M-my mouth?” You asked, looking up at him with curiosity. You’ve never heard of it being called that… It felt strange, but you weren’t going to protest. He knew best. Just as your dad told you before sending you out. Joel knows best. Do what he says, no objections.

“Yeah. This pretty mouth,” he said, brushing his thumb over your lips. “When I make you feel good with my cock, I feel good too. But only if you’re a good girl. Only if you do as I say. You did good today, darlin’. You thought of me too instead of being the selfish bitch you always are.”

You surged at the praise, happy that you’d finally learned. Finally did something good for him instead of taking and taking and taking like a selfish bitch.

“And I know you wanna learn. So keep being good like this, okay?”

You nodded.

“Keep being good and I’ll teach you about your other holes.”

“Thank you, Daddy…”

#joel miller fic #joel miller #read the warnings #joel miller x reader #dbf!joel #joel miller fluff #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x ofc #joel miller smut #tommy tlou #tlou fanfiction #tlou x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller age gap #hbo joel miller #hbo joel miller x reader #hbo joel miller x you #daddy issues #x reader #manipulative!joel #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #all that i've inflicted on the world

[chaotic-mystery]

Pairing: dbf!Joel x f!reader

Summary: your waitressing job has been going good so far and Joel’s finally warming up to you. Halloween being celebrated at White Pony has to you excited for all the customers you can serve…but what does Joel do when one doesn’t treat you how you should be treated?

Content Warnings: eventual smut bc enemies to lovers okay we’re getting there! 18+ mdni!, mean!joel, drinking, no outbreak!au,reader smokes, Joel smokes, Joel’s bitch ass girlfriend, slut shaming (we don’t like Michelle) groaping, fighting, mentions of wounds and blood, reader has daddy issuessss, Joel finally being NICE (will update as we progress)

Word Count: 4.3K

A/N: This shit is starting to warm up and I am biting my fingers for the barbecue scene okay!!! Will they kith? Maybe. If you can spot all my silly references in here, kiss kiss to you pookie.

Within the last two weeks of training at White Pony to be a waitress and being with Michelle almost every night, you had to see more and more of Joel. The first few days he refused to come in the bar like he always did before you got the job. It was his- as he put it, “place to be away from you.” Nice. 

Michelle was still just as scary as the day you met her. She kept Joel close in her eyesight when you first came to training but as the days passed and she watched you two hardly say any words to each other, she loosened the leash on him again. Since your blow up with him, things were still kind of weird in the way that all you said to each other was, “You done with that?” and “Another round.” 

Tonight you were celebrating Halloween down at the bar and Michelle told you all to come dressed as something, no shift unless you actually try with your outfit. It should’ve been no surprise to her that you'd show up as a blood sucking vampire and not just a regular old boring vampire. The black corset dress with the stockings and glitter everywhere had Michelle’s mouth dropping with shock. “Darlin’ when I said dress up I didn’t mean that dressed up.” Her fake witch nose was kind of crooked with the way she glued it to her face but it suited her. The passive aggressiveness she gave you was really starting to work your nerves but the tips were good here, you could easily talk shit about her attitude later while counting all your bills. 

You smooth down your dress and give a twirl, showing off your boots that you just got in the mail. You’ve already heard from Joel how many packages get delivered daily and that “the mail truck parks too long in front of his driveway” yada yada yada. He whined the same spiel every time you almost had it down word for word. 

Joel’s eyes meet yours as he leans back in the stool and he begins turning slowly while his eyes scan your outfit briefly. A sly smirk forms on his lips, “So just how much garlic should I put around me to keep you away?” His glass meets his mouth, taking a small sip of his whiskey. Your plastic tray falls at your side as your shoulders drop, your eyes low with annoyance. 

“Yeah? You feel proud of that one old man?” you mock, leaning against the bar until all your drinks are done being made. The glasses start to pile up, ready to be taken to the corner of girlfriends celebrating the night all dressed up as different colored crayons.

Your fingers delicately place each glass on the plastic tray and Joel gives a breathy laugh. “I’m proud of that, yeah.” 

“Don’t flatter yourself, cowboy. You're not my type to even sink my teeth into.” The firm tone takes him by surprise and his eyes flicker over your body once more before scoffing. 

“I’m everyone’s type, thank you very much. I’ll take another whiskey too, ma’am.” The devilish grin appears once more which only makes your eyes roll. 

“You aren’t even in my section Joel. Fuck off, get your lady to do it.” You shoot back, the annoyance not shying away from your face at all. Joel nods slowly and turns away from you, finally laying off just long enough to let you get back to your job. Michelle watches you closely as she overhears you telling Joel to fuck off, her stern look burning imaginary holes into you. 

When she busted you for talking like that to Joel, it was just best not to even look at her, this not being the first time she’s caught you with your sailors mouth in full effect.

With the night flying by from a packed bar, the tips were coming in well. Everyone was dressed up as something, leave it to Joel to dress up as…himself. 

“Let me know if you need anything else!” You shout over the music to your newest table and give everyone a smile before retreating to the bar. With Joel and Michelle in the corner canoodling at the end of the counter, you couldn’t help but throw up in your mouth a little. Her costume wasn’t going to last much longer, the evidence of a missing nose so apparent. Her costume was falling off her shoulders constantly, it was a bulky old witch dress and it looked ancient. 

Your hands run along the bar and pat it eagerly like an impatient puppy just ready for another table and more money. 

Suddenly a group of men walk in and the bar gets a tad quieter. The dress shirts they have on are so tight you can see the tank top underneath the fabric. Something about them just stuck out like a sore thumb in the best way possible and you wanted to be the one to serve them.

“Nell, how do I look? I’m gonna take that table and get the best tips for us all tonight.” You giggle and fix your hair while the bartender tells you how good you look. Joel must’ve sensed someone having fun because the next thing you know, an arm was grabbing you and walking you towards the back of the bar away from all the bustle and crowd. 

“Ow Joel, get off me. What are you doing?” You shout, grabbing your arm from his grasp and groan while rubbing the tender skin. 

“No, you aren’t taking them. They’re out of town assholes that sometimes stop in and it’s nothin’ but issues every time. Let Danny take ‘em.” He almost sounded concerned but the look in his eyes didn’t last long before he looked away. 

You stomped your foot softly and groaned, folding your arms across your chest. “Danny doesn’t even pool his tips at the end of the night like he’s supposed to! I can handle it Joel, I’ll call you if I need you to reenact Road house, okay?” You snicker at your reference and walk away before he could argue more, your tray innocently behind you as you walk up to the full table of intimidating men. 

Joel was seething in the corner, his tongue running over his teeth against his closed lips while he watched one already get handsy and try to cop a feel under your dress. Joel Miller was not jealous. He was worried for your safety and you were known to get yourself into some crazy things due to miscalculation on your part of common sense. He was almost too aware of how chaotic you could be at times but at this moment it wasn’t a joke to him. He sat back in his chair and turned it so you were in his view the entire conversation. The glasses of whiskey turned to glasses of water so he could be clear minded if things got sticky. You walked back over and he pretended not to overhear your conversation with Nell about the men fawning over you.  

Joel rolls his eyes and drinks his water, the annoyance you even entertained those assholes after he told you not to, just sitting deep inside his chest. Your small tray was packed with beers and shots of your top shelf vodka and his eyes widened, already knowing how tonight was going to play out. He sighed, smacking his hand on the bar before getting up to change the song on the jukebox. Searching for what felt like forever, he finally landed on one of his old favorites.

Porn star Dancing by My Darkest Days & Zakk Wylde. 

You stupidly sit on one of their laps and try to engage in the conversation but it always turns back to you. Hours go by of the conversation being about you and not in the best way. They’re asking what time you get off, where you got your sexy little outfit, what color were your panties, shit you shouldn’t be asking your waitress. A hand reaches to your neck and squeezes, making your skin crawl inside. They all smell of menthol and nicotine mixed with gray goose, too much liquid courage. 

Joel grabs Michelle and starts dancing with her in the corner, her back to you at the table the entire time. He keeps his eyes locked onto you, very very closely. Even when you extend an arm to grab an empty bottle out of the way his eyes are following.  They kept tugging you to sit back down, making his blood boil and his teeth clenched tightly. Somehow you managed to slip away for just a moment and make your way to the bathroom, darting around the corner into the pitch black hallway that was sheltered from noise. Joel lets go of Michelle and follows you without any sound, trying not to startle you. 

He stands against the wall and listens to your sobs muffled behind the bathroom door. The tears were pure fear and regret. Maybe, just maybe, Joel had a point. Even if you wanted to close their tab and stop serving them it would just make things so much worse for everyone. You got yourself into this mess, now it was up to you to get yourself out of it. You grab a small piece of toilet paper and blot away your tears, the post cry makeup making you look even better than before. Such a silly way of looking at the situation but you couldn’t deny a good cry moment.

A chill ran down your spine as you faced Joel outside of the bathroom, his head hanging to hear better. When the door squeaks open, his head snaps up and his eyes are on yours. With his strong gaze not leaving yours, you clear your throat and shrug like you know nothing. 

“W-why are you outside the ladies bathroom?” You knew why he was out here, he probably saw you run in here and wanted to report back to Michelle, or even worse, tell you, “I told you so..” blah blah. 

“Are you okay?” His hand rubs his neck as he stands up straight, moving closer to you. He reaches out and grumbles as he wipes away a tear. “Can jus’ ask Danny to finish out the table, s’okay if you change your mind.” Your glossy eyes look up at him and you smile, shaking your head no. 

“Can’t. I got this Joel, I just need to get through it and I’m done for the night.” Your hands wrap around your arms, shivering under the A/C vent. Joel’s shoulders drop in frustration and he sighs loudly. 

“Darlin’...” he starts, “don’t do this. Look I’ll tip you whatever they were even thinking about and more jus’ don’t do this to yourself.” His soft words were actually making you reconsider but then again, what did he care? You snap out of it and sniffle, shaking off the sadness. 

“I’ve got it Joel, promise.” A fake smile passes from your lips and he doesn’t take the bait at all. You both walk down the hall to find the table empty of bodies and three dollars squashed under a shot glass with vodka dripping down the side. Three. Dollars. You embarrassingly grab the money and look around confused as to what you could’ve done to deserve a three dollar tip. “God damnit..” you mutter under your breath. The glass clanks together as you begin to clean off the table, not wanting anyone to see this mortifying crime scene any more than they have to. 

Joel’s frame catches in the corner of your eye, his mouth covered by his hand. When you stop cleaning to look at him, he stares right into you and for a split second it doesn’t look like Joel at all. He gets up, snatching the three dollars from your hand and you knew something bad was going to happen. Joel shoves the exit door wide open and smacks the siding of the building. As he marches outside, he sees the fancy car still sitting in the parking lot, the men outside around it cracking jokes and being rowdy. 

“Joel…” You call out and immediately run after him, small struts because of your boots. “Joel sto-”

“S’cuse me fellas. Three dollar tip, really?” Joel chuckles and puts a hand on his hip, the look on his face hard as stone. Here we fucking go, you thought to yourself. Everyone from inside gathers outside and you slowly make your way to Joel, his hand flying in your direction motioning you to stop in your tracks.

“What’d you say, dickhead?” One of the men called out, his words semi slurred. His friends laugh and Joel sarcastically laughs before standing up straight. 

“See, I don’t know where y’all are from but around here we tip our waitresses real nice. Three dollars? Cmon man.” He was maybe thinking they “forgot” to put down a ten dollar bill or something, no way they meant three dollars. 

“Man she was worth three dollars but she can come home with me if she wants for the rest of the tip, know what I mean?” The assholes behind him hoot and holler, clapping their hands together and praising the man for the disgusting comeback.

“Joel stop cmon just drop it it’s fine let’s just go back inside.” You firmly shout, voice cracking from humiliation. Joel turns to look at you and pushes his hand down telling you to calm down. As his boots drag against the gravel making his way to the group of skeezy men, he tuts loudly at them. 

“Do I have to teach you a thing or two about manners, asshole? She’s not a fuckin’ fast food burger that you get for three dollars. She’s worth way more than that. You basically groaped her all night, askin’ what color her panties are, when she’s leavin’, how badly does she want your money, but I don’t have to tell you any of that. You know exactly what you’ve been sayin’ to her all while she’s jus’ doin’ her job. So let me ask you this, you do plan on tipping her correctly, yes?” Joel stopped just as he was toe to toe with the man, not a smirk to be found anywhere except on Joel. 

“Ye-yeah man um, let me get my wallet.” He hastily reaches into his pocket while he stutters apology after apology to Joel. Just as he’s pulling his hand out, he balls it into a fist all wound back to hit Joel. Never once did it connect with his cheek, never. 

Joel grabs the skeeze’s wrist and twists it roughly before throwing him on the ground, his buddies getting up contemplating if they really wanted to do this or not. Joel gets on top of him, throwing punches left and right, grunting with every connection his fist has with skin. Blood trickles down his hand between his fingers and he doesn’t stop until the guy is begging for mercy. 

Wiping his nose and breathing in deeply, Joel gets up and grabs the wallet that was supposed to be taken out before all this started. His bloody fingers split it open and find a bunch of cash, flicking through all the bills. 

“How much was their bill, darlin’?” 

Everyone's eyes were on you and the chattering started to fill your ears. 

You clear your throat roughly and walk closer to Joel by just a few steps, not wanting to get too close. 

“Uh…I don’t remember. It was around 213 dollars I believe…lots of gray goose shots.” Your eyes went wide when he pulled out two 100 dollar bills and folded them, passing it to you between his index and middle finger. You take it apprehensively, staring at the grunting man rolling around on the ground. Joel nods at you a little and asks if you’re okay. Just as your lips part to tell him thank you, someone is running up on him. 

“Joel watch out!” You shout and he pushes you back so much you fall on the ground. A fist hitting him right in the face, “You fuckin’ prick! Wanna piece of me old man?!” The other guy shouts at Joel and hits him, starting to wrestle him on the ground. They roll around causing the gravel dust to stir up and you think quickly on your feet. Going behind the guy trying to wrestle Joel to be on top, you kick him right in the balls with your boots. “Get off of him!” You shriek and grab his hair, tossing him backwards. The audible winces and groans from the crowd echo off the buildings, Joel sits up and looks at you like you were some angel or something. 

Reaching out your hand for a lift, you take deep breaths and help him up off his ass. 

“How was that for your reenactment? You okay?” He asks as he begins to brush the gravel off his palms. The men were on the ground rolling in pain still, such a funny thing to watch. 

Chuckling softly, you turn back to Joel,”Yeah I’m okay. You okay?” You nudge his arm and see his knuckles still dripping blood. A small nod comes from him and you grab his hand slowly to observe the wounds. 

“Should get some ice on that Mr.Miller.” The glimmer in his eye takes you and draws you in, standing there holding onto his hand for far too long. Everyone behind you cleared out and went inside, leaving Michelle there alone. She clears her throat and you snap back to earth and drop Joel's hand rather fast. 

“Take her home Joel. She’s done.”

“What?!” You shout in complete surprise.

“Mich come on baby I don’t think that’s very fa-” Joel’s reasoning is cut off by a groan from Michelle. 

“No! I can’t have a floozy willing to do whatever for tips work here and expect my boyfriend to protect her! You’re done!” She was expressive with her hands just like your mother used to be, which was exactly how you were feeling. A little girl once more and your mom was beyond done with you. 

Your tongue pushes against your cheek and you go inside to get your coat and purse. Nell was the only bartender who didn’t treat you like a monster and she started to get pissed off when you told her the news. Joel and Michelle were outside arguing and you stood by the door eavesdropping, careful they couldn’t see you.

“You’ve never once defended me from a creep like that!”

“Oh Michelle, is that what this is about? Really?”

“No, of course not Joel! You know damn well she knew what she was doing dressed like that coming to work and getting on their laps the way she did! What else did she expect from them?!” Her hands were flying up in the air as Joel’s head dropped, shaking side to side. 

“Michelle she’s just barely started her life, what did you want me to do, hm? Watch them take advantage of her?!” His arms reached out, searching for something that wasn’t there. 

“No but what do you think is gonna happen when she walks around here acting like a slut?!”

As your fast breaths started to fog the glass awaiting Joel’s response or even some sliver of defense, nothing. He said nothing. 

Joel knew that wasn’t true. He watched your driveway like a hawk regardless how many times he said he didn't. Tommy was the first and last person you’ve been with since you moved back but that was none of Michelle's business even if you wanted to get with everybody.The door flew open and you walked to your car, getting in the passenger side. All you wanted to do was cry yourself to sleep, Joel could drive. More muffled sentences rang outside the car, something about Joel calling her tomorrow. You felt pretty buzzed after that encounter until overhearing that fuck ass conversation. That was probably the first time anyone has cared so much about your safety, your well-being, you in general. No one has ever willingly stuck up for you like that and beat someone the way Joel did. Not even your own dad has done that or would ever. You must’ve been replaying in your head the images of Joel beating that man so much because all at once you came back to the now, his fingers snapping in front of your face.

“Cmon, we’re home. You’ve got a cut on your knee sweetheart. Let’s go clean it.” He fumbles with your house keys and unlocks the front door, making his way into your house. 

“Jus’ sit, I’ll be back. Where’s the bathroom?” Shutting the front door, you point to the left and sit slowly to observe the cut. 

It was definitely something. The nylon stocking was tattered and covered with dry blood caked onto the broken skin. Joel arrives with the rubbing alcohol sloshing in the bottle along with a washcloth. 

“I didn’t mean to push you down so hard, m’sorry.” Joel kneels down in front of you and rests your foot against his thigh so he can examine how bad it was. Those beautiful brown eyes were getting you again. It didn’t seem so far-fetched to forget everything, even the conversation you overheard, until he pressed the alcohol to your skin. Sucking in a sharp breath, you grab the armrest of the couch and whimper quietly at the contact. 

“Ow..Joel that-ah-ooh-that hurts.” You suck in sharply again, his eyes going back to your cut. 

“I know baby, I know..I’m sorry, jus’ hold on f’me.” He whispers as he rips the material of your tights until a large hole is created around the scrape. His rough hands covered in blood were so gentle on your leg, his fingers wrapping around the back of your boot covered calf. 

“You should really let me bandage up your hand, can at least do that much for you.” The room went silent and all that was heard was Joel’s deep breaths and the washcloth pressing against you. He sighs and grabs a bandaid from where he set it down on the couch cushion, opening it to cover the wound. 

With a firm press on the edges, his thumbs smooth over the entire bandaid and he glances up at you hoping you weren’t wincing in pain. 

After a long pause he mutters, “I’ll be fine, just need some ice is all. Also um…darlin’..” he started and continues to ever so slightly rub the bandaid. 

“I know you overheard ‘Chelle and I talkin and I just wanted to apologize on her behalf. She doesn’t think those things about you and neither do I, okay?” He didn’t sound too sure that he even believed the words coming from his mouth. 

You were too emotional to argue with him so a small nod was all you responded with.

It was a bullshit apology and it didn’t even need to come from him but there was too much in your head right now, an apology was the last thing you were concerned about. 

Without a word you get up slowly and step onto the front porch with a new pack of cigarettes in your palm. Joel hesitated following but he wasn’t done with you just yet. The front door squeaks open softly and before even turning around you had the cigarette held out for him to take a few drags from. 

“Are you uh..are you goin’ to your dad’s barbecue this weekend?” The smoke rolled out of his mouth and he ashes over the railing.

“I’ve thought about it..” You take a puff and pause. “What would I even say? ‘Hey dad uh I know I just got my job here but I got fired because I was dressed like a slut.’ Mmm, I don’t know, Joel.” All the smoke exited your lungs by the time you were finished talking and the glowing orange light was lifted again as your cheeks hollowed taking another hit.

Joel turns to you slightly, holding out his hand with his fingers spread and ready to take your cigarette. 

“Jus’ don’t tell him anything. He couldn’t even wish you luck or congratulate you for gettin’ the damn job anyway. Asshole.” His face disappears behind a cloud of smoke and it was probably for the best due to the shit eating grin on your face while his words echoed in your head. 

“So you’re finally getting it I see, Mr. Miller.” The cigarette slowly dwindles and he lets you have the last drag. 

“I can’t see why he’d ever treat you like that, I wouldn’t dream of treating you that badly and you really know how to work my fuckin’ nerves sometimes, little girl.”

The pair of you laugh and Joel flicks the cigarette butt on the driveway, shoving his non fucked up hand in his pocket. The dim porchlight hardly illuminated his face but the moon on the other side made up for what you couldn’t see. 

“Get some sleep, you’ve got job hunting to do tomorrow.” His boots clunked against the wooden floorboards of the steps, gravel crunching as he got further across the way to his sidewalk. 

“Oh, one more thing sweetheart!” He shouts from his porch.

“I’ll back you up no matter what. He doesn’t know you anymore, not like I do.” 

Your face was hot to the touch from his words. Joel Miller finally finding his heart? Who knew he had one? Each of your front doors closed and you went to sleep that night just imagining how the barbeque is going to go. Joel fell asleep that night with a bag of frozen peas on his knuckles and a small grin on his face.

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[mermaidgirl30]

✨Daddy’s Best Friend, Mr. Miller Chapter 4: Birthday Candles and Rock Concerts✨

Series Masterlist

A/N: I’m so excited for you to read this fluffy, soft chapter between Joel and reader, I absolutely loved writing it 🥰 So much love between these two. Comments and reblogs always make my day, can’t wait to hear your thoughts ❤️

Chapter Summary: Joel throws reader the sweetest, most romantic birthday party and takes her to a rock concert

Word Count: 11.4k

Pairing: Joel x fem! reader

Chapter tags: Oral receiving, fingering, unprotected p in v, sweet talk, love confessions, cute moments between Joel and reader, surprises

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

You spend the weekend before your birthday lazing around the house reading your romance books, strumming the pristine cords on your acoustic guitar, and binge watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer. A nostalgic show you could watch over and over again without ever getting bored. A weekend in is just what you needed.

It’s now Saturday evening, the warm sun slowly sinking behind dark clouds that threaten to pull it down as the moon takes its place, trading the fluffy clouds with clear skies and bright white stars. The air blows chilly breezes against your skin as you wrap the pink Nirvana hoodie closer to your body and cross your legs as you readjust the shimmering guitar in your arms.

You trace your fingers along the sparkly swirls and run them slowly over the glittering butterflies on the neck of the guitar. You can’t help but smile as you think of the handsome man that carved them with his own strong, calloused hands. Joel. You’re perfect, sweet man. You feel the butterflies flit through your stomach every time you think of him and his cute dimples that always pull at the edges of his cheeks when he’s really happy. And it’s always when he’s with you.

You smile at the thought of it, of him. You watch the sunset fade to purple and pink skies swirling into orange colors, then finally into darkness as the full moon shows its glow in the night sky. The back porch lights flick on as you focus on your guitar again.

You carefully strum along the cords, playing “Never Too Late” by Three Days Grace as you hear the melody carry through the wind, taking the song with it as it flows in the night sky gracefully. You get lost in the song, quietly humming along to the beat as your fingers slide along the cords. It was a song Joel taught you how to play, and it made it that much more special.

You’re so deep into the song that you don’t hear the sliding glass door open and close behind you until you hear his deep voice as he comes up behind you, stopping just inches from the fold out chair you’re sitting criss crossed on.

“Sounds good, baby,” he says quietly, his deep breath raising all the hairs on the back of your neck as you nearly jump at his presence.

“You think so?” you ask shyly as you look up at him, finding his lips curled up into a smile as a dimple forms deep into his cheek. The sight nearly takes your breath away. You love his soft smile, the way his brown eyes delve into yours as he always looks at you so deeply. Like he’s looking into the mere pits of your soul. It’s mesmerizing.

