oldsoul007

[oldsoul007]

Collide

joel miller x famous!reader

summary: A famous pop star and a reserved contractor find an unexpected connection when their paths cross at a concert, leading to a complicated and intense relationship despite their vastly different worlds.

a/n: 20 year age gap, suggestive scenes, kissing, fluff, teen Sarah, please request!!

joel miller masterlist

I was still coming down from the high of the show, the pulse of the bass lingering in my veins as I sat in my dressing room. My legs were stretched out over the couch, my body buzzing with exhaustion in the best way. Another sold-out night. Another crowd screaming my lyrics back at me.

Someone knocked, and my manager popped her head in.

“Your meet-and-greet winner is here—Sarah Miller.”

“Send her in,” I said, smiling.

The door swung open, and in walked a teenage girl, clutching a crinkled tour poster with wide, almost disbelieving eyes. I’d seen that look before—pure, unfiltered excitement, the kind that made all the work worth it.

But what I hadn’t seen before—what I wasn’t expecting—was the man following her.

Older. Tall. Broad shoulders filling the doorway, a flannel stretched over his chest, sleeves rolled up his forearms. His hair was dark but streaked with gray, and the scruff along his jaw was salt-and-pepper. He wasn’t moving like he was part of this world—he lingered, arms crossed, scanning the room with wary eyes like he wasn’t sure if he’d just stepped into a trap.

I was used to seeing dads at my shows, usually half-asleep or scrolling on their phones, counting down the minutes until they could leave. But this guy?

Something about him felt different.

Sarah, completely unaware of the shift in my focus, let out a sharp breath. “Oh my God,” she whispered. “I can’t believe I’m here.”

I grinned, forcing myself to drag my attention away from the man hovering behind her.

“Believe it, babe. You made it.” I patted the couch beside me. “Come sit. Let’s take some pictures.”

Sarah practically collapsed onto the seat, still clutching her poster like it might disappear if she let go. “You were amazing. Like, I love your albums, but live? Insane. And the outfits? Oh my God.”

“Thank you!” I laughed, flicking my hair over my shoulder. “Gotta give the people a show.”

I felt it then—that weight of a gaze pressing into me. Not from Sarah.

From him.

I glanced up, catching him watching me. Not in a creepy way. Not in a casual way, either. It was assessing, lingering, like he wasn’t expecting this from me. Like I wasn’t what he thought I’d be.

Sarah rolled her eyes dramatically. “That’s my dad Joel. He insisted on coming. Thought I’d get kidnapped or something.”

“Smart,” I murmured, turning my gaze back to him.

His eyes flicked to mine, and for a second, the room felt smaller.

“You didn’t have to stay back here,” I said, tilting my head. “Most parents just drop their kids off and wait outside.”

His jaw twitched, like he was debating if it was worth answering.

“Didn’t feel right leaving her alone,” he said finally. His voice was deep, rough—like gravel warmed by the sun.

I studied him, smirking a little. “Didn’t seem like you hated the show.”

Something flickered in his eyes—like he hadn’t expected me to notice him in the crowd, let alone call him out on it.

Sarah gasped dramatically. “Wait. Did you actually like it?” She turned to him, eyes wide. “Oh my God, Dad, are you a fan now?”

Joel—Joel. I liked the name—exhaled through his nose, shifting his weight. “Let’s not get carried away.”

I laughed. I liked this. The push and pull of it. He was clearly out of his element, but he wasn’t running from it either.

Sarah turned back to me, still buzzing. “He literally never listens to anything but old music. Like, dad music. So this is, like, a huge deal.”

I arched a brow at him. “Old music, huh? Let me guess—Springsteen? Tom Petty?”

Joel just stared at me. “Nothin’ wrong with Petty.”

I grinned. “Didn’t say there was.”

He held my gaze for a beat too long, something unreadable flickering in his expression before he looked away.

Sarah didn’t seem to notice any of it, too busy gushing about her favorite songs. I signed her poster, took a few selfies, and listened as she told me about how she and her best friend had waited all night to get tickets.

Eventually, my manager cleared her throat—a signal that it was time to wrap things up.

Sarah pouted but nodded, clutching her signed poster like a lifeline. “Thank you so much. This was, like, the best night of my life.”

“Anytime, babe,” I said, giving her a wink.

Then my eyes flickered back to Joel.

He lingered a half-second longer than he needed to, that same unreadable expression on his face. Like he wasn’t sure what the hell just happened here.

I smirked.

“See you around, Joel.”

His throat bobbed. His hands flexed at his sides. But he didn’t say anything—just gave me one last look before following Sarah out the door.

I watched them go, my body still humming—not just from the show, but from him.

Something told me this wasn’t the last time I’d be seeing Joel Miller.

—

I woke up to a pounding headache, the kind that made me instantly regret every single tequila shot from the night before. The afterparty had been a blur��flashing lights, too many hands grabbing mine, bodies pressed close, music so loud I could still feel the bass vibrating in my bones.

I groaned, rolling over in bed, burying my face in the pillows. My mouth was dry. My limbs ached. And judging by the way my phone was blowing up on the nightstand, I’d missed something important.

I squinted at the screen, ignoring the dozens of notifications, and instead focused on the text from my assistant:

“Contractors are at the house today. They need you to sign off on finishes. Be there by noon.”

I groaned again, rubbing my face. Noon? That might as well have been dawn.

But I couldn’t push it off any longer. The house was almost done, and I wanted to make sure every little detail was perfect before I moved in. So I forced myself out of bed, took the longest shower of my life, and threw on a pair of oversized sunglasses to hide the absolute disaster happening on my face.

By the time I pulled up to the house, it was already hot, the kind of Texas heat that made the air shimmer off the pavement. My head was still pounding as I stepped out of the car, tugging my hoodie up over my messy hair.

Then I saw them.

Two men on the porch, deep in conversation. One was younger, dark-haired, grinning as he gestured toward the house. The other…

Oh.

I froze.

It was him.

Joel.

He was standing there, arms crossed, that same unreadable expression on his face as he listened to the other guy talk. He looked just as solid as he had last night, except now he wasn’t in a dimly lit dressing room—he was in daylight, in his element, wearing a dark t-shirt that clung to the broad planes of his chest, work-worn jeans slung low on his hips. His sleeves were pushed up, revealing forearms dusted with hair, veins prominent beneath tanned skin.

Fuck.

I was hungover. I was in no shape for this kind of thing.

But he turned, catching sight of me, and for a second, I swore I saw something flicker in his expression. Recognition. Amusement. Maybe even something else.

The younger guy—who I was now guessing was his brother—looked between us, raising an eyebrow. “Well, damn. You’re the client?”

I pushed my sunglasses up, smirking. “Surprised?”

Joel exhaled through his nose, something like a chuckle under his breath. He shook his head slightly, looking down before glancing back up at me. “Didn’t expect to see you again so soon.”

I stepped closer, my headache momentarily forgotten. “Yeah? You’re not exactly my usual demographic either.”

Joel’s jaw ticked. He shifted his weight, hands resting on his hips. “That what you call it?”

I let my eyes flicker over him—just briefly, just enough for him to feel it. “You tell me.”

His throat bobbed, but he didn’t answer.

His brother, though, was eating this up. He let out a low whistle, grinning between us. “Alright, what am I missin’ here?”

I smirked. “Your brother was at my show last night.”

The younger man lit up. “Oh, no shit.” He turned to Joel, grinning. “Man, you didn’t tell me you were a fan.”

Joel exhaled sharply. “Jesus Christ.”

I laughed, biting my lip, watching the way his jaw clenched. He wasn’t flustered, not exactly. But he was… affected. And I liked that.

“Tommy,” Joel muttered, clearly done with this conversation. “Go check the tile in the kitchen.”

Tommy—who now had a name—was still grinning as he backed away. “Oh, I’ll check the tile, alright.”

When he was gone, I turned back to Joel, crossing my arms.

“So. You do this for a living?”

Joel nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah. Been doin’ contracting work a long time.”

I let my gaze drift around the house, imagining him working here—his hands on the walls, the floors, every little detail touched by him.

“Guess that means you’ll be around for a while.”

Joel met my eyes, something heavy in his gaze. “Looks that way.”

The air felt thick, the heat between us stretching, pulling, tightening.

I smirked. “Good.”

Then I turned and walked inside, knowing full well he was watching me go.

—

I stepped into the house, my heels clicking on the polished floors, the cool air inside a welcome relief from the heat outside. Joel followed me, his footsteps steady and even behind me, but it was his presence that made the room feel smaller. He was still there, lingering just at the edge of my periphery as I looked around the space.

“So, what do you think?” I asked, motioning to the wide open spaces, the unfinished but impressive features—high ceilings, sleek lines, all of it still a work in progress.

Joel took a slow turn, eyes scanning the room. “It’s big,” he said. “I mean, damn. You’re gonna need a lotta furniture to fill this place.”

I chuckled, shrugging. “I’ll figure it out.” I didn’t mind the emptiness. I liked the potential of it. The house was a blank slate, just like the life I’d started to build here.

“Texas sure knows how to do things big,” he muttered under his breath, walking over to inspect the kitchen island.

I caught the slight surprise in his voice, and it made me pause. “You surprised?”

He turned to face me, his brows raised slightly. “Guess I didn’t expect someone like you to be from here.”

I tilted my head, genuinely curious now. “Someone like me?”

He shrugged, his eyes flickering to mine before he looked back down at the stone countertop, his hands moving slowly over the surface. “I dunno. You’re, uh… different. Thought people from Texas were more…” He trailed off, not quite sure how to finish the thought.

“More what?” I prodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of my lips.

He rubbed his jaw, clearly trying to avoid saying something that might come out wrong. “I dunno. More country, maybe. More… traditional.”

I raised an eyebrow, amused. “You think I’m not ‘traditional’?”

Joel shifted uncomfortably. “No, it’s not that.” He looked like he was realizing how much trouble he’d gotten himself into with his words. “I’m just sayin’, Texas is a big place. People think it’s all rodeos and oil rigs and cowboy hats.”

I laughed, walking over to a window that looked out over the land. The sunlight was softer now, casting a warm glow on the fields beyond. The house felt like a fortress here, its high walls keeping out everything I didn’t want. But in Texas, even the wide-open spaces felt like they were mine.

“Well, I grew up here,” I said, looking out at the view, my voice softening a little. “I didn’t think I could build a house anywhere else. Texas is home.”

Joel stayed silent for a moment, the weight of my words hanging in the air. Then, when he spoke again, his voice was quieter. “I get that. Texas has a way of sticking with you, doesn’t it?”

I nodded, turning to face him. “Yeah. You can take the girl out of Texas, but…” I let the sentence hang, a half-smile on my lips.

He met my gaze then, something almost reflective in his eyes. “But you can’t take Texas out of the girl.”

I let out a soft laugh, relieved that he understood. That we didn’t need to say everything. I’d always known that about Texas—that it was big, that it was loud, but also that it was home in a way I couldn’t explain to anyone who didn’t feel the same pull.

“So, where are you from?” I asked, stepping closer to him, wanting to shift the conversation away from the weight of what I’d said.

He paused, looking down for a second, like he wasn’t sure if he should say. Finally, he met my eyes, his expression shifting to something more grounded. “Came from a small town outside Austin. Grew up on a farm, learned the trade from my old man.”

I smiled. “Sounds like a different world than this.”

“It was,” he agreed. His gaze drifted toward the large windows, his tone thoughtful. “But Texas has a way of making you feel like you belong, no matter where you come from.”

There was something in his voice, something that made me pause. He wasn’t just talking about the land anymore. He was talking about Texas—and maybe even about himself, too.

For a second, the tension between us shifted. It wasn’t just about the house, or the project we were both now a part of—it was about something deeper. Something about us both finding our places, making a home.

I broke the silence, clearing my throat. “Guess that’s what makes it so special. Doesn’t matter how far you go, you always find your way back.”

Joel looked at me, his expression unreadable, but there was something lingering there. Something unsaid. He cleared his throat. “Guess you’re right.”

I smiled, the weight of the moment fading into something lighter, easier.

But as we stood there, looking at each other in the stillness of that unfinished house, I knew one thing for sure—Texas wasn’t just a place. It was a feeling. And for the first time, I wasn’t sure I wanted to leave it behind. Not now. Not ever.

—

The days passed in a blur of emails, meetings, and decisions about finishes and fixtures, but my mind kept wandering back to that house. The house that was almost finished, but not quite. Every day, I’d get updates from my manager or the construction crew about progress, but I couldn’t stop thinking about the two men working on it.

Joel and his brother, Tommy.

They were good at what they did—no surprise there.

Every time I visited, I saw them in action, meticulously working on the smallest details. Joel was particularly focused, his movements efficient but thoughtful, like he took pride in making everything just right.

I found myself going there more often than I needed to, and I could feel it—something shifting in the air between Joel and me. It wasn’t obvious, but it was there—the lingering glances, the moments where we found ourselves alone, if only for a few seconds, before either Tommy or one of the other workers came around the corner.

I’d always been good at reading people, and Joel didn’t seem like the type to show much of his cards. But there were times when our eyes met across a room, a long, drawn-out moment where neither of us looked away.

Once, I was standing by the kitchen, debating whether the granite countertops I’d chosen would clash with the cabinets. Joel had been in the other room, but when I glanced over, there he was—watching me. Not just looking, but studying me. The way his gaze lingered made my heart skip a beat, even though I was trying to act like I didn’t notice.

I forced myself to focus on the materials. “What do you think about the backsplash?” I asked, knowing I needed to fill the silence.

Joel shifted, scratching the back of his neck before walking over, his boots thudding softly against the floor. “The tile’s fine,” he said, his voice low. “But I’d go with something a little more subdued. You don’t need to compete with the countertops.”

I nodded, stepping back to look at it through his eyes. “Subdued. Got it.”

I could feel him so close now, his body just a breath away, the heat from him lingering in the space between us. But before I could respond, Tommy rounded the corner, grinning. “You two makin’ progress in here, or just talkin’ shop?”

I shot Tommy a playful smile, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that Joel was still standing a little too close, like he didn’t want to walk away. I ignored it, focusing on Tommy instead, but there was no denying the tension simmering beneath the surface.

The next few days felt like that—little moments.

I’d walk through the house, discussing where I wanted certain pieces, and Joel would be there, eyes on me just a little too long. I’d catch his gaze in the reflection of a window, or he’d be watching me from across the room when I wasn’t looking, and when I did catch him, he’d quickly look away.

Tommy, oblivious to the energy between us, was always there too, cracking jokes and making the work feel light. It was clear that he and Joel were close, and I appreciated that—his easygoing attitude balanced Joel’s more serious demeanor.

But still, there were those moments when it was just Joel and me, alone.

Like the time I walked into the garage, planning to check on the paint job in the hallway. Joel had been working on some cabinetry, and when he saw me enter, he set down his tools and wiped his hands on a rag. “Hey,” he said, his voice gravelly, like he hadn’t been talking much today.

“Hey,” I said, trying to act casual, but the moment stretched longer than it should have. I could feel the distance between us closing. He was so close now that I could smell the faint scent of wood and sawdust on his skin, and I couldn’t help but notice how good he looked. It was the kind of ruggedness that worked on him—like he didn’t have to try, but still somehow looked effortlessly put together.

“I was thinking about the flooring,” I started, trying to steer the conversation to something safe as my heart raced in my chest. But the words felt stupid in my mouth when his eyes were on me like that. Like they were seeing right through me.

“Flooring’s good,” he said, leaning against the workbench. He crossed his arms, and his gaze dipped just slightly before meeting my eyes again. “You just need to decide what you want the most. It’s your house.”

His words felt more like a challenge than advice.

I took a slow breath, swallowing hard. “I know. I just… want it to be perfect.”

Joel’s expression softened. “It will be.” He stepped forward then, closer than he had before. So close I could feel his presence in a way that was more than physical. “You’ve got a good eye. I don’t think you’ll be disappointed with anything you choose.”

I could feel my pulse quicken at the way he was looking at me, the weight of the moment too intense for me to shake off. There was an invisible line between us now, a line I wasn’t sure if I should cross, but I couldn’t look away.

Just as the air thickened, the sound of Tommy’s voice came from the other room. “Yo, Joel! We need your help with these measurements.”