“Yeah, I do,” he breathes out, his hands digging deep into the pockets of his dark washed jeans as his fingers strain to keep them there. He can’t touch you. Not right now, not when your father is right around the corner. But he wants to. God, he wants to. It takes everything in you not to reach out and take his hand in yours. You want to so badly. But you know one touch wouldn’t be enough. It’s never enough.

“Well, you can thank yourself for making me the little guitar player I am. I wouldn’t even know how to play if it wasn’t for you. So thank you… for giving me something I now love.” You blush up at him, and he runs a hand through his unruly curls, trying to get a hold on reality again before he caves and sweeps you up in his arms.

He wants to sit right behind you on that fold out chair, wants to wrap his arms around your hips and pull you flush to his chest as he lets his calloused fingers brush over yours. Let his lips trace the edge of your long, perfect neck as he trails them up and down, nipping at your jawline as he gets lost in your vanilla scent he clings to every time he’s around you. You drive him crazy with desire, but he does the same to you. The perfect match. Twin flames.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart. Always love giving you guitar lessons,” he smiles as you blush up at him, remembering how the last guitar lesson ended with you on top of his lap.

You shake your head clear of the steamy memories before you get yourself all worked up, changing the conversation casually. “So, having fun watching the football game with my dad?”

He gives you a small laugh as he nods his head, making one of his tousled curls fall down over his forehead. It takes everything in you not to push it back out of his face. “Yeah, the game’s alright. Kinda hard to concentrate when you’re so close though. Think I’d rather be hanging out with his pretty daughter instead,” he smirks, making his honey brown eyes glisten with golden flecks. He was always so pretty, so heavenly, so warm.

“Oh yeah? Is that so?” you smile, resting the guitar on your lap as you trail your fingers along the wooden edges lightly.

“Mhm,” he hums out, standing and staring at you in a dreamlike way. “You excited for the concert Saturday?”

“You know I am,” you say with enthusiasm, sitting up straighter in your chair as you bounce with energy inside.

“I am, too,” he says eagerly. He runs a hand through his tousled curls again and looks at you almost nervously before he asks his next question. “I know your birthday is Friday, and I don’t know if you have plans with your friends or anything, but if you don’t I was thinkin’ maybe you’d wanna spend the night? Sarah’s gonna be gone this weekend, and I figured maybe you’d want a quiet evening in? If not, that’s fine. Just thought I’d offer ‘cause I wanna make your day special. It’s fine if you have plans, but I just…”

You cut him off before he can finish his thought. “Joel, there’s nothing else I’d rather do than be with you. That sounds perfect,” you respond with a big smile plastered on your lips, trying your hardest not to get up and wrap your arms around his neck while you bury yourself in his woodsy scent you so love.

“Really?” he asks almost timidly, not believing you’d want to spend your birthday inside with him when you probably had friends begging to drag you out to some crappy bar.

“Really,” you confirm with the nod of your head and a shy smile splayed on your face.

“Okay. It’s a date then, birthday girl.” His smile reaches his brown doe eyes as they crinkle around the edges, making your heart beat faster by how pretty he is. He’s perfect, so so perfect.

After a few seconds of staring at each other, you clear your throat and interrupt the heavy glances that nearly pull you over the edge. “Well, guess you should get back in there. I’m sure my dad’s wondering where you are,” you sigh, eyes falling back down to your guitar as you fight to not reach out and pull him down with you. It’s getting harder to control your feelings around your parents. You can’t deny it. That’s why you’re not sitting in the living room with them. It’d be too hard to sit on the couch when all you wanted was to be curled up in his lap.

“Yeah, guess I should,” he says slowly, not wanting to go back in just yet.

Before he turns away, you call his name quietly as he turns back toward you. “Miss you,” you whisper, voice barely audible above the blowing wind outside, but he hears you clearly as you see his brown eyes soften.

“I’m right here, baby,” he says as he takes two steps forward, letting his legs meet the edge of the chair as you look up at him.

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah… I do,” he whispers back quietly. He looks back toward the sliding glass doors, looking for any sign of your mom or dad. When he sees no one, he reaches a hand down and runs it through your thick hair slowly. You groan as his nails slide through your scalp, making you feel safe every time his hands are on you.

The next thing he’s doing is leaning down and softly kissing the top of your head slowly as he lets his lips linger there for a few seconds, probably too long. It feels good, always leaves you wanting more.

He stands back up and lets his fingers drop from your hair, stepping back as he smiles one more time at you. “I’ll see you later, baby. Keep practicing, alright? Love hearing you play.” With that, he disappears behind the glass door and leaves you alone with an aching feeling in your gut. You want him. You want him so bad that it hurts. But he’s yours, he’s yours.

You pick up your guitar again and start strumming along the cords, finishing the song you were playing before he came outside. The second you finish the song, you feel your phone vibrate in your pocket. When you dig it out and unlock it you see Joel’s name pop up on the screen.

Joel: Miss you more, pretty girl.

The message nearly sends you into overdrive as you stare at the screen, your lips curled into a huge grin as you read it over and over again. Joel Miller was so soft, so sweet, so tender. You’d never get enough of him. Never.

You slide your phone back into your pocket and strum lightly on the guitar again, only thinking of Joel and his thick, calloused fingers. Thinking of every sweet message he’d ever sent you before. And if your heart wasn’t bursting at the seams before, it was now.

Your parents take you out to Bartlett’s Thursday night for your birthday, the best steakhouse around Austin. You chew on a piece of fresh steak and let the sweet, savory flavors melt in your mouth with every small bite you take.

The restaurant is quiet tonight, only a few couples dwindling at circular tables nearby that chatter quietly amongst themselves. You take in the deep crimson tablecloths, the vase of white roses that sit in the middle of each table, the silverware that’s splayed out next to fine china plates, watch as the busy waiters take water and orders to each table every few minutes. It’s a fancy restaurant, not one you come to often, but it’s one of your favorites.

As you take another bite of the delicious steak, your mom sets down her glass of wine and smiles at you. “So, have any big plans this weekend?”

“Mhm. Might not really be home this weekend. Gonna go out with some of the girls tomorrow, and I have a concert on Saturday,” you reply as you take a sip of red wine, letting it slide down as the taste of cherry meets your tastebuds.

“Oh, who with?” she asks as she cuts into her chewy steak.

“Just a couple girls from class. You don’t know them.” You feel bad for lying, but what could you really say? That you were practically spending all weekend with Joel at his house, and he was taking you on the best date of your life? Yeah right.

“That’s too bad. You’ll have to bring them over to the house sometime,” she says as she adjusts the pearly white necklace that laces around her long neck, letting her dark hair sweep over her shoulders.

“Sure,” you say as you dig your spoon into the fluffy white mashed potatoes.

“What concert you seeing on Saturday?” your dad asks in between mouthfuls of French fries.

“Ghost,” you say nervously, knowing your dad will have something bad to say about the band.

“Oh, isn’t that the band where the singer always wears a mask and dresses in priest costumes and plays that glam rock trash?” he laughs as your mom elbows him in the side.

“Yeah, dad. They aren’t glam rock though. They’re just rock and they’re good.” You emphasize the word and roll your eyes as you place a hand over your thigh.

“Well, I’m sure you’ll have fun,” he laughs. “Did you know Joel was going, too?” he asks as he looks over the table at you. You almost spit out your wine as you choke on the sweet taste in your throat.

“No, I didn’t,” you lie as you dig your nails into your knee, letting them bite at your skin just past the point of pain.

“Huh. Thought he might’ve mentioned it since you’re into those types of bands. I didn’t even know he liked them. Would’ve never guessed, but he does surprise me all the time,” he laughs as he leans back into his chair, patting his full stomach as he cleans off his plate fully.

“Did he say who he was going with?” you ask as you chew another bite of steak, this piece not hitting the spot as nerves run down your spine.

“Said he was going alone. Kinda surprises me. Figured he’d take a date or something. But the old man’s going alone. Maybe you’ll see him there?”

“Maybe,” you say quietly, trying not to crack a smile as you know he’s taking you to the concert. You’re his date.

“Has he been off lately to you?” he asks as he knits his dark eyebrows together and narrows his eyes like he’s deep in thought. “He’s just been busier lately. Seems a lot happier too. Something or someone has been taking his time,” he says carefully.

You feel your cheeks burn red and try to cool down with a big gulp of ice water as you focus on not getting all worked up. “Oh, really? I guess I haven’t noticed then,” you say casually, not displaying much interest as you rut your black heels into the polished floor.

“Just is strange is all. He keeps turning down your mom’s friends, and I keep trying to get him to go out with Alexa, but he won’t budge at all. I don’t know what the hell is wrong with him, but he must be seeing someone,” he stammers out as he crosses his arms over his button-up white shirt.

“Maybe he just enjoys being single. Maybe doesn’t want to deal with dating?” You cock your eyebrow up at him and take another sip of water slowly, letting the icy goodness stop the burn in your throat.

You want to shout it, scream it across the entire restaurant that Joel Miller is yours. He doesn’t want other women because he wants you and you alone. That’s what you want to say to your dad, tell him to stop pushing women onto him because he’s yours. But you can’t. You don’t know if you ever could…

“Mmm. Maybe. But something is definitely up, and I’m gonna find out one of these days,” he promises.

Maybe he’d find out one day, but it wouldn’t be anytime soon. Not if you could help it.

Friday night you pack a bag and drive over to Joel’s, nerves pulling through you as you don’t know what all he has planned for you. You said you wanted a quiet evening in since tomorrow would be a busy, full day of fun. You know Joel’s full of surprises though. He was always doing things you wouldn’t expect of him. He kept you on your toes constantly.

As you park your SUV in the driveway next to his Chevy and climb out with your bag around your shoulder, you pull the pink dress over your thighs and hug the black jacket around the chill of the cool evening. When you climb up his porch and knock gently on the door, you wait till you hear his name echo through the house.

“C’mon in. Just finishing somethin’ up real quick,” he yells as his deep voice vibrates through the door. You twist the knob and head inside, dropping your purple bag in the entryway as you close the door and twist the lock tight. “In the kitchen,” he calls as you pull off your jacket and hang it on the brown coat rack that hangs by the door.

You smile as you make your way down the dimly lit hall as your white slip on Converse slide over the dark wood easily. You wonder what he’s up to and why he didn’t greet you at the door.

What is that man up to?

When you push past the long hallway and enter into the dim light open kitchen, you freeze in place. Joel stands against the marble countertop with a single red rose in his hand, twirling it between his fingertips as he smiles over at you gently. His brown eyes are warm, and they crinkle around the edges as the lines on his forehead raise when he lifts an eyebrow excitedly.

You gawk at him as you take in the surroundings of the kitchen. There on the center of the counter is a frosted cake that looks like he made it from scratch. Birthday candles glow in the soft lighting as they sparkle as the flame dwindles back and forth. A bouquet of red roses sit behind it with a black bow tied against the glass vase. And on the stove sits shrimp Alfredo and cheesy mashed potatoes, your favorite meal ever. But that’s not all. No. There’s also a small pink package with your name written on with the words happy birthday, angel scribbled on the side.

“Joel…” you whisper out, completely in a daze as your heart pulls in your throat. There’s no words for any of this. No words for how good he is to you.

His lips curl up into a shy smile as he hands the single rose to you, letting his fingers trace against yours as you take the flower from him and grab onto his soft grey t-shirt under his rolled up green flannel. “Happy birthday, baby,” he says as he leans down and brushes his lips against yours. You lean into him and dig your fingers against his cotton shirt, letting yourself take in his rich mahogany and woodsy scent. Wanting to breathe in every part of him as you fall apart all over him.

He drops his lips from yours and takes a step back, his calloused fingers curling around yours as he leans against the counter effortlessly. “Make a wish and blow out the candles, baby,” he smiles as you turn to face the lit up candles on the frosted birthday cake.

You take in the glow of the tall candles and blow gently, watching as the fire turns to smoke as the room fills with the scent of blown out smoky candles. You fan away the lingering smoke and face back toward him, laughing as you go.

He rubs his thumb tenderly over the back of your hand and looks into your eyes intensely. “So, what’d ya wish for?” he asks with a smug smirk on his face.

“I already have my wish. It’s you,” you say choked up, eyes glistening into his as your whole heart swells with warmth.

“Oh, is that right?” he asks as he slides his arms around your waist and pulls you flush to his broad chest, making you giggle in response.

“Mhm, that’s right,” you say shyly.

“Well, then. Looks like we think the same. ‘Cause I’ve been wishin’ for you for a long time.” He tucks a loose curl behind your ear and pulls you in. “C’mere.” He presses his lips against yours as you drink him in, parting your lips to allow him to slot his tongue inside. You embrace his warmth, devour his coffee taste, ravish all of him as you’re tied to him like a strong rope around an anchor. He’s yours. He’s yours.

When he breaks apart his lips from yours, he holds you close to him, not letting you out of his strong grip. Your eyes slide down to the cake with white frosting spread all around the top, some spilling over the corners. You look at it closely, see the way it was so carefully made by hand. And then it dawns on you. He made it.

“So, about the cake. Did you make it?” you ask as your glowing eyes trace up to his, a warm smile growing on his face.

“Mhm. Took me a little bit to get just right, but I think I did pretty good. Strawberry cake with vanilla icing on top. That’s your favorite, right?”

Your eyes widen at the realization. No one had ever made you a cake before that was homemade. And he was so careful to pick out what you liked and what was your favorite things. He was quite literally a slice of heaven. Mere perfection in your eyes.

“Yeah, that’s my favorite. Joel… thank you. That was so sweet. You didn’t have to go through all that trouble for me,” you say shaking your head, laughing at how stupid you must look for getting emotional over a cake. But it wasn’t just that. It was the effort he always put into you, the way he always cared and tried for you. He showed you every single day how much he wanted you, and it nearly brought you to your knees every second that you were his.

“‘Course I did, darlin’. It’s your birthday, your special day. The day you turn twenty-six. I wanted it to be extra special. Wanted to do all the things that make you happy.”

You hook your arms around his neck and smile softly up at him. “You make me happy, Joel Miller. You. Just you breathing and being in my space is enough to make me happy.”

He tics his jaw, and you can see warmth flood his honeysuckle eyes. The crows feet pulling at the edges of his brown eyes the wider he smiles. It’s absolutely mesmerizing. “That’s you, sweet girl. You make me happy.”

He lowers his lips back down to yours as you envelop his syrupy taste and smell, feel every single muscle in your body burn for him. This is what happiness was supposed to feel like, and you found it with Joel. Joel was your happiness.

After a few minutes of making out against the marble counter, you find yourself sitting across from him at the table eating shrimp Alfredo, cheesy mashed potatoes, and seasoned vegetables. It’s delicious, every single bite tasting savory and sensational against your salivating tastebuds.

You take in the mood lighting of the citrus candles, see the two red heart balloons tied to the back of a wooden chair, hear the low hum of a Metallica album playing in the living room. It’s quiet, peaceful, perfect with just the two of you. You couldn’t have asked for a better birthday than this with the sweetest boyfriend your heart could’ve ever desired. He had you hooked like a baited fish, ready to be reeled in at any moment.

“This is delicious. I didn’t know you were such a great cook,” you smile as you take another bite of your creamy Alfredo noodles.

“M’glad you like it. I don’t cook a ton, but when I do I actually kinda enjoy it. It’s sorta relaxing if that makes any sense.”

He takes a bite of his mashed potatoes and keeps his eyes on you, a faint smile curling up on the edge of his big lips. “I get it. It can be fun. Especially if it involves sweets.”

Joel laughs and shakes his head. “‘Course. You always were such a sweet tooth. Weren’t ya?” he asks with a wink, making you blush with the way he’s looking at you like he wants to devour you whole. He makes you frazzled all the time, and you don’t think that would ever go away.

“Speaking of sweet things. You ready for some cake?”

“Oh, I’m so ready,” you smile.

He laughs and rises from his chair, pulling you up by your arm as he takes you over to the counter and cuts you a big piece of cake. He lays it on a white plate, and you see just how pink and delicious it looks as the creamy frosting covers every inch of the square. Before you can take a bite, Joel swipes his index finger into the frosted icing and smears it across your cheek.

Your eyes grow wide and your eyebrows rise in surprise. “Joel!” you whine as you try to brush it off your skin. Joel grabs your wrist carefully before you can clean it off yourself.

“Oops. Was an accident,” he smiles mischievously as a devilish smirk curls around the edges of his lips.

“Haha very funny,” you chime out as you roll your eyes. “Now clean up the mess you made, Mr. jokester.”

He fully obliges as he pulls you to his broad chest and moves your hair to the side. “I planned on it,” he smirks. He flattens his warm tongue against your cheek and laps up all the frosting, making sure he goes slow, gets every speck as something pulls deep in your stomach. You shouldn’t be this turned on by him cleaning off the mess he made, but you are. So turned on.

“It’s good, baby. So sweet,” he purrs, a full smirk encased over his lips as he stares you down with those dreamy chocolate eyes of his.

“Didn’t even let me have the first taste,” you pout, jutting your bottom lip out as he smiles in return.

“I’m sorry, baby. Here. Have a taste.” He hooks his thick thumb into the icing again and brings it to your cherry coated lips. “Open up, darlin’.”

You fully oblige, opening your mouth just wide enough for him to slide his thumb in. You lick his finger clean, letting the vanilla goodness run down your throat as you hold tight to his wrist. You give him another long lick, this one just for show and watch him burn with desire.

His pupils can’t decide what to do. They grow wider, blowing out as darkness takes over. The once honey colored eyes grow into dark, deep chocolate eyes that want to devour you whole. He’s as turned on as you now, his breathing picking up as his nostrils flare out. “Taste good?” he asks as his large hands cover the sides of your hips, digging his nails into you for good measure.

“So good,” you purr.

He backs you up slowly to the edge of the counter, his finger digging back into your piece of cake as he takes a chunk of pasty frosting and paints it all over your inner thigh. “Oh, I’m so sorry.” He drags out the words with a pathetic apology as he bends down and wraps his hand around your ankle, sliding his tongue up your thigh as he nibbles at the frosting, lazing his tongue up and down like he’s licking a cold popsicle on a warm summer day.

You dig your hands into the cool marble, sinking your nails in deep as you try to hold in a moan. He’s doing this on purpose, but you don’t mind. You want him to keep going. “Joel,” you whine out as you feel your panties start to grow wet under your blooming arousal. “What are you… oh.” Your words cut off as he trails higher, nipping just inches below your short pink dress.

Fuck, he loves to tease you. He’s getting you all worked up, wanting you nice and wet for him. He knows how to get you there, too. He’s too damn smooth with his moves. He could get you off by just the sound of his melodic, deep voice. Could make you cum by just blowing sweet whispered incantations in your ear.

“Wanted something even sweeter to eat and that would be you, darlin’.”

He hoists you up on the counter, bare legs hanging down as he stands up slowly, arms hooking around your waist and sliding you forward to the edge. Your breath gets caught in your throat as your cheeks burn hot. You feel flushed, turned on, excited. He was going to make you cum hard, you just knew it.

“You look so beautiful in that pink dress, baby. Did I tell you that yet?” he asks tenderly as he slides his hands up your short skirt, one hand ghosting across your slick center as you breathe out a flustered breath.

“No, I don’t think so,” you gulp as his thumb brushes over your clothed folds, elating a gasp as he breezes past the edge of your needy clit. You whine between your teeth as he drops his thumb.

“You’re always so fuckin’ wet, sweetheart,” he growls, teasing his other hand across the waistband of your panties.

“Mhm. You always make me wet,” you moan, begging him to put his fingers on you again. He gets the point from your pleading eyes and your labored breathing, stepping into you as he pushes your thighs further apart as his large body crowds your space.

“Hips up for me, sweetheart,” he asks nicely, and you generously obey.

As you lift your hips, he pulls the soaked black lace down your legs, dropping them to the floor as he lifts your skirt up all the way, leaving your pussy on full display for him to feast on with his eyes. His eyes go pitch black, pupils blown out as he licks his bottom lip seductively. It makes you want him even more as you watch the flames in his eyes dance for you.

“So fuckin’ pretty, baby. Soakin’ wet for me. Goddamn,” he says with a lust filled haze in his voice. He trails his fingers up your inner thigh, brushes over your center and spreads your folds wide as he sinks his calloused thumb down on you, slowly circling your puffy clit meticulously.

“Joel,” you moan, bucking your hips up as your body screams in pleasure. More, more, more.

“Oh, you like that do you?” he asks with a raised eyebrow, a smirk pressed hard on the edge of his mouth.

“Mhm,” you hum out, unable to respond with words right now.

“Well, think you’ll like what I’m gonna do next,” he smirks.

He drops to his knees before you, hooking your legs over his broad shoulders as he gently kisses up your ankle, past your knees, up your inner thighs tenderly and then stops before he gets to your center where you need him most.

He glances up at you, a pure vision as his pupils blow out wide and his tousled curls drop down on his forehead slightly. He looks so damn handsome, so ravenous as he stares up at you with that heated look in his smoldering eyes. He wants to eat you alive, and you’ll let him.

“Birthday girls deserve to cum,” he smirks, half-hooded eyes staring up at you. “And I’m gonna make you cum hard, baby,” he growls.

Before you can respond, his mouth is on you in a flash. He licks a thick, generous stripe up your folds and groans at the first taste of you. You arch your back against the counter as he spreads your folds and draws slow, meticulous circles over your throbbing clit.

You moan out his name and dig your fingers into his tousled curls, eliciting a deep groan out of Joel’s chest as your fingers deepen in his hair. His tongue is so experienced, so impressive as he devours you, leaving you completely breathless every time he sucks and pulls your throbbing bundle of nerves into his giving mouth.

He moves two fingers inside of your dripping hole, slowly pumping his fingers deep inside you as you swear you feel him hit the back of your walls over and over again. You moan his name out loudly as he hooks his thick fingers up, hitting that deep spongy spot that makes you tighten your ankles around the back of his neck.

“You like that, don’t ya, baby?” he coos, lust blown eyes staring up at you from the dark wooden floor.

“Yes, ahhh,” you say in a breathy moan, voice getting higher pitched the more he ruts up into you. Your walls flutter around him the deeper he goes. You’re so close that you can taste the desire to cum on the back of your tongue, fingers twisting around his curls as you beg him to lick you up and down again.

“What do ya want, angel? Use your words,” he coos gently as he continues to pulverize your insides again and again.

“Want your…. want your tongue on me,” you whine, biting your lip as you feel more slick run down your thigh.

“Can you say please, baby? Say it. I wanna hear it…” he purrs, black eyes trained on you. “I love when you beg.”

“Pleaseeeee, Joel,” you beg hoarsely.

“Good girl,” he growls. He dives his tongue back into you, moving it up and down as he tastes you, torments you into oblivion. He tugs at your swollen clit, moaning every time he pulls you into his mouth, savoring your sweet flavor on his delicious tongue.

He loves eating you out, loves making you feel good, loves to make you cum as he feasts on you. You’re his favorite meal of the day he always tells you. He could eat you up every second of every day if he could. He loves it, craves it, needs it. Needs you.

He pumps his fingers faster, swirls his tongue languidly over your clit, and you’re right on the edge. You feel the warm rush start in your spine, slowly easing over your stomach and pelvis, warming your insides as you clench up around his fingers. You claw at his hair, feel your eyes start to roll in the back of your skull as white noise rushes through your ears.

“That’s it, baby. Give it to me. Yeah. There ya go. Let me see you spill for me,” he growls, pulling your tingling bundle of nerves into his mouth, and it sends you over the edge one last time.

You tighten up against his fingers and feel yourself wash over him with warm slick that doesn’t seem to stop. He groans as he licks up the mess between your legs, laps at every crevice of your center as he licks and licks until there’s nothing left except your oversensitive clit and sated feeling.

You collapse back onto your elbows as you watch him slide your panties back into place, see him stand up tall over you as your slick coats his patchy beard, glistening over his dark mustache. He’s so beautiful, so fucking perfect. And he’s yours. He’s yours.