Joel exhaled, breaking the spell. He stepped back, his gaze still lingering on mine for just a moment longer before he turned and walked toward the doorway.

“Guess I better get to work,” he said, his voice quieter than before, like it had been touched by something.

I stood there for a beat, trying to compose myself, but my heart was still pounding in my chest. I couldn’t deny it anymore.

The tension between us was undeniable, and I wasn’t sure how much longer we could ignore it.

—

Joel was kneeling by the baseboards, smoothing out the last coat of sealant with practiced precision. The steady scrape of the tool against the wood filled the quiet space, but his attention kept flicking toward me as I sat cross-legged on the floor nearby, flipping through fabric samples for the living room.

“You know,” he said, finally breaking the silence, “I still don’t get it.”

I looked up. “Get what?”

He rested his forearm on his knee, tool still in hand, and nodded toward me. “All this.” He gestured vaguely around the room, but I knew he didn’t mean the house. “You’ve got people screaming your name, selling out arenas… but here you are, sitting on the floor, stressin’ over couch cushions.”

I laughed softly and set the samples down. “Yeah, well… those arenas don’t exactly help me figure out if sage green’s gonna make me regret all my life choices.”

He huffed a quiet laugh, but his eyes didn’t leave mine. “Still. Must be kinda… wild. All that attention.”

I leaned back on my hands, glancing toward the window where the late afternoon sun poured in, warm and golden. “Yeah. It is. It still doesn’t feel real most days.”

His brow furrowed slightly, like he was trying to understand. “What part?”

“All of it.” I shrugged, feeling the familiar wave of disbelief wash over me. “I mean, I was just a kid with a guitar writing sad songs in my bedroom. And now… there are people who know those songs. Who sing ‘em back to me. Who care enough to show up.” I shook my head with a small, disbelieving smile. “It’s insane.”

Joel was quiet for a moment. “You ever get used to it?”

“Not really.” I met his gaze again. “And honestly, I don’t think I want to. I don’t ever wanna stand on stage and not feel completely floored by the fact that people gave me a night of their lives. You know?”

He nodded slowly, his eyes softening. “Yeah. I get that.”

“Like… I’m just grateful, you know? For all of it. The chaos, the weirdness, the fact that I can make music and it actually… matters to someone. It could all go away tomorrow, and I’d still feel lucky that it happened at all.”

His mouth quirked into a faint smile. “Yeah, well… reckon that attitude’s why they show up in the first place.”

My cheeks warmed, and I ducked my head with a laugh. “Okay, stop, you’re gonna make me weird about it.”

He chuckled, shaking his head as he went back to the baseboards. “Just callin’ it like I see it, superstar.”

“Superstar,” I repeated with a groan. “God, don’t let Sarah hear you say that.”

“Oh, too late,” he said, smirking. “She already thinks you hung the moon.”

I smiled at that. “Yeah, well… don’t tell her, but I think she might be cooler than me.”

He didn’t look up, but his voice softened. “Yeah. She’s got pretty good taste, though.”

And just like that, the air shifted—just a little. And I couldn’t help but wonder if he realized he was included in that.

—

The clock on the wall read 9:42 p.m., and Joel Miller was still here. I could hear the faint scrape of a utility knife coming from the other side of the room, followed by a frustrated sigh.

I padded down the hall, leaning against the doorway to find him crouched near the kitchen island, squinting at something on the floor. His flannel sleeves were rolled up, forearms dusted with sawdust, hair slightly disheveled from the long day.

“Everything okay?” I asked.

Joel exhaled through his nose and sat back on his heels, turning to look at me. “Yeah, just… missin’ a piece I need to finish this trim.” He ran a hand through his hair, leaving it even messier than before. “I’ll go grab it from the hardware store real quick. Be outta your hair after that.”

I smiled, crossing my arms. “Yeah, you better. Don’t you have a daughter to get home to?”

He huffed a laugh, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Yeah, yeah. Sarah’ll be fine. She’s probably still on the phone with her friend complainin’ about algebra.”

“Smart girl.” I hesitated for a second before straightening. “You mind if I tag along?”

His eyebrows lifted slightly. “To the hardware store?”

“Yeah.” I shrugged. “I’ve been cooped up here all day. A quick trip sounds nice. Plus… I’ve never been to a hardware store this late. Kinda curious what kind of characters we’ll run into.”

He chuckled under his breath. “All right, suit yourself. Just don’t blame me when it’s not as exciting as you’re imaginin’.”

The hardware store was exactly as I’d pictured it—rows of tools, pipes, paint cans, and that faint metallic smell that reminded me of childhood. My dad used to drag me to places like this on weekends, letting me pick out paint colors for walls that never actually got painted.

Joel walked ahead of me, eyes scanning the aisles like he’d been born here. I followed, occasionally stopping to run my fingers along unfamiliar tools.

“What’s this?” I held up something that looked like a cross between scissors and a medieval torture devil.

He glanced over his shoulder. “Tin snips.”

“Ah.” I turned them in my hand. “For… snipping tin, I assume?”

“Smart girl.”

I gave him a mock glare. “Watch it, Miller.”

He smirked and kept walking, turning into the next aisle. I followed, catching up just as he crouched down to grab a small package from the bottom shelf.

“There she is,” he muttered, holding it up.

“Thrilling.” I clapped my hands together. “That was… what, a seven out of ten on the adventure scale?”

He chuckled. “More like a two.”

“Well, maybe next time we’ll hit up the plumbing section. Really go wild.”

His eyes met mine, and we both broke into laughter. I felt the warmth of it spread through me, the ease of being around him so simple and effortless. I didn’t notice the kid with the phone a few aisles over, or the faint click of a camera shutter.

Joel’s pov

I had barely managed to get some sleep after the late-night trip to the hardware store with y/n. The drive had been strange, in the best way possible. It was the kind of moment where everything felt familiar and carefree, yet I couldn’t shake the weight of the unspoken tension between us. The way she looked at me last night—so open, so real—made me feel like I was standing on the edge of something I wasn’t sure I was ready for. But I couldn’t ignore the way she made me feel, how easy it was to be around her.

This morning, I had to snap myself out of those thoughts. The quiet of the house was a bit too loud as I stepped into the kitchen, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep. Sarah was still asleep in her room, thank God. I had a few hours to get myself together before the day really started.

That’s when I heard her.

“DAD!” Sarah’s voice rang out from the living room, startling me. I rubbed my face and made my way down the hall, already bracing myself for whatever was coming.

When I reached the living room, Sarah was standing there, phone in hand, eyes wide with excitement. She was practically bouncing on her heels, her face flushed with energy. I wasn’t sure what was going on, but I knew I wasn’t going to like it.

“Look what I found!” she exclaimed, holding up her phone, the screen pointing directly at me. I squinted at it, immediately regretting the choice.

There was a picture of y/n and me from last night at the hardware store. It was a candid shot—y/n had been laughing, her head thrown back, her eyes sparkling in the dim light. I was standing close to her, my face right beside hers, both of us sharing a moment that, to anyone else, probably looked… well, too intimate. Like we were more than we were.

I could feel my heart rate picking up, my stomach knotting. This wasn’t how I wanted Sarah to see this. I wasn’t ready to explain anything yet, least of all to her. I didn’t want to complicate things between me and Lauren, but now… now it was out in the open, whether I was ready or not.

Sarah’s eyes were wide with excitement, but there was a hint of curiosity too, like she was waiting for me to say something.

“Dad, is that you and… y/n?” she asked, her voice laced with both excitement and surprise. “You guys look like you’re having so much fun. What’s going on? Were you two hanging out last night?”

I felt the heat rising in my face, and I could tell that I was doing my best to hide the anxiety gnawing at me. This was not the conversation I’d planned on having today.

“It’s not what you think, Sarah,” I said, my voice low, trying to keep it casual, trying to keep things under control. “We were just getting somethings for her house. It’s no big deal.”

Her expression didn’t change. She wasn’t buying it. “No big deal?” she repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Dad, you’re literally standing there, like, super close to her. You two look like you’re having the best time. What’s going on? Are you two, like, friends or—”

“Sarah,” I cut her off, trying not to sound too defensive. “I know how it looks, but I swear it’s just a friendly moment. We were just… talking. That’s all.”

But she wasn’t convinced. “Talking? Dad, I’ve never seen you look at someone like that before.”

The weight of her words hit me harder than I expected. I wasn’t sure why it stung so much, but it did. Sarah wasn’t wrong. There was something between me and y/n. I wasn’t blind to it. But this? This was complicated.

I ran a hand through my hair, trying to collect my thoughts. “It’s nothing to worry about,” I said, my voice steady, but the truth was that I wasn’t even sure if I believed myself. “She’s just… she’s a friend, Sarah. That’s it.”

But the way she was looking at me told me she wasn’t buying it, not for a second. “Dad, you’re really bad at lying,” she said with a laugh, but there was a sharpness in her tone. “I’m just saying, you’re looking at her like… like you really like her. You should be honest with me.”

It wasn’t the words, but the tone—the way she said it, like she saw right through me—that made me feel exposed. I had always prided myself on being able to manage my emotions, to keep my thoughts locked up tight. But with Sarah, with y/n… it was becoming harder and harder to hide what I felt.

I sighed, trying to soften the tension. “Look, Sarah… I don’t want to get into this right now, okay? Just trust me when I say that nothing’s going on. I care about you, and that’s my focus right now.”

She seemed to consider my words for a moment before giving me a knowing look. “Fine, but just so you know, Dad…” She smirked. “I think you really like her.”

My stomach twisted at her words, but I tried to push the feeling down. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, my voice a little too forceful, but I wasn’t ready to dive deeper into this yet.

Sarah looked at me, her eyes narrowing just slightly. She wasn’t giving up that easily, but thankfully, she dropped the subject. “Whatever, Dad. But if you do start liking her for real, you better tell me first. Got it?”

“Got it,” I said, giving her a reassuring smile, though I wasn’t sure if I was reassuring myself or her.

She shrugged and walked off, heading back to her room with the picture still in her hand. My heart was still pounding in my chest. It wasn’t just the photo that had me rattled—it was the truth that I wasn’t sure how to confront yet.

Was I starting to like y/n? The answer was obvious. And yet, as I stood there in the silence of the house, I couldn’t figure out if I was ready to admit it, especially not to Sarah.

The question lingered, unanswered, in my mind. But one thing was clear: this was just the beginning. And it wasn’t going to be easy to figure out where it would go from here.

—

Joel was different the next time I saw him.

He showed up like usual—punctual, focused, still dressed in that same worn flannel and faded jeans. But the easy warmth that usually hung between us was gone. The quiet jokes, the teasing smiles, the way his eyes would linger just a second longer than necessary—none of it showed up today.

He barely looked at me.

I tried to ignore it at first. Thought maybe he was just tired or preoccupied with work. He and Tommy had been running around nonstop to finish the details on the house. But when I brought him a coffee mid-morning and he mumbled a polite “thanks” without even glancing up, my stomach twisted.

Something was wrong. And whatever it was, it had to do with me.

I hovered in the doorway while he knelt by the fireplace, adjusting the custom mantel we’d argued about for a full twenty minutes last week. “Okay,” I finally said, gripping the edge of the doorframe. “What’s going on?”

Joel didn’t answer right away. He kept working like I hadn’t spoken at all. I watched the muscle in his jaw tighten as he used his level to check the alignment.

“Joel.” My voice softened. “Talk to me.”

He sighed through his nose, set down the tool, and wiped his hands on his jeans before finally turning toward me. His face was unreadable. “Did you see the picture?”

The picture.

My chest tightened. “What picture?”

His eyes flicked toward mine like he didn’t believe me. “The one from the hardware store.” His voice was low, careful. “The one that ended up all over the damn internet.”

The words hit me like cold water. “Wait. What?”

“You really didn’t see it?”

“No.” My heart started to race. “Joel, I don’t go looking for that stuff. What—what picture are you talking about?”

He rubbed a hand over his face and pulled out his phone. After a few swipes, he turned the screen toward me.

There it was. The photo. Us, standing in that stupid hardware store aisle, laughing like we didn’t have a care in the world. From this angle, it did look… cozy. Familiar. Like we were something we weren’t.

God.

I felt my stomach drop through the floor. “Shit. I—Joel, I had no idea.”

He lowered the phone, his jaw tight. “Yeah, well… Sarah found it this morning.”

I blinked. “Sarah?”

He gave a short nod, eyes hard. “She came runnin’ downstairs with her phone, askin’ me if I was ‘dating a pop star.’ Thought it was funny.” His mouth twisted like the word tasted bitter. “Didn’t feel so funny to me.”

The guilt hit me hard and fast. I took a step toward him. “Joel, I’m so sorry. I swear, I didn’t know someone took that picture. I didn’t mean for it to—”

“I know you didn’t,” he cut in. His tone was sharp but tired. “But it happened anyway, didn’t it?”

The truth of it settled like a stone in my chest. He was right. Intentions didn’t erase the fact that his life—his daughter’s life—had just been yanked into my world without warning. Without permission.

“Look,” I said, voice cracking slightly. “I can call my manager. Get them to reach out, try to take it down.”

He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. Once it’s out there, it’s out there.”

The silence that followed was thick and suffocating.

I wrapped my arms around myself and swallowed against the lump in my throat. “Joel… I’m really, really sorry.”

He stood there for a long moment, eyes dropping to the floor like he was weighing something.

“I know you are,” he said finally. “But I can’t let Sarah get caught up in all this. I just… I can’t.”

His voice was low, almost gentle, but it still hit like a gut punch.

Because “all this” was me.

And no matter how much I cared about him—how much I liked him, admired him, wanted to be around him—this was the part I could never change. The part I hated. The part where my life bled into someone else’s without permission. Where someone like Joel Miller—normal, grounded, fiercely protective of his daughter—would look at me and realize that whatever this had been?

It wasn’t worth it.

I gave a small nod and forced a weak smile. “Yeah. I get it.”

Joel didn’t say anything else. He just gave a tight nod, turned back to the fireplace, and got back to work.

And I stood there for a few more seconds before heading upstairs, heart heavy, throat burning.

I didn’t cry.

But God, I wanted to.

The next few days passed in a blur.

Joel came and went with Tommy to finish the last of the work on the house, but things between us were different now—strained, distant. He didn’t avoid me completely, but he didn’t go out of his way to talk to me either. No more lingering conversations about the best gas station snacks. No more teasing glances when I asked dumb questions about tools. Just quick, professional exchanges about the house.

It shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did.

I tried to stay busy. Studio calls, interviews, brand meetings—they all demanded my attention, and I gave it to them. I smiled, answered questions about upcoming music, joked about how I was “just a Texas girl at heart.” But the whole time, the memory of that picture, of Sarah’s name on Joel’s lips, sat heavy in my chest.

It was an accident. I hadn’t asked for it. And yet, somehow, I still felt like I’d broken something.

By the fourth day, I’d had enough.

That evening, just after the sun dipped below the horizon, I heard the familiar rumble of Joel’s truck out front. I didn’t overthink it. I walked downstairs, pulled open the front door before he could reach it, and stepped outside.

Joel stopped short on the porch, toolbox in hand. His eyes flicked to mine, guarded as ever. “Evenin’.”

“Hey.” I crossed my arms, ignoring the way my heart jumped just from standing this close to him. “You got a minute?”

He hesitated. “Kinda gotta finish the bathroom grout—”

“It can wait.”

His brows lifted slightly at the sharpness in my voice. He set the toolbox down with a sigh. “All right.”

I leaned against the porch railing and took a breath. “Look… I’m sorry about that picture. I know it put you in a bad spot with Sarah, and I swear I didn’t know it was being taken. But I can’t keep pretending everything’s fine when you’ve barely looked at me all week.”

Joel shifted his weight, rubbing the back of his neck. “I ain’t been avoidin’ you.”

“Yeah, you have.” I tilted my head. “You’ve been avoiding me since the picture thing. And I get it—it sucks. You didn’t ask to get dragged into all that. But I thought we were at least friends.”

He exhaled heavily and looked down at the porch. “We are.”

“Then act like it.” I gestured toward the front door. “I feel like you’ve been treating me like I’m radioactive or something.”

His mouth twitched, not quite a smile. “Ain’t you, like, a global sensation or whatever? Radioactive sounds about right.”

I let out a sharp laugh. “Seriously?”

He finally met my eyes. There was something softer there now, something that chipped away at the tension. “I dunno, y/n,” he said after a moment. “I guess I just… got caught off guard by all of it.”

“The picture?”

He shook his head slowly. “Nah. More like… what it stirred up.”

I froze. “What does that mean?”

He dragged a hand down his face, clearly frustrated. “I mean… I spend most of my time tryin’ to keep life simple. Easy. Predictable. And then I meet you, and suddenly there’s a picture of us floatin’ around the internet, and Sarah’s gigglin’ about it, and Tommy’s givin’ me shit every day about how I ‘can’t handle all that.’” He let out a humorless laugh. “And the worst part is, he’s probably right.”

My heart stuttered. “Why?”

Joel’s eyes caught mine, steady and unguarded for the first time in days. “Because I’ve been in denial about this whole thing since the minute I saw you onstage.”

My breath caught.

There it was. No dancing around it this time. No quiet looks or lingering glances. He’d said it out loud.

“You’ve been… what?” I asked, voice unsteady.

He gave a small shake of his head and ran a hand through his hair. “Pretendin’ it don’t mean anything,” he said softly. “That you’re just some client and I’m just here to finish a job. But I’m lyin’ to myself.”

The air between us thickened. I gripped the railing so tightly my knuckles ached. “Joel…”

“I know,” he said, cutting me off. His voice was rough. “It’s complicated. Sarah, my job… your life, your whole… world.” He huffed out a breath and glanced at me. “I just… needed you to know I ain’t avoidin’ you because I don’t care. I’m avoidin’ you ‘cause I care more than I should.”

The confession knocked the air out of me.

I could’ve kissed him then. Could’ve stepped forward and closed the gap, erased every last inch of distance. But instead, I smiled softly and reached out, brushing my fingers lightly over his forearm. “You think too much, Miller.”

Joel let out a low chuckle and shook his head. “You don’t think enough.”

“Maybe.” I squeezed his arm once before dropping my hand. “But I’m not scared of complicated.”

It was one of those rare moments-those fleeting ones where everything felt like it was shifting into place.

The house was still a mess, not completely finished, but it felt intimate, in its own way. The lights were dimmed, casting a soft glow over the room, and for some reason, everything else seemed to fade away.

The music playing softly from a Bluetooth speaker in the corner was barely audible. It was just us, in this moment, and the world outside didn't matter.

Joel's eyes were on me, steady and intense, like he was studying every inch of my face. There was something in the way he looked at me-something that had been building for weeks, simmering beneath the surface.

I stepped closer, drawn to him. Every part of me wanted to bridge the distance between us, to finally give in to whatever this was, this magnetic pull that had been growing since the moment we met.

"You know," I started, my voice softer than usual,"I'm really glad you're working on my house. It feels... different when you're here."

His gaze flickered down to my lips for a fraction of a second, and that was enough. My heart skipped a beat.

"Yeah?" he said, his voice low, his usual confidence faltering slightly. "I'm glad to be here, too."

I could feel the tension in the air, thick and tangible now. We were standing close, too close, but neither of us was stepping away. I could hear my own breathing, shallow and quick, as if my body was already betraying me, telling me what I already knew.

I could feel the heat from his body, the warmth of his breath, and I knew-we both knew-that something was about to happen.

I took another step forward, my fingers brushing lightly against his arm. He didn't pull away. Instead, he reached up, his hand hovering near my face, like he wasn't sure if he should touch me.

"You're so..." he started, but his words trailed off.

I didn't need him to finish. I could feel it-the pull, the magnetism. I leaned in just a little bit more, my lips barely brushing against his ear as I whispered, "I've wanted this for a while Joel."

The words hung in the air between us, thick and heavy. For a second, I thought I saw his resolve crack. His eyes softened, the sharpness from before blurring into something warmer, something more vulnerable.

He stepped in closer, his breath on my neck sending a shiver through me. His lips were inches away from mine, and I could feel the moment hanging on a thread.

Then, just as our lips were about to meet, the door slammed open.

"Hey, Joel! I need your-" Tommy's voice came booming from the hallway, interrupting everything.

I froze, and so did Joel. His eyes darted away from me, that familiar guarded expression slipping back into place.

He stepped back, like he was trying to pull himself together, but I could see the way his hands were trembling slightly, betraying the tension that had been building between us.

Tommy appeared in the doorway, blissfully unaware of the moment he'd just interrupted. "Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to... well, yeah, just—" He cleared his throat, clearly sensing the awkward energy. "I need your help with something in the garage."

Joel let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping.

He looked at me, and for a split second, I could have sworn I saw regret in his eyes-like he was frustrated, too.

"Alright, Tommy. Just give me a minute," Joel muttered, walking past me without another word.

I stayed where I was, my body still buzzing from what had almost happened. The connection between us hadn't dissipated-it lingered, humming between us like an electric current.

Tommy was already halfway down the hall before Joel caught up with him, offering me a brief, almost apologetic glance.

I stood there in the dim light of the living room, my heart racing. I didn't know if I was more frustrated or relieved.

But deep down, I knew one thing for sure: this wasn't over. Not by a long shot.

—

The next day, the air felt thick with tension, like something had shifted between us and I wasn't sure how to navigate it. I hadn't heard from Joel since last night, but I couldn't stop thinking about that almost-kiss. The way everything felt in that moment-like we were so close to crossing a line that neither of us fully understood. It lingered in my mind, that charged silence, the unspoken words that seemed to hover in the air between us.

I'd tried to go about my day, tried to keep myself busy with meetings and interviews, but all I could think about was Joel. The warmth of his touch, the way his eyes had looked at me as he'd almost kissed me-like he wanted to but couldn't let himself. It was maddening.

Finally, after hours of pretending like everything was normal, Joel showed up at the house. He was here to do some more work with Tommy, but I could tell from the moment he walked through the door that something was different between us.

There was a heaviness to his steps, a tightness in his jaw that made the air feel suffocating.

I was in the living room when he came in, and I knew this was it-the moment where we would either pretend it hadn't happened or face the truth of what had been building between us for so long.

He cleared his throat, a little awkwardly, as he stopped just inside the door.

"Hey," he said, his voice lower than usual, like he wasn't sure how to start. "I... I wanted to talk about last night."

I glanced up from where l'd been sitting, my heart instantly picking up pace. "Yeah?" | tried to keep my voice casual, but there was no hiding the fact that I was still processing everything that had happened.

Joel ran a hand through his hair, clearly uneasy.

"Look, I... I just want to say that what happened-what almost happened-was a mistake. I don't want you to think I'm some kind of... I don't know, some guy who takes advantage of situations like that."

My chest tightened, and I stood up from the couch, crossing the room to face him. "Joel, it wasn't a mistake," I said softly, but firmly. "You don't have to apologize for it."

He looked at me, his brows furrowing, like he was trying to figure out if I was being serious. "Y/n, it was a mistake," he repeated, his voice a little more strained now. "I mean. you're... you're so young, and I'm-"

I cut him off, not wanting to hear him talk down to himself like that. "I'm not a kid, Joel," I said, the words coming out sharper than I meant. "And I don't need you to protect me from myself."

He looked taken aback, clearly not expecting my response, but there was something else in his eyes-something softening, something that told me he wasn't as sure about his apology as he was trying to make it seem.

"I just didn't want you to think I-" he started again, but I took a step closer, interrupting him once more.

"No, Joel. I've been in this world, l've dealt with a lot more than people think. And you..." I paused, looking up at him, feeling the weight of everything that had been building between us.

"You're not just some guy l've been casually seeing. There's something here. I feel it, and I know you do too."

His eyes softened at my words, and for the first time, I could see the walls he'd been building around himself start to crack. He let out a deep breath, his hands running over his face as if he was trying to come to terms with the fact that he couldn't deny what was happening between us anymore.

"Y/n..." He stopped, the words catching in his throat. "I don't know what this is, but I'm trying to figure it out."

"Me too," I whispered, finally closing the last bit of distance between us. "But maybe we don't need to figure everything out right now. Maybe we just need to stop pretending that this isn't happening."

I reached out, my fingers brushing lightly against his chest, and I felt him freeze under my touch. His eyes were locked on mine, and for a long moment, we both just stood there, both of us breathing a little too quickly, both of us waiting for the other to make a move.

Then, finally, Joel spoke in a low voice that made my heart skip. "Are you sure about this?"

I didn't answer with words. Instead, I leaned up slowly, giving him every chance to pull away if he wanted to, but he didn't. And when our lips met, it was like everything fell into place.

It wasn't a slow, tentative kiss this time. It was desperate, passionate-an unspoken release of all the tension that had been building between us for so long. His hands were at my waist, pulling me against him as if he couldn't get close enough.

I tangled my fingers in his hair, feeling the way his body tensed beneath mine, the way he was finally giving in to something he had been holding back for so long.

I could feel the heat between us, the raw energy that pulsed through every touch, every kiss. It was like nothing else mattered in that moment-no fears, no regrets, no questions about what this would mean. There was only him, only us, caught in the rush of something real.

Our lips moved together, urgent and hungry, as if we were both finally acknowledging the truth we'd been dancing around. The kiss deepened, becoming more frantic, our bodies pressing closer together, craving the connection we'd been denying.

When we finally broke apart, we were both breathless, our chests rising and falling as we tried to catch our breath. I could see the same question in his eyes-the same look of wonder and disbelief, like neither of us could believe what had just happened.

But I didn't need words this time. I didn't need him to apologize again, or explain himself. I just needed him to know that it wasn't a mistake, and that I wasn't backing away from this.

I stepped back slightly, my fingers still tracing his jaw, and I looked up at him, my voice low. "It wasn't a mistake, Joel. It never was."

And for the first time in what felt like forever, I saw him smile-genuinely. It wasn't forced, or awkward, or hesitant. It was real.

And in that smile, I knew. This wasn't over. This was only the beginning.

—

We spent hours together in the quiet of my house. The sound of my music barely registering in the background as we talked, laughed, and touched. There were no real words for the way we fit together—how perfectly we seemed to complete each other. And the way we kissed—God, the way he kissed me—it was like he was marking me as his own, like every kiss was a promise.

One night, after a long day of working on my house, Joel and I found ourselves alone in my bedroom, the door cracked open just enough for the light from the hallway to seep in. He was standing by the window, watching the last slivers of sunlight fade behind the trees. I couldn’t help myself—I walked up to him, standing just behind him, letting my hands brush over his shoulders.

Without turning, he murmured, “You’re always so quiet around me.” His voice was low, almost a growl. He tilted his head slightly, just enough for his lips to graze the side of my neck. “What’s goin’ on in that head of yours?”

I closed my eyes, leaning into him. “You know what’s going on,” I whispered back. I slid my arms around his waist, my chest pressing against his back. The warmth of his body, the scent of his cologne mixing with the musk of sweat, was intoxicating. He turned around then, his eyes darker than before, as if he were trying to fight back something deeper inside him.

Joel was always so controlled—always careful with his emotions, with what he let slip. But I knew it was different with me.

His hand cupped my face, his thumb tracing the curve of my cheek as if memorizing every inch of me. “You’re makin’ it hard to breathe, darlin’.”

“You make me forget to breathe,” I admitted, my fingers brushing against his chest. I leaned in, the distance between us practically nonexistent. “Don’t fight this. Don’t fight us.”

His lips met mine, urgent and hungry. There was no hesitation this time, no distance between us. The kiss was full of need—years of repressed emotions finally crashing together in one fluid motion. His hands were on me, under me, pulling me closer, as if he couldn’t get enough. My hands found his hair, tangled in the strands as I deepened the kiss, needing to feel him closer. The energy between us was electric, an unspoken connection that neither of us could deny anymore.

We stumbled back toward the bed, not breaking apart for a second. I couldn’t think, couldn’t focus on anything other than the way his lips moved with mine, the way his body pressed against me. The yearning, the hunger—it was all too much and not enough all at once.

He pulled back for a breath, his chest rising and falling in quick succession. “You sure about this, Lauren?” His voice was rough, like he was fighting against a tide pulling him under.

I nodded, pulling him back toward me, my hands gripping his shirt, desperate for him. “I’m sure. God, Joel, I’m so sure.”

And then there was nothing but us, lost in the pull of one another. Nothing else mattered. Not the noise of the world outside, not the worries that had plagued us both. In that moment, all we had was the now, and it felt like the most powerful thing we could ever give each other.

The night blurred by in a haze of soft whispers, heated touches, and frantic kisses. We explored each other like we had all the time in the world, but both of us knew we were racing against something unspoken. The desire was overwhelming, and every inch of his skin against mine made me ache for more.

When we finally lay in bed together, tangled in the sheets, the silence felt heavier than the night before. I turned to him, running my fingers over his chest, tracing the faint outline of a scar near his ribs.

Joel’s eyes were still dark, a fire burning in them, and his hand rested on my back, his thumb rubbing slow circles. He glanced down at me, his lips curling into that familiar lopsided grin. “You were right, darlin’,” he said softly, his voice husky. “We do get better with practice.”

I smiled, my heart still racing from the intensity of what we had shared. “I’ll take your word for it.”

But deep down, I knew one thing: this was just the beginning. There would be more. So much more between us. And even though it was complicated, even though we were still figuring it all out, I wouldn’t change a thing.

We were finally where we were meant to be.

—

Sneaking around with Joel was a dangerous game.

Not because we were doing anything illegal—but because every glance, every brush of his hand against mine when no one was looking, every stolen moment made me want more. And when it came to Joel, more was a slippery slope I was already tumbling down headfirst.

It started small.

The first time, we were in my kitchen. Tommy was in the living room talking on the phone with some supplier, and I was pretending to organize my spice cabinet while Joel installed a new light fixture above the island. I didn’t need to be in there. I could’ve left and let them work. But when Joel was around, leaving didn’t feel like an option.

He was on the ladder, arms raised as he adjusted the fixture, his shirt riding up just enough to show a strip of tan skin. I didn’t realize I was staring until his voice snapped me out of it.

“See somethin’ you like?” he murmured without looking down.

Heat shot through me. “Yeah. My new light fixture.”

Joel’s shoulders shook with a quiet laugh. He climbed down, stepping close enough that I caught that familiar mix of cedar and sawdust clinging to his skin. “Sure it is.”

Tommy’s voice carried from the other room—loud, oblivious.

Joel’s eyes flicked toward the doorway, then back to me. His hand brushed against mine on the counter. He didn’t grab it. Didn’t lace his fingers with mine. Just… touched. A whisper of contact that sent a shiver down my spine.

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling. “Careful, Miller. Tommy’s right there.”

Joel’s thumb grazed mine. “Don’t tempt me, sweetheart.”

And just like that, the light fixture was the least interesting thing in the kitchen.

The next time, we weren’t quite as subtle.

It was late, and Joel was helping me move some furniture in the upstairs guest room. Sarah had just gone to a sleepover, and Tommy had headed home for the night, leaving us blissfully alone for the first time in days.

We’d started with actual work—really, we had. The guest bed was heavy, and the dresser was wedged at an impossible angle against the wall. But somewhere between Joel teasing me about my lack of upper body strength and me calling him “old man” one too many times, things shifted.

I was standing against the wall, still laughing from some joke he’d made, when he caged me in with his arms.

“Still think I’m old, huh?” he asked, voice low.

I swallowed hard. “Well, you did complain about your back twice today.”

His lips twitched. “You’re pushin’ your luck, darlin’.”

“I like pushing it.”

Joel’s eyes darkened. He leaned down and kissed me—slow, deep, his hand slipping beneath my T-shirt to rest against the small of my back. I melted into him immediately, fingers tangling in his hair as he pressed me harder against the wall.

The kiss turned messy fast. He groaned when I nipped his bottom lip, and I gasped when he responded by gripping my hips and dragging me closer. It was the kind of kiss that promised more, the kind that made me forget that the guest room window was cracked open and that sound carried.

The slam of a car door outside brought us crashing back to reality.

We broke apart, breathing hard. Joel wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and gave me a lopsided, regretful grin. “Guess we should get back to work.”

“Yeah,” I panted. “Totally.”

Spoiler: we didn’t move the dresser for another twenty minutes.