He places his large hands around your waist and scoots you to the edge, gently lowering you down to the ground as he braces you against his firm chest. Your legs shake underneath you, but he holds you up to where you can’t fall.

“Whoa, easy there. Think I did a number on your legs,” he laughs as he trails his hand up and down your lower back, soothing you from the intense orgasm he just gave you.

“You can say that,” you laugh as you lean your head into his soft flannel, eyes looking up at him as you see the soft glow of your slick on his beard. It nearly sends you falling to the floor.

“You gonna make it upstairs tonight?” he asks with an amused look on his face as his honey eyes seep into yours affectionately.

“Gonna have to carry me.”

“That can be arranged,” he smirks.

He picks you up and cradles you bridal style as you wrap your arms around his neck, laughing carefree as he takes you up the stairs and places you into his bed, leaving room for him to slide in beside you. When he finds a comfortable spot on his back, he pulls you into his arms as you lay your head on his chest and wrap an arm around his side.

“This is nice,” you say quietly as he takes his hand and entwines his fingers with yours, knotting them together like a ball of yarn as you get lost in his calloused touch. He slides his thumb over the back of your hand, gently caressing you with nothing but care in his touch. The feeling is soothing, relaxing, delicate. You crave his touch like you crave caffeine, the feeling euphoric and addicting.

“Mhm. Love havin’ you here with me, baby. Feels empty when you’re not,” he says honestly as he takes his right hand and rakes it through your hair gently, lulling you into a calm, sated state.

“Yeah? You miss me when I’m not here?” you ask, shifting your weight to lift your chin and look up at him behind your long lashes.

“All the time,” he breathes, a still gaze focused on you as his calm eyes drag over you slowly. Your heart aches in your chest, a longing burn carrying through your body as you sit and stare at the man that sets your soul on fire. You ache for him, burn for him, mourn when he isn’t around. Two souls on fire for the other. A perfect match made in heaven. Joel was your saving grace, your way to heaven. You think he’d always be.

You raise up and settle onto his chest, brushing your lips over his as you savor his taste, still tasting the frosting from minutes before of the cake you still haven’t fully tasted. That could wait. Right now you wanted Joel.

“You miss me even now?” you tease, nose brushing over his as he smiles warmly up at you.

“Yes,” he murmurs, putting his hands behind your hips as he hugs you to his chest.

“Me too,” you reply, lips hovering just over his.

“I’m right here, baby. Not goin’ anywhere.” He pulls your head down to his as his lips crash into yours, feeling as if you were just splashed with a refreshing rush of water. You sink down into him, your hands running wildly through his tousled curls as his tongue dances along with yours. It’s slow, hot, possessive as he invades your mouth with his sweet taste that makes you weak at the knees.

You don’t know how long you’re there for, don’t know how you go from being fully clothed to completely naked as your bodies toss and turn passionately in the dark blue sheets. Your mind is a blur as your legs go over his shoulders, his thick cock driving into you over and over again as slick covers his entire length.

It feels like your whole body is on fire, center sated as he pumps you full of himself, emptying his spend in you as you both moan and whine as the orgasms wash over you like a blanket of bliss.

He pulls you back into his chest, breath ragged as you both come down from your orgasms. The room is hot, smelling of thick arousal and sex. It smells like him, the man you’re absolutely crazy about. It puts you at complete ease as you start to drift off to sleep on his chest with his thick fingers running through your hair.

You don’t remember falling asleep, it doesn’t take long till you’re under a blanket of darkness, but you’re not alone. Joel’s here with you. Easing you and lulling you into a blissful night’s sleep as you wrap yourself in his mahogany scent. This is where you belong, where you’ll choose to stay. This is it. This is home. He is home.

The next day is absolutely perfect. Joel gives you the best morning sex or your life and cooks you breakfast right after you shower together. Blueberry pancakes, bacon, scrambled eggs, and leftover cake that melts like cotton candy in your mouth. You swear you’ve never tasted something as sweet and delicious before except for maybe him.

He picks up your favorite ice cream, strawberry, and then spends the day walking around hand in hand with you at Mayfield Park and Nature Preserve. One of your favorite places to relax and clear your mind. But you don’t have to clear your mind today, you get to relish in the fact that your favorite person in the entire world is at your side and trailing his calloused thumb up and down the back of your hand slowly, intimately. And it’s probably the best birthday weekend you’ve ever had in your life. Not even your sweet sixteen could top this one. Not when you have Joel.

You stay there till it’s time to get ready for the concert. You let the open windows of his revved up Chevy blow through your locks, let your arm hang out the window as you take in the cool breeze of November, soaking up the Texas sun as it warms the back of your arm. He lays his hand over your thigh and rubs slow circles over the material of your faded blue jeans. It’s so easy with him. Everything is easy with him. And you just know he’s the one you’re supposed to be with. He’s the one you were meant to find. Your everything…

In the next hour, you’re standing in his bedroom and assessing the outfit you picked to wear tonight. Your hands fall over the tight black leather skirt, smoothing out the wrinkles as you turn in a circle and make sure everything is intact. The sparkly lace sleeveless tank top fits you perfectly, and the white slip-on Converse just adds to the outfit. You feel hot, ready to enjoy a night of good music and even better company.

You generously apply some shiny pink lip gloss to your moisturized lips and draw sharp cat eyes with your liquid eyeliner over your sparkly, smokey eyeshadow. As you smooth out your wavy curls, you hear a low whistle come from the corner of the room and hear his drawn out deep voice come out like a dream.

“You look so good, baby. Absolutely breathtaking,” he says with a hum to his voice that comes off like a lilt, a voice you could listen to all day long on repeat.

You smile and roll your eyes nonchalantly, turning towards him and freeze when you take in just what he’s wearing. He leans up against the doorway of the bathroom, his right arm flexing against the rolled up red flannel that fights against his bulging biceps. His veins run thickly down his arms, whispering tempting thoughts into your ears to go sink into them.

His hair is slicked back, tousled curls held down by the gel that glues them in place. His flannel is left open, a dark Metallica shirt clinging to his broad chest. His dark blue jeans press firmly to his toned thighs, and when your eyes skate down his long legs you gasp at the shoes he wears. White Chuck Taylor All Star Converse sit laced against his feet, pulling the whole outfit together perfectly.

Your jaw drops to the floor at how ridiculously good he looks. He’s not just good looking, he’s so hot. The hottest man you’d ever seen in your life. And the white Converse? You’d never seen him wear any before. He was always in his worn, leather work boots. Not today, though. Today he wore Converse. Today was something new.

“What?” he asks with knitted brows pulled together, bringing his arm down from the doorway as he crosses his arms together, making the flannel pull tight around big arms. “Do I look funny or something? I can change if…”

“No!” you shout, cutting off his sentence as he looks at you surprised. “You look good, Joel. So good like wow. How the fuck are you so hot?”

He chuckles as he sticks his big hands into the pockets of his jeans. “You think I look hot?” he asks in an amused tone, his lips curling up into a big grin as a dimple forms against his cheek.

He’s so fucking beautiful.

“Yes,” you say while nodding your head fervently. “And the Converse? I’ve never seen you wear anything like that,” you say with shock rolling off your tongue, still amazed at what you were seeing.

“Oh, these?” he asks as he kicks one foot out, scoffing against the grey carpet. “Sarah helped me pick them out at the mall. I told her I was taking you to a rock concert, and she helped me look for some kinda like yours. Said she thought they were perfect, so I went with ‘em. Wanted to match with my girl,” he blushes as he runs a hand through his slick curls nervously.

You’re speechless, left lock jawed and trying not to get emotional. But the effort he put into picking out the right shoes, the way he wanted to match you? Well, that in itself was enough to start a fire in your heart.

“Joel Miller,” you say incredibly as you walk up to him and throw your arms around his neck, his own arms circling your hips as he pulls you into his chest, “you are the sweetest, most kind boyfriend I’ve ever had. You really went shopping for new shoes just for me? To match me?”

“Mhm,” he hums out, “wanted to make a good impression for a certain beautiful girl who’s way out of my league,” he teases as a small chuckle leaves his lips, his fingers digging into the leather of your skirt.

You laugh as you cup your hands together behind his neck, feeling his hair tickle the insides of your wrists. “Out of my league, huh?” you ask curiously, cocking your eyebrow up as you tread dangerously close to the edge of his smooth lips.

“That’s right. What’s a young, beautiful thing like you want with a forty-seven year old single father like me?” he laughs, a hint of insecurity shuttering on the tip of his tongue as his caramel eyes swirl in your vision.

You take the tip of your index finger and place it on his bottom lip, silently putting all his insecurities to sleep. “Everything,” you manage to say aloud.

You drop your finger and grab his soft t-shirt, pulling his lips down to yours as you both get lost in the cosmic kiss that sets your soul on fire. You take in his masculine, rich cologne scent and entangle yourself in his tousled curls, getting drawn into all of him as he pulls you tighter against him, lingering his lips on yours as he pulls at your bottom lip and slowly disconnects from your mouth. You groan at the loss of him.

“Should probably head out,” he says raggedly as he catches his breath. You nod in agreement.

“Yeah, guess we should.”

He takes your hand in his firm grip and leads you out of his room and down the stairs to his parked Chevy in the driveway, making sure he opens your door as you climb into the comfy seat of his truck. When he starts up the truck and latches his seatbelt into the buckle, he places his hand on the top of your knee and draws slow circles as you melt into his warm, calloused touch.

You’d go anywhere with him, let him drive all night long with the wind in your hair and his hand running up and down your thigh slowly as you look at his perfect side profile with his lips curled up in a delicious smile that sets your soul on fire. This is where you wanted to be, where you always wanted to be.

The concert venue is packed as you walk through the glass doors and hand over your shiny tickets for the attendant to scan you in. As you step through the doorway, you see the various colorful guitars line the walls, see packs of people walking left and right trying to navigate their way around the venue. The smell of beer and popcorn fill the air, mixed perfumes getting lost in the crowd as you move through the sea of people.

You make your way down the concrete steps and walk into the general admission area, finding a place right in the middle as Joel’s hand doesn’t stray away from your interlocked fingers. The sound of Blink-182 hums through the speakers as various types of people sing to the words.

You look up at Joel and see his eyes scanning the stage at the setup of the band equipment, shifting his weight from side to side to the beat of the song. You know he doesn’t know this band, but you’ll amuse him anyways.

“Do you even know who this band is?” you laugh as you look at his pearlescent teeth shining just underneath his parted lips.

“Ummm, Fall Out Boy?” he asks with his eyebrows knitted together and a line of wrinkles mapping all along his forehead. You stifle out a chuckle as you shake your head.

“No, close. Blink-182,” you smile, laughing with him as he runs a nervous hand through his slicked back curls.

“Ahh. Was close,” he chuckles. “You’re gonna have to give me a lesson on all these bands you like. I can’t keep up.”

“Only if you show me more of the music you love. I’m not as familiar with older rock bands from the 70’s-80’s. Except maybe a few,” you say as you lean into his arm, resting your head on his shoulder as he hums out an idea.

“I will, but maybe I can just take you to some shows? Like Metallica, Led Zeppelin, Guns N’ Roses?” he asks as his honeysuckle eyes linger on yours, making a shiver run down your spine in the heat of his stare.

You flutter your eyelashes up at him as you part your lips, tasting happiness and contentment on the tip of your tongue. “I would love to, Joel. I’ll go to any concert you want, will go anywhere you want. As long as I’m with you, that’s all that matters.”

A warm smile fills his face, his honey eyes lighting up like fireworks as the crow’s feet pull tight at the sides. He looks like magic with the dimly lit colorful lights floating above him, painting the room shades of red and warm colors as his smile reflects off the illumination of the large arena. And you can’t help but feel that deep ache pull in your gut. Tugging at your heartstrings as he reaches inside your chest, entwining his own strings with yours as you become completely tangled together. One beating heart that burns for the other. Irrevocable, bound. A clear picture of two souls completely enamored with the other. Just like a spreading fire, burning shades of amber and orange that coat your insides with pure bliss. Wildfire.

Just as you get lost in his amber eyes, the lights go down and Breaking Benjamin takes the stage as the entire crowd erupts into screams of excitement. You break eye contact and draw your eyes to the now lit up stage as the lead singer yells to ask how everyone is doing tonight. More screaming erupts and then they start up playing “Breath”, one of their more popular songs.

Joel pulls you into his broad chest as his arms snake around your waist, holding you close through their whole performance. You sway your hips, sing along to every song, and even Joel nods his head to the beat.

He surprises you when you hear him quietly singing parts of “Angels Fall”, one of your favorites that you’ve probably played for him hundreds of times. But it warms your heart to know he’s grown to like this band, a band which you’ve loved since you could remember. And you can’t help but look up from the corner of your eye and watch the way he stays transfixed on the stage, paying attention to every detail of the guitarist’s hands as they strum along the stage. You could see him up there, shredding on the electric guitar. A sight you’d pay anything to see.

He catches you looking up at him, and he smiles gently as he pulls his lips down, down, down until he’s placing a gentle kiss on your temple. You lean into him, taking in every single moment of this night with your dreamy date. You can’t think of anywhere else you’d rather spend this night than with him.

When they finish their last song and clear the stage, the lights come back up and the sea of crowd parts like the Red Sea, opening up the pit as people flock to go get drinks and merch up the stairs. You turn around to Joel stretching his back, a slight wince in his furrowed eyebrows as you hear him pop his back and neck.

“You alright?” you ask as you reach a hand out to rub at his lower back.

“Mhm. Just didn’t realize I’d be so stiff standing at a concert. My knees are killing me,” he whines with the huff of his warm breath.

“I’m sorry. Can I do anything to help?” you ask as you run your hand up his thick, veiny arm in a calming aura. Joel catches your wrist and brings it back down to his side to lace his fingers in between yours.

“Nah, I’ll be fine, angel. Don’t worry about me. Just gettin’ old is all,” he says with a deep chuckle as it radiates through your chest.

“You’re not old,” you laugh as you smack him lightly against his arm.

“Oh, yes I am,” he fires back.

“Whatever,” you say with an eye roll that makes him laugh even more.

“Next time we’ll get seats. How ‘bout that?” he asks with a charming smile spread taut across his mouth. It sends butterflies through your lower regions.

“Deal,” you nod as you spill up at him.

Next time. The words give you life, make you tingle with warmth as the words make a silent promise that there will be a next time. This thing you have together isn’t just temporary. It means he wants you. He wants you. And you want him. Forever and always. You never want to let him go. Never.

It doesn’t take long until Ghost comes out on stage, lighting up the venue with flashing bright lights and visuals that give off a party vibe. Tobias is dressed in a fitted black suit with his black hair slicked back and his skeleton looking mask stuck to his face. He’s handsome, making all the girls swoon as he flirts with the audience and starts off the show with “Spillways” blaring through the speakers.

The crowd sways and jumps, singing out all the lyrics as you hear men and women scream every time the guitarists gesture their hands in the audience’s direction. You feel Joel behind you nodding his head to the beat, feel his foot tap along to the cords of the guitar that echo through the arena. He’s enjoying himself, having fun. You can’t help but feel a little dizzy that you’re actually here with him. That he liked you so much that he’d get out of his comfort zone and take you to see a band he slowly warmed up to. And he ended up liking these guys, you just couldn’t believe it.

During the middle of the show, “Dance Macabre” starts to play and you spin around fast as Joel laces his hands into yours eagerly. It’s your song, the one you and Joel always turn up loud when it plays in his truck. Our song.

There’s a sting in the way you kiss me.

Something within your eyes said it could be the last time before it’s over.

Joel spins you in a circle and pulls you against his chest, slow dancing with you in a circle as you both laugh and chant out the lyrics together.

Just want to be, want to bewitch you in the moonlight.

Just want to be, want to bewitch you all night.

The lyrics hit you like a tsunami, Joel had bewitched you. He won you over heart and soul. Every single part of him you desired, burned for.

As you continue to dance and sing the lyrics to each other, the world seems to fade away. It’s almost like everyone else in the room disappears, fades into the black. You can only hear Joel’s melodic voice carrying through your ears as you sink deeper into him. His warm, deep brown eyes only look at you, and they shine brighter than you’ve ever seen them glow before.

You can’t break away from his gaze, can’t wipe the ridiculous grin you have plastered on your face, can’t stop singing the enchanting lyrics with him as he spins you around once more, latching his arms around your waist as he pulls you in.

You wrap your arms around his neck, stand on your tiptoes to ghost your lips over his as he brings his forehead down onto yours, resting it there as he stares deep into your eyes. It’s just you and him, floating off on your own island that was made just for you as the music carries through your ears.

This feels different, so intimate, so special. It’s as if the universe and all the stars aligned together to put you and Joel in this place and time together. Like nothing else matters in the world. It’s just you and him dancing, singing the lyrics together, and getting lost in each other's eyes. It’s absolute magic, magnetic, euphoric. And you swear you see forever in his eyes.

When the song ends he pulls you in for a slow, romantic kiss, not caring about who might see. He doesn’t care about anything other than you in this moment of time, doesn’t want to ever let this moment go. Because it means the world to him. You mean the world to him.

When you turn back towards the stage and Joel wraps his arms back around your waist, you pull your iPhone out and open up the camera. You want to remember this moment forever, want to keep it locked safe in your memories so you can look back months later and remember one of the happiest nights of your life.

“Take a picture with me?” you ask shyly as you hold your phone up.

“What, the prettiest girl wants to take a picture with me? I’m flattered, sweetheart. Gonna make me look bad though,” he smiles as he blows gently against your ear, nipping your earlobe as you drown in his sweet smelling cologne.

“I could never make you look bad, Joel Miller,” you laugh.

You angle the phone just right where you’re both looking into the camera, his face resting beside your cheek as he smiles devastatingly handsome into the lense. You snap a picture and then another, but then he’s changing positions and giving you a gentle kiss on the cheek.

You snap another picture of him like that, looking nothing but love struck for each other. Then you turn around and plant your lips on his as he holds you tight by the waist. You capture the moment, snapping a couple shots as your lips linger over his. These would be some of the best memories of tonight, something you could print off and put in a picture frame. Your favorite keepsake of them all, and that was Joel Miller.

You drag your tired legs outside the concert venue, dreading the long walk back to the truck. It’s only a few blocks away, but still. It feels like miles in the state you’re in.

Joel notices you lagging behind and slows his long stride. “You okay there? Look a little tired,” he asks as he takes your hand in his to steady yourself.

“I’m just tired. I feel like I’m about to fall over. Soooo tired and my feet are on fire, but it was absolutely worth it,” you smile, eyes lighting up at the curl of his lips on his beautiful face.

“You need a hand, darlin’? Don’t want ya fallin’ over on me now,” he laughs, and the sound is infectious as it rings sensually through your ears.

“I’ll be okay,” you sigh, continuing to walk with the burn of the back of your heels.

Before you can comprehend what happens, he scoops you up and throws you over his shoulder as you scream and laugh at the same time, throwing your arms around his neck to support yourself.

“Joel! Put me down! I don’t want people seeing up my skirt,” you laugh as he tugs on the material, making sure you’re fully covered.

“Not a chance, sweetheart. And you’re covered, I got ya.” He gives a gentle slap to your ass as you shriek and dig your fingers into his tousled curls at the nape of his neck. You relax your head against the crook of his neck and let him carry you back to the truck as the bottom of your feet start to let up.

“Your back, Joel. I don’t want to irritate it,” you say with concern running off your tongue. The last thing you want to do is throw his back out. You’d be giving him back massages endlessly to make up for it if that’s what happened.

“I’m alright, darlin’. Don’t worry about me. Gotta take care of the birthday girl,” he beams as he carries you across the road to the large, busy parking lot he parked in earlier.

“You’re sweet, Joel, but really. I don’t want to hurt you,” you repeat, your words coming out more serious than before.

“I’m fine, baby. Really.” You nod your head and sigh, continue letting him carry you until he gets to the truck, unlocking the door as he sits you down into the passenger seat and closes the door gently behind you. When he opens his door and gets situated in the driver’s seat, you flatten your body over the entire front seat and curl your head onto his lap as you dig your hand into his dark jeans.

“You gonna make me drive like that, baby?” he laughs as you turn on your back and look up at him, latching on to his flannel as you smile up at him.

“Was thinking about it.”

A deep chuckle rumbles in his chest, and you can feel all the vibrations in his body go through yours. It’s a nice feeling, makes you feel even more connected to him.

“I had the best time tonight,” you say quietly as you drag your thumb against the cotton material, making circular patterns as you focus on the way he’s looking at you. Like you’re the only one he sees.

“Me too, angel. I can’t tell you the last time I had that much fun at a concert. But I can tell you one thing, it’s because you were with me,” he says with his lips curling up into a sideways smile that nearly takes the breath from you.

“Yeah?” you ask with raised eyebrows.

“Yeah,” he confirms with the nod of his head, a stray curl falling down onto his forehead as it escapes from the gel in his hair. You lift your hand and push it back into place, letting him catch your wrist and bring his lips down to your knuckles, tenderly kissing them as he brings your hand back down to your lap.

He trails his calloused fingers against your cheekbone slowly, dipping them over your jawline as tingles rush down your spine. His fingers feel electric, magnetic, like a current flowing through your insides.

His eyebrows knit together in concentration and he brushes his thumb against your bottom lip, letting it linger as he stares soulfully down to your lips, letting his honey eyes pull back up to yours.

“You’re so beautiful, you know that?” he asks quietly, a dazed expression meeting his eyes as the words come out warm, almost loving.

You nod up at him slowly. “You make me feel beautiful, Joel. You.”

He stares at you for another minute, eyes flicking between your lips and then back into your eyes. This time he holds your gaze, his eyes shifting into something you’ve never seen before. Something new, something exciting, uncharted territory.

You get lost in his gaze, exploring every warm fleck of sunlight that captures his brown irises. You watch the light brown flecks turn to warm honey colors as they seem to mix in with the darker brown shades of his eyes. You swear you can see whole galaxies in those eyes, can see yourself etched into the crevices that mix to make sunlight and splashes of amber painted together. You think you see your whole future in his eyes, can hear his irises calling your name like that’s where you belong, can feel yourself mixed together in the blood that keeps his beating heart alive, can taste the promise of forever in his arms. Like home is in his eyes, in his mind, in his heart, in his spirit, in his entire being. And you know that this is more than just infatuation and attraction. It’s more than chemistry, more than just a fling. It’s love, it’s pure undeniable love.

You see the way his eyes grow wide, see his lips curl up into the most beautiful smile you’ve ever seen before. You see he realizes it now, too. He feels it just as much as you do, feels the irrevocable pull that ties him to you, sees the girl of his wildest dreams. And that girl is you. It’s you.

He says your name slowly, quietly as he brushes a curl behind your ear and drags his fingers down your jawline, stopping right on your cheek as he traces slow strokes against your soft skin. And you know it’s coming, can see it in those dreamy eyes of his that you so desperately long to see every single day.

“I love you…” The words wash slowly off his lips as those three words send a wildfire running down your veins, coating your insides with warmth and longing that you’ve never felt before. He loves you. He loves you.

You wipe away a tear that pulls at your waterline, letting your smile take over your giddy features as you reach your hand up and run it through his salt and pepper scruff, getting lost in his touch, his scent, his everything. For this moment is raw, real, so very authentic.

“And I love you, Joel Miller. So much. So very much. How’d I get so lucky?” you choke out as he leans down and crashes his lips against yours as the flames ignite together.

The kiss is messy, passionate, everything you ever wanted after the sweetest love confession of your life. You let him bury his hands in your hair, let him inside your mouth as he slots his tongue up against yours, getting completely lost in his taste, his smell, his passion.

You know now that he burns for you just as much as you burn for him. Two flames consuming the other until there’s only one left. Twin flames that burn bright together. And it’s everything you ever wanted, everything you ever dreamed.