Sneaking around with Joel meant stolen phone calls late at night, when Sarah was asleep and his house was quiet.

It meant me dragging him into my music room one afternoon, away from Tommy’s curious eyes, just to kiss him breathless on the worn-out couch.

It was ridiculous. It was fun. It was dangerous.

And neither of us could stop.

—

One afternoon, Tommy caught us almost-red-handed.

I was sitting on the kitchen counter, legs dangling, Joel standing between my knees with his hands on my thighs. We weren’t kissing—not yet—but we were definitely standing too close to be discussing drywall.

“You’re gonna get me in trouble,” Joel muttered.

“You love it.”

He grinned and squeezed my leg. “I do not.”

Before I could argue, the front door creaked open.

“Joel? You still here?” Tommy’s voice echoed from the entryway.

Joel jumped back so fast I nearly fell off the counter. I caught myself just in time, schooling my face into what I hoped was an innocent expression.

Tommy stepped into the kitchen, eyes flicking from me to Joel. His brows lifted. “Interrupt somethin’?”

“Nope,” Joel said quickly. “Just—uh—talkin’ about the backsplash.”

I bit my lip to keep from laughing.

Tommy didn’t buy it for a second. He smirked and shook his head. “Yeah, all right. You keep tellin’ yourself that.”

Joel turned bright red. I couldn’t stop smiling for the rest of the day.

Sneaking around wasn’t sustainable. We knew that.

But every time I caught Joel looking at me across the room when he thought I wasn’t paying attention, every time his hand brushed mine on purpose, every time we kissed like we didn’t care who saw…

I knew one thing for certain.

When we finally stopped sneaking, the fallout was going to be worth it.

It had been a slow, steady build-up—every stolen glance, every touch, every quiet moment. But in the heat of the moment, I didn’t realize how obvious we were being until Tommy walked into the living room and caught us.

We were standing by the couch, Joel’s hands tangled in my hair, his lips pressed against mine with a desperation neither of us was trying to hide anymore. It was like the world outside that room ceased to exist—until it didn’t.

Tommy’s voice broke through the air like a cold slap. “Well, this is… something.”

Joel pulled away instantly, eyes wide, and his hand shot up as if to ward off the inevitable. “Tommy, wait—”

But it was too late. Tommy was already leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, a smug grin on his face. He raised an eyebrow, looking from Joel to me and back again. “I’m just gonna go ahead and assume this isn’t the first time this has happened.”

I opened my mouth to explain, but Tommy cut me off, his grin widening. “Y’know, I’ve been tryin’ to avoid this. But now that it’s right in front of me—” He looked down at his shoes with exaggerated thoughtfulness. “I gotta admit… I owe Sarah so much money.”

Joel froze, his face going red. “What the hell are you talkin’ about?”

Tommy uncrossed his arms and looked at Joel with amusement. “Sarah. She bet me you two were already messin’ around.”

Joel’s jaw dropped, and I felt my face burn. “No way,” he muttered. “She—she bet you? Seriously?”

“Yep. She’s been on my case about it for weeks. Figured I owed her that money anyway, so I’m glad to be rid of it.” Tommy’s tone was casual, but there was a hint of something else there—a mix of mischief and, maybe, a little concern.

I looked at Joel, trying to process what was happening. “So, she knew?”

“Of course she knew. She’s not as oblivious as you two seem to think,” Tommy teased, before his expression shifted to something a little more serious. “But… y’all didn’t want her to know, right?”

Joel sighed, running a hand through his hair, looking like he was suddenly about to burst from the pressure. “Not yet,” he said, voice low. “We’re still trying to figure this out. I haven’t even had the chance to take her out on a real date, man. Everything’s… messy.”

Tommy raised an eyebrow, leaning against the doorframe. “Yeah? Messy, huh? You two sure look like you’ve got everything figured out.”

“Not exactly,” Joel muttered, rubbing his face in frustration. “But we’re not ready to deal with it. Not yet.” He met Tommy’s gaze, tone more serious now. “Can you keep it quiet? Just until we figure out what the hell this is?”

Tommy paused, then grinned. “I can keep quiet. But this is gonna be fun to watch.” He held up his hands, like he was surrendering. “No promises, though. I’m still Team Sarah on this one.”

Joel shot him a look that could’ve frozen water. “You better not say anything to her, Tommy. I’m serious.”

Tommy held up his hands in mock surrender, laughing. “I won’t. For now, anyway.” He pushed off the doorframe and gave us a knowing smile. “But, you two better figure it out quick, because Sarah’s gonna want to know why her dad is sneaking around with her favorite pop star.”

“Thanks for the heads-up,” Joel grumbled, clearly still uneasy, but Tommy had already turned and left, muttering something under his breath about needing a beer.

I turned back to Joel, heart still racing from the confrontation. “So… this is really happening, huh?”

Joel ran a hand over his face again. “I guess so. But we gotta take it slow, y/n. We owe it to Sarah… and to ourselves.” He stepped toward me, his expression softening. “Let’s not rush into this. I can’t promise I’ll be perfect, but I can promise I’m not running away.”

I nodded, feeling a wave of relief wash over me. “We’ll figure it out. No pressure.”

Joel’s lips curved into a small, tentative smile. “Good. I don’t want to mess this up.”

“Me neither.”

The tension in the air had shifted, but it wasn’t over. Not yet. We had a lot of questions left unanswered. But for the first time, I felt like maybe we were on the same page.

We still had a long way to go—but at least we were taking the first step together.

—

Being with Joel felt different than I expected—easier in some ways, harder in others. It wasn’t like the whirlwind relationships I’d had before, the ones that burned hot and fast before fizzling out. Joel was steady, deliberate. The kind of man who made sure things were built to last.

Once we stopped pretending we didn’t want this, everything changed. He was still his gruff, no-nonsense self, but now his touch lingered when he brushed past me. Now his eyes softened when they met mine across a room. Now he kissed me slow and deep when no one was watching and sometimes even when they were.

But being with Joel also meant being with Sarah and Tommy.

Sarah, of course, was ecstatic. The morning after we finally made things official, she nearly tackled me in the kitchen, eyes bright with excitement.

“I knew it,” she practically yelled, grinning. “I mean, I bet on it, so I really knew it.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Bet on it?”

Sarah’s grin widened, and that’s when Tommy strolled in, smirking.

“Don’t tell her, Sarah,” he said, pouring himself coffee. “I ain’t got the cash yet.”

Joel groaned from where he stood by the fridge. “Y’all gambled on my love life?”

“More like invested,” Tommy shot back, winking at me.

Sarah wiggled her eyebrows. “So, do I win the pot, or…?”

I laughed, but Joel just shook his head, rubbing a hand over his face like he was seriously reconsidering his life choices.

Being with Joel meant stolen moments in between my hectic schedule. It meant late-night dinners when I got home from rehearsals, sitting on the kitchen counter while he cooked something simple, rolling his eyes when I tried to help. It meant quiet mornings, wrapped in his arms, pressing sleepy kisses against his jaw before slipping out of bed to get ready for the day.

It also meant dealing with the outside world.

We had kept things quiet for a while, but people caught on fast. A blurry picture here, a leaked story there, and suddenly, headlines were calling me the pop star dating a Texas contractor, which was ridiculous and not even remotely close to who Joel actually was.

I expected him to hate it, but surprisingly, he handled it well.

“Ignore it,” I told him one night, lying on the couch with my head in his lap as he scrolled through his phone.

“Didn’t say nothin’,” he murmured, but his jaw was tight.

I reached up, running my fingers along his beard. “If it really bothers you—”

“It doesn’t,” he said, looking down at me, expression softening. “Long as we’re good, I don’t give a damn what anyone else says.”

And we were good. Better than good.

One night, after a show, I came backstage to find Joel leaning against the wall, arms crossed, waiting for me.

“Took you long enough,” he said, smirking.

I rolled my eyes. “You’re just mad ‘cause Tommy and Sarah dragged you here early.”

“They did,” he admitted, pushing off the wall and stepping closer. His voice lowered as he murmured, “Worth it, though.”

I smiled, reaching up to fix the collar of his shirt. “Yeah?”

Joel didn’t answer with words. He just pulled me in, his lips brushing against mine—slow, steady, full of promise.

It was still surreal sometimes, having this life—the fame, the lights, the chaos—and him all at once. But as long as I had Joel, I had something real. Something worth holding onto.

[oldsoul007]

somewhere in northern italy

older!joel miller x younger!reader

summary: A summer in the heart of Tuscany rekindles an unexpected connection between y/n, a spirited traveler with Italian roots, and Joel, an enigmatic older man from her past, as love blooms amidst sunlit vineyards, secret ambitions, and the allure of second chances.

a/n: I miss summer, reader speaks Italian, Joel’s business man, this is all fluff, kissing

joel miller masterlist

There was something about summers in Italy that made me feel like I was living in a dream. Maybe it was the slow mornings spent sipping cappuccinos in the sun or the way the golden light bathed everything in warmth. Or maybe it was just the way life felt simpler here, quieter, like I could finally breathe.

Nonna always said I belonged here more than anywhere else. “Sei come me, y/n. Il tuo cuore è italiano.” You’re like me, y/n. Your heart is Italian.

Maybe she was right.

It was another warm evening when I saw him.

I had just left the market, a bag of peaches cradled in my arms, when I caught sight of someone who looked so entirely out of place that I almost didn’t believe it.

Joel Miller.

For a second, I thought I was imagining things.

He didn’t belong here. Not in the way the locals did, with their easy smiles and the familiarity in their movements. He stood apart—too refined, too polished. His clothes were simple—dark slacks, a crisp button-down with the sleeves rolled up—but they fit him too well, like they had been made just for him. And then there was the watch. Sleek. Understated. Expensive.

But it wasn’t just the way he looked. It was the way he carried himself. Relaxed, but deliberate. Like a man used to being in control.

I should have kept walking.

But then he looked up, and our eyes met.

Something in my chest tightened.

His brow creased slightly, and he glanced at his phone before looking back at the buildings around him.

I slowed. “Ti sei perso?”

Joel’s head snapped toward me, his gaze sharp before recognition flickered across his face. Then came the smirk—slow and knowing.

“Well, hell,” he muttered.

I raised an eyebrow. “Are you lost?”

He exhaled a short laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Somethin’ like that.”

I shifted the bag in my arms, studying him. “What are you doing in Tuscany?”

His smirk didn’t fade, but something about his expression changed, like he was waiting to see how I’d react to whatever he said next.

“Work.”

Interesting. Joel looked like a man who worked with his hands, but he didn’t carry himself like a businessman either. Not the kind who sat behind a desk all day, at least.

“What kind of work?” I pressed.

A pause. “Business.”

Vague. Purposefully so.

I hummed, but let it go—for now.

Joel chuckled, shaking his head. “Didn’t expect an interrogation when I stopped to ask for directions.”

I smiled. “Fine. Where are you trying to go?”

He glanced at his phone, then back at me. “Some restaurant—uh, Trattoria del Sole?” His pronunciation was terrible.

I laughed. “You mean this Trattoria del Sole?” I turned and pointed to the restaurant just across the piazza.

Joel followed my gaze, then exhaled another quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Well, hell.”

I bit my lip to hide my smile. “Guess you were lost.”

Joel looked at me for a long moment, like he was still trying to piece together how, out of all places, I was standing in front of him.

“You always spend your summers here?” he asked.

“Yes and no,” I said, adjusting the bag in my arms. “My grandmother lives here. I grew up coming to visit.”

He nodded, considering.

Then, after a beat, “Join me for dinner.”

It wasn’t a question.

I studied him, weighing the offer.

Joel had always been like this—straightforward, sure of himself. It wasn’t arrogance, exactly, but he wasn’t the kind of man who expected to be told no.

I liked that. But I liked keeping him on his toes more.

I raised an eyebrow. “You always invite old acquaintances to dinner?”

Joel smirked, slow and lazy. “Only the ones who used to babysit my kid.”

A laugh bubbled up in my throat. “That was a long time ago.”

His eyes glinted with something unreadable. “Still happened.”

I exhaled, shifting the bag of peaches in my arms. “Alright,” I said finally. “But only because I’m curious.”

“About what?”

I stepped past him, toward the restaurant, glancing back just enough to catch the glint of amusement in his eyes.

“About you.”

And just like that, dinner became the start of something I wasn’t sure I was ready for.

The restaurant was warm and intimate, the kind of place where locals lingered over wine and spoke in hushed, easy tones. Golden candlelight flickered against the stone walls, and the scent of garlic and fresh basil filled the air.

Joel sat across from me, one arm draped over the back of his chair, fingers lightly tapping against the wood. He looked at ease, but I could tell he was studying me, the way I moved, the way I spoke. Like he was trying to figure me out.

I let him wonder.

The waiter approached, speaking to me in rapid Italian. “Acqua naturale o frizzante?”

I glanced at Joel. He looked completely lost.

Biting back a smile, I turned back to the waiter. “Naturale, grazie.” Then, I glanced at Joel again. “Still need a translator?”

He smirked. “Workin’ on it.”

I hummed. “You should work faster.”

Joel let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. “Somethin’ tells me you like havin’ the upper hand.”

I tilted my head. “Maybe.”

The waiter returned with the water, and we placed our orders—well, I did. Joel simply glanced at me and said, “Order for me.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You trust me with that?”

His lips twitched. “Reckon I do.”

Interesting.

I ordered us both pasta—something simple, fresh, the kind of meal that let the ingredients speak for themselves. When the waiter left, I leaned forward, resting my chin on my hand.

“So, Joel,” I said, tasting his name on my tongue, watching the way his expression flickered when I said it. “What kind of business brings you to Italy?”

His gaze held mine for a beat, unreadable. Then, he exhaled, leaning back. “Investments.”

I considered him. “Not exactly a vacation, then.”

“Not exactly.”

I twirled the stem of my wine glass between my fingers. “You don’t stay in one place long, do you?”

Joel’s jaw ticked slightly. “Depends on the place.”

Something in his tone made my stomach flip.

Outside, the night had deepened, the piazza quieter now, bathed in the soft glow of the streetlamps.

Joel walked beside me as I led him through the winding streets. His pace was slow, deliberate, like he was in no rush to leave.

I stopped at a small bridge overlooking the canal, leaning against the stone railing. He stood beside me, close but not touching.

“You enjoyed yourself,” I said, watching the water ripple below.

He smirked. “That obvious?”

I turned to face him. “You don’t strike me as the kind of man who does things he doesn’t enjoy.”

Joel exhaled, his gaze drifting over my face, pausing just briefly at my lips before meeting my eyes again.

“You’d be right,” he murmured.

I should go.

But then his fingers grazed my wrist, settling lightly against my skin. Not pulling, not demanding. Just… there.

I could have stepped away.

But I didn’t.

I should have walked away sooner.

That was the smart thing to do—leave before I got too comfortable, before the pull between us became something I couldn’t ignore.

But when Joel’s fingers grazed my wrist, lingering just enough to make my breath hitch, I knew I was already in trouble.

Still, I smiled softly and pulled away. “Goodnight, Joel.”

He didn’t stop me. Didn’t try to convince me to stay.

But as I walked away, I could feel his eyes on me, the weight of his presence still thick in the warm summer air.

And for the first time in a long time, I left someone behind and actually wished I hadn’t.

—

I didn’t expect to see him again.

Tuscany was big enough for two people to never cross paths twice, but small enough that fate sometimes had other plans.

It was three days later when I spotted him again, standing near a vineyard just outside of town, speaking with a man I recognized as one of the local winemakers. His sleeves were rolled up again, exposing strong forearms, and his brows were furrowed as he listened, nodding at whatever was being said.

I should have kept walking.

But something made me stop.

Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe it was something else.

I stepped closer, tilting my head with a smirk. “You still lost?”

Joel turned, his expression shifting from mild surprise to something softer, something unreadable.

“Well, if I was, reckon you’d enjoy that too much,” he said, that slow drawl making me bite back a smile.

“Maybe,” I admitted. “You’re fun to mess with.”

He exhaled a quiet chuckle, shaking his head.

The winemaker excused himself, leaving us alone.

Joel watched me, that same way he had the night we met—like he was still trying to figure me out.

“You stickin’ around long?” I asked, arms folding over my chest.

“For a little while,” he said.

A beat of silence stretched between us. The midday sun was high, casting long shadows over the vineyard.

Then, I made a decision.

“You’ve only seen the surface of Tuscany,” I said. “The tourist spots. The places people write about in guidebooks.”

Joel raised an eyebrow. “And you know better?”

I smirked. “I know the good places.”

His lips twitched. “That so?”

I took a step back, tilting my head toward the narrow road leading away from the vineyard. “Come on, Mister Miller. Let me show you the real Tuscany.”

Joel exhaled, shaking his head slightly—like he couldn’t believe he was agreeing to this—but he followed.

And just like that, our summer began.

—

I didn’t give him the tourist tour.

I took him through the narrow alleys tourists never found, past crumbling walls where wildflowers spilled from cracks in the stone. We ducked into the tiny bakery run by Signora Valli, where Joel nodded politely as she scolded me for staying away too long.

“She likes you,” Joel said when we stepped back into the sun.

“That was her being nice,” I said, breaking off a piece of warm cornetto and handing it to him.

He chewed thoughtfully. “So, what’s she say when she’s mean?”

I grinned. “You don’t want to know.”

We wandered down to the olive groves, where the cicadas hummed and the sun turned the leaves silver-green. I showed him where the best figs grew, and when I pointed to the twisted old tree near the stone wall, Joel surprised me by stepping forward and tugging a ripe fig from a low branch.

“Didn’t think you’d climb a tree,” I said as he handed it to me.

He shrugged. “Didn’t have to. Got you to do all the hard work.”

I shot him a glare and bit into the fig, sweet juice dripping down my wrist. His eyes followed the movement, dark and intent. I didn’t wipe it away.

By late afternoon, we ended up at the old stone bridge overlooking the vineyards. I leaned against the warm stone, watching the distant figures move between the vines. Joel stood beside me, arms crossed, gaze on the horizon.

“You really spend every summer here?” he asked after a while.

“Every one I can.” I smiled faintly. “Nonna likes having me around. Says I keep her young.”

Joel huffed a laugh. “Don’t reckon she needs help with that. She looks like she runs the place.”

“She does,” I said, grinning. “The whole village’s scared of her.”

He smirked but didn’t respond. The breeze tugged at the hair curling against his temple, and I caught myself staring.

I glanced away. “What about you? You’re supposed to be working, aren’t you?”

His jaw shifted. “Yeah.”

“That convincing?”

He shot me a sidelong glance. “No.”

I waited, but he didn’t offer more. I should’ve been annoyed, but it was hard to be when he stood there like that—solid and unyielding, like the bridge itself.

The wind shifted, carrying the scent of rosemary and cypress. I rubbed my thumb along the stone. “So, is Tuscany what you expected?”

Joel’s eyes flicked to mine. “Didn’t expect Tuscany.”

The air thickened between us. His gaze didn’t waver.

I felt it again—that pull, familiar now but no less disorienting. Like standing at the edge of a step you didn’t know was there.

I opened my mouth to deflect with a joke, but Joel shifted closer, his arm brushing mine. The warmth of it sank through the fabric of my dress, solid and steady.

The sun dipped lower over the vineyards, painting the sky in soft strokes of orange and pink. We sat on the low stone wall at the edge of the hill, our legs dangling over the side. The breeze carried the scent of wild thyme and warm earth, and somewhere in the distance, a church bell rang.

Joel stretched his legs out in front of him, his boots scuffed against the old stones. His hand rested beside mine on the wall—close but not touching this time. The warmth of it still lingered from when he’d held it earlier. I couldn’t quite decide if I missed it or if I was relieved he’d let go.

“So,” I said, breaking the silence, “did you ever think you’d run into me here?”

Joel huffed a laugh. “Didn’t think I’d run into anyone I knew. Tuscany ain’t exactly down the road from Austin.”

I smiled faintly. “Yeah, well. You never know where Texas will follow you.”

He grinned, and the sight of it hit me harder than I expected. I wasn’t used to seeing him like this—relaxed, amused. It made him look younger. Less weighed down.

“you ever miss it in summer?” he asked after a beat.

“Texas?” I considered, tilting my face toward the sun. “Sometimes.”

“Like what?”

I tapped my fingers against the stone. “Summer storms,” I said after a moment. “The ones that roll in out of nowhere. The smell of rain on hot pavement. And barbecue. God, I miss barbecue.” I sighed dramatically, and Joel chuckled. “What about you?”

His eyes softened. “Yeah. Miss the little stuff. Mornin’s on the porch with a cup of coffee. That first cold snap in October when the air actually feels different. And the stars.” He exhaled. “Stars here are nice, but…ain’t the same.”

“Yeah,” I agreed softly. “Not like home.”

The word slipped out before I thought about it. My cheeks warmed, but Joel didn’t say anything. He just nodded, like he knew exactly what I meant.

The cicadas buzzed louder in the trees.

He didn’t press me for more. Joel was good at that—giving me space to say what I needed without pushing.

Instead, he reached down and picked up a stray pebble, rolling it between his fingers. “Sarah still talks about you, y’know.”

That surprised me. My chest tightened. “She does?”

Joel smiled faintly. “Yeah. Told me the other day she still remembers when you made her those chocolate chip pancakes with the smiley faces.”

I laughed, the memory sharp and clear. “I did that every time I babysat her. She used to insist on extra chocolate chips for the eyes.”

“She still does.” His voice was soft. “You were good to her.”

“She was easy to be good to.”

Joel didn’t respond right away. His thumb traced the edge of the pebble, eyes distant. I wondered if he was thinking about Sarah, or maybe her mom, or maybe something else entirely.

“I remember when you first showed up to babysit,” he said eventually. “You were what—twenty?”

“Barely.” I smiled wryly. “And nervous as hell. Your daughter had more confidence than I did.”

“She liked you right away.” His mouth curved slightly. “Kept askin’ when you were comin’ back.”

My chest warmed. “She was always the sweetest.”

Joel nodded, but his expression turned more thoughtful. “Didn’t expect to see you here, though. In Italy, I mean.”

I arched a brow. “Why not?”

He shrugged. “I dunno. Back then, you were always talkin’ about Texas like you never wanted to leave.”

I laughed softly. “Yeah, well. Life has a way of surprising you.”

Joel’s eyes flicked to mine. “Yeah,” he murmured. “It does.”

The weight of his gaze settled over me, heavy and warm. My pulse stuttered. I wanted to look away, but something held me there, locked in place.

The sun dipped lower. The cicadas hummed. And Joel Miller, the man I never expected to see outside of Texas, sat beside me like he’d always belonged here.

I cleared my throat, breaking the moment. “Anyway,” I said, forcing a teasing lilt into my voice. “How does it feel to have a Texan showing you around Italy?”

Joel chuckled, the tension easing just slightly. “Humblin’,” he said, straight-faced.

I snorted. “Yeah, right.”

He turned his head to look at me again. “Nah. I mean it.”

My smile faltered. “Why?”

Joel shifted slightly on the stone wall, his shoulder brushing mine. “’Cause I know how much you love this place,” he said after a beat. “And you don’t share it with just anyone.”

I swallowed hard, my chest tightening. He wasn’t wrong.

But the realization that he knew that—that he saw me like that—hit harder than I was ready for.

I didn’t know what to say, so I just smiled faintly and bumped my shoulder against his. “Don’t get a big head, Miller. I’m just making sure you don’t embarrass Texas while you’re here.”

His eyes twinkled. “Too late.”

I laughed, and the tension shifted. But later, when we walked back down the hill toward the village, Joel let his hand brush mine again.

This time, I didn’t pull away.

—

The sun hung high in the sky, casting a golden glow over the villa and everything it touched. The heat of the day was starting to settle in, the warm air wrapping around us as I walked barefoot toward the pool. The sound of the water was calming, a gentle lapping as it caught the sun’s reflection, sparkling with every movement.

Joel was already in the pool, his figure cutting through the water with ease. He had his arms resting on the side, looking up at me as I approached. His eyes twinkled with that easy smile he wore so often, but there was something different about his expression today—something a little more intent.

I didn’t hesitate, peeling off my sundress and stepping into the water, the coolness of it a perfect relief from the heat. The water lapped against my skin, and I felt weightless, free. I swam toward Joel, the soft splash of my movements the only sound between us.

He reached out, taking my hand as I neared, his grip warm and firm, guiding me closer. “You look like you’re enjoying the summer,” he said, his voice low and steady, a slight teasing note beneath it.

I grinned, the warmth of the sun on my skin mixing with the coolness of the water. “I am,” I replied, letting my fingers brush against his. “It’s hard not to when you’re surrounded by this.”

He studied me for a moment, his eyes dark and intense as they locked onto mine. There was a quiet moment, a small shift in the air between us. I could feel the pull, the way everything seemed to slow down when we were near each other, the way the world felt a little bit more alive in his presence.

I swam a little closer, not breaking eye contact, until I was standing just in front of him, the water lapping gently at our waists. My heart was beating faster now, not from the swim, but from the closeness between us. The tension that had been building in little moments over the past few weeks was palpable now, the air thick with it.

Joel’s hand gently cupped my face, his thumb brushing over my cheek as if memorizing the feel of my skin. His touch sent a shiver down my spine, the connection between us undeniable. Slowly, deliberately, he leaned in, and before I could even think about it, his lips brushed softly against mine.

The kiss was slow, a gentle exploration of what had been building between us for days, weeks even. The water seemed to heighten everything—the way his lips moved against mine, the way his hand slid down to the back of my neck, pulling me closer as the world seemed to fade away.

My hands found their way to his shoulders, and as I leaned in deeper, the kiss became more intense, more desperate. His breath mingled with mine, and I could feel his heart beating just as fast as mine. Every moment felt electric, like the entire summer was being condensed into this one perfect second.

Joel pulled away slightly, his forehead resting against mine, his breath coming in short bursts. “You drive me crazy,” he murmured, his voice rough.

I smiled, my fingers tracing the line of his jaw, savoring the feel of him, the warmth of his body against mine. “I think you do the same to me,” I whispered back.

There was something in his eyes, something vulnerable and open, as he looked at me. It was as if we both knew this moment was more than just a kiss, more than just a summer fling. The intensity was undeniable. But for now, there was no need to rush—everything felt right in this suspended moment.

We lingered there, our faces close, letting the soft splashes of the water and the warmth of the sun settle around us. He kissed me again, this time deeper, a kiss that spoke of longing, of something unspoken but understood between us.

I closed my eyes, leaning into him, feeling the pulse of the water around us as I pressed my body closer to his. The coolness of the pool mixed with the heat of our skin, creating a contrast that only made the moment more intoxicating.

For a moment, nothing else existed but the two of us, lost in the water, in the sun, in the quiet intimacy of the summer. It was a perfect kind of peace, the kind that wrapped itself around you and made you feel like you were exactly where you were meant to be.

And as we pulled away once more, his hands resting on my waist, I knew—whatever happened when the summer ended, this moment, this connection, was something that would stay with me. Something that I would carry long after the warmth of the sun had faded.

—

The night was calm and peaceful, the kind of evening that made you feel like you could stay outside forever. My grandmother’s villa was perched on a small hill in Tuscany, and the view from the terrace was breathtaking—endless fields of green, the soft glow of street lamps below, and the distant hum of a town that was slowly quieting down for the night.

Joel and I sat across from each other at the dinner table, my grandmother beside us. The meal was simple but delicious—fresh pasta, roasted vegetables, and a glass of red wine that had already started to loosen our tongues.

Joel looked more relaxed tonight, his smile easy and natural. Every so often, his eyes would linger on me, but he didn’t say anything outright. We had danced around it—the unspoken pull between us—but neither of us was ready to admit what was happening. It was as if we were both waiting for something to tip the balance.

My grandmother, who was always a bit of an enigma, sat across from us, watching with an air of amusement. She didn’t press us with questions, but I knew she could tell something was different. She always knew.

“So,” she said casually, cutting a piece of chicken, her eyes flicking between the two of us. “Joel, I hear you’re enjoying your time here in Tuscany.”

Joel smiled, taking a sip of his wine. “I am. It’s… beautiful here.”

My grandmother nodded. “Ah, Tuscany. It’s magical. But the most magical part is the company.” She paused for a beat, her lips curling into a mischievous smile. “Especially when you find someone who makes you feel like you’re living in a dream.”

I nearly choked on my wine, coughing lightly as I caught her meaning. She had said it with such ease, but the double entendre was clear. I shot her a look, but she only winked at me, a glint of mischief in her eyes.

Joel raised an eyebrow, sensing something in the air, but didn’t press it. Instead, he turned to me with a grin. “I think she’s got a point, y/n. It is magical here. The whole experience.”

I smiled, trying to hide the blush creeping up my neck. “Yes, it’s beautiful. But I think Nonna just likes to talk about love, even if it’s not quite the right time for that conversation,” I said with a teasing tone.

My grandmother gave a short, knowing laugh, then shifted in her seat. “Sì, y/n, parli troppo poco di amore,” she said in half Italian, half English. (Yes, y/n, you talk too little about love).

I rolled my eyes, knowing exactly what she meant, and shot Joel an apologetic look. “Ignore her,” I said, but there was no mistaking the glint of mischief in my grandmother’s gaze.

“Ah, love,” she continued, tapping her fingers on the edge of her wine glass. “It has a way of finding you when you least expect it, no?” She raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying herself. “A volte più tardi, a volte più presto—sometimes later, sometimes earlier.”

Joel chuckled, taking it all in stride. “Sounds like good advice.”

“Wise words from a very wise woman,” he said, glancing at me with a playful smile.

My grandmother smirked but didn’t say anything more, letting the conversation flow naturally. It wasn’t that she didn’t notice the tension between us; she just wasn’t pushing it. She knew how to let things unfold at their own pace, and that’s what I admired about her.

The night passed by quietly, the air cooling as we continued our meal. My grandmother, despite her subtle jokes, was content to let us be. She didn’t need to say much to let us know that she saw what was happening between Joel and me. It was written all over us. But tonight, there was no pressure, no rushing—just the gentle, unspoken bond that had begun to form.

When we finished eating, my grandmother stood up, her hands smoothing down her dress. “Well, I think it’s time for me to get some rest. You two—” she glanced at us with a playful smile, “—don’t stay out too late. Va bene?” (Alright?)

I nodded, a soft laugh escaping me. “Va bene, Nonna.”

Joel stood as well, offering her a polite smile. “Thank you for the wonderful meal. It was delicious.”

“You are welcome, Joel,” she said, her eyes twinkling. “Good night.”

As she disappeared into the house, I turned to Joel, my fingers instinctively brushing against his under the table. There was a comfortable silence now, a quiet tension that hummed between us but didn’t feel overwhelming.

“So,” I said, my voice a little quieter, “what did you think of her?”

Joel smiled, his gaze never leaving mine. “I like her. She’s… sharp. But she knows how to make you think.”

I chuckled softly. “That’s one way to put it.”

His smile softened, and he reached for my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “She’s right, though, you know. About love, I mean.”

I raised an eyebrow, meeting his eyes. “How so?”

Joel leaned in just a little, the soft glow of the moonlight casting shadows on his face. “Sometimes later, sometimes earlier… maybe we don’t always get to decide when we find something worth holding on to.”

I swallowed, his words hanging in the air between us. It felt like the weight of everything unsaid, everything still untold, was starting to settle into something real.

“I think we’re both figuring that out,” I whispered, my hand still in his.

And for the rest of the evening, we didn’t need to say anything more. The quiet between us said everything that needed to be said.

—

The mornings after we got together were my favorite.

Italy had always been beautiful, always been magic—but now it was different. Warmer. Softer. Like the sun rose just for us, spilling gold across the hills and sneaking through the cracks in the wooden shutters of our small apartment. The air smelled like coffee and jasmine, and the sheets were tangled around us, skin against skin, heart against heart.

Joel wasn’t much of a morning person, but he never complained when I woke up first and ran my fingers along his jawline, tracing the scratch of his stubble. He’d just hum low in his throat, eyes still closed, and tighten his arm around my waist to pull me closer.

“You’re starin’,” he mumbled one morning, voice rough with sleep.

“You’re pretty when you sleep.”

His lips twitched. “Don’t lie to me this early.”