Joel Miller is it for you. He’s the only one that can set your soul on fire like this. The only one you want to set you on fire. And so you let him burn in your presence, consume you until you’re nothing but a flame that only burns for him. He’s your constant, your person, your everything.

When you finally part lips and find the parking lot almost empty, Joel starts the truck up and puts it in drive, leaving one hand tangled in yours as your fingers connect like webs. Your head stays in his lap as your eyes close partially, letting the hum of the truck and his calloused fingers sing you to sleep. You’re going back home. Not to your parent’s place, but to his. That’s where you belong, where you want to stay. With him. Because he is your home.

He’s home.

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel x female reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel the last of us #tlou fanfiction #joel tlou #joel miller pedro pascal #soft!joel miller #soft joel miller #pedro pascal #daddy’s best friend mr. miller #dbf joel miller #dbf!joel #lots of fluff #fluff and smut #joel being in love #no outbreak!joel miller #no use of y/n #need him so bad #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #the last of us joel

[macfrog]

if i had a gun cowboy like me chapter 12.5 (joel's pov)

long-awaited, pain-packed, and sealed with a bow by yours truly. i love y'all. thank you for being so patient and kind with me on this one. this chapter is joel's experience of the end of illicit affairs and all of hits different. you might wanna check those chapters out before you indulge in the angst-fest that is this one. hope you enjoy 🧡

pairing: dbf!joel x fem!reader

summary: walk a mile in joel miller's shoes. see if you'd do anything different

warnings: more heartache, more angst, lois, alcohol + drug consumption, mention of reader being roofied, very brief mention of joel punching knox, age gap (reader is 23, joel is 48), cursing

word count: 9.8k

terrible news! there is no more taglist! make sure you're following @macfroglets w notifs on if you wanna be buzzed when i post 🤍

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist

“Right. Sorry. It’s just…we kinda have a…situation, here.” It’s you. He fucking knows it’s you. His heart begins to hammer. He doesn’t give a fuck whether she puts two and two together or not when he asks – “Where is she?” “We’re still at Frank’s,” Anna says, sniffing. He can hear the booming bassline of music, muffled; the sharper chatter of voices. She’s on the street. In his head, he can see her shoulders hunched; her bare arms wrapped around her body for warmth. She goes to say it again. “We’re still at –” “’n where is she?” Joel cuts, and she finally cracks.

You’re still fast asleep when he lifts his head.

You’ve had this argument plenty before. I do not snore. Yes, baby, you do. I’ve heard you. I don’t! It’s alright, it’s okay that you do. It’s a cute snore. Joel, I don’t fucking –

Right now, he’s pretty certain you’re snoring. He just wishes you were awake to hear yourself.

He thinks about pulling his phone, taking a video so that once you’re up, you can hear the little bursts of air, the tiny rasps from your nostrils as you snooze. But if he ever did record anything like that – just like the Hillcrest pictures, until you’d found them last night – he’d keep it for himself. Wouldn’t offer it up so easily.

Just something for him to have, for all the time he spends without you.

Your hair’s still all over the place. Tangled in Joel’s right arm, still smelling of chlorine and sex. Your head rests softly on the crook of his elbow like it’s a pillow; your lips and eyes are puffy, tired. You have this ridiculously strong vice grip on his left arm; during the night he felt you wrap your wrists around it and pull it into your chest, tucking it gently under your chin until your entire upper half was drowned in his.

His chest snug against your back, his arms encasing you safely, and his hips…his hips lined with yours. His now semi-hard cock buried between your legs – he’d slept inside you last night, and it was like, after forty-eight years, someone finally took him by the shoulders and said: This is how you do it. This is how you rest.

He was out as soon as his head hit the pillow, soon as his eyes fell shut. He stirred only to feel you maneuvering his arm, and then fell straight back asleep.

He felt comfortable. He felt safe. Big, old, tough guy Joel Miller. Never let anybody in since Sarah’s mom left. Alone for almost seventeen years, and fine with it. His cheeks heat at the idea of needing – of wanting to feel that. Safe. But then you came along, and he realized he’d been waiting his whole life to feel it. Didn’t even notice he’d been missing it.

That’s how these things go, right? Can’t miss what you don’t have, and all that.

But now he has it. Now he has you.

And you make him feel things he’s never felt before, or if he has, it was so fucking long ago that he’s forgotten. You drive him fucking insane. Keep him up at night, wondering what the hell he’s gotten himself into. Make him do stuff that his reflection glares at him over. Are you being serious right now? Make him…different. New.

The night before last, when he’d picked you up from Frank’s after rodeo night, he promised to make you a big breakfast in the morning. Compensation for not swinging by McDonald’s on the way home. But then your dad called, and you had to take off before Joel had even properly woken up.

When he eventually rose from the bed, he went straight to the store. Stocked up on eggs, flour, sugar, bananas. He’d printed a recipe from his computer while you were gone. Marked the items off as he meandered through the store. Stood for ten minutes deliberating over which gluten-free flour would be best, before an assistant asked if he needed any help.

I’m good, he muttered, and then, as the kid wandered off, cleared his throat and said, Actually –

Greg – the kid assistant in question – had suggested the red bag. Said it’s corn flour, instead of wheat. Joel can’t pronounce the brand name. He just knows it’s tucked behind a box of cereal in the cupboard downstairs – he hid it there so you wouldn’t find it and snuff out his plan.

His plan, which he now has to put into action. Without waking you. He’d lie here forever just staring at you, if he hadn’t sworn to himself to make good on his promise and cook you some damn pancakes.

So he slowly pulls his left hand from between yours, loosening your death grip, and steals it back across your waist. He does the same for his right arm – more careful, though, so he doesn’t tug on your hair. Like some kind of wild cat creeping through the jungle, every moment calculated and careful.

He bunches the comforter up a little at your back, so that if you do stir, it might feel like he’s still there. Still a weight, curving around you. He takes a good five minutes just to travel the length of the room – the lightest he’s ever walked, dodging the spots on the carpet that he knows make the floorboards squeal.

When the door gently clicks back into place, he heads downstairs. Cracks out his frying pan – non-stick, obviously – and all his ingredients, pulls the printed recipe from its hiding place between two cookbooks and lays it out on the counter, flattening the creases and unfolding the corners. And gets to it.

His first egg cracks messily over the lip of the bowl. The yolk runs down the outside, and he curses before swiping it back up with his index finger. The second egg empties fully inside the bowl, but drags with it tiny fragments of shell. Joel spends five minutes focusing on picking every single piece out of the mixture. He crouches to make sure he’s poured the exact amount of milk, eyes level with the top of the liquid, and he double checks every step before he follows it.

This has to be perfect. Has to be. For you.

The entire time, all he can think about is you asking to sleep with his body inside yours. Wanting him closer than you’d ever wanted him before, as close as he could physically be. Your sleepy voice circles between his ears on loop – want somethin’ else. That safe feeling creeps up on him all over again.

He knows he shouldn’t. He can’t. He’s spent the last month purposefully pushing those feelings down, dampening them anytime they rose to the surface. Only allowing himself to feel them, to acknowledge them, when you’re around. Because he can’t fucking help but acknowledge them when you’re here – they stare him straight in the face.

So he’d been making peace with letting the floodgates open just a little bit at a time – one quick rush whenever you’d give him one of your meaningful glances, when your hot skin would brush against his, when your mouth would fall open at the feeling of his first deep thrust inside you.

And then he’d bolt them back up.

Except that, now…he’s not sure the dam can hold much longer. There are cracks he’s not repairing quickly enough. Unintended consequences hammering against the other side of the stone in the form of angry white waves.

He’s staring at the beige circle of batter in the pan, swept off with the waves into someplace far from his kitchen, when the sound of your voice draws him back.

“Joel? You down there?”

The floorboards at the top of his stairs creak. You’re leaning over the banister.

“Yeah, darlin’, I’m here.” He slips halfway out of the kitchen door, closing it over his body in hopes you won’t smell the pancakes. You ask what he’s doing, and he says, “Just makin’ a coffee. You want anything brought up?”

“I’m good,” you reply. “’m gonna take a shower.”

“Alright, baby. There’s probably some stuff in Sarah’s bathroom you can use.”

He listens closely as your footsteps recede, waiting to hear the hum of his shower before he relaxes again, flipping the pancake over. It sizzles away as he runs one thick finger along the inside of the bowl and tastes his handiwork. Pretty damn good, he thinks. He’s sucking his finger clean when his cell goes.

Joel swipes to answer, and before he can utter a Hello?, your dad’s voice is screaming down the line to him.

“Mornin’, pal! You in? You up?”

He figures this is the infamous speakerphone you rambled for ten minutes about last night. Like a fucking foghorn, man. I’m deaf in this ear now.

He doesn’t wait for Joel to respond. “I was just passin’ by, remembered you got that leakin’ pipe, or whatever it is. Under your sink, right? You good for me to drop in ‘n take a look?”

“Uh – uh, I’m –” Joel stammers his way through a sentence he doesn’t know the ending of, slotting the phone between his cheek and his shoulder and giving the pan a rattle against the stovetop. He slips the spatula under the mixture, and when he flips it over, the pancake is charcoal black. “Fuck.”

“What’s that?” you dad roars, deafening in Joel’s ear. Fuckin’ speakerphone.

“Nothin’, it’s…” He sighs, accepting his new-found position: backed into a fucking corner. What’s new these days?

“Yeah, I’m up. See you in a bit.”

He hangs up the phone midway through an Alright, buddy from your dad, and whacks the chargrilled pancake on top of the pile. His phone surfs across the counter in a blur of blind panic, before Joel’s taking the stairs two at a time to get to you.

The door’s ajar. He can hear you quietly singing to yourself. Same song you’re always fucking singing, always trying to coax Joel into singing along with you. You’re humming the guitar solo when he whips the door open.

“Hey, hey,” he’s panting, taking your towel in one hand and reaching for the shower door with the other, a blur of movement before his eyes like he’s not in control of his own body. “Out.”

“Huh?” you reply, blinded by the soap suds running down your forehead and into your eyes.

“Baby,” Joel whispers, desperate, “you gotta get out. He’s here. Your damn dad’s here.”

He drags you over to the first place he spots: his closet. He knows it’s no fucking good, but he can hear your dad’s car squealing to a halt in his drive, and he’s in a blink panic wondering what artefacts, what evidence of your being here lie dotted around his house. Your bikini’s hanging up out back, there’s probably a hoodie still strewn over the back of his couch.

He doesn’t have time to think, though, because in the midst of his mental scan of every room whilst explaining to you what’s going on, your dad’s heavy boots just thudded onto his doormat.

“Miller?” he calls up the stairs. And Joel closes the closet over.

----------

He stands by the front door watching your dad’s car purr off down the street, waiting until it turns left and disappears behind the Dawsons’ back fence to shut the door. When he turns back into his hallway, the house is uncomfortably silent. You’re still up in his room.

The weight of your phone pulls at the waistband of his jeans. He slips his hand into his back pocket, fishes it out, and takes one step toward the stairs. The screen lights in his palm.

There’s a cluster of notifications from some film class group chat, a couple Snapchats from Sarah. A reminder to take your birth control from some pink-icon app, and then –

I’m heading over to Joel’s to check something out for him. Wanna meet me there?

He stares at it until the text burns into his eyes. Blinks, and it’s seared into his lids. His breath leaves his chest in a heavy, burdened sigh. It trembles as it pushes from his lungs. He feels something burning under his skin. All over.

He’s angry. And he’s trying to keep it contained.

Keep it where it lies, keep it beneath the surface. Stop it from pooling right behind his lips, collecting in the light of his eyes. Keep it from revealing itself. But when his foot lifts to the first step, it’s like a deadweight in the air.

He’s angry. But he’s fucking exhausted.

The bedroom is empty when Joel pushes the door open. You’re still hidden in the closet. You don’t look up at him when he pulls on the shuttered door, letting light flood across your hands, still covering your face. There are flicks of dripping wet hair peeking out from under the towel on your head.

He wants to put his arms around you. Wants to kiss you all over. Tell you, It’s okay, it’s alright. He didn’t see nothin’.

But he can’t. Because neither of those things are true.

Your dad saw the cowgirl hat. Hell of a lot like a hat my daughter has. It sent a sharpened bolt of panic through Joel’s body the second the words came tumbling out. He might’ve seen your bag lying at the bottom of the stairs. Might’ve passed your car on his drive here. There are so many loose fucking ends.

And more than that – harder to accept: maybe this isn’t okay anymore. Maybe it hasn’t been the entire time. And maybe, despite all his good efforts and the fucking way you make him feel, despite it being weeks now of tiptoeing and lying and covering your tracks – maybe you finally crossed a line.

He can’t look at you a second longer. His heart’s in his throat. If he opens his mouth to speak, he’ll probably choke. Break down. So he walks away.

You follow him downstairs a few minutes later, fully dressed and silent. Your touch sweeps across his shoulder blades, and it takes everything in him not to turn to you then and there. Come here, kiss me. Pretend none of it’s happening, just for a moment.

He sets your plate down in front of you. He’s taken the burnt pancake. He follows a pattern: cuts into the food, glances out to the backyard, and back to the plate. It’s the only thing keeping the words from rolling out onto the table in front of him. The only thing stopping him from –

You kick his leg. So gently, he barely feels it.

“You gonna eat?” he asks in response, chewing on the smoky flavor of burnt batter. Your hands hesitate, and he feels his own flinch as if to take them, rub them, squeeze them. And then he watches as you drag your knife through your own breakfast.

He wants you to yell at him. He wants to give meaning to the guilt he feels. He knows what’s coming, and he isn’t so sure that you do.

This is…impossible. It has been, from the start. Always sneaking off, coming up with excuses. So many fucking excuses, he can’t even keep them straight in his head anymore. She’s here, droppin’ my flannel off. Now we’re upstairs, I’m showin’ her my guitar. Need her to help with decorations. Your TV’s broken, did you know that? Don’t mind us, just sat in this private corner of my backyard, out of view of fucking everyone. I’ll pick her up from her rodeo night, take her home. She’s at Anna’s all day today, right?

And your dad – kind and naïve, or maybe just so fucking gullible that every single one lands like the flour did in the egg mixture. Just gracefully floats down into his brain, absorbs itself and folds perfectly into place.

So, yell at him. Get mad. Make him feel like the fucking asshole he knows he is. Leading you on, and letting you get close to him, and then when it gets too hard – pushing you away. Doesn’t matter if that’s what he did or not; doesn’t matter whether he did or didn’t mean it. He wants you to be mad at him. To justify what he’s about to do.

He slides you your phone. Motions for you to read it.

“Fuck…” you whisper, and then he thinks you get it.

But then you say, “…he didn’t see me, though. Right?” and his heart sinks.

No. He didn’t see you. But he saw so many little pieces of you, that Joel finds it impossible to consider that he isn’t already seeing the entire picture. He’s picturing your dad at home in the living room, one hand on his hip, the other running through his hair, adding two and two and two and two and –

You’re bickering. Actually arguing. He doesn’t know how to navigate it, save for letting the frustration take the wheel and drive the point home: you came too close to being caught.

You’re smarter than this, he knows you are. He knows that you can see plain as day, everything that he can. The bag, the hat, the fucking home-cooked breakfast sat on his kitchen counter. He’s watching you argue your point, hands dancing in the air animatedly, eyebrows lifting, eyes widening. Hear me out. Listen to me. Hear me out.

“I didn’t fucking mean to let him see the b–”

“That’s not the point,” Joel says, before he has time to stop himself.

“Then what’s your point?”

He feels his voice carry off into the air with the images racing around his head. Hank’s shadow under the door. The roar of voices downstairs as you climaxed. Your body pinned under Joel’s on your couch. The way the morning light screamed into the house as your front door burst open.

He doesn’t sound like he has much of a point, even to himself. He’s in it just as much as you are. He’s lied and he’s hidden just as much as you have, and made mistakes that are…worse, as far as he’s concerned.

And the worst one of all sits directly opposite him. Head low, eyes boring into the wood of his kitchen table. He can see the tears swelling across your waterline. Can feel the heat from here as it spreads across your face. Anger thrums through his chest again, and his teeth grit.

He murmurs, pushing himself up from the table and away from you. Tells you there’s some stuff he needs to see to. You’re mad about it, like he knew you would be. Like you should be. He promises he’ll be back in a couple hours; promises you’ll talk when he gets home.

And then he leaves.

----------

Clark’s is on the other side of town. It takes him nearly forty minutes to get there, and more than half of that time is spent staring at the tail lights of a Honda in front of him. Some accident up ahead. His eyes bore into the burning red strip of brake light until it’s singed into them, a blur of blue when he finally rips his glare away and stares up at the white sky.

He thinks about calling you. Saying, Hey, I’m stuck in traffic, talk to me, but he doesn’t. He just…doesn’t.

Instead, he wonders what you’re doing. Whether or not you’re still at his place. He wouldn’t blame you if you weren’t. But if you are – and he hopes you are – what are you doing?

He thinks: She’s on the couch. Bundled in blankets. Grey’s is on TV. She’s rewatchin’ her favorite episodes.

Least, that’s what he wants you to be doing. Wants you to be making yourself feel better, because he knows he was a complete ass earlier. You didn’t deserve any of it. Nothing that he didn’t deserve himself, just as much, anyway.

He thinks about coming home, and you hitting pause, pushing yourself off the couch and sauntering around to him. Wrapping him in the blanket until your bodies are pressed together under the woven red, and kissing him. Kiss me kiss me kiss me.

And the thought of you, standing on your tiptoes to press your soft lips to his, your fingers sifting through his hair, is like a cold pack on a searing wound. Dulls his anger, even if it’s just for a second.

His wide tires crawl silently across the smooth lot of the plant hire, parking right in front of the wire fence. The truck door slams shut when he gets out. He doesn’t mean it. Maybe he does. But he does it without thinking, and with a hot head, a temper sharper than nails, he strides over to the glass-paneled door and swings it open.

She’s sat behind the desk, same as always. Dark, deep auburn hair, groomed and set to perfection so that when she looks up, it doesn’t move an inch. Curls around the sweetheart shape of her face, smooth and shining. Her blue eyes twinkle in the glaring light from outside, and she stands.

She tugs lightly on the hem of her white blouse. You’d probably elbow him and say, That’s cream, not white. She smiles at him and it doesn’t look a thing like your smile. He doesn’t remember the last time he saw your smile. Fuck, he thinks, when did I last make her smile?

And he’s still wondering, when Lois says, “Hey, stranger,” and puts a gentle, pale, red-nailed hand down on the desk. “Long time, no see.”

“Yeah,” Joel grumbles, clearing his throat and glancing at the man in a pair of thick, steel-toe boots, sat in a waiting area to his left. He thinks it’s probably polite to ask how she is. It’s been seven weeks since he blew off her hint for a date.

“Good, thanks,” she replies, cheeks swelling even more. They’re lightly shaded crimson, a soft shimmer to them against her snowy skin, dappled with light freckles. “You?”

He nods once. “Good,” he echoes, not sure what else to say. He’s lying, and she doesn’t seem to figure him out the way you would.

No. Instead, Lois steps back, straightens up, and twirls the pen in her fingers. “What can I do ya for?”

“Got some equipment I’m after,” he mutters, hand slipping into his back pocket for his phone. Lois’s eyes flit up and down his body as he taps his passcode in with his thumb.

She asks him something, but it sounds like she’s speaking through a closed door. He’s elsewhere.

The phone unlocks, screen lifting to reveal the last open app: his camera roll. His thumbs hover over the screen, tracing where yours would’ve tapped last night.

The video’s muted, she won’t hear it even if he let it play, but he swipes away the second he recognizes the tangled mess of your hair, his fist locked tight in it. His own hair, salt and pepper buried deep in the crook of your neck.

Something in his chest aches. Pulls tight, hurts his heart. He takes a deep breath and scares the feeling away. He’s staring at his camera roll. Staring at twelve little square thumbnails – couple of them work stuff, couple of them lists of supplies he has to remember to pick up – and then. Then.

You. At the Hillcrest. Dimples in your cheeks. That’s what made him take his phone out. The soft dips in your skin that appear anytime you smile, laugh, sometimes even just when you talk. He’d first noticed them when you had a mouth full of pizza, chatting animatedly about Meredith and Derek, and he’s noticed them every time since.

He’d seen them, as you posed with Sarah for a selfie at lunch. And his hand had slipped into his pocket before his brain even had the chance to finish the thought.

His quiet way of marking how he felt in that moment. How his chest seemed to fill as if with air, or something thicker. Sweeter. Like it was trying to push words up, a comment to tell you how beautiful you looked. Trying to make him move, run his thumb light as air across that tiny valley in your cheek and look at you with eyes that translated the words hammering behind his eyes.

But you had company. And all he managed to do was take two fucking photos.

Lois talks again, and this time, there’s no closed door.

“Huh?” Joel’s head snaps up, takes a few seconds to focus on the red hair in front of him. “Sorry, Lois, sorry.”

“’s alright. You okay?” She’s smiling so warmly, so sincerely. And there are no dimples in her cheeks.

“Yeah,” he clears his throat, “just checkin’ for the address.”

She holds out a pad, a stack of hire agreement forms hovering between her body and his, but he’s not looking. He’s still scrolling through his phone, thumbs searching your dad’s text thread for the information. Lois lowers the pad to the counter, places the pen on top. Fiddles with it until it’s lined up with the top of the form perfectly.

Then Joel looks up, and she smiles again.

“Not for you, then?” she asks.

He shakes his head. “Just the messenger.”

“Got it. Well, you know what you’re doing. Let me know if you need anything.”

Lois takes a step back, eyes still on Joel, who smiles politely, then swipes the form from the desk and takes a seat between Steel-Toe Boots and some tall, leafy plant that he has to bat away when he sits down. He’s copying the site address, phone resting on his thigh, when the receptionist speaks again.

“How’s Sarah doin’? She home yet?”

“Yeah,” Joel replies, “been home a couple weeks now. She’s been in Nashville this weekend.”

Lois lifts her head, blinking slowly. “Nashville. Nice. So, you’ve had a weekend to yourself.”

He scoffs. “Yeah,” he croaks.

“And what does Joel Miller get up to when he has an empty house for a few days?”

His fingers squeeze around the pen, pushing deeper into the paper. His expression hardens. “Nothing excitin’ enough to share. Sat by the pool yesterday. Was nice out.”

She agrees. “Sure was. You have company?”

Joel shakes his head once. Blinks the image of you and your red bikini from his vision. Focuses on dragging the pen one digit at a time across the line labeled Phone Number. If he cared enough, he’d give the obvious hint a couple seconds’ consideration, even just to protect Lois’s pride a little.

But he doesn’t care. And right now, he ain’t interested in protecting anyone but you.

“Nope. Just me ‘n a few beers.”

“Better off that way,” a hoarse, forty-cigs-a-day voice rasps from his right. “Less fuckin’ problems.”

Joel’s jaw rotates a degree towards the work boots; notices the folds of dry, leathery skin piled atop the raised gray eyebrows of their owner, and then turns back silently.

Lois clears her throat awkwardly. “Well, I spent the day with my book. I’m readin’ a Colleen Hoover. Adam’s at camp, so – quiet house for me, too.”

Joel finds himself nodding. Autopilot. He’s pretending he’s listening.

You’re still in his sight, wandering over from the sliding kitchen doors, a bottle in each hand. He can hardly see you when he looks up, the sun’s so bright. You hold a beer out, condensation dripping down your fingers towards Joel’s when he takes it, and then you slump down in the sun lounger next to his.

His arm reaches across, and your small fingers wrap and then unwrap around his, running across his knuckles, nails lightly scratching his worked hands. And he’s smiling, and he doesn’t even notice it until his eyes meet yours and you laugh, and he asks, What? through a chuckle, and you say, Nothin’, you just look happy.

Your dimpled blush blurs back into checkboxes and scrawled handwriting. You’re gone again. He’s in a white office, and the gentle lapping of the water on the pool’s edge fades into the headache noise of a fan humming, and he feels the warmth of your gaze on his skin turn into the cold, harsh spotlight glare of Lois’s eyes on him.

He looks up. She’s still smiling. At this point, he finds it fucking unnerving.

He rises from his chair, swings a wandering leaf from that ugly green plant out of his way and paces back over to the desk, sliding the pad back across to her. Their hands brush as she takes it from his grip, and he pulls his wrist close to his body. Lois doesn’t seem to notice.

She’s running the pen down the form, checking everything he’s filled in. Her tongue moves around the inside of her cheek, sucking on a hard candy. “Delivery on Friday?” she double checks, and Joel nods. “Alright,” she says, tearing away his copy, “we’ll call ya.”

“’ppreciate it,” he mumbles, folding the paper into his back pocket.

She turns, reaching to slip the form into a blue tray, and Joel pauses. Thinks to say something – he hopes Adam has a fun time at camp, or that Lois enjoys the rest of her quiet week. But then he sees you sat opposite him, staring fixedly at the plate before you, tears threatening to spill down your cheeks. He feels your hand laced in his, hears your laugh still ringing in his ears.

He misses you. He should never have left you. You matter more to him than some equipment for a site. Matter more to him than anything. He should’ve never fucking left.

Joel nods. Reaches for the handle of the door. Glances back to Lois. “There a florist anywhere near here?”

----------

He pulls the truck in alongside the florist. Teal window frames, a little pink door. He can hear you now. How fucking cute is that store? Give me your phone, I gotta get a picture. Mine’s is in my bag in the back. Look, the traffic’s movin’, Joel, give me your phone – quick!

His fingers hook around the silver door handle. He pats his jeans once – wallet’s right there – and goes to pull, when his cell vibrates from the center console. He can see himself in the glass screen, your dad’s name written across the reflection of his forehead.

He bites down on his lip. Hard. Glances up to the road ahead. Blinks. And decides to answer.

“Joel,” your dad chirps down the line. “Sorry, buddy, you’ll be sick a’ the sight ‘n sound of me today.”

Joel manages a convincing laugh. “What’s up?”

“Just makin’ sure you’re rememberin’ to put Friday’s date down for delivery on that order. We’re gonna need the stuff over the weekend, so.”

“Yep. Just been to do it right now. Friday’s date, Harvey’s site, your card details ‘n everything.”

“’attaboy. Good job. You’re all grown up.”

“Funny.”

“Thanks, pal. I appreciate it. There wasn’t no chance I was gettin’ time to do it myself,” he lowers his voice, “I’m still stuck here with Kelman.”

Joel’s fingers trace around his steering wheel. “Oh, yeah? He keepin’ you busy?”

“You bet. Had to haggle with ‘im just to get a lunch break. Speakin’ of – I swung by the house and that daughter of mine wasn’t home. Haven’t seen or heard from her since yesterday mornin’. I’m just checkin’ she ain’t stop by to see Sarah or som’?”

His fingers lock tight around the leather. “Sarah’s still in Nashville, she gets in tonight. Couldn’t tell you where yours is. I’m not home yet, so.”

It’s a half-truth. He could wager a pretty good guess, but he can’t be certain, can he?

Your dad chuckles down the line. “She spent the night at Anna’s. My house must be like prison to her – she’s never around anymore. I’ll hear from her soon, I’m sure. Alright. Thanks, again, Joel.”

He drops the phone back into the cupholder with a sigh, leaning back against the headrest to stare at the roof of the truck. He’s still picturing you in his living room, head turning to the street at every sound of a car door, or tires rolling by. And then the image is marred by your dad, peering in the window back at you, catching you wrapped up in a situation you shouldn’t be in.

He doesn’t want your dad to find out. For obvious reasons. Because it would mean the collapse of their friendship, the collapse of the world they built between them – for you, for Sarah, for themselves. Comfortability, and normalcy, and routine and order all thrown to the wind on account of some month-long fling.

But more important than all of that: it would mean dragging you into all of that, too. Fucking up your relationship with your dad. Making things weird between you and Sarah. Ruining whatever’s left of what you and Joel had, before you both took it too far.

And if he doesn’t want all that – if he doesn’t want your dad finding out – then something has to change. Something’s gotta stop.

His fingers wrap tight around the key and turn, and the truck jumps to life. He turns away from the teal-colored florist as he pulls off.

----------

You take it about as well as he reckoned you might. About as well as you should, given the circumstances. He isn’t surprised, and he doesn’t blame you. He’s probably on your side, when you argue back with him.

“You’re not serious, right? Joel. You’re not –”

“Kid, I…”

“No. What? Because of a fucking bag?”

He lifts his gaze and pleads with you. “Because of the lying.”

You’re right, with your response: it’s never been an issue until now. He’s been more than fucking happy to sneak off, take you as his own, and then return with a satisfied grin and a mouth full of excuses to feed your company. He almost agrees.

It’s just: this time, your dad’s at your heels like a bloodhound. A little less sharp, maybe. Blind as a fucking bat, sure. But he can smell something’s up. And he’s circling it, nose to the ground, drawing nearer and nearer to the pair of you with each step.

You ask if he wants to tell the truth. That thought scares him just as much. Knocks him back a few steps. No, he doesn’t want to come clean.

The words fly back and forth like a tennis match. Too fast for him to keep control of what he’s saying and how you’re hearing it. He wants to break it off – is there anything to break off? – but he doesn’t want to lose you – how can you lose something you never had? – and then: did he ever have you in the first place?

You’re standing over him, between his knees. “End it,” you tell him. “I’ll go.”

There’s a casualness in the loose shrug of your shoulders that scares him more than the prospect of you actually leaving. How easy it looks like it could be, for you to just wander out. Sling your bag over your shoulder and revert back to the start of the summer, when he was just a ride home after a rainy day at work.

Forget how to touch him the way he’s certain only you can, forget the secret language between you, forget every stolen glance and whispered word and every thought that ever translated from your brain to his as easy as they would pass between your lips.

“You don’t mean nothin’ to me? That what you think?” He’s laughing. Disbelief, fear, shock. Whichever one it is, it pulls across his cheeks painfully. Somehow, you’ve ended up at the foot of his bed.

“Well, what else am I supposed to take from this, asshole? That you’re fuckin’ in love with me?”

It’s cold water over an already-dying fire. The words smother into ash on his tongue. No more come to the front. He just stares at you. His phone starts to chitter out into the silence between you.

You take a step forward. Your voice is low. “You don’t get to do this, you know. You don’t get to pull me in and then drop me…once you’re done with me.”

“Don’t.”

It’s not much, but it soars from the pit of his stomach, through his throat and past his lips like a final arrow. All he can muster up.

“Don’t.”

There’s a weight where the words originate from. Something deep in his gut, an ache pulling its way upward, swelling across his chest. His ears are screaming.

Of all the things you might think – he’s an asshole, he’s a liar, he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing – the worst one would be that he spent this entire time leading you on. Making you feel special. Making you think you were something to him.

You are something to him. You’re – you’re fucking everything to him. It’s why he’s doing this, right? Going against every instinct, every gut feeling. To protect you. To do what’s right by you. He’s not fucking done with you. He wonders if he’ll ever go another day in his life without thinking about you.

“I can’t read your mind anymore…” you whisper, and his lungs steal a breath. His lack of response flattens your expression.

Joel might not be done, but you are.

He can feel you slipping from his grasp like sand through his knuckles. Each grain rocking itself loose, choosing to throw itself to the depths below rather than spend another second wrapped in his clutch.

He’s trying so desperately to hold onto you. Listen to me, he thinks, and he knows you can’t hear him anymore. Because now you’re really going – you’re tripping out of his room. Your heel catches on the threshold, like one last-ditch attempt from fate to pull you back into him, but you stop yourself and spin, fleeing down the hallway.

He takes a loose grasp of your wrist, fingers barely meeting on the other side of your skin before you tear it away from him like he’s scalded you. The look on your face makes him think for a moment that he might actually have done it – burned you. Pained you. Raised the skin below your gentle palm in a furious, red glow.

He’s swapping words out like they’re tools, each one immediately breaking and being flung back into the box. He’s trying any combination, any useless, futile order of words to make you stop in your tracks. You know how much I care about you, ‘s why I’m doin’ it, baby, come back, we can talk about this.

And he opens his mouth to give voice to the only words he knows would stop you – the reason why he’s doing it in the first place, the only thought he’s had anytime he’s looked at you for the last couple weeks. He opens his mouth to say it, or say something like it, when the machine silences the ringtone and the pair of you, too.

Her voice is like ice down the back of his shirt. He stares at the machine, red light blinking like a rag to a bull. He could walk over to it and smash the ever-loving fuck out of it with his fists until it’s dust on his coffee table. Until it shuts the fuck up, stops interfering with his fucking business.

And then he thinks about Lois, and her cream blouse, and her red nails, and her big, blue eyes, and her soft drawl and everything about her that is so entirely opposite to everything about you.

And how much – despite how nice and friendly, or funny and good-natured she is – how much he hates her right now, and how much he fucking loves you.

But you’re gone, now. Washed away by the tide. No more sand in Joel’s palm.

He tries to stop it. Tries to wind back a little, tries to make the sea cough up what it just stole from him. Give her back, you fuck. His eyes are stinging like salt water. Why are they stinging? There’s a roaring in his ears – the waves laughing in his face. Sickly and deafening.

He’s doing his best to keep a hold on his trembling voice. He knows he sounds pathetic. But yours is louder, stronger, steadier. And when you talk, it’s with an air of finality. Like you’re turning over the horizon. The last time he’ll ever see you again.

“I’ll see you ‘round, Joel.”

----------

He doesn’t call or text you that night. He doesn’t know what he’d say. Doesn’t even know where he’d begin. You’re mad, and Joel figures you got every right to be. This entire thing – today, this weekend, the whole month you’ve been together – is one big fucking mess.

He spends the afternoon hunched over his kitchen table, trying to distract himself with work. Twirling a pencil between his fingers, reading three, four, sometimes five times over the same building plans before deciding that the words and numbers won’t fucking sink in. He leaves them strewn across the table, wanders aimlessly upstairs and takes a cold shower.

Sarah’s flight gets in at 8PM. Joel’s sat curbside, truck engine humming, scanning every single figure that walks out of the airport building. When he spots the gray hoodie, the brown hair tied back with a pink scrunchie, the much-too-big-for-four-days-away suitcase rolling at her heels, he gets out.

She hugs her friends, they nod in passing greeting to him, and she skips over.

“Hey,” he breathes as she wraps her arms around his waist. “How was your flight? Saw you comin’ in.”

She shrugs in response. “I’m hungry. Wanna go get McDonald’s?”

Joel grumbles, slotting her case in the back of the truck. “You don’t wanna get home? Take a shower first? You smell like plane.”

“Ha! No.”

She opens the passenger side door and hoists her foot up on the seat, retying her sneaker. Joel’s already in and buckled up, hands on the wheel, watching her blue nails loop the laces.

“There’s one, like, ten minutes away.”

He’s shaking his head. “We got food in the house.”

Her gaze lifts. Her foot drops. “Oh, c’mon, it’s on the way home. We’ll be, like, five minutes. I just got off a two-hour flight, dude, right through dinner. I’m starving, I –”

“Would you just get in the damn truck, Sarah?”

It’s shorter, snappier, angrier than he meant. But he’s parked in the middle of the packed pick-up area, and the rattling of suitcase wheels and the whistling of cab drivers and the fucking roaring of planes overhead are making the headache behind his eyes worse.

Sarah freezes, one arm still leaning on the doorframe. “Jesus. What the fuck?”

“Sorry,” Joel mutters, shaking his head. “Sorry. Just – get in.”

“No need to be an asshole about it,” she murmurs, pulling herself up into the passenger seat.

Joel’s face is in his hands, elbows atop the steering wheel. “I’m not tryna be an asshole,” he says into his palms.

His daughter looks at him. Concerned. “Somethin’ happen? While I was gone?”

He shakes his head again.

Nothing happened.

He’s quiet the rest of the night. The rest of the week. Sarah notices, he knows she does, because she pries. In her own way. She’s smarter than he is. Less obvious.

She’s already up and in the kitchen when he rises on Tuesday morning. Spins around at the toaster, tells him the machine’s ready for his coffee. Asks if he wants her to make it. Asks if he wants any breakfast.

Thanks, kiddo. No, I’ll get it. No, you’re good, thanks.

They sit opposite one another in silence, save for the crunching of Sarah’s toast. He can feel her eyes on him, same way he felt Lois’s. Trying to burrow deep inside, take a look at his brain. Catch a glimpse of the words he’s thinking over and over and over.

There ain’t no words, though. It’s just images. Video replay of your back as you strode down his driveway, the way the wind caught your hair and brushed your cheek, the way your hand came up to wipe your tears. And the way he stood there, like a fucking idiot, and did nothing.

His chest hurts any time he thinks about you. Pulls in, knits itself together in knots. He’s good at pushing feelings down, good at turning them away from the sunlight like faded pebbles. But this is different. It’s a different kind of hurt.

It’s unresolved, it’s an open wound. It’s you. And it’s every time he hears REO Speedwagon, every time he pulls a flannel over his shoulders and catches the scent of your perfume on it, every time he’s flicking through the TV and catches a flash of a hospital setting, it’s a pair of hands deep inside the wound, pulling it a little wider.

It aches. It stings and it aches and it winds.

And then he turns the pebbles around. Back to the shade. Over and over and fucking over.

On Wednesday night, he caves. Asks Sarah if she’s spoken to you.

She’s chewing on a slice of pizza; licks the grease from her fingertips before she answers. “Not really. She’s been quieter than usual. Why?”

“She’s been quieter than usual?” he repeats, playing off the way his head shot up by looking straight back down at the pizza box.

Sarah narrows her eyes. “Yeah. I figure she’s working a lot.”

“Right. Right.”

“She gets tired of being in the house all the time, I think. Getting treated like a kid still. So I guess the more time she can spend outta there, the better.”

Joel nods slowly. He already knows that much.

Sarah studies him. Watches his hands as he dabs a pizza crust into the dip. When he tosses it in his mouth, he looks back up at her.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she says. “You want the last slice?”

“You take it,” he mutters, sitting back and wiping his hands on a napkin. “I’m stuffed.”

She hums, reaching forward. “Whatever it is,” she says, pulling the dough apart, “that’s got you this down –”

“Ain’t nothin’ got me down, kiddo.”

“– whatever it is,” she continues, “I bet it works itself out.”

Sarah stands up, taking her water with her, and wanders out of the kitchen.

----------

Joel struggles through another sleepless night, Thursday through Friday. His eyes don’t close over once. He hauls himself out of bed early in the morning, forces a black coffee down his throat, and heads off to work.

He’s up at some new client in Waco. Andrew Curtis – or, well, Andrew Curtis’s father, but Joel’s been dealing primarily with the son, and the guy’s a fucking imbecile. Doesn’t know his head from his ass, probably. And he has a voice like nails on a damn chalkboard, and his shirt’s untucked around the back, but Joel ain’t got a tone kind enough, or half the wordsmanship, or an ounce of energy to tell him.

Anyway – he spends all day at this dusty site, trying to work and instead, thinking about whatever the fuck you’re doing. Wherever you are, whoever you’re with. It’s almost seven by the time he’s leaving, packing up his truck and watching Andrew Curtis across the yard. He’s spotted his own shadow; he’s twisting around to reach the ducktail poking out from above his belt loops.

Joel thinks to call you about it on the way home. Tell you all about the guy: his dry conversation, his flannel, the fact he kept calling Joel Joe all day. He figures it would make you laugh, least the way he’d tell it, and he reckons that’s exactly what you need right now. That’s exactly what he needs, right now.

When Clark’s call him, he dials your dad. Has his ear blown half to hell by the speakerphone. Learns midway through the conversation that you’re right there in the car, too, and bites back a stream of incoherent, senseless words. Settles for a quiet reminder: he’s right here if you need him.

He doesn’t expect you to take him up on it. Knows you got better things to do than deal with some asshole who’d rather break your heart than have a few difficult conversations. You’re probably having fun, probably finally feeling good again. You’re probably fine.

But still. He doesn’t sleep that night, either.

It’s just gone two when Anna calls. He’s lying in bed, some shopping network on loop on the TV. His tired eyes bore into the screen, defocusing over the pixels, not watching nor listening and barely fucking breathing until he picks up the phone. Her voice is panicked, shrill, and shaking so much he wonders if his own phone is trembling with it.

“Mr. Miller?” she asks, and Joel sits up. “Got your number from Yelp. ‘m sorry it’s so late, it’s…oh, fuck – it’s, like, 2AM.”

“Anna,” Joel says hoarsely. Get to the fuckin’ point.

“Right. Sorry. It’s just…we kinda have a…situation, here.”

It’s you. He fucking knows it’s you. His heart begins to hammer. He doesn’t give a fuck whether she puts two and two together or not when he asks –

“Where is she?”

“We’re still at Frank’s,” Anna says, sniffing. He can hear the booming bassline of music, muffled; the sharper chatter of voices. She’s on the street. In his head, he can see her shoulders hunched; her bare arms wrapped around her body for warmth. She goes to say it again. “We’re still at –”

“’n where is she?” Joel cuts, and she finally cracks.

In one long, drawn breath, she spills. “She was fucked from the second we walked in here; she drank too much too quick, Mr. Miller – Joel,” she says when he corrects her, “and then she just – I dunno, she just – fucking disappeared with these guys, me ‘n Kara never saw ‘em in our lives – and they went upstairs we think, and she came back smelling like weed, and then this guy – he just, like, scooped her off, Mr. M– I mean Joel, like, totally dragged her away, and then –”

“Who–? Anna – Anna, wait,” Joel says, shushing her between her rambling, trying to rein in what she’s saying. When she finally shuts up, he speaks slowly and calmly. “Who dragged her away?”

“We don’t fuckin’ know!” she almost shrieks down the line. It cuts out for a second and Joel’s heart stops dead.“– so we don’t know,” she says when her voice filters back through into his ear, “but Sam said he saw the dude drop something in her bottle when he turned away. A pill or something.”

Joel’s body tenses. Freezes solid, with the blood in his veins. His eyes fix on one spot on his dresser: the loose handle that sits a little squint. He stares at it until his peripheral starts to blur.

“He – say that again?”

“He roofied her, we think. But we can’t fucking find them. Sam and Kara are in there just now looking. The guy pulled her away, that’s what I’m tryna say!”

“Right,” whispers Joel, nodding. He drags a heavy hand over his eyes, tries to push the image of you in danger out of his head for one second so he can figure out what to do.

Anna doesn’t hear him. She keeps talking. “…and then Sam said she told him not to call her dad, but I had to call someone, y’know? You’re the only person I think she wouldn’t – I think she wouldn’t mind me callin’. Please.”

He’s already halfway down the stairs, arms pushing through the sleeves of his shirt. He keeps the phone against his cheek when he bends to reach for his boots, ties them loose and grabs his keys.

“You call me as soon as you find her, you hear? I’m on my way,” he tells Anna, and hangs up.

He’s panicking. Fear, transferred between her cell and his, creeping over his shoulders, wrapping long, cold fingers around his throat. He’s panicking. He’s panicking. He never panics. Where the fuck are you? Who the fuck are you with?

There’s barely any traffic on the road, but the drive takes for-fucking-ever. The lights at the side of the road blur into long, thin streaks of orange. His hands are tight around the steering wheel, his jaw clenched. Your name lies loose on his lips.

He pulls up right outside the bar. There are small clusters of people, congregated tight together under the streetlights; cigarettes hanging from lips, bottles loose in hands. He shoves by them on his way to the door. Some guy shuffles out of his way, looking up to cuss Joel out and quickly dipping his head again when he locks eyes with the grizzly expression.

He shoves the door open with his shoulder, and spots you instantly.

----------

His knuckles are throbbing. Skin stretching anytime he moves his hand, searing hot and sharply stinging across the bone. Your touch is the only thing soothing them right now.

He got two good punches in. Just two. Burst the guy’s nose. He would’ve kept going, had he not been in a bar full of people – people who knew who he was – and had you not been stood behind him, body liquid-like from how much you were swaying.

But he has you home now. Up in your room, settled in bed. You’re safe. You’re with him.

You’re fucking wasted. Like, can barely lift a glass of water to your lips unaided wasted. He spent the entire drive watching over you, stealing glances when your head turned or your eyes lulled closed, checking you were still awake, still talking, still fucking breathing.

Whatever that asshole gave you, you don’t seem to have had enough for it to do too much damage. The alcohol is the real culprit. Though you were cognitive enough to yell at him over Lois in the kitchen, which relieved him for a second before it fucking crushed him. He’s lying awake right now – listening to the sound of your snoring – replaying the argument in his head. Over and over.

You’re an asshole and a liar. Just stringing me along this whole time.

He’s some awful cocktail of angry and terrified and fucking heartbroken. You’re lying inches from him, your hand resting softly on top of his, and yet – you’re miles away. The space between you both – fragmented, treacherous.

In a perfect world, he’d have wrapped his arms around your shoulders. He’d have pulled you against his weight, against his strong, steady form. And he’d have walked you, as slow as you needed, out of the bar and to his truck. Maybe laughing. Maybe singing.

He’d have told you everything was fine, told you he loved you, told you he was gonna get you home, make you feel better. He’d hold you until the sun came up, and then hold you until it went back down.

He’d love you. And you’d let him.

Maybe that world doesn’t exist, Joel thinks. And maybe that’s for the better.

It fucking hurts, though. Stings like a hot blade through his chest. All this time, messing around, pretending there was nothing more to it. Letting his feelings through like water in a fucking dam. It was bound to break eventually.

And maybe he really thought, even just for a fleeting moment, there could be something here. Something worth holding onto. More than two idiots messing around, more than sex and secrecy.

He didn’t even realize. Didn’t notice the shift. When did he start feeling…more? When did it cross that line?

He’s staring at the end of your bed. Thinking about you under him, gripping onto his shirt, his hand between your legs. The very first time. And every other fucking time since then. Which one was the threshold? Who pushed who?

His ringtone bursts through the silence, making him jump. His arm swings to fish it from the nightstand, swiping to answer before he’s even read who’s calling, just to shut the thing up.

“Hello?” he murmurs.

“Hey, Joe? Uh, I mean, Joel? It’s Andrew Curtis here.”

He rolls his eyes. For fuck’s sake. “Mornin’, Andrew.”

“Hi. Sorry, I know it’s super early. I’m just checkin’ we’re still good to go. I got my guys ready, we’re rarin’ to get goin’ whenever you are.”

Joel clears his throat, pushing slowly off the plush mattress, resting your hand on the sheets. “Yeah, uh…” He slips out of your room, hopping over to the bathroom and closing the door over. “…I had a, uh…a family emergency durin’ the night. I’m gonna be a little late, but I’ll be there.”

“Oh, gee, I hope everything’s alright?”

He phrases it like he wants Joel to clue him in. He considers for a second actually saying, Yeah, my best friend’s daughter – who I’ve been sleeping with for the last month – got plastered at a bar – Frank’s, local place, you heard of it? – because I broke things off with her – but I didn’t want to, I was just tryna be fuckin’ noble – and I went and picked her up, punched a guy who was tryna hurt her, because guess what, Andrew – I’m in fuckin’ love with her.

He sums it up with: “Yeah. Everything’s fine now. Thanks.”

“Alright, well, great news! Call me when you’re twenty minutes out, I’ll have the guys here for you arrivin’. Safe journey, Joe!”

Joel breathes an Uhuh and hangs up, holding the bridge of his nose. He has a headache, like he’s the one who’s been drinking. It’s only going to get worse, too, heading off to go spend his Saturday with Andrew fucking Curtis and his loose flannel.