I laughed, leaning in to kiss the corner of his mouth. “Okay. Handsome. Ruggedly handsome.”

His eyes cracked open then, dark and lazy, and he shifted just enough to roll me beneath him. The mattress dipped under his weight, and I grinned up at him as he braced himself with one arm beside my head.

“Better,” he said.

The mornings blurred into days spent wandering cobblestone streets and driving through the countryside with the windows down. The radio crackled with Italian ballads, and Joel tapped his fingers on the steering wheel as I translated the lyrics with a grin.

“She’s singing about her lover who promised her the moon and left her with nothing,” I said once, over-exaggerating the drama of it with a hand over my heart. “Ti ho amato fino alla fine! I loved you until the end!”

Joel smirked. “That so?”

“It’s very tragic.”

“Guess I better not leave you, then.”

My breath caught, and I turned toward the window, biting back a smile.

At sunset, we took our glasses of wine to the balcony and watched the sky bleed pink and orange over the rooftops. Joel leaned against the railing beside me, his arm brushing mine.

“Nonna used to sit out here every night,” I said softly. “Said the sky looked like a painting God left just for her.”

Joel’s gaze didn’t leave the horizon. “Smart woman.”

The silence stretched, comfortable and familiar, before he shifted closer. His hand found mine, warm and solid. I squeezed it and exhaled slowly, the kind of breath that settled in your chest like peace.

“Never thought I’d be here,” he said after a while.

“In Italy?”

Joel shook his head. “Here. With you.” His thumb brushed over my knuckles. “Never thought it’d feel like this.”

“Like what?” I asked, voice quieter than I meant it to be.

His jaw flexed, eyes softening when he met my gaze. “Like I can breathe again.”

My throat tightened, and I stepped into his arms without a word. He held me there, against his chest, the world fading into nothing but the steady beat of his heart beneath my ear.

Later that night, after the city quieted and the moon rose, we danced barefoot in the kitchen while pasta boiled on the stove. The record player crackled in the corner with an old Italian love song, and Joel’s hand pressed against the small of my back, guiding me in slow circles across the tile.

I sang along under my breath, the lyrics instinctive and familiar. Joel didn’t know the words, but he didn’t need to. His eyes never left mine.

“Sei il mio destino,” I whispered as the music slowed.

“You’re my destiny,” he repeated softly.

I smiled and kissed him, tasting wine and forever.

—

The beach was quiet, secluded, the kind of place only locals knew about. I had taken Joel there a few times now, and even though he pretended to be indifferent, I knew he loved it just as much as I did.

Today, he had stretched out on a towel beneath the shade of an olive tree, a book in his hands, looking as unbothered as ever.

I, however, had other plans.

Grinning to myself, I sauntered over, still damp from my last swim, droplets of water trailing down my skin. Joel didn’t even glance up as I hovered over him, too engrossed in whatever he was reading.

I huffed. “You’re really going to spend the afternoon reading instead of enjoying the water?”

He turned a page, the hint of a smirk playing at his lips. “Ain’t stoppin’ you from enjoyin’ it.”

I narrowed my eyes before dropping down on top of him, effectively pinning him to the towel.

That got his attention.

His book tipped slightly as he peered down at me, an amused exhale escaping his lips. “You tryin’ to suffocate me?”

I smirked, resting my chin on my hands as I lay against his chest. “If that’s what it takes to get you in the water, then maybe.”

Joel sighed, but there was no real protest in it. His free hand found the small of my back, resting there like it belonged, his thumb grazing my skin absentmindedly.

“You’re trouble, you know that?”

I grinned. “You love it.”

He exhaled, shaking his head before looking back at his book. I watched as his eyes skimmed the words, waiting, waiting—then I reached up and snatched it right out of his hands.

“Y/n,” he warned, reaching for it, but I was faster.

I sat up, holding the book above my head. “The book or the water, Miller. Pick one.”

He squinted up at me, like he was actually considering his options.

I laughed. “Unbelievable.” Then, before he could argue, I bolted.

Joel let out a gruff damn it before chasing after me. I ran straight into the waves, squealing as the water hit my skin, my victory short-lived because in a matter of seconds, his hands were on me, lifting me right off my feet.

I yelped. “Joel, don’t you—”

Too late.

I was tossed into the sea with a splash, the cool water swallowing me whole.

When I resurfaced, gasping, hair plastered to my face, Joel was standing there, arms crossed, watching me with a smug expression.

“Happy now?” he drawled.

I lunged, grabbing his arm and yanking him toward me.

He stumbled, cursing as he splashed into the water, the smugness wiped clean from his face.

I burst into laughter.

Joel pushed his wet hair back, shaking his head. “You’re somethin’ else.”

I grinned, swimming closer. “You love it.”

This time, he didn’t argue.

Instead, he pulled me flush against him, the warmth of his body stark against the cool waves.

And when he leaned in, pressing his lips to mine, I decided that maybe, just maybe, I had won this round after all.

—

The night was thick with summer heat, the air scented with lavender and salt from the distant sea. We had spent the evening wandering through the hills, ending up at my favorite hidden spot—a quiet overlook where the world stretched endlessly before us, rolling green and gold beneath the moonlight.

Joel stood beside me, hands in his pockets, his gaze fixed on the horizon. He had been quieter than usual tonight, but not in a way that made me uneasy. More like he was thinking about something, rolling it around in his mind, trying to decide whether or not to say it out loud.

I turned to him, smirking. “You’re thinking too hard.”

His lips quirked, but his eyes stayed on the view.

“That obvious?”

I nodded. “I can practically hear the gears turning.”

He exhaled a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. But he still didn’t look at me.

That wouldn’t do.

So I stepped closer. Just enough that my shoulder brushed against his, just enough that I could feel the heat radiating off his skin.

“Joel.” My voice was softer now. “What is it?”

He hesitated. Then, finally, he turned to me.

And for the first time since I met him, he looked uncertain.

Something shifted between us then—something unspoken, something inevitable.

I swallowed, my pulse quickening.

I had never been nervous around him before.

But now, standing this close, his gaze fixed on mine, the weight of the moment settling between us like something fragile and delicate—I suddenly felt everything.

My breath hitched as he reached up, brushing his fingers against my jaw. It was the lightest touch, barely there, but it sent a shiver down my spine.

“You make it real hard not to fall for you,” he murmured.

My heart stopped.

Then, before I could overthink it, before I could talk myself out of it—I closed the distance.

Our lips met, soft and slow, hesitant for only a second before the hesitation disappeared entirely.

Joel exhaled against my mouth, his hands finding my waist, pulling me closer. I melted into him, my fingers tangling in his shirt, the warmth of him overwhelming, grounding.

It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t desperate.

It was something deeper. Something dangerous.

Something that made me wonder if maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t going to be just a summer after all.

—

The soft evening light spilled across the stone steps as we sat there, our glasses of wine nearly forgotten between us. The air was warm, with a cool breeze now and then that made the leaves rustle above our heads. The soft hum of life from the villa seemed distant, almost nonexistent in this quiet moment we were sharing.

Joel had been unusually quiet, his gaze often drifting to the horizon, his fingers lightly tapping against the glass. I knew what was on his mind. The conversation about the end of the summer hadn’t been the easiest one, and it lingered in the air between us like a weight neither of us wanted to acknowledge.

“I guess I’ve been thinking a lot about what happens after,” Joel said, his voice breaking the comfortable silence. His eyes were still distant, but his hand shifted toward mine, his fingers brushing over my skin, making my heart skip a beat.

I met his gaze, my throat tight. “Me too,” I said, swallowing the lump that had formed there. “It’s hard to imagine going back to my life without… this. Without you.”

He glanced down at our hands, which had somehow ended up intertwined, his thumb brushing across my knuckles in a comforting, almost absent way. “It’s the same for me,” he murmured. “But… it’s not like this is the first time I’ve had to leave someone behind.”

I frowned, not fully understanding. “What do you mean?”

Joel sighed, shifting slightly on the steps to face me more directly. “I travel a lot for work,” he said, his voice low. “I’m never in one place for too long. Even when I’m home, it’s for a short time before I have to leave again.”

I blinked, surprised by the revelation. “I didn’t know that,” I admitted. “You never really talked about your job.”

“I know,” he said, and there was a slight hesitation in his voice. “I don’t talk much about it. It’s… complicated.” He gave a small shrug, almost like he didn’t want to elaborate further. “But… that’s why I try not to get attached to anyone. It’s easier this way. No long-term ties, no complications.”

I nodded slowly, absorbing what he was saying. “I get it,” I replied quietly. “You have your life, your responsibilities. But it still doesn’t make this easy.”

Joel met my eyes, his gaze softening. “No, it doesn’t. But it’s not like I’m going to forget about you, y/n. This summer—” He trailed off, his hand still resting on mine, his fingers gently tracing the lines of my palm in an almost hypnotic pattern. “What we have… it’s real. Even if it’s only for now.”

I shivered slightly from the way his fingers moved, the light touch making me feel like his hands were drawing on more than just my skin. He was tracing me, memorizing me. His fingers sketched over the curve of my wrist, down to the delicate curve of my elbow, as if he was drawing something in the air only he could see.

“I’m not good at this,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “Not good at… saying how I feel, at letting people in.”

I nodded, understanding that more than I wanted to. I wasn’t exactly good at it either. But something about the way he spoke, the way he touched me so gently, made it feel like he was letting me in, bit by bit.

“Maybe we don’t need to figure it all out right now,” I said softly, my free hand reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “Maybe we can just… be here. Together.”

Joel looked at me with a tenderness that almost broke me. Then, his fingers moved to trace the line of my jaw, then down the side of my neck, his touch light, deliberate. His hand was warm against my skin, and his eyes followed the path of his fingertips, as though he were painting a picture of me in his mind.

“I like that,” he said, voice thick with something deeper. “I like just being with you.”

His hand lingered on my neck, his thumb grazing the soft skin there before moving back to trace the curve of my collarbone. The intimacy of the gesture, the way he was touching me as if I was something precious, made my heart race.

“Does it ever scare you?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. “The idea that you won’t be here after the summer?”

Joel’s hand paused, his fingers resting lightly on my skin, and he met my gaze with a mixture of sadness and understanding. “It does,” he admitted quietly. “But I don’t think we should let fear stop us from living the moments we have now.”

I swallowed, feeling that familiar ache deep in my chest. “I don’t want to say goodbye,” I whispered.

Joel’s gaze softened, and he leaned closer, his lips brushing the side of my cheek in a tender kiss. “We don’t have to say goodbye yet,” he murmured, his voice warm against my skin. “We still have time.”

I nodded, closing my eyes as his hand moved to cup my face, his thumb gently brushing over my lips. “I want to make the most of it,” I whispered, my breath shaky.

And there, under the fading light of the evening, we stayed close, letting the silence speak for us. Joel’s hand rested on my neck, his fingers slowly moving down again, tracing the lines of my body with an intimacy that felt so natural, so right, despite the uncertainty of what was to come. It was a language we spoke without words—one touch, one breath, one shared moment at a time.

[oldsoul007]

Collide

older!joel miller x singer!reader

summary: a famous pop star and a reserved contractor find an unexpected connection when their paths cross at a concert, leading to a complicated and intense relationship despite their vastly different worlds.

here it is

[oldsoul007]

kiss me

grumpy!joel miller x reader

summary: Joel despises the superficiality of Valentine’s Day, and you, a hopeless romantic who adores love in all its forms, find your friendship tested when you spend Valentine’s week together as single friends, only to discover unexpected feelings that blur the line between friendship and love.

a/n: a little valentine story for yall 💞

joel miller masterlist

Valentine’s week was my favorite time of year. Everything felt lighter, softer—like the world was wrapped in a warm, pink haze. Even if most people thought it was cheesy, I loved it. Love letters, heart-shaped candies, couples holding hands—it made me believe that love, real love, was still out there.

Joel Miller didn’t share that belief.

“Don’t even start,” Joel grumbled the moment he picked up my call, his deep, tired voice crackling through the phone.

I grinned, curling up on my couch with a cup of coffee. “Start what?” I teased, already picturing the irritated look on his face. “I was just calling to check on my favorite Valentine’s Grinch.”

He let out a long sigh, and I bit back a laugh.

“What do you want, y/n?”

“Well,” I drew out the word, knowing exactly how much he’d hate what I was about to say. “We’re both single this year. Why don’t we spend Valentine’s week together?”

There was a beat of silence. I imagined him blinking in disbelief.

“You’re joking.”

“C’mon, it’ll be fun!” I insisted. “Movies, takeout, no pressure. And who knows? Maybe I’ll even convince you that love isn’t as terrible as you think it is.”

“Not happening,” he muttered, but I heard the faintest smile in his voice.

“Is that a yes?” I pressed, holding my breath.

Another long sigh, then—“Fine. But don’t expect me to wear anything pink.”

I laughed, my heart fluttering. “Deal.”

The next few days felt like walking a tightrope.

We spent almost every moment together, but never crossed the line. We did all the things couples do—late-night drives with music humming softly in the background, sharing breakfasts at the little diner on Main Street, walking through the park while I pointed out every couple holding hands just to watch Joel roll his eyes.

But neither of us said it. Neither of us dared to admit what was simmering beneath the surface.

“This is exhausting,” Joel muttered as we sat on a park bench, sipping coffee.

“What is?” I asked, smiling into my cup.

“All of this. People pretending for a week that they’re in love.”

I nudged his shoulder playfully. “Not everyone’s pretending, you know.”

He scoffed. “Name one couple that ain’t puttin’ on a show.”

I didn’t even have to think. “My grandparents.”

Joel raised an eyebrow.

“They’ve been together for 53 years,” I said softly, my smile turning wistful. “They met in college. My grandpa still brings her flowers every Friday. And she still laughs at all his bad jokes.”

Joel let out a low hum, like he wasn’t sure if he believed me.

“I’m not saying it’s common,” I added, reading his mind. “But just because it’s rare doesn’t mean it’s not real.”

He glanced at me then, his gaze lingering a little too long, a little too soft. My breath caught, but I looked away before my feelings betrayed me.

One afternoon, we ended up in the bookstore downtown, wandering through the aisles. Joel found himself in the history section, while I was drawn to the romance novels, of course.

“You’re really gonna read one of those?” he asked, leaning against the shelf with a teasing smirk.

“Yes, Joel,” I shot back, holding up a book with a dramatic cover. “It’s called escapism. You should try it sometime.”

“I’ll stick to the real world, thanks.”

“Where love doesn’t exist?” I teased.

“Exactly.”

I sighed dramatically, shaking my head. “You’re hopeless.”

As we walked out, I couldn’t help myself. I nodded toward an older couple sitting on a bench, their hands intertwined, lost in their own little world.

“Look at them,” I whispered. “Don’t tell me that’s not real.”

Joel followed my gaze, but said nothing. I wished I knew what he was thinking.

It started with a simple plan—cook dinner, keep things light, pretend my heart wasn’t on the verge of bursting every time Joel Miller looked at me.

I wasn’t exactly a gourmet chef, but I knew my way around a kitchen well enough to whip up something decent. Joel sat at the counter, watching me with an amused expression, a beer in hand.

“You sure you’re not gonna burn the place down?” he teased.

I shot him a playful glare. “I’m perfectly capable, thank you very much.”

He chuckled, leaning back in his chair like he didn’t have a care in the world. I, on the other hand, was trying not to melt under the weight of his gaze.

I turned on some music to fill the silence, letting the soft strum of a guitar filter through the room. And then it happened—one of my favorite love songs started playing. A soft, sweet melody that made my chest ache.

“Uh-oh,” Joel muttered, already sensing what was coming.

I grinned, turning to face him. “Dance with me.”

“Y/n…” he warned, shaking his head.

“Please?” I stretched out the word, giving him my best pleading eyes. “For me?”

He let out a long sigh, but when I reached out my hand, he took it without a fight.

His hand was warm as he pulled me close, his touch gentle despite the roughness of his calloused fingers. We swayed in my tiny kitchen, the smell of dinner forgotten, the music weaving around us like a secret only we knew.

“This is ridiculous,” he whispered, but there was a softness in his voice, in the way his hand rested on my waist.

“Maybe,” I whispered back, resting my head lightly on his shoulder. “But it’s nice, isn’t it?”