The sun’s rising slowly, lighting the hall in a warm glow. Joel pads quietly into your room and pulls the cover back over his side of the mattress. You stir; your head jerks only to move some hair from your face, and then you sigh, sleep pulling you back into its arms.

He watches you for a second. Wishes he could run a light hand down your cheek, kiss your head. Whisper a goodbye, the same way you did to him almost a week ago.

He shakes the thought, collecting his boots from the floor. His hand hovers over his shirt for a moment. And then he lifts it by the collar, lays it neatly on the pillow by your head, and leaves. You can keep it, trash it, burn it. But it’s yours. Everything about him is yours.

In the kitchen, he stands by the sink, nursing a cup of coffee. It’s a quarter to six. This early on a Saturday, he figures he’ll be in Waco by seven, seven-thirty latest. His eyes fix on the spot you two stood last night, yelling back and forth about Lois. She seems so far away, now. He can barely remember the shape of her face, the sound of her voice.

His grip tightens around the mug. He places it in the sink, and grabs his keys. As he passes the stairs, he pauses. Leans on one foot, head tilted to listen out for any sound of life. Any fucking sound – the creak of a floorboard, the squeak of a door handle. Anything to keep him here. Anything.

Nothing comes. No sound, no movement, no you.

He closes the front door gently on his way out.

----------

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#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #the last of us #tlou #tlou fic #dbf!joel miller #dbf!joel #dad's best friend #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #pedro pascal #pedro pascal joel miller #cowboy like me #smut #fluff #angst

[meshlasolus]

Your Beauty Never Ever Scared Me

Dbf!Joel Miller x College!Reader

A/n: Listen… I don’t have any excuse for ditching my other three active series except for tiktok made me do it… That, and the CLM series by @macfrog has ascended me to a new level of crazy and I just needed an outlet for it somewhere. Another shoutout to @theatrelove3000 who keeps putting up with my dbf joel shenanigans, they are indeed insane.

Warnings: girl this whole concept should be a warning but anyways… age gap, some fluff, light smut, uncomfortable situations with readers father… probably some editing mistakes bc ya girl is tired ok its 2am

Please be kind to this chapter, I actually like it, despite the horrors.

Decided on the song ‘Mary On A Cross‘ by Ghost for this one bc it fits ig.

MASTERLIST

Age gap is approximately 15 years or so, reader is over 21 and joel is about 37

"I think I'd probably only slow'ya down," you chuckled, looking to Sarah who seemed to read the displeasure off your face from your dad's offer. "I'm studyin' to be an archeologist, dad. I don't know nothin' about framin' and all that house buildin'..."

Maybe it had been your dad's idea, but he wasn't the one who planted it into his own head. Joel subtly turned to you and cooly uttered a response.

"You could work on interior stuff with me."

It had been almost three days.

You looked out the window to the front of your house repeatedly to try and remember it clearly. The drive home, the kiss, and how abruptly it ended with a promise to see each other around. You thought about it so often you almost wondered if it happened the way you perceived it, if any details had been skewed in your mind simply because you wanted to keep it there, fresh, untouched. Maybe he thought of it differently... but maybe he didn't.

"Did you bring home the stuff I asked ya?" Your dad came into the kitchen with a smile, embracing you with a side hug and turning to help you unpack the groceries.

"Course' I did, Pa," you handed him the bag with the six-pack of bud and the other one full of snacks.

It was the first Rangers game night, and as per tradition, that meant the company of the next-door neighbors. It had been a while since you'd been around to enjoy it, but now that you were back, there were quite a few more reasons why you were on edge to now participate. It would look weird if you came up with an excuse not to be there, and you knew that. You also knrw that you'd gotten into a rather complicated entanglement with your father's closest friend, and weren't sure what the outcome really was.

Had that driveway light not spooked you both apart, and had that little black stray cat not made an appearance, how far would it have gone? Things were pretty heated, but even still. Would he have said something? Maybe along the lines of 'I've known you since you were sixteen, and this isn't appropriate at all.'

You didn't have time to think about it, you were set to work on helping your dad cook dinner for the soon-arriving neighbors. Dinner and a baseball game, once a relaxing and enjoyable time to bond with your dad, now turned into an anxiety fest where you were convinced you'd have to walk on pins and needles around every topic.

"So," your dad piped up from his silence at the stove, stirring the pot of chili he'd been prepping. "Joel told me he gave you a ride 'few nights back."

You knew it was harmless, and that he wasn't asking for any reason, other than that he was probably curious. You hadn't seen Joel in a while, not since two Christmases ago. Your dad had driven up to Dallas to spend both Thanksgiving and Christmas with you last year, and you didn't come home for summer break given an internship opportunity. You must have seemed different to the man in some way. All grown up.

"Yeah, gave me a ride n' saved me at the bar," you chuckled, trying to seem playful and unsuspicious about the encounter.

He seemed to be confused, his brows furrowed and a funny look on his face.

"Whad'ya mean he saved ya?" he of course was continuing to speak all the while dumping his favorite spices into the pot of chili, looking across here and now to keep engaged.

"Just scared off some weirdo who couldn't take no for an answer," you let a sweet and genuine smile fall across your features, but didn't let it get out of hand. Your relationship with your father was airtight, and he could read you pretty damn well. You weren't going to give anything away, not with what was potentially on the line.

"Glad he was there," he replied with a chuckle, sending you a soft glance. "Never thought you'd have grown up so fast, now I gotta carry a shotgun whenever we go places. Fend off the wild beasts."

His jokes were only so funny now, because in this situation, you knew he wouldn't hesitate to shoot Joel if he found out what had happened. All in the nature of protecting you, but it made you sad to think of the situation that way. Joel wasn't just another weirdo following you around at a bar.

"It's only because I'm so pretty," you did your best to respond lightheartedly, making a quip that would soothe the silence. "And I believe that's yours and Mama's fault, givin' me the genes and what not."

You'd finished chopping a nice garden salad by the time the doorbell rang. You ran upstairs to change your shirt to the Jersey your dad bought you for your birthday, claiming it was good luck for the team. Truth be told, you didn't wanna be downstairs when Joel and Sarah got here.

Sarah was here, too. Her, you could easily handle. You were almost hoping that she would be in a rather talkative mood, that way the attention could be swayed to her inconspicuously. You doubted Joel would even try to talk to you, anyway.

"Lovebug, come on down, Millers are here!" Your dad shouted up, even though he saw you run upstairs right when the doorbell rang to change your shirt.

"I'm comin', hold on," you replied sassily while heading for the staircase.

You got to the bottom and had to take a breath before turning the corner into the entryway. Joel stood there with a sweet smile to you, and you tried your best to hold back the one you wore. It was too bright, too happy to see him. All despite your nerves.

You were quickly embraced by Sarah, whom you paid immediate attention to.

"My lordy, girl," you held up your hand by your shoulder to show the height difference, "last time I saw you, you must've been this tall."

"Dad tells me I'm growing like a weed," she tossed a finger over her shoulder to where he was standing, and you gave him a small glance and a smile.

"Us daughters do have a tendency to grow up," you laughed, slinging an arm around Sarah and pulling her along to the kitchen as your dad and Joel did the same behind you.

Why had you been so anxious? Joel is happy to see you. He makes causal conversation with your dad, but he catches your eye every chance he gets. His expression doesn't change, except for the tug of his lips in a smile that's barely there. Joel doesn't smile too often, except apparently when you and Sarah are around.

It doesn't take long for everyone to get situated with their food at the table, playful banter between Joel and your father filling the air as you made less rambunctious chatter with Sarah.

She's doing pretty well since last you saw her. She was always a bright girl, but as she grew it became more apparent that she would probably excel further than anyone in her graduating class. You were sitting across from a future valedictorian, you were sure.

You'd tried to ask her about her out of school interests before your dad interrupted with a question.

"How about you, lovebug?" He watched your eyes flick over to him with a turn of your head. He added context, given you hadn't been listening to them earlier. "Are you gonna look for a summer job?"

You really should, if you're being honest. There's not much work in your aspiring profession located here, but you weren't as lucrative as you used to be, given your educational expenses.

"I've thought about it," you tilted your head back and forth, and your dad seemed to need more from your answer. "I need to earn some cash before I get back to Dallas, but I'm not really sure where to apply."

Sarah seemed to know where this was going before you did. She'd been around the last time your dad was begging Joel to find some help for the contracting team they worked with. But surely your dad doesn't expect you to build houses, does he? Your dream job is to dig holes in the ground, not fill them in and put homes on top.

"We got some spaces to fill, you should come work with us 'few months. The pay's good and you don't have to stay on long, probably just till the end of July."

You gave him a look, and he instantly knew you weren't interested, but you figured you'd try and justify your reasoning. It was an argument either way.

"I think I'd probably only slow'ya down," you chuckled, looking to Sarah who seemed to read the displeasure off your face from your dad's offer. "I'm studyin' to be an archeologist, dad. I don't know nothin' about framin' and all that house buildin'..."

Maybe it had been your dad's idea, but he wasn't the one who planted it into his own head. Joel subtly turned to you and cooly uttered a response.

"You could work on interior stuff with me."

Did he just-?

"S'not much more fun than what your dad's been doin,' but at least it's out of the sun, and easier to learn."

You were almost dumbfounded. Your dad offering you a job that potentially could give you heat stroke with your lack of experience seemed like the worst idea in the world... but working on interior projects? With Joel of all people? Well, that didn't sound so bad.

You didn't want your dad to catch on, of course. Being so protestant of his suggestion, but then falling right into it as soon as Joel was the one to offer would be a dead giveaway to some sort of favoritism to his best buddy. It simply wouldn't look right.

"What kinda interior stuff?"

He smirked. The motherfucker was smirking. He knew you'd changed your mind, but couldn't exactly just come out with it. He understood, but it was still slightly amusing to him.

"Flooring, cabinets, countertops... 's things like that," he explained, knowing you really didn't care what all it entailed. He was still happy to play along. "S'not as fun as archeology, but it pays alright."

You nodded, acting as though you were turning the thoughts over in your head.

"Well, if you're sure I won't mess it up, I'd be happy to try it out," was your final response. You figured it left some leeway in case your father became suspicious, but gave a good enough answer to end the conversation on.

"That's my girl," your dad clapped a hand on your shoulder in excitement. Truth be told he would very much enjoy your presence on a work site. "I'll go ahead and call Eddie in the morning, let 'im know I found someone to replace Charlie for interiors."

It was said more to Joel, you figured, because you didn't really know who either of those people were. He'd nodded to your dad, taking a sip of his beer and then looking back to you. You smiled sweetly, nobody catching it but the one it was meant for.

"Game's gonna start soon," Joel spoke aloud, drawing everyone's eye to the clock over the stove.

Sarah cleared her throat before jumping in on the conversation.

"About that," she looked to her dad with the same puppy dog eyes she used to use against you. He was just as poor at saying no to her when she pulled those bad boys out. "Sammy texted me to ask if it's okay to stay over at her place tonight?"

Joel sighed. He knew that no matter the attempts he made for her to like baseball, it wasn't her thing. It was summer vacation, and he had no reason to say no, so he didn't.

"Is she coming to pick you up?" He began, fishing his keys out of his pocket to drive her if need be. The girl lived five minutes away, he'd be back only a few minutes after the game started, but he didn't really want to leave.

"I can ask her," she pulled her phone back out of her jeans, opened her screen, and checked her messages.

"No need, I can take you," your voice rang out, standing from the table and taking your bowl to the sink. It was a genuine offer, but it was also to get out of the house and process what just happened with the job situation.

Joel was the first one to stand up with you.

"You don't have to-"

"It's fine," you cut him off, leaving no room for discussion. It was lucky he liked you, otherwise, Joel Miller might have put up quite the argument for such a small dilemma. As was his way, of course. He huffed, but accepted he had been overruled.

"Thanks, then." It was mumbled, but there was gratitude in it.

"We gotta hop over to ours real quick and grab my stuff," Sarah told you, waiting for you to return from the kitchen before beginning to head out through the front door. You'd grabbed your keys off where they hung on the wall before going behind her.

"I'll be back soon," you called over your shoulder into the house, and got a chirped 'alright' reply from your dad.

You walked out passed your driveway, seeing the light flicker on as you both went passed the censor on the ground.

"Y'know, I didn't think you'd have caved so fast on that job thing." She had piped up once you were almost to her porch. You found it only slightly funny that she chose the exact topic which had been swirling in your mind since it happened.

"Not sure I really wanna do it, but your dad made it sound better than every time my dad's talked about it, guess he just convinced me," you chuckled, playing it off in a way that she absolutely was about to use against you.

"That's another thing," she turned to you as she backed into the house through the door, only turning once she was inside. "Since when are you friends with my dad?"

She said it in a joking tone, but having known a few things she didn't about interactions that occurred between you and her father, you felt constricted to answer seriously. Probably with a lie if need be.

"I've always gotten along with your dad," you gave her a confused look, accompanied after by a playful smile.

She grabbed her backpack and opened it, checking to make sure she'd taken all the school stuff out before starting to shove things in, her charger, headphones, etc.

"Yeah but... you're just all young and cool and stuff," she shrugged, turning around to walk towards the staircase. "My dad is all old and boring and only talks about baseball."

"Thirty-seven isn't old, babe. My dad is two years from fifty, and I don't even think he's old, yet. Boring? Maybe..." you reasoned, hearing her laugh before she sprinted up the stairs, giving you time to think of some answers before she asked any more questions. Had she really caught onto you that fast? You didn't think you'd acted noticeably. If Sarah was able to see it, then maybe your dad did, too. You needed to be more careful, in that case.

Sarah returned a few minutes later, her backpack now stuffed and her pillow under her arm. You nodded out the door and headed back to your driveway to open the door for her, seeing as though her hands were full.

-

The drive after Sarah had been dropped off felt so much longer. Maybe it was just your thoughts, or maybe you consciously drove slower to avoid getting home too quickly. Your dad was waiting, but above that, Joel was there, too. Probably sitting back on the leather couch, relaxing with his feet kicked out on the floor. He usually leaned onto the armrest with his elbow, and held his face against the hand it supported. You'd noticed it years ago. He only ever spoke up when your dad did, usually in reply to him.

He was content simply watching the game in the presence of a friend. It was endearing.

When you pulled into the driveway, you had come up with an excuse to not remain downstairs for the duration of the game. It was too risky, and you weren't apparently as good with self-control as you'd thought you were.

You went inside and hung up your keys on the hook, immediately passing the living room on the way to the stairs.

"Hey, lovebug, you missed the top of the first," your dad called. He knew you liked baseball, so if you were to lie and say you didn't want to watch, he'd know something was up.

"Y'know, pa, I think I'm just gonna watch it upstairs, I forgot I still got some stuff to unpack," you peaked your head into the room to respond, and saw that Joel, just as you had pictured, was sitting in his most usual position on the couch, feet out on the floor, arm up with a hand holding the side of his face.

"Can't you do it later?" Your dad pleaded, but you knew, seeing as how your father occupied the recliner, you would have no where else to sit but on the floor or next to Joel. You didn't trust yourself with that.

"I could, but I might fall asleep if I wait too long."

He sighed, throwing an arm in your direction and shooing you away. He wasn't annoyed, but he'd admit he missed watching these games with you. It had been like a tradition, but if Sarah wasn't here either, he wasn't gonna make you stick around.

"Sure you don't wanna stick around? We could use your lucky jersey down here," Joel piped up, lifting his face from his hand and giving you a pair of soft eyes. That was exactly the reason you would not be staying. He didn't even realize how much he affected you, but you'd make sure he did at some point. Maybe you could just tease him a little.

"You're right, it would be a shame to take the lucky jersey with me."

You walked behind your dad's chair, out of his sight, and tauntingly stripped the jersey over your head, revealing the tight black tank top beneath it, just like that night at the bar. Joel's jaw clenched and his eyes turned darker, even under the bright light of the flatscreen in the living room. You never took your eyes away from his as you slung him the jersey.

"Hey pa, can I get you anything from the kitchen before I go upstairs?" You leaned over the back of his recliner, looking at him upside down. He chuckled and shook his head, trying to move your hair from obstructing his vision.

"We're all good, lovebug," he spoke in addition to his physical response, his laughter dying down as you stood back up. "Come on down if you change your mind."

"I'll probably be down later," you spewed a half-lie. You weren't sure if you would be or not, especially if Joel was still lurking in the living room.

You gave those brown eyes one last look before heading straight upstairs.

You grabbed your remote and flicked on the TV. It was already on the right channel, so you tossed the remote aside onto your bed and flopped back into it. You didn’t actually have anything left to unpack, but they would never have known.

Your phone buzzed beside you, and you lifted the screen to your face to see a text from an unsaved number:

Missin you down here…

You’d never put Joel in your contacts, because in highschool, your friends thought it was weird to even text or call him regularly, but you had his number for years, always just as a backup. You’d known it by heart, now, and nearly had it memorized back then, too, for the times you needed his help.

I’d come back if there was an open seat.

A bit sassy of a response, maybe, but you were hoping he’d understand the hidden meaning behind it… Although, Joel didn’t usually pick up on those things very easily.

Open seat right next to me

Yeah, that’s why I’m up here…

You huffed, realizing it wouldn’t be that easy. The three little dots indicating his next response was on the way slightly nerved you. Maybe he took the last text you sent the wrong way. You didn’t mean it to sound badly.

What’s that supposed to mean?

Means that I can’t keep my hands to myself.

You quickly rectified the situation, although you might have gone too far. He was taking far too long to answer, now. The little dots that before nerved you would now be your saving grace if it meant he would just fucking respond, already. You dropped the phone on your chest, raising up and down in a scattered rhythm while you wiped your hands over your face. Your phone vibrated over your shirt and you immediately opened it.

I can’t either. Stay up there.

You breathed out a sigh of relief. He was thinking the same things you were, and likely was under more stress for it, given he sat right across from your dad, responding to his comments about the game here and there. Your dad had no idea what was happening right under his nose.

Wasn’t thinking about leavin.

This little back and forth went on, the majority of the game, in fact. It was more-so about the plays then on, because you didn’t have anyone to talk to up here.

Joel thought it a bit funny, your dad would say something oddly specific about one of the players, and then you’d text him right after saying the exact same thing. You’d been a product of watching baseball with your old man for just about ever.

“I’m thinking about gettin’ some tickets over the summer for a game or two. They’re always cheaper in them group packages, you n’ Sarah should come along,” your dad was barely paying any attention to the words he spoke, but they came flowing out anyway, clear and cool. “Could be fun.”

Joel knew that there was only so much group interaction he could handle with you, and you with him. It stands to why you’re upstairs, an he’s down here, fist wrapped tightly around your lucky jersey. All out of your father’s sight, of course.

“It could be. Don’t think Sarah’s much for baseball anymore, though.”

He’d hoped that your dad would drop it. Halfway through his third beer, he hoped the man was a little more than tipsy, and maybe didn’t even mean the words he was saying.

“Doesn’t mean you can’t still tag along,” your dad was definitely still sober enough to keep it up, although the way he spoke became slower. Maybe he was getting sleepy.

“I’ll think about it.”

His response was followed by a hum, then a lull of silence that endured the rest of the game. He sat all the while and thought about his predicament a bit more.

He couldn’t stop thinking about you. It was insane… like you’d leeched yourself to the inner workings of his mind and he wouldn’t be able to pull you off without hurting himself, too. You were just upstairs, and had been texting him. You were within his vicinity, and yet… so unreachable.

He’d wished for you to be down here, or for him to be up there with you. Obviously, that wouldn’t go too well with the man sitting next to him, but he’d be asleep soon. If he could just touch you again, just kiss you one more time, maybe his cravings would be satisfied and he could go about his days… but what would happen if he kept feeling the addictive urge to do more? What if he was never satiated enough to quit you?

The game was called, and you’d texted him a small ‘victory’ at seeing the Rangers had won.

It was wrong, and the presence of his friend beside him was a constant reminder that you were his kid, and he would have a final say. Even though you were an adult, he understood this was completely taboo, and you should be off with guys your own age... but he’s made up his mind about the thoughts spinning in his head.

He didn’t respond, though. Your dad stood up out of his chair, his arms stretching outwards with a loud yawn as he took a few steps forwards, clapping his hand down on Joel’s shoulder.

“I hate to kick you out…” your father joked, a low and tired chuckle under his words.

“It’s alright, I got some stuff to sort out anyway.”

They started making their way towards the door when light but fast footsteps could be heard coming down the stairs.

Joel turned quickly, a smile on his lips and in his eyes when he saw you trying to catch your breath after sprinting down here.

“Leavin’ already?”

They both laughed heartily. As if Joel hadn’t been here almost three hours, most of which you spent upstairs. Your heart was beating far too fast for your liking, but there didn’t seem to be a way to stop it. Now that you were present again, in the room with him, you didn’t know what else to do.

“Your dad’s half asleep as it is, if I stay any longer I’ll send ‘im into hibernation,” Joel’s response made you giggle softly, although you withheld most of the laughter, because in all honestly, it wasn’t that funny, and you needed to learn to control yourself.

“He’ll be over next week, we’ll talk about gettin’ you into that job.”

You nodded, turning back to Joel as your dad opened the front door. What were you supposed to do? You couldn’t hug him, could you? That’s too much… maybe just wave, or maybe-

He held his hand out… for you to shake it. A hand-shake. Yeah, sure, fine.

You shook it, but he pulled you in half way, tapping your back once and then letting go.

He just bro hugged you. This man just-

He turned and did the same to your dad, giving you one last glimpse as he stepped out the door. Your dad closed it behind him and you were almost clean out of words to say. That had to have been the strangest interaction you’ve had.

“I’m beat, love-bug. I’m gonna head to bed,” he slung an arm around your neck and kissed the top of your head before turning and going down the hall to the stairs. “Don’t be up too late.”

“I won’t, just got a few things to do.”

You waited approximately ten more seconds before running to the garage door, going as quickly and as quietly as you could through to your front yard. Joel was still on his porch when you got out there, but was about to go inside.

You ran out to the sidewalk in font of his house and called out to him, all the while still barefoot.

“Hey Miller,” you crossed your arms, watching him turn around and lean in one direction. “Did you just bro-hug me? Or did I imagine that?”

He stepped closer to the edge of the porch, leaning against one of the wooden beams closest to him.

You slowly walked up to him, tilting your head to side as you observed his stance. he looked rather good. Hair tousled, body adorning a black t-shirt and some dark jeans. He was a sight, even in the dark light of the neighborhood.

“I reckon I oughta’ try again?”

"Seems like the fair thing to do."

“You’re takin’ your sweet time, baby,” he irked, grabbing gently under your elbow and pulling you up onto to porch once you were close enough.

You smiled to him, and wrapped your arms round his neck, over his broad shoulders. He pulled you close, tucking a head into your shoulder. The anxiousness you felt before fell apart, the rapid beating of your heart slowed, because you were comfortable. You felt immense peace in his arms like you’ve never felt before.

He backed away too soon, but still kept you relatively close to him.

“Was that better?”

“Yeah, I’d say so.”

There was a moment of silence, of contemplation, but it wasn’t stiff, and it wasn’t awkward. It was just there, a nice and pleasant quiet, and you standing still with Joel Miller on his porch.

“You wanna come inside a while?”

Sarah wasn’t home, and wouldn’t be till morning. Your dad was probably passed out in bed by now, leaving the opportunity completely open. You had nothing to lose, no risk to be had.

“Yeah, I think I will.”

He didn’t let you go, he just walked you both backwards until he was able to reach the door, reaching with one hand to open it before stepping slightly to the side to allow you entrance first.

“Ever the gentlemen,” you smiled, walking inside before he followed you in.

“Gotta make up for all that nonsense earlier,” he closed the door, taking your hand and walking to the kitchen. He pulled out a stool at his counter and let your hand fall to your side as he made his way to the fridge.