He didn’t answer, but he didn’t have to. I could feel it—the way his grip tightened ever so slightly, the way his breath hitched when I leaned in closer.

For a moment, it felt like we weren’t pretending anymore. Like the feelings we never spoke about were real, tangible.

When the song ended, Joel pulled back slowly, his eyes lingering on mine. The air between us crackled with something unspoken.

“Dinner’s gonna burn,” he muttered, clearing his throat as he stepped away.

I laughed softly, but my heart still ached.

Because even when we danced around our feelings, I knew the truth.

Valentine’s Day arrived quietly, the way it always did.

I felt like I was losing my grip. Every smile, every lingering glance, every time Joel’s hand brushed against mine felt like it was unraveling me.

When I opened my apartment door that morning to find Joel standing there—grumpy expression firmly in place—holding a small bouquet of wildflowers, I froze.

“Uh… these are for you,” he mumbled, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else.

I stared at the flowers, then at him, trying to process the fact that Joel Miller—the man who swore up and down that Valentine’s Day was nothing but a commercial scam—was holding flowers for me.

“Is this a joke?” I teased, even though my heart was racing.

“Do you want ‘em or not?” he grumbled, shoving them toward me.

I laughed softly, taking the bouquet from his hands. “They’re beautiful, Joel. Thank you.”

“Don’t make a big deal out of it,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s just… you like this kinda thing. Figured you deserved somethin’ nice.”

My chest tightened at his words. Joel Miller, who claimed not to believe in love, had just done something more thoughtful than any grand gesture ever could be.

That night, we ended up back at my apartment, a bottle of wine between us, laughing over old memories.

“I don’t get it,” Joel said, leaning back on the couch, his voice quieter now. “You got your heart broken—bad—and you still believe in all this love stuff.”

I swallowed hard, the memory of my past relationship still a dull ache. “Because I know what it feels like to be loved, Joel. Even if it wasn’t forever. And I know what it feels like to be alone, too.”

He looked at me then, something unreadable in his eyes. “You’re not alone,” he whispered.

And for a moment, I let myself believe him.

The night felt endless, every moment stretching out between us like a question neither of us wanted to answer.

I could feel Joel beside me, the weight of his presence grounding me, but also unraveling me. The flowers he’d given me sat on the table, delicate and unexpected, just like him.

“Joel,” I whispered, barely able to hear my own voice over the pounding of my heart.

He turned to me, eyes darker than usual, something unreadable flickering in them.

I opened my mouth to say something—anything—but before I could, Joel was already moving.

His hand cupped my face, rough fingertips trailing along my jaw, and then his lips were on mine.

This wasn’t a tentative kiss. This wasn’t careful. This was Joel Miller finally giving in, finally letting go of every wall he had built around his heart.

His mouth pressed urgently against mine, and I melted into him, my hands gripping his shirt as if holding on for dear life. His other hand slid around my waist, pulling me closer until there was no space left between us.

I felt everything in that kiss—every unspoken word, every moment we’d danced around our feelings, every piece of him he’d kept hidden from the world.

When we broke apart, breathless, Joel rested his forehead against mine, his voice rough and low.

“I can’t fight it anymore,” he whispered. “I don’t want to.”

I swallowed hard, my heart aching in the best way. “Then don’t.”

He kissed me again, softer this time, but with the same intensity, the same longing that had always been there—waiting for us to finally stop pretending.

In that moment, I knew. Joel Miller didn’t just care for me.

He loved me.

[oldsoul007]

somewhere in northern italy

older!joel miller x younger!reader

A summer in the heart of Tuscany rekindles an unexpected connection between y/n, a spirited traveler with Italian roots, and Joel, an enigmatic older man from her past, as love blooms amidst sunlit vineyards, secret ambitions, and the allure of second chances.

here it is

[oldsoul007]

save a horse

cowboy!joel miller x cowgirl!reader

summary: what started as a frustrating, never-ending rivalry with Joel Miller—his reckless riding, his cocky smirks, his infuriating ability to get under your skin—turned into something else entirely. Something you couldn’t control, couldn’t ignore, no matter how hard you tried. Because beneath all the fighting, the competition, and the stubborn pride, there was heat. And once you gave in to it, there was no turning back.

a/n: “rivals” to lovers, banterrr, cocky Joel, suggestive scenes, heavy kissing, Joel calls reader princess and darlin’

joel miller masterlist

There’s a fine line between love and hate, and Joel Miller lived on the other side of that line—just far enough to keep me from crossing it. Every time I saw him, it felt like that line was being tested, stretched tighter and tighter, as if we were both stuck in some kind of wild tug-of-war.

I had my life all planned out. The pristine, polished world of show jumping and barrel racing was where I thrived. Clean, controlled, the kind of competition where technique and precision mattered more than the mess. I rode with grace and poise—everything about me screamed class and focus.

Then there was Joel.

Joel was the kind of cowboy who thrived in the dirt. The rougher, the better. He was known for his wild, reckless rides—bareback bronc riding, calf roping, and the like. He didn’t care about the mess. He thrived on it. He loved the mud, the sweat, the adrenaline of it all. He reveled in the chaos, and I couldn’t stand it.

We met at a local rodeo competition one fateful evening. I was there for the barrel race, wearing my pristine boots and jacket, my hair perfectly styled beneath my hat. Joel was competing in the rough stock event, his face covered in dust and grit, his clothes stained with sweat. He had the audacity to walk past my stall just as I was prepping my horse.

“Hope you’re not planning on getting too dirty in that competition,” he smirked, his voice low and mocking. “This ain’t your kind of rodeo, y/n.”

I shot him a sharp look, barely containing my irritation. “I don’t think I asked for your opinion, Joel.”

He chuckled, leaning in a little closer, his eyes glinting with something I couldn’t quite place. “You’re a little uptight, aren’t you? I’d hate to see you get all flustered in the dirt. You’ll never make it through the next round.”

I could feel my pulse quicken with a mix of anger and something else—something I definitely didn’t want to acknowledge. “Maybe you should stick to your rough events. Let the classy riders handle the rest.”

He leaned back, eyes narrowing, his lips curling into a smirk. “Classy, huh? Well, you better hope you can handle a real challenge when it comes your way.”

I was ready to snap back, but I didn’t have time. The announcer called for the next round, and I needed to focus. I shot him a glare before walking away, but I could feel his gaze on me the entire time.

The competition was intense. Every part of me focused on executing each turn, each jump, with perfection. I had trained for years, and it paid off. My time in the barrel race was top-notch—clean, precise, with every second of the run perfectly controlled.

But as I crossed the finish line and the crowd erupted in applause, I spotted him again. Joel was in the middle of his calf roping event, the exact opposite of what I’d just done. His horse was galloping full speed toward a runaway steer, and I couldn’t help but watch. He was all muscle and grit, moving with an ease that looked almost reckless. His rope flew through the air, securing the steer in one fluid motion, and the crowd went wild.

I hated that it was impressive. I hated that it made my heart race in a way that had nothing to do with the competition.

Afterward, I found myself near the stables, cooling down my horse when Joel appeared again, this time covered in more dirt than ever. His shirt was half undone, his hair sticking out in every direction.

“You know,” he said, walking up to me, “you were pretty impressive out there.”

I raised an eyebrow, trying to remain composed. “You’re just trying to be nice because you lost.”

He laughed, a deep, rich sound that sent an unexpected shiver through me. “I didn’t lose. But I’ll admit, you made it look easy.”

I couldn’t help myself. “Well, I don’t roll around in the dirt for a living.”

Joel’s eyes glinted. “I’ve never been afraid to get dirty. Guess that’s what makes me better at what I do.”

I looked him up and down, shaking my head. “You’re just a mess, Joel. There’s no finesse in what you do. It’s all chaos.”

“Chaos is how things get done,” he said, stepping closer. “Everything has to be perfect for you though, doesn’t it?”

“That’s what makes me a winner.”

He cocked his head to the side, his lips twisting into a grin that made my stomach twist in a way I couldn’t control. “Funny. I think we both know it’s not always about perfection.”

I swallowed hard, trying to keep my cool. “Maybe. But at least I’m not playing around with danger and risk every second. I’d rather be classy than reckless.”

Joel’s smile faltered, and for a second, I thought he might actually take offense. But then he leaned in, his voice low and teasing. “You know, y/n, maybe one day, I’ll show you how much fun it can be to throw caution to the wind. You might surprise yourself.”

I shook my head, pushing him back with a firm hand on his chest. “Don’t hold your breath, Miller.”

For a moment, we just stood there, the tension between us palpable. The air crackled with something that wasn’t hate, but it wasn’t quite attraction either. It was something in between, something that neither of us wanted to acknowledge.

“Alright, princess,” Joel said, his voice softer this time. “You keep riding your pretty little circles. I’ll keep riding the rough stuff. But don’t forget—when you’re ready for a real challenge, you know where to find me.”

I didn’t respond. Instead, I turned, leading my horse back to the stables, trying to ignore the heat in my cheeks and the pulse of excitement that had nothing to do with the competition.

Joel Miller was chaos. He was everything I wasn’t. But somehow, despite myself, I couldn’t shake the feeling that we were both waiting for the inevitable clash. And when it came, it was going to be one hell of a ride.

I don’t know what it was about Joel Miller that set my blood boiling—maybe it was the way he always had to have the last word, or maybe it was the fact that he rode like a reckless idiot and still managed to win. Whatever it was, I couldn’t stand him.

And yet, I couldn’t seem to avoid him either.

“Careful, princess,” Joel drawled one afternoon as I tightened Maple’s saddle before practice. “Wouldn’t want you breakin’ a nail before your big fancy event.”

I exhaled sharply through my nose, forcing myself to keep my focus on the leather strap in my hands. “And I wouldn’t want you falling off your horse and bruising that oversized ego of yours,” I shot back sweetly.

Joel smirked, leaning against the stall with that insufferable confidence. “Darlin’, I don’t fall.”

I finally turned to look at him, crossing my arms. “No, but you sure like to run your mouth.”

He grinned. “And you sure like to pretend you don’t like it.”

I scoffed, rolling my eyes. “You’re delusional.”

“Yeah? Then why do you always find me?”

I narrowed my eyes. “You find me, Miller.”

He took a step closer, that damn smirk still plastered on his face. “Right. And you’re always right here, ready to argue.”

I hated that he was right. I hated that he knew exactly how to get under my skin, knew exactly what buttons to push.

And worst of all, I hated that I liked it.

Every run-in with Joel was like this—an endless cycle of back-and-forths, teasing jabs that always left me flushed, irritated, and on edge. He was rough and reckless, all dirt and sweat and wild confidence, while I was polished, precise, and disciplined. We weren’t supposed to mix.

But that didn’t stop the tension from simmering beneath every argument, every too-long glance, every time he leaned in just a little too close, like he was daring me to cross that line.

And maybe, just maybe, I was getting closer to doing exactly that.

—

The afternoon sun cast a warm glow over the rodeo grounds, the smell of dirt and hay thick in the air. Most of the competitors were unwinding before the next round, tending to their horses or grabbing something to eat.

I had been brushing down Maple when I heard a small voice nearby.

“Can I pet him?”

I turned, curiosity piqued, and spotted a little boy standing a few feet away from Joel and his horse, Ford. The kid couldn’t have been older than six, his hands shoved deep in his pockets, rocking on his heels like he was nervous.

Joel, who had been adjusting Ford’s saddle, turned to look at him.

For a second, I expected him to wave the kid off. He wasn’t exactly known for being warm.

But instead, Joel crouched down to his level, resting his forearm on his knee. “Yeah? You like horses?”

The boy nodded eagerly. “He’s big.”

Joel chuckled. “Yeah, he is.” He reached up, giving Ford a firm pat on the neck. “But he’s a good boy. You wanna sit on him?”

The kid’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

Joel nodded. “C’mon.”

The boy practically bounced in excitement as Joel lifted him up with ease, settling him gently on the saddle. He kept a firm hand on the kid’s back, making sure he was steady, while Ford stood still, completely unfazed.

The boy grinned wide, gripping the horn of the saddle like he was ready to take off. “I’m a cowboy now!”

Joel chuckled, his expression softer than I’d ever seen it. “That’s right, little man.”

And damn it if my heart didn’t melt right there.

I had seen Joel Miller in plenty of ways—cocky, infuriating, reckless.

But this?

This was new.

He was gentle. Patient. And watching him interact with that kid, making his whole day with nothing more than a simple ride, did something to me that I really didn’t want to think too hard about.

I must’ve been staring too long because suddenly, Joel’s eyes flicked up and locked onto mine.

The smirk came back instantly, like he could sense the effect he had on me. “What?”

I rolled my eyes, quickly turning back to Maple. “Nothing.”

“Didn’t look like nothing.”

“Shut up, Miller.”

But as much as I tried to ignore it, the image of Joel smiling up at that kid, looking so damn soft, was burned into my mind.

And for once, I didn’t hate it.

—

The day was winding down, the sun sinking lower in the sky, and the arena was quiet except for the faint rustling of hooves and the occasional call from the crowd. The final competition was just around the corner, and I was out on the practice field, determined to get in some last-minute work before everything went down tomorrow. Maple was calm as always, and I was focused, running the barrels with precision and grace. Every turn was tight, every motion measured. I was in control, just like I always was.

But the world has a way of throwing curveballs when you least expect it.

I had just completed my last run when I heard a sudden, sharp sound from the far side of the arena. At first, I didn’t think much of it—until I saw the flash of a calf breaking through the fencing, charging across the field at full speed, clearly startled and out of control.

I instinctively pulled on Maple’s reins, trying to guide her out of the way, but she was spooked, her head shooting up as she began to buck and rear. The calf was moving fast, its hooves pounding the earth, and Maple, already skittish, couldn’t seem to calm down.

“Maple, whoa, easy girl!” I shouted, trying to get her back under control, but the harder I tried, the more she panicked. I was losing my grip, my heart racing as I struggled to hold on. The cow was heading straight for us now, and Maple was getting more and more frantic.

“Shit!” I cursed under my breath, pulling harder on the reins, but nothing worked. I was completely out of control, the adrenaline surging in my veins as Maple bolted, jerking me to the side. I could feel the ground beneath me shift, my grip slipping, and then—without warning—Maple’s leg caught on something, and she pitched forward, throwing me off.

I hit the ground hard, the air knocked from my lungs as pain shot through my back and shoulder. For a moment, I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. I tried to push myself up, but my body wouldn’t respond, the pain paralyzing me as I gasped for air.

“Y/n!”

I heard a voice—Joel’s voice—shouting through the haze.

Before I could even react, I felt the ground shift beside me. Joel was there, dismounting Ford and rushing over to me, his face a mask of concern, his eyes wild.

“Stay still,” he said, his voice rough as he kneeled beside me. His hands hovered over me, unsure of where to touch, and I saw the rare flicker of concern in his usually confident gaze.

I tried to push myself up, the pain from my shoulder shooting through me. “I’m fine,” I lied, gritting my teeth. “I don’t need your help.”

Joel’s expression darkened, and his hands moved to my shoulders, gently forcing me back down onto the ground. “Don’t move. You’re not fine.”

I glared at him, the frustration bubbling up again. “I said I’m fine, Joel. Just… just go away.”

“Please just stop being so damn stubborn.” His voice was harsh, almost angry, but not with me—more with the situation, with how I was refusing help when I clearly needed it. He wasn’t joking now. “I’m just trying to help you.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but the pain in my shoulder was too much, and I winced, the sharp sting cutting off my words. My breathing was labored now, my heart still pounding in my chest from the chaos of the moment. For a few seconds, we just stared at each other, me lying in the dirt, Joel kneeling beside me, both of us breathing hard from the rush of adrenaline.

“Look, I don’t need you playing the hero,” I managed to mutter, trying to sit up again, but Joel gently pushed me back down.

“I’m not playing anything, y/n. You can’t even move. I’m not going to leave you out here alone just because you’ve got too much pride to admit you’re hurt,” he said, his tone firm, but underneath, I could hear the edge of concern. “If you don’t stop fighting me, I’ll drag you out of here myself.”

I glared at him, but the frustration I felt earlier melted into something else—a mix of embarrassment and anger. He wasn’t wrong. I had to admit, I had overestimated myself, and now I was paying the price.