He pulled out two beers and uncapped them with the tool hanging on the side of his fridge. You think you remember your dad buying it for his birthday one year. You can remember sitting in this exact seat many times before, actually. Never alone, though. Never just you and Joel, and nobody else near.

He slid you one beer an you smiled at him in thanks, taking a sip.

“Last time you had one of these, I didn’t know if you liked it or not,” he gestured to his own bottle, drinking some and setting it down on the counter.

“I don’t know, I think it’s growing on me.”

He looked straight to you, leaning both hands on the edge of the counter. You leaned forward, mimicking his more stern face of features before he said anything else.

“I didn’t wanna say so with your dad around, but you look awful pretty tonight,” he spoke the compliment smoothly, but he had to drop his head after he said it. Seemed that giving you compliments alone in the night was something of a struggle for him, since he was blushing still even when he looked back to you.

“I seem to be feelin’ a lot prettier as of late whenever I’m around you. Think you’re just good for my self esteem,” you paused, leaning back onto the stool to take a drink of your beer. “That, or it's just nice to be complimented by a handsome guy like yourself.”

He didn’t seem to believe you. His scoff was loud and heard immediately after your compliment returned to him.

“You think I’m handsome?”

He’d always thought he was average. Maybe even slightly below. As he got older, that notion grew until he felt that maybe he was beyond trying for a woman on behalf of his looks. Perhaps there were women from time to time that would agree to a date, but there were none since Sarah’s mom who actually stuck around, not until you… but you were different as far as relationships go, because technically, you shouldn’t even be considering one with him.

“Absolutely, I do. Why wouldn’t I?” You were curious, because he was clearly attractive. Maybe you’d spent too much time around the more traditionally preferred young men in dallas, but something about Joel intrigued you that never did with anyone else. Maybe it was the forbidden aspect of what you two were doing, but before that, it was something else. He was rough and rugged, and good looking in a mature way that the boys your age couldn’t mimic if they tried. Those dark brown eyes with little crows feet at the edges every time he smiled were a dead give away to his age, but it was so appealing somehow.

“Don’t know. Guess I’m just old,” he spoke, trying to hide the insecurities that phrasing brought about. He was too old for you, he shouldn’t be sitting here with you you alone and calling you pretty, and yet…

“Maybe that’s a good thing. Too many boys my age are still very immature these days.” And it was very much true. Too young, too immature, and too stupid to see what’s in front of them and really appreciate it. Older men have a tendency to take care of the things they have, because they know that with time they can lose them.

“That so?”

“Mhm.”

“They don’t even realize what their missin’ out on, do they?”

You shook your head in reply. Nope. Not a single one of the younger guys you’ve dated has treated you with the care you know he could. He’s always treated you with care, before… why would that change now?

“They probably figure there’s a million girls linin’ up after me that they can take a shot at,” you raised your eyebrows and drank some more. Maybe it was just a thought of some past experiences, but this beer was tasting better and better to you.

“I pity them,” he said nonchalantly, without really thinking about it.

“Who, the girls? I mean, I kinda feel bad, but other times, I think we all know what we’re getting ourselves into n’ we just try to ignore the red flags.”

It was meant as a joke, but he was being genuinely serious.

“No, the guys. I pity ‘em.”

“Oh, do you?”

“I do,” he nodded, thinking of the right words to say. “They lost you, didn’t they? Biggest mistake of their lives and they didn’t even know. Pity ‘em just for that.”

You didn’t know what to say. You figured the wide smile you wore was doing a fine enough job, but he wasn’t looking like he had anything else to voice yet.

“You think I’m somethin’ special, Joel Miller?”

He set his bottle down on the counter and walked around it to stand right in front of your barstool. He took both your hands and pulled them to his chest, just holding them there and looking to you with the sweetest expression you’ve ever seen from him. He’s so different than what you remember in your earlier years. He used to be so stoic and serious. Sometimes even a little grumpy. Guess time changes things.

“I wouldn’t be gettin’ myself into sum’ this crazy if I thought anything else,” he mumbled it almost, but he definitely meant it. His words rang true in every aspect of the implications they made. This was crazy, it was very unlikely in the first place, but even still, it was happening. Neither of you backed down, neither of you said no.

“If it helps, I happen to think you’re pretty damn special, too.”

He didn’t respond, just leaned closer towards you, nudging his nose against yours, before letting your lips meet in a kiss. it washed rushed and hazy like the last time. It wasn’t forceful or fast or anything of that sort. It was gentle, and it was meaningful. All the years he’d known you, but never like this. You knew this attraction was new, but it was still real. You wondered how many women pined after him over the years, only for you to now gage his attention when clearly no one else did. The man’s been single since Sarah’s mom left, and otherwise, you didn’t know him to be much of a ‘dating around’ kinda guy. Standing here with him, now, you felt such excitement in knowing he’d pursue you, the off limits woman, over anyone else. It was a true victory, or at least you thought so, sitting on a stool in his kitchen while he kissed you softly, his thumbs going over the backs of your hands that still lingered in his.

When the kiss broke, you inhaled deeply, the scent of him so close to you, surrounding you. He was like a warm blanket you just pulled out of the dryer. He was comforting, and soft, and his skin was currently hot to the touch. You could only hope that you had something to do with that.

“Baby,” he breathed, hands letting go of yours and finding a new home at your waist. You left your hands on his chest, feeling his heart rate fluctuating. “Gotta know something before this goes any further…”

You hummed in response, still trying to even your breath intake. He backed away a few inches to be able to look you in the eyes correctly. He’d spent enough time with you in the past to know if you were telling the truth, and he was going to use it just this once to his advantage.

“What we’re doin’, you sure you’re okay with it?” He knew better than to jump into this without clarification. “Don’t want you feelin’ pressured if you’re not.”

“I want this,” you spoke softly, just loud enough that he could hear. “Promise.”

You had thought you’d been the instigator to this, if memory serves you correctly. Even still, you know now that whatever happens, he won’t take it somewhere you don’t want it to go. This show of good faith was something you could put trust in him over. He’s a good one, you always knew that.

And again his lips were on yours, differently this time. It was a bit more hasty and fervent like the first time, but there was still something different from then that you couldn’t quite decipher.

You absent-mindedly opened your legs and he instantly came between them, letting your bodies become flush with one another. His hands ran up and down your sides, every once and a while dipping to your hips and somewhere below on your thighs.

There was a heat between them that you didn’t realize was there until he came so close to touching it. He never actually did, though, and you were both endeared by and upset about it. He was the one making that heat spread, he can’t just leave it there… but he’s testing his limits, and you think it’s respectful that he is.

He doesn’t want to cross any lines… as if this entire entanglement has not already done that. This situation in every sense of the definition, has crossed the line. Him hugging you that tightly on his porch, him inviting you in after dark when it’s only you and him alone, having a beer with some very personal conversation, and now making out with you in his kitchen. They all crossed the line of what should happen between a man and his best friend’s daughter.

“Tell me to stop,” he mumbled against your mouth, almost as if reading your mind. His hand on your thigh drifted between your legs, just barely caressing the heated pool sitting there, waiting for him. It was still very reserved, and you had to buck against his hand for more friction, but at least it was something.

The taste of him somehow made it worse, the feeling growing inside you without an end in sight. The arousal was evident, but you weren’t sure he would be able to do anything about it, yet. You could tell it was weighing on his mind, what was okay for him to do, and what wasn’t. You would beg him if you had to, you just needed more.

He had an idea, one that could allow both of you to explore this dynamic easier, and one that could potentially keep him from overstepping like he was afraid to.

He removed his hands only for a minute, bringing yours up and over his shoulders before he settled his back down below your ass.

“Hold on,” he told you, lifting you from the seat and walking until he got to the living room. From there, he let the space guide him until the back of his knees hit the edge of the couch. He sat almost abruptly, and when you relaxed your weight onto him, you felt the stirring between his legs as well. You moaned into his mouth at the mere size and feeling of it, beginning to slowly grind down onto him. He encouraged your movements, and used his hands to guide your hips as you went, back and forth, getting into a rhythm.

“That’s it, baby,” he praised, tearing himself away for a moment to expel his breath from his lungs at the new feeling. Your head fell against his, and suddenly it was the movement of your lower half taking you over.

He let his hands move over your body a bit more freely, now, but still careful not to make any harsh movements, or grab in places he felt he shouldn’t linger too long. He knew you wanted this, but something inside him questioned how comfortable you really felt… that was until you started doing the same, roaming his body with your delicate touch, making him feel like the most important man in the world. You could have sworn you marked the exact moment he snapped, rolling his hips upwards into yours shamelessly. It was so deliciously addicting, the feeling of his body pleasing yours, and vice versa. His rough and sturdy hands, though still gentle, ravished any part of you available to him.

The air between you was hot and thick, and you could swear that by breathing it in, you were drawing even more arousal into your body.

The motions kept going until there was a quickening of pace brought on by you both simultaneously. You couldn’t mark a distinction of when it increased, you just knew that the speed you were going wasn’t where you started. All you could think of was that your spend was fast approaching, and you wondered if his was, too.

“Gettin’ close,” you murmured, barely able to get the words out for the moans that slipped passed your lips. “M’gonna…”

He heard you, and understood. Truth be told, he’d started getting hard since that moment on the porch, so this was just nothing but sweet relief to him. He kept on, trying to meet you at your finish.

“Let go , baby.”

You had no qualms about being told twice when it came to him. You gave it up easily, the muscles in your body contracting when you felt the wash of utter ease through every inch of you. He tensed beneath you, but relaxed with a groan of relief right after, and you could feel his length twitch in his jeans.

You just dry-humped Joel Miller on his couch. Like a horny teenager. What the fuck.

The dawn of realization was cut short by his hand softly coercing the back of your neck, bring your lips back for him to claim as he did earlier. Soft, and gentle, no rush, no heat. Just that feeling between you both that started this mess.… and it was indeed a mess.

“You wanna stay over?”

-

Tags (open):

@justanothersadperson93 @moonchild-warrior @hopplessilse @brittmd115 @michilandcof @untamedheart81 @just-someone-broken @joelalorian @xybil @yvonneeeee

If i tagged you wrong, or you want to be taken off at any time, just lmk!!

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel x reader #joel the last of us #dbf!joel miller x reader #dbf! joel miller #joel miller age gap #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal

[notjustjavierpena]

Reunion - Part II

A/N: This started out as a collection of a few requests. Then it became feely instead. Then a second chapter to Reunion. Read the first part here.

Summary: Homemade nipple clamps, toast for breakfast and a sudden confession. 

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader/You (No y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, dad’s best friend joel miller, daddy kink, innocence kink to some extent, homemade nipple clamps, nipple play, PIV sex, rough sex, dirty talk, possessive sex, reader has post-sex feelings, joel does too. 

Word count: 3.1k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49869355/chapters/125892349

Clamp

Joel’s stomach growls loudly underneath you as you are cuddling in bed. He tries to deny it when you start fussing, but the way the noise repeats itself, traveling all the way up to your ear as you rest your head on his chest, makes him capitulate quickly. You get out from underneath the covers.

“Come on, I’m hungry but…” he says with a tinge of the stubbornness of a teenager as if eating is only an inconvenience and not a way of staying alive as well as healthy. He’d go hungry to touch you, and it’s almost sweet but you’d rather feed and hydrate him so he can go again sooner. 

You can feel it as he watches your ass when you move to the dresser in his room. There are a few pieces of clothing sticking out, and you yank at what you correctly assume is a t-shirt. Pulling it over your head, you are encapsulated in the smell of Joel’s fabric softener, a hint of his cologne too that doesn’t seem to want to come out completely. 

“I’m going to make some toast,” you say just as stubbornly, bending over to tie your hair up in a messy bun despite knowing you are not wearing any underwear. Joel groans behind you. 

“Ain’t playin’ fair,” he mutters bitterly, “Look at you. No panties and my shirt? Diabolical.”

You hear shuffling behind you but you actively ignore the footsteps coming up behind you. Instead, you secure a few stray hairs with the hairpins that you took out last night, trying to look busy when hands settle on your hips. 

“Turn around,” he tells you. You smile to yourself. 

With a few seconds delay, he adds a threatening ‘young lady’. You put on a pout and then face him, “Just wanna feed you, Daddy. Look at you. You’re already skin and bone.”

“Wouldn’t hurt,” he argues.

You shake your head, allow him to kiss you longingly for a little bit, “No, I like your tummy. You’re soft. Like you soft.” 

“Soft,” he repeats with a scoff, “I ain’t soft.”

And then, “And I always get what I want.”

Suddenly, his hands reach up to find the hairpins at the back of your head. He pulls one out, makes you furrow your brows as it tugs a little at the sensitive baby hairs there. 

“Ow, what are you doing?” You ask as he removes the second one. He holds them in his large palm, big enough to hide them completely from view. 

“Do you trust me?” He questions. He looks into your eyes expectantly, waiting for confirmation before he continues. You nod. He doesn’t go on.

“I mean yes,” you quickly add.

“Good girl,” he smiles at how well you are learning. Then he reaches for the bottom of his shirt that you are wearing, pinching the hem with his thumb and forefinger now that he has the pins in his palm. He yanks the shirt up until it rests above your breasts, “Hold this up f’me.”

You do as he says. The fabric skimming over your chest and the anticipation that is hanging in the air has made your nipples hard, standing in peaks and waiting for what is about to happen. You know exactly where this is going yet it still hits you when one of the pins clamp down on your sensitive nipple. 

You half-moan in beautiful pain, half-chuckle in surprise. It stings and pinches, but despite never having done this before, your body reacts a whole lot more by pulsing between your legs than by triggering your fight-or-flight response. 

Joel studies your face but you don’t give him any indication that you want to stop. He tugs a little on the pin to make sure it is secure and elicits a little sound from you. You’ve noticed his boxers are already starting to tent. 

“Next one,” he informs as if performing a mediocre task, his voice having dropped an octave. He sounds breathier, aroused. You don’t jump half as much when your other nipple is painfully pinched too, but the feeling of them burning together is so intense that slick has started to smear your inner thighs. 

“Now,” he yanks your shirt down, makes your arms fall to your sides and your toes curl as a pin nearly catches in the fabric, “Go make me some toast. See if you still think I’m soft then.”

“But…” you try. 

“Go on,” he says and crawls back into bed before you can play dirty and touch him on the front of his underwear. 

*

Making breakfast has never been harder. 

You are in a world of hellish lust as you enter the bedroom again, holding a plate with buttered toast in your hands. There is a slice for you too, but it’ll take a whole lot longer for you to eat your way through it than it will take Joel to wolf down his own two pieces. 

He sits on the bed in silence, chewing quietly and occasionally brushing a few crumbs off the top of his chest. You hope that he doesn’t see the way you try to rock down on the foot you have tucked underneath yourself because he’d laugh straight into your face. 

“Don’t start without me.”

You sit up straight at being called out and the shirt tugs at your tits. You hiss loudly, “Please.”

“In a moment, just gotta get clean first. Sit against the headboard, ‘n take off your shirt,” he leaves the bed to go wash his hands. He is painfully hard at this point. You nearly break the plate when you move to place it on the nightstand. 

“What’re ya doin’?” He calls over the tap running from the master bathroom. 

“Not getting fucked,” you quip. 

“Watch it,” he replies back as if unaffected. God, he is so much better at this than you.

You are completely naked as he reenters the bedroom. You’ve stuffed a pillow behind your back, halfway to lying down with your ass scooted downwards on the bed a little. Your pussy is flushed pink and glistening, presented, and your nipples are a good amount of shades darker from the blood flow having settled there. The burn is exquisite, but it’s the sight of Joel’s eyes going dark that makes you whine.

“Jesus,” he laughs quietly as he crawls between your legs. Even the weight of him on the bed makes a sound slip from your mouth, “Ain’t ya just an obedient little thing?” 

You blink up at him almost teary-eyed. He takes pity on you. 

“Let’s get these off,” he promises, kneeling to free his hands from having to support himself. He removes one homemade clamp, making you whimper in relief at the ceiling. The blood flow makes your heart pound, slamming painfully against your ribs whilst you anticipate the second clamp being removed.

Joel flicks your abused nipple instead. Your head snaps down to his grin, betrayal visible on your face. Your cunt reacts immediately, feeling too empty and fluttering as it tries sucking in something that isn’t there. 

Joel looks down between your legs. He smiles affectionately, creating an obscene contrast to what he is doing to you. He coos softly at your facial expression, it having turned pained and horny, “Shh… I’ll kiss it better, baby.”

He finally removes the second hairpin. There’s a second where he lets you cry weakly at the new sensation, but then he tugs at both of your nipples to the point where you don’t even have the brain power to say a sound. Your mouth falls open in a silent moan.

“Good,” he praises, relenting but only to rub the sensitive nubs with his thumbs in clockwise motions, “Don’t think about anything. Just think about this, princess. Feel good?”

It does. You nod. The gentleness behind the touches is soothing you more than you thought it could, the pads of Joel’s fingers bringing your heartbeat down a notch. He traces your areola, breathing a little more erratically at seeing your pussy jump without being touched. 

He tugs again, soothes again until your nipples are red and swollen underneath his fingertips. The clamps have done a number on you because you start to think you might be able to come like this, a growing pressure starting between your legs. 

But Joel isn’t going to let you. He straightens until he is upright again, swallowing thickly as he focuses his attention on your neglected cunt. He runs a warm hand down over your mound, your hips twitching in response to finally being touched. Joel’s breath hitches in his throat as he stares down at his shiny palm, “Why didn’t you say anything? Look at her. She’s weepin’.”

“Just needs you,” your doe-eyes are on full blast. 

“Mhm,” he agrees, lazily running two fingers through your slick folds until you sigh, “You took a lot last night. Think you can handle it?” 

“Want you to keep me sore, Daddy,” you push into his touch again. He swears under his breath, teasingly dipping his digits into your cunt but making no suggestion that he will follow through on what they’re doing. You bat your eyelashes, “Please.”

It does not take much more convincing. He calls you princess again but this time it is with a frustrated sigh. He yanks his boxers down over his hips to let his cock spring free, kicks his underwear all the way off, and lets them fall to the floor of the bedroom in record time. 

He is fully erect. Hard and beautiful. The head of his dick has turned a dark red from having been seeking your attentive touch since he watched you put up your hair. The tip impatiently weeps precome for you. You consider a blowjob for half a second because your mouth waters at the idea of tasting his salt and musk. 

Later, you think, some other time. 

He strokes himself a few times until the bead at the head spills down over the length of him. Your eyes never leave his cock, especially not when he slides it through your glistening folds to coat himself in your arousal. 

“Could come just like this,” you tell him and finally dare to look up into his eyes. He smiles back at you and it tugs at your heartstrings. You reach out to hold his elbows and lift your legs to wrap them around his waist. 

In one smooth motion, he positions himself and rocks into you without stopping until he has bottomed out. The girth of him never ceases to amaze you. It’s the same each time; he stretches your walls painfully until you whimper and tells you that big girls can take it. Ain’t you a big girl? You nod with your bottom lip between your teeth, chewing on it to suppress the pathetic little noise that’s bubbling up in your chest. 

It works for a moment but only until Joel tells you to breathe. The noise finally comes out and it becomes wanton when he starts fucking into you. He pounds you like yesterday and you can barely contain yourself anymore, whining and groaning as he gives it to you with the intention of making you sore all over. Your walls are already sensitive, and you hate to think that you haven’t actually been out of your state of arousal since you knocked on his door. It’s embarrassing. It’s infatuation. 

You let out a high-pitched squeak as he bucks up his hips, nudging at the front of your walls and searching for that little spot inside you that belongs to him by now. He finds it expertly, fits inside of you like you were made for each other. 

“There!” You plea whilst arching your back, “Daddy, it’s right—“

“I know where it fuckin’ is,” he leans down to kiss you, breaths coming out through his nose as he shoves his tongue into your mouth. You dig your nails into the back of his arms, making an attempt to move with him and oh God, you kiss him so deeply. 

“Say I’m the best you’ve ever had,” he growls when he pulls back for a breath that he can barely catch, sweat threatening to drip down from his brow. He has one hand on the headboard, making the bed rattle underneath the both of you, and the other lays over your heart. He applies just the slightest pressure to your chest. 

“You’re— baby, please,” you can barely find the words, gasping out into the room. The only thing you can think of is how important it feels to hold onto him as he drives into your cunt, scared that if you let go you’ll melt into the mattress and never see him again. You never want that to happen. You want to drown in everything he is. 

“Say it,” he gives you a particularly hard thrust, managing to put the hand on the headboard behind your head before you bang it into the wood. You don’t even think you would have noticed it if it had happened since you are so delirious already from being so fucked out. 

“Best— best I’ve ever had,” you stutter out between loud moans, the pleasurable tightening in your belly soon reaching a crescendo, “I’m close, oh f— I’m so close.”

“Careful, princess,” he notes as you almost swear at him, “Don’t make— shit, don’t give me a reason to stop.”

He wouldn’t, you think, he is as lost in you as you are in him. 

“Never,” you pant, noises climbing in pitch, “I’m gonna be so good for you, Daddy. Gonna come— oh God, please, gonna come on your cock!”

“Yeah,” his thighs flex, your legs squeeze harder around him, “Oh fuuuck, I can feel you— come on my dick, sweetheart. You can do it.” 

The tightening releases into sweet clenches. Your vision blanks for just a moment, your brain unable to focus on any other of your five senses except touch, and Joel touches you deep inside as his hips stutter and your walls milk everything he has to give. 

He fucks you through it, bucks his hips upwards to prod at your g-spot whilst you shiver and moan from the heat of your climax. It may be even more intense than yesterday despite how many highs he pulled from you. 

Everything stills. Time passes while you pant. The windows must be foggy by now. Joel slips out with a soft groan and kisses away the pained moan you let out when emptiness hits.

You are sure you are experiencing heat stroke as you try catching your breath. There are small beads of sweat scattered all over your chest and stomach, some collecting in the dip of your belly button. You feel like you are floating in the Sunday afternoon silence. A bird chirps outside of the window, and you catch yourself wondering why you haven’t heard it until now. He is too important, you think, so important that you filter out anything that isn’t him until he leaves you in this state of clarity. You love him.

Joel is staring down at you and you can see yourself in the reflection of his brown eyes. He glows just like you, filled to the brim with dopamine. His skin burns as you rub his arms where you have been digging your nails into them moments before. You wonder if he feels the same as you; like someone who is seconds from evaporating, bursting, something, unable to move, in love. 

You pull him down into yourself. He sticks to you in a way that would normally have you scrunching up your nose, but you don’t care about it right now because his cheek is pressed to yours. You giggle softly with post-orgasmic excitement. 

But then a thought reluctantly worms its way into your head. Why isn’t he saying something? You know why you aren’t, but why isn’t he? 

“Joel,” you say in confusion as he suddenly starts to break free from your embrace. He moves to sit up next to you, eyes the plate on the nightstand, and practically launches himself up from the bed so he can take it to the kitchen. 

You crawl across the bed without thinking as if you have the speed to catch his wrist before he is out the door, “Joel. Fuck, Joel!”

That catches his attention. Joel turns in the doorway. He sets the plate down on his dresser instead, “You know I fuckin’ hate that.”

“Well shit,” you continue and he visibly flinches. 

“Don’t say anything,” you don’t think you have ever warned him as he repeatedly does with you, “Don’t say anything, just come here.” 

You hold out your hands, still on your knees at the edge of the bed. You grab at the air, and after a brief pause, Joel gives in. He steps forward until you can hold onto his wrists, “Remember that time you wiped away my tears? The first time we… doesn’t matter. Point is I was sad and you were there.”

Joel avoids replying. He swallows thickly, jaw muscles tensing. 

“I just mean that you can talk to me,” you finish your speech which is barely a speech with a beating heart. There are so many butterflies in your stomach that they are making you slightly nauseous. You look at him expectantly, watching his eyes skim over your face, scanning for what you assume is genuineness. You won’t ask why he needs reassurance that you are telling him the truth. 

“I’m falling for you,” he breathes out. 

Of all things, you do not expect this. 

“Ditto,” you say back, eyes widening when you realize that it’s the word you have managed to blurt out. 

“Ditto?” Joel furrows his brow. 

You slap his arm, “Shut it. You know what ditto means.”

But then he bursts out laughing and your heart swells. He leans down over you, naked and vulnerable right there in front of you, and kisses you gently. 

He inhales deeply afterward, then asks the question that you want an answer to as well: “What in the world are we going to do?”

*

It comes out of nowhere a few weeks later when you’re home again. 

“You know Joel?” Your dad asks as if you have never noticed him in the many years he’s been your father’s best friend. You try not to freeze. 

“Yes, I obviously know Mr. Miller, Dad. What about him?” You sip your coffee, eyeing the crossword on the back of the newspaper that your father is holding up in front of himself. 

“Think he’s seein’ some new lady,” he replies but there’s no tone to his voice. 

You tense in your seat, setting down your mug to avoid dropping it if the news is about to break, “Why do you think that?”

“Don’t matter why, but she’s good for him, I can tell,” your father is still oblivious, “Just smiles more.”

“Ah, well good for him,” you pause briefly, “Can I get the crossword puzzle?”

“Sure, honey.”

As he rustles the paper to pull out the page, you stand with the excuse of getting a pen, but when you have your back to your father, you grin to yourself and don’t mind the butterflies that seem to have moved into your body.

Joel is right. 

What in the world are you going to do?

.

.

.

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#pedro pascal characters #joel miller #joel miller x reader #the last of us #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller the last of us #joel miller imagine #joel miller fanfic #joel x reader #joel x you #my writing #joel the last of us #joel miller fluff #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #dbf!joel

[proxima-writes]

Dbf Joel and younger reader sneaking off in his truck to make out !!

I may have done a bit more than making out, but I hope you enjoy!

title: moments we stole

pairing: dad's best friend!joel miller x female reader

rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

word count: 1544

summary:

It''s your dad's 40th birthday party and you can't help yourself from flirting with his best friend, Joel Miller.

author's note: if you've sent in a request, thank you!! i love you!! the biggest smooches for you!! i promise i'm working on them. hope you enjoy!

content warnings/tags: explicit sexual content (18+ minors do not interact), explicit language, age difference (22F and 36M), pre-outbreak, teasing, flirting, established relationship, sneaking around, fingering, dirty talk, pet names, vaginal fingering, making out, semi-public sex. let me know if any are missing!

It’s your dad’s 40th birthday party. Your house is packed with all your dad’s friends from the architectural firm he works at, including a slew of brawny construction workers and contractors that mingle among the more clean cut architects and engineers. There’s one man in particular that keeps drawing your eye.

Your dad’s best friend, Joel Miller. 

He’s a contractor your dad has worked with on a number of projects over the years. He’s younger than your dad at thirty-six years old, tall and broad with gorgeous brown eyes and dark curly hair. The first time you saw him at one of your parent’s parties, you could swear it was love at first sight for your little sixteen year old brain.

You're twenty-two now as you mingle with your dad’s guests, a beer bottle sweating in your hand as you nod along to the story your dad’s colleague is telling you. Movement from the corner of your eye catches your attention as Joel walks by.

“Excuse me for a sec, Richard. It was nice talking to you,” you say to the man you’d been speaking with. You follow after Joel, broad shoulders easy to track in the crowd.

He stops to talk to your dad and you slip beside him, your bare arm brushing his flannel covered one. Your dad smiles at you, leaning forward to press a kiss to your cheek.

“Hey, sweetie, you remember Joel, right?” He asks, gesturing to him. You grin at Joel.

“Of course I do, dad. He’s been at all your parties since I was sixteen. I haven’t been away that long,” you reply with a good natured roll of your eyes. “Hiya, Mr. Miller.”

The man chokes on his sip of beer, clearing his throat. “How’ve you been? You graduated in May, right?”

“Yeah, but you already knew that,” you giggle. His eyes go the tiniest bit wide. “It’s been good. Happy to be back home.”

“I bet. You went pretty far for school.” 

“Still made it back for all dad’s parties and holidays, though. So, hopefully you didn’t miss me too much.”

You can see his jaw clenching. Your dad continues to smile at the two of you, blissfully unaware of the blatant flirting you’re throwing at his friend.

The thing is, you do know Joel. Intimately.

It started when you were nineteen. You came home for winter break but your parents had re-keyed your childhood home with some fancy biometric locks that you weren’t set up to use yet, nor did you have the physical key to bypass it.

But Mr. Miller had a copy of the key. Your dad gave you the man’s address and when you showed up, Joel had groaned and ran a hand through his messy curls.

“I’m sorry, darlin’, I tried to tell your dad that I gave him that key back. But you’re welcome to come inside and wait until one of ‘em gets home from work?”

And that’s what you did. Waiting with Joel Miller turned into watching movies with Joel Miller, which turned into kissing Joel Miller, which turned into laying beneath Joel Miller and moaning his name as he pounded into you.

You saw him a couple more times during that first break, each time more explosive than the last. You went back to school with a sore pussy and a new number saved in your phone that you would call late at night, tucked under your covers in your dorm.

The secret hook ups and phone calls continued and every time you flew home to visit your parents, you’d slip into bed with Joel. Somewhere between nights on the phone and nights in his bed, you’d fallen in love. A fact that you accidentally let slip during a call, when you had to get going and you absentmindedly told the man, “Bye, love you!”

You remember freaking out about that for hours. But when he called you that evening, everything seemed perfectly fine. As you were saying goodbye, he asked, “Aren’t you forgettin’ somethin’, baby?”

That’s how you found out Joel Miller loved you, too.

“We’re very proud of her. Graduated with honors,” your dad chimes in.

“Yeah. Cum laude,” you say, emphasizing your mispronunciation of the phrase. Joel looks like he’s about to burst a blood vessel.

“I forgot somethin’ in the truck,” he mumbles. “Be back in a minute.”

He leaves without waiting for a response, a hitch in his step that makes you giggle. You continue to speak with your dad for a couple more minutes before you excuse yourself under the guise of getting another drink.

You grab two beers on your way out the front door, swinging them gently as you walk to the edge of your driveway and follow the sidewalk to where it ends near the woods that border your parent’s neighborhood.

A familiar black truck is tucked away in the tree line and you smile as you see Joel Miller standing there with his arms crossed, a stern expression on his handsome face. 

“You think you’re so fuckin’ funny,” he says as you draw near. He takes the beer bottles from your hands, setting them in the truck bed before tugging you close as you giggle.

“Absolutely hilarious,” you reply. His broad palm cups the back of your head, pulling your lips to his in a kiss so heated it makes your toes curl. His other hand grips your ass through the fabric of your dress.

“Wearin’ this little thing was the worst tease of all,” he growls. He hoists you up onto the truck tailgate, stepping between your legs. The added height of the truck brings his hips flush with your aching core, the hard length of him brushing against your clit and making you whimper. “Mmm, not so smart now, huh?”

“Joel,” you whine. His lips descend on yours, moving in practiced tandem, spit slick and so warm even the chill night air can’t bother you. “We don’t have much time,” you say between his drugging kisses, your words a little slurred and not from the buzz of beer in your veins.

“Don’t rush me, princess,” Joel says as he trails kisses down your neck, across your clavicle, to your shoulder. His hand grips your breast, tugging the neckline of your dress down to expose one of your nipples. He runs a thumb across the hard nub before chasing the sensation with his lips and tongue and teeth. You squirm against him as he gives your other breast the same attention.

Joel slides a hand up your leg, starting with a light trace of his fingertips at your ankle and ending with a harsh grip to your inner thigh, his thumb reaching to rub your clit through your panties. You whine again, high and needy, as he draws back to watch your face while he circles your clit. 

“So goddamn beautiful,” he says. His fingers shove aside your underwear, sliding through your slick folds. “Always so fuckin’ wet for me. Teasin’ me work you up that much?”

His groan echoes yours as he slips two fingers inside of you, curling them harshly as he pulls back before repeating the actions again and again, winding you so tight but backing off just as you’re about to explode that you want to cry in frustration.

“What’s the matter, baby? Don’t like a taste of your own medicine?” Joel teases. You pout and he chuckles, adding a swirl of his thumb on your clit to each thrust inside your cunt. “Don’t pout, you know I can’t say no to you when you look at me with those sweet little eyes.”

“I wanna come so bad, Joel, please,” you beg, rocking against his hand. 

“Since you asked so nicely,” he says, concentrating his efforts on your clit with incredible precision. You bite into his shoulder as you shatter, stifling your moan into that goddamn flannel that makes his biceps look so good. “That’s it, good girl, fuck you look good comin’ on my fingers. Can’t wait to get you in bed later.”

Joel slows his hand before withdrawing, bringing his fingers to his mouth and sucking them clean while you try to catch your breath. When he deems them clean he digs his fingers into your hair, tugging your head back to grace you with a filthy kiss that tastes like you and the beer he’d been drinking earlier. 

“I love you,” he says as he pulls away, lips tilted in a completely besotted smile that makes your heart beat triple time. It makes you so glad to be home, where your stolen moments are slowly turning into something more real, more permanent. 

“I love you, too.”

________ 

You drink your beers on the way back to the house, slipping back into the party just as your mom announces it’s time to cut the cake. You stand shoulder to shoulder with Joel as everyone sings an off key rendition of Happy Birthday to your dad, the older man smiling brightly at everyone.

He helps your mom pass out plates of dessert. When he reaches you and Joel he asks, “Did you get what you needed from your truck?”

Joel chokes on his bite of cake and you pat his back as he coughs. 

“Yeah, uh, yeah. I definitely did.”

Joel Miller taglist:

@huffle-punk @johnwatsn @hopelessromantic727  @whereasport @pedr0swh0r3 @yellingloudly @dragon-of-winterfelll @thedeadsingwithdirtintheirmouths @mydailyhyperfixations @liati2000 @ghostofjoharvelle @cutesyscreenname @morgaussy @letsgroovetonighttt @endlessthxxghts @fake-bleach @brilliantopposite187 @mattmurdock1021 @str84pedro @justsomeoneovertherainbow @loquaciousferret @milly-louise @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @kirsteng42 @caatheeriinee07 @eternallyvenus @midnightswithdearkatytspb @evyiione @leeeesahhh @tloubarbie @afterglowsb-tch13 @loveliestofthoughts @theviewfromtheritz @brittmb115 @uncassettodiricordi @pedritosgfreal @adriennemichelle98 @mxtokko @gingersince97 @switchbladedreamz @casa-boiardi @tonysterco @rvjaa @ladymunson @sexpoisoned @trisaratops-mcgee @decemberdolly @spookyemorockbabe @reader-without-a-story @katmoonz @simping-soldat @mswarriorbabe80 @orphanbird95 @shatteredbaby @tusk89 @gingersince97 @mssbridgerton @internetobsessed1234-blog @sloanexx @manazo @bigboiseason123 @bean-is-reading @darlingpedro @silkiers @pascals-catals-cat @bbyanarchist @therealcap @pedrosgrogu

Want more Joel Miller? Check out the master list

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #no use of y/n #joel tlou #joel x reader #joel miller fluff #dbf!joel #dbf!joel miller #age difference #joel miller fic request #ask request

[honeyedmiller]

Love Me Tender | Joel Miller

pairing: dbf!joel miller x f!reader

warnings: mentions of anxiety and anxiety attacks, depression, dbf!Joel, love and tender care, tooth-rotting fluff, age gap (Joel is in his 40’s, reader is in their mid 20’s), no outbreak!Joel, Joel helps reader take a bath, implied sexual relations but no smut or anything is mentioned in detail at all, mentions of lack of eating / eating food, no use of y/n. some of the descriptions of depression and anxiety in here may be triggering, so please either proceed w/ caution or ignore this one shot entirely. I love u all so much!

word count: 2.3k

synopsis: after a terrible mental week, joel checks in on you and makes sure you’re taken care of.

based on an anon request.

-

Your dad had been on a work trip all week, leaving you to fend for yourself while you were home alone. Not that you couldn’t particularly do that; you were in your twenties after all.

It’s times like this that you wish he didn’t leave, though. Your mental health had taken a plummet. It started with an anxiety attack that came upon you because you were sure no one was going to hire you, a fresh college graduate, and you’d be a burden to your father for living at home this long.

Your dad was a loving man and never gave any implication that you living back at home would be any problem whatsoever. Your mind was just on constant overdrive and one thing led to another, digging yourself further into a black hole of your overwhelming emotions.

When you usually get into funks like this, you tend to take a walk during the day to let the sun dose you of natural serotonin, but you couldn’t even get yourself to get out of bed lately. You couldn’t shower, couldn’t really eat, and the anxiety attacks were constant. Your mind just kept telling you you’re not good enough, you never will be. Your thoughts snowballed and spiraled from there.

And so, you laid in bed curled into a fetal position as tears streamed down your face. You couldn’t even bring yourself to answer your phone that had been ringing on your bedside table, so you simply just ignored it. You’d check in with your dad every day to let him know you were okay, but today, you just forgot.

You heard the front door of your house open, and your fight or flight should’ve been kicking in, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to care.

“Darlin’? It’s me, Joel.” You heard a voice call, and you relaxed just a little knowing it was just him. You didn’t answer him, but heard his heavy footsteps trudging up the stairs anyway.

You heard a soft knock on your bedroom door, and your muffled sobs are what made Joel come in. His heart shattered at the sight before him. He’s never seen you in such a state, and in this moment, wanted to do anything to help you.

“Oh, sweetheart, what’s wrong?” You felt the bed dip on the unoccupied side as Joel sat on it, reaching out to touch your arm gently.

You were so choked up that you couldn’t swallow your own sobs, and you shook your head as you tried to control your breathing.

“Talk to me, honey. I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s wrong.” His voice is gentle as his body maneuvers itself behind you. He’s laying down now and he wraps an arm around you, pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

“Mental health is shit.” You mumble, trying to calm yourself down. Joel’s touch alone seemed to relax you just a little, so maybe it was a good thing that he was there to check on you. Then you remembered how you haven’t showered for the past four days and how disarrayed your hair must’ve looked, and the bags under your eyes due to lack of sleep. Joel’s only ever seen you dolled up, or with minimal natural makeup on at the least.

You didn’t even want to begin what he thought of you now. He probably wouldn’t even want to touch you after this.

You shake the nasty thought away, finally letting your eyes meet his as he slightly hovers over you. His eyes are full of worry and sadness, because he’s truly never seen you with this pained look in your eyes.

“Why are you here, Joel?” You croak, sniffling abruptly.

“Your dad called me and said you hadn’t been answering your phone and asked me to check in on you. I also wanted to check in personally because you haven’t texted me all week, darlin’. I look forward to your sweet messages.” Joel coos, bringing his hand up to swipe his thumb across your tear-stained cheek.

“Oh.”

“Baby, c’mon. Sit up,” Joel helps you sit up, and you softly whine as you did so. Your head was throbbing from all of the crying you were doing. “Tell me what’s wrong, angel. Why’s it been bad?”

“‘M not good enough.” You managed to hiccup, burying your face in the sleeves of the oversized hoodie you wore.

Joel didn’t say anything at the moment, just let you ride out the waves of your emotions as he held you gently in his arms. After about ten minutes, you moved your sleeves away from your face and looked at him again. Joel tilted your chin up gently, smiling softly at you. He leaned down to kiss your forehead, letting his lips linger there for a second.

“You will always be good enough, darlin’.” He knows that his words may have not been super reassuring at the time, but you were grateful that he was trying.

“I’ve just been so stressed lately. Feels like I can’t do anything right in life right now. I’m a mess.” You mumble sadly, looking down at your knotted hands.

“Hey now, don’t say that. You’re doing amazing especially given the cards that you’ve been dealt. This is just a bump in the road, not a dead end.” Joel’s words warmed your heart a little, and you cracked the faintest smile.

“There’s that pretty smile I see wantin’ to shine through. C’mon baby. I know you don’t accept help from anyone and want to do everything on your own, but this doesn’t have to be one of those things. Please let me help you.”

You’d been so adamant about being independent and figuring everything out for yourself, but god, look where your stubbornness got you.

You nod your head slowly, and Joel helps you out of bed. He walks you to your bathroom and draws a warm bath. He helps you take off your sweater and your underwear, guiding you into the tub slowly. You hiss at your sore, achy body as you make contact with the nice warm water. You close your eyes for a second to relish in the feeling of warm comfort.

When you open your eyes again, Joel’s looking at you with concern. Not the usual lust-painted look he has when he sees you naked like this. This time, it was worry, heartbreak, maybe even love.

He tears his eyes away from your face before reaching for your shampoo bottle. He wets your hair then gently massages the shampoo into your scalp, and you close your eyes in a moment of pure bliss. You move your knees up to your chest and wrap your arms around your legs.

You suddenly felt super vulnerable in front of Joel as your hazy, clouded mind of emotions started to slowly clear up.

Joel didn’t say anything if he noticed that you were beginning to close yourself off again. He just finished rinsing and washing your hair in silence. He then began to wash your body, gently dragging the sudsy washcloth over your skin. You shuddered at his touch. It was nice to feel it in a way that had no sexual intent.

Once he was done washing your body, he rinsed you off and helped you out of the tub. He wrapped a towel around your body and wrung out your hair. He got the brush from your bathroom counter and brushed your hair out for you, leaving a gentle kiss at the crown of your head when he was done.

He ushered you slowly out of the bathroom and back into your bedroom. Your eyes met his through the full body mirror you had, and he gave you a soft smile. He went through your dresser drawers to pull out a clean outfit for you, which was a pair of sweats and an oversized t-shirt. He gently grabbed the hem of the towel and looked down at you, silently asking for permission. You nodded slowly and he unwrapped the towel from your body.

Your eyes met his through your mirror once more, and he sighed. “You’re so beautiful, angel. I really hope you know that.” He kissed your bare shoulder. His words were sincere, and the look in his eyes told you that he really meant it. He helped you into your sweats and t-shirt, then brought you back to your bed.

“You need sleep, sweetheart. C’mon. I’ll be right here. I ain’t goin’ anywhere.” Joel lays down with you, brushing his fingers through your damp hair.

Your eyes were heavy as you rested your head against his chest, the steady beat of his heart lulling you to sleep.

When you woke up, you noticed the sun had gone down. Joel was still underneath you, but his steady breathing assured you he fell asleep himself. It was nice to wake up in his arms, to be comforted like this by a man who was as tough and brooding as Joel.

He had a soft spot for you, and it genuinely warmed your heart.

You shifted your tired eyes to look up at him. He looked so peaceful sleeping; like he didn’t have a problem in the world and the usual furrow in his brow had completely dissipated. He looked younger this way. More carefree.

He must’ve sensed a shift in movement, because his eyes fluttered open and he looked down at you.

“Hey, sweetheart. How do you feel?” He asks, bringing a hand to cup your jaw gently. You give him a soft smile, bringing your own hand up to caress the stubble on his chin. He watched you carefully, wondering what was going through your mind.

“‘M okay. Just got a headache is all.” You said.

“You need to eat, darlin’.”

You nodded in knowing, but the thought of eating seemed so exhausting. You just wanted to sleep. But, you know Joel would put up a fight and make you eat something, even if it was small.

“I know.”

“I can fix something up for you, or we can order your favorite takeout.” He offers, gently bringing his lips to your forehead once more. You’d never felt so much tenderness and care from the man, so the fact that he was being as gentle as he was almost astonished you. You knew he was capable of doing so, but the only person he ever showed this side to was Sarah.

“A peanut butter and jelly sandwich is fine.” You reason, hoping he’ll agree. It might’ve not been much, but at least it’s something, right?

“Okay sweetheart. Let me make that for you and I’ll be right back, alright?”

You nod and shift your body so he can maneuver himself from under you to go downstairs and fix you up the sandwich. You laid back on your bed, feeling slightly better. Joel really didn’t need to do all of this for you, yet here he was… taking care of you. The thought nearly made you cry again, but you swallowed the lump in your throat.

You fished your phone off of your nightstand to see three missed calls and five texts from your dad. You sighed and texted him back, letting him know that you were okay and everything was fine. Your dad knew about your battle with anxiety and depression and how it could be sometimes, so as any dad would, he worried.

You’d always reassure him everything was fine, but deep down he knew it wasn’t all fine. He knew there was stuff you didn’t want to talk about, and thankfully, he didn’t push.

Your phone shortly buzzing brought you from your thoughts, with a text from your dad that simply said ‘love you, kiddo’ with a red heart emoji. You hearted the message before locking your phone and setting it on your nightstand once again.

Joel came into your room seconds after with a paper plate that contained a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with the crusts cut off and some pretzels on the side in one hand, and a glass of water in the other.

He hands you the plate as you sit up, and you quietly thank him. You ate slowly, and Joel watched you. You look up at him as you take a bite from your sandwich, and he clears his throat.

“You know, darlin’,” Joel toyed with his bottom lip between his teeth for a second, trying to gather his thoughts. “I may not know what you’re going through at the moment, but I can promise you I’ll always be there for you whenever you need me. Just say the word and I’m there.” Joel reassures, sitting on your bed once more.

“Thank you, Joel. I’m sorry you had to, uh, find me like this and… bathe me.” You look down at your plate, slowly swallowing the bite you were chewing.

“Don’t ever apologize, sweetheart. You needed to be taken care of. There’s nothing wrong with that. And there’s certainly nothing wrong with letting someone do so for you, okay?”

You find yourself leaning forward, touching your forehead with Joel’s. Your noses brush together for a second before he reaches up to cup your cheek and pull away from you. He’d love to kiss you, but he didn’t know if doing so in such a vulnerable time for you was really appropriate.

You felt his hesitancy, so you put your hand on the back of his neck to coax him closer to you, and your lips met his soft ones. It was a short and sweet kiss, something to say thank you a million times over. You weren’t very good with your words or sharing your emotions, so naturally, this was your way of doing so.

He smiled against your lips and kept you there for a second, just holding you and relishing in the sweet, loving, tender moment between you both.

And for that and the man that he is, you’ll be forever grateful for Joel.

tag list: @cool-iguana ily

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[chaotic-mystery]

girl idk if you write that kind of stuff but I’m actually sick with fever and literally can’t stop thinkin abt some fluff dbf joel comforting reader while she’s sick 🥲

like calling her or going visit her while her dad’s gone to cuddle and take care of her 🥹 that’d be so cute ffffuck😭😭😭

A/N:Babe it’s the way I almost wrote something like this this morning because I’m currently going through the SAME thing 😭

He’d call you on his break to see if you needed anything from the store, to see if you had plenty of soup and tissues and cough medicine. “Just unlock the front door for me baby, I’ll be there soon to take care of ya.”

He comes in and finds you under a mound of blankets on the couch but it feels like your deathbed and he’d kneel down and start to lift the blankets up slowly until he uncovers your face to see just how much life is gone from you currently. He grabs your face but doesn’t get close and says, “look at my girl, you don’t look like yourself. Ya hungry? I brought you some soup I can heat up if you want.”

And he tells you to stay there as he gets up off his knee and walks to the kitchen to make your soup and as it’s cooking he gets you some ice water in your water bottle and definitely wants to make sure your fever isn’t getting worse so he presses the inside of his wrist to your forehead many times. As he checks your temperature you notice he’s just staring at you, admiring how you look so pretty despite feeling like shit.

As soon as you’re done with your soup he sits on the couch and tells you to come lay on him, he wants to hold you. “What about work? You’re break is over soon” You ask before you choose to get cozy against him. It makes him laugh and he smooths over your hair behind your ear and says, “don’t even worry about it darlin. I took the afternoon off, so I’ve got until your dad comes home in a few hours” and the kiss he leaves on the crown of your head is enough to ease you to sleep.

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