“Fine,” I muttered, still struggling to sit up, but feeling the weight of the pain in my body. I could barely lift my arm without it aching. “I guess you’re right. But don’t think I’m going to thank you for it.”

Joel raised an eyebrow, his usual smirk returning, but it wasn’t as cocky as it usually was. “You don’t have to thank me. I’m just making sure you don’t make it worse by being stubborn.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but another wave of pain shot through my shoulder, making my breath catch. I grimaced, closing my eyes. “I’m not stubborn,” I managed to mutter, my voice strained. “I just don’t like being treated like I can’t handle things.”

Joel’s expression softened, just slightly, and for a moment, I saw something else in his eyes—something genuine, not the usual teasing or arrogance. “I get it. But sometimes you need help. And it’s okay to accept it.”

I swallowed hard, the heat of embarrassment creeping up my neck, but I couldn’t argue with him. I was hurt. I couldn’t handle everything on my own, and right now, I really did need him.

“Just help me up,” I finally muttered, my voice quiet, but there was a hint of surrender in it now.

Joel didn’t hesitate. He leaned forward, carefully pulling me into a sitting position, his hand firm on my back as he steadied me. “Easy,” he said, his voice soft now. “We’ll get you back to the stables and make sure you’re okay.”

I closed my eyes for a moment, the rush of the competition, the pain, and Joel’s unexpected calm all mixing together in a way I wasn’t sure how to process. I hated needing help. I hated showing weakness, especially in front of someone like Joel. But as he gently helped me up and guided me back to safety, I couldn’t bring myself to be angry anymore.

Maybe, for once, it was okay to let someone else take charge. Even if that someone was Joel.

Joel guided me carefully back toward the stables, his arm lightly supporting my back as I limped along beside him. Every step sent a jolt of pain through my shoulder, and I was starting to realize just how badly I had underestimated the situation. Maple had finally calmed down, now tied to the post a few yards away, but my head was still reeling from the chaos, the fear, and the sharp ache that spread from my shoulder down my side.

Joel’s grip on me was steady, strong, but not intrusive—just enough to keep me from stumbling. He kept his pace slow, making sure I could keep up, his brow furrowed in concentration. His usual smirk was gone, replaced by a seriousness that felt oddly comforting in the midst of everything.

When we reached the stables, he led me to a bench just outside, carefully helping me sit. His hand lingered on my shoulder for a moment, the touch gentle yet reassuring. I looked up at him, surprised by how quiet he was. Usually, he would’ve been making some sarcastic comment or teasing me for getting hurt, but now he seemed… concerned. In a way I hadn’t expected.

“Stay put,” he said, his voice softer than usual as he crouched down to inspect my shoulder. “I’m going to grab the first aid kit. You’ll be fine.”

I nodded, though I wasn’t so sure about that. The pain had dulled a bit since I sat down, but it still throbbed with every movement. I wanted to argue, to tell him I could take care of myself, but at this point, it seemed pointless. The last thing I wanted was for him to think I was stubborn just to prove some point.

Joel disappeared into the nearby barn and returned a few minutes later with a first aid kit in hand. He knelt down in front of me, his eyes scanning my shoulder, and I could see him evaluating the injury carefully. There was no arrogance now, no cocky humor. He was all business.

“Let’s see what we’re dealing with,” he muttered, gently lifting my arm to get a better look at the injury.

I winced, trying not to flinch, but the pain was undeniable. “It’s nothing,” I said, forcing my voice to sound dismissive. “Just a little bruise. I’ll be fine.”

Joel didn’t buy it. “You’re lucky you didn’t break anything. This could be worse than it looks.” He carefully started cleaning the area around the bruise, his touch light but deliberate, making sure he didn’t aggravate the injury. “You always act like you don’t need anyone’s help. But it’s okay to admit when you’re in trouble.”

I gritted my teeth at his words, but there was no edge to his tone—just quiet honesty. I didn’t want to admit that he was right, that maybe I had been pushing myself too hard lately, that maybe I had been too proud to ask for help. But it was hard to keep up the act when he was standing there, so close, so damn calm.

“I don’t need a lecture, Joel,” I muttered, trying to shift my position slightly.

His hand paused as he looked up at me, his eyes catching mine. “I’m not lecturing you. I’m just trying to make sure you don’t make it worse. You can’t keep pretending like you’re invincible. You’re not.”

The words hung in the air between us, and for the first time, I felt a wave of vulnerability wash over me. I didn’t want to feel like this. I didn’t want to admit that maybe I had been running on empty for far too long, that maybe I didn’t have it all figured out. Not with him, not with anyone.

“You’re right,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “I… I don’t know what happened back there. It’s like I lost control for a second.”

Joel didn’t respond immediately. He finished cleaning the cut and then started wrapping it in gauze, his movements methodical and practiced. I had expected him to make some quip, to tease me for showing weakness, but instead, he was quiet—focused.

When he finished, he finally looked up, his expression softer now. “It happens to the best of us. You got scared, and that’s okay. But you don’t have to do this alone, y/n.”

I met his gaze, the weight of his words settling in the pit of my stomach. His sincerity was something I hadn’t expected, and it threw me off more than I cared to admit.

For a long moment, neither of us said anything. The only sound was the quiet rustling of the wind and the distant hum of the rodeo grounds. I could feel the tension between us, still hanging in the air, but now there was something different about it—something that wasn’t just about competing, or winning, or proving who was stronger.

“Thanks,” I said, the words feeling foreign on my tongue. “I didn’t expect you to… actually help.”

Joel gave me a dry chuckle, sitting back on his heels. “Don’t go thinking this means I’ve gone soft, darlin’. I’m still gonna beat you tomorrow.”

I couldn’t help but smile, the familiar banter easing the weight of the moment. “You’re still insufferable, you know that?”

His grin returned, that cocky edge creeping back into his voice. “And you’re still stubborn. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy it. Makes the competition interesting.”

I shook my head, but this time, there was no animosity behind it. Despite everything, I couldn’t help but feel a flicker of something—maybe even gratitude—for the way he’d handled this.

“Just don’t think you’re getting an easy win,” I shot back, feeling a hint of the old spark return. “I’m coming for you.”

Joel raised an eyebrow, leaning back slightly, his eyes glinting with the usual challenge. “Bring it on. I’ve been waiting for you to step it up.”

For a moment, I let myself enjoy the lightness between us, the rivalry still there, but tempered by something new. Something I didn’t quite understand, but I was starting to admit I didn’t mind.

Joel stood up, offering me a hand. “Come on. Let’s get you back to the bed and breakfast and take it easy for the rest of the night. You’ve got a competition to win tomorrow.”

I hesitated for a moment, then took his hand, letting him help me up. The steady warmth of his grip was comforting, and I couldn’t ignore the way my pulse quickened with his touch. There was something about Joel—something that pushed all my buttons, something that made me want to keep fighting and keep running, but also, maybe, something that made me want to stay.

I brushed off the thought, refusing to let it linger as I walked beside him back to the stables. There was still a competition to prepare for, after all, and tomorrow, I’d make sure he knew that I wasn’t going down without a fight.

The morning buzzed with the smell of fresh coffee and bacon as I walked into the small dining room of the bed and breakfast. Most of the rodeo crowd was already there, gathered around wooden tables, chatting between bites of biscuits and gravy.

Still half-asleep, I grabbed the nearest cowboy hat from the rack by the door and plopped it onto my head without thinking.

I didn’t realize my mistake until I felt the weight of a stare burning into me.

Slowly, I looked up—right into the amused eyes of Joel.

He was leaning back in his chair, arms crossed, that damn smirk creeping onto his face. “Mornin’, princess.”

I blinked. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Joel tapped his fingers on the table, clearly enjoying himself. “That your hat?”

I frowned, reaching up to tug it down more firmly—only to freeze when I realized it wasn’t mine.

It was his.

I had grabbed Joel’s hat.

Before I could rip it off my head, he tilted his head, voice dropping just enough for only me to hear. “You know what they say…” His smirk turned downright sinful. “Wear the hat—“

“Don’t.” I yanked the hat off my head and smacked it against his chest before he could finish that sentence.

Joel just chuckled, gripping the hat with ease, his fingers brushing mine for a split second longer than necessary. “Hey, no need to be shy about it. Could’ve just told me you wanted—”

“Don’t even start.” I huffed, grabbing a cup of coffee and heading straight for the other side of the room, ignoring the way my face burned.

“Hey, wait,” Joel called after me, and despite every bone in my body telling me to keep walking, I paused.

His voice was quieter now, a little more serious. “How’s your shoulder?”

I blinked, surprised. “What?”

“Your shoulder,” he repeated, leaning forward with that same familiar, cocky grin, but his eyes—there was something softer there. “Y’know, after that little run-in with the calf yesterday. Didn’t want you to use it as an excuse when I beat you later.”

I rolled my eyes, trying to ignore the unexpected flutter in my chest. “It’s fine. Barely hurts.” I squared my shoulders just to prove the point. “And I’m still competing, so don’t get your hopes up.”

Joel chuckled, tipping his hat. “Wouldn’t dream of it, darlin’.”

Even with my back turned, I could feel his eyes on me.

And worse?

I wasn’t sure I hated it.

Competition day always had a certain energy to it—electric, tense, buzzing with anticipation. The early morning sun cast long shadows across the rodeo grounds, the air thick with the scent of dust, horses, and sweat. The crowd was already gathering, and the announcer’s voice echoed through the arena, calling out the lineup for the day’s events.

I should have been focused. I needed to be focused. But, of course, Joel was making that impossible.

“You nervous, princess?” His voice came from behind me, slow and smug as I checked Maple’s saddle one last time.

I exhaled, gripping the leather a little tighter before turning to face him. “Not in the slightest.”

Joel grinned, standing there with his thumbs hooked in his belt loops, looking like he hadn’t lost a wink of sleep over today’s competition. Unlike me, he didn’t believe in overpreparing or second-guessing. He just rode, wild and free, as if the rules didn’t apply to him.

“You sure?” he pressed, tilting his head. “You’ve been triple-checking that saddle for the last five minutes.”

“Maybe I just like to be thorough,” I shot back.

Tommy, Joel’s younger brother, walked up just in time to witness our usual back-and-forth. He clapped Joel on the shoulder, shaking his head with a grin. “Man, do y’all ever stop?”

“Nope,” said another voice—Kailen, my best friend, who had been standing nearby, watching with barely concealed amusement. She raised a brow at me. “You know, for two people who claim to hate each other, you sure spend a lot of time talking.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but the announcer’s voice rang through the speakers, calling up the tie-down roping competitors—Joel’s event.

Joel shot me a wink. “Guess we’ll have to finish this conversation later.”

“Can’t wait,” I muttered as he strolled off, exuding nothing but confidence.

Joel went first. I watched from the sidelines as he rode out with Ford, moving like they were one body. He chased down the calf, lassoed it with effortless precision, and leapt from his saddle in one fluid motion.

The crowd roared as he finished his tie-down in record time, standing back with that damn smug expression as if he knew he was the best.

Tommy whistled from beside me. “Damn, he’s gonna be impossible to deal with after that one.”

Kailen nudged me. “You good?”

I forced myself to unclench my fists. “Fine.”

I wasn’t.

Because the second Joel met my gaze from across the arena, his smirk turning into something slower, something challenging, I felt my stomach flip in a way I really didn’t need before my own event.

It was my turn.

The crowd was still buzzing from Joel’s performance, but I didn’t let it distract me. I mounted Maple, adjusting my grip on the reins as we trotted into the arena.

I took a breath. Blocked out the noise. Focused.

Then, at the sound of the buzzer, we flew.

Maple moved with power and grace, muscles coiling and releasing as we weaved around the barrels with razor-sharp precision. The turns were tight, the speed unmatched. Every movement was calculated, controlled—until the last barrel.

Just as I rounded it, I saw a blur of movement from the corner of my eye. Something—someone—was too close to the fence. Maple spooked, just a fraction of a second’s hesitation, but it was enough to cost me.

We crossed the finish line fast, but not fast enough.

I let out a breath, my heart hammering as I slowed Maple to a trot.

Second place.

Not first.

Not him.

As I dismounted, frustration burned in my chest. I had been so close.

“Hell of a ride,” Joel’s voice came from behind me, and I turned to find him standing there, Ford’s reins in hand, watching me with that unreadable expression. “Shame about that last turn, though.”

I gritted my teeth, yanking off my riding gloves.

“What?” His lips twitched. “I’m just sayin’—”

“You’re gloating.”

Joel stepped closer, lowering his voice so only I could hear. “You mad ‘cause you lost, or mad ‘cause you lost to me?”

I shot him a glare, my skin still buzzing from the adrenaline. From the way he was looking at me. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re predictable,” he murmured, his eyes flickering down to my lips before meeting my gaze again. “Always so desperate to be perfect. Always so scared to just let go.”

I hated that he could see through me. Hated that he knew how much this got under my skin.

But most of all?

I hated how much I wanted him to kiss me right then and there.

“Y/n!” Kailen called, jogging up before I could say—or do—something stupid.

I tore my eyes away from Joel, breathing out sharply. “Coming.”

Joel leaned in just a little, voice low in my ear. “We’re not done, darlin’.”

I turned my head, meeting his gaze with a challenge of my own. “Not even close.”

The rodeo wrapped up as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting everything in a hazy golden glow. The smell of sweat, dust, and leather lingered in the air as competitors packed up for the night, some celebrating, some nursing bruised egos.

I should have been happy with second place. It was a solid run, and I knew Maple and I had given it everything. But standing there watching Joel grin and drink a beer like he hadn’t just walked away with a damn trophy made my blood boil.

And worse? It made something else simmer beneath my skin.

Kailen nudged my side, her gaze flicking between me and Joel, who was leaning against the fence with Tommy, talking and laughing. “You look like you either want to murder him or fuck him.”

I scoffed. “Try murder.”

“Sure,” she said, dragging out the word like she didn’t believe me for a second. “You gonna pretend you weren’t watching him the whole time?”

I turned sharply toward her. “I was not—”

“You totally were.” She smirked. “And he knows it.”

I glanced back at Joel, and sure enough, his eyes were already on me, like he’d been waiting for me to look. The second our gazes met, he lifted his beer bottle slightly, that damn smirk never leaving his face.

Cocky asshole.

I tore my gaze away and turned to Kailen. “I need a drink.”

She grinned. “Now that I can help with.”

Later that night, most of the rodeo crowd had gathered around a bonfire outside the bed and breakfast. Someone had set up speakers playing old country music, and the smell of barbecue mixed with the smoke from the fire.

I sat on a hay bale, nursing a beer, trying to shake the way Joel had been in my head all damn day.

But of course, he had to make it worse.

“Didn’t think you’d show up,” Joel’s voice drawled from behind me.

I exhaled slowly before turning to look at him. “Why? Thought I’d be too busy polishing my second-place ribbon?”

Joel chuckled, taking the spot next to me like he belonged there. “Nah. Just figured you wouldn’t want to be anywhere near me after today.”

I scoffed, taking a sip of my beer. “I don’t.”

“Yet, here you are.”

I turned to him, narrowing my eyes.

He leaned back, propping an arm on the hay bale, looking so damn relaxed it made me want to shove him off. “You always this fun at parties?”

I set my drink down and faced him fully. “What is it you want?”

He studied me for a second, something unreadable passing through his eyes before he shrugged. “Just wonderin’ how long you’re gonna pretend you don’t feel this.”

My breath caught, but I covered it with a laugh. “Feel what?”

Joel tilted his head, his gaze dropping briefly to my lips before flicking back to my eyes. “This,” he said, voice lower now. “The thing between us.”

I swallowed, suddenly hating how warm the fire felt against my skin. “There is no thing.”

Joel just smirked, like he could see right through me. “Right.”

The tension was thick—too thick.

I should have left, should have walked away before I did something stupid.

But Joel, of course, had to push.

“You mad ‘cause I won, or mad ‘cause you know I’m right?” he asked, leaning in slightly.

And just like that, my patience snapped.

“God, you are so insufferable!” I huffed, standing up abruptly.

Joel followed, rising to his full height, his body inches from mine. “And you are so damn stubborn.”

“Because I don’t fall for your stupid games?”

“No, because you pretend you don’t want this!”

My jaw clenched. “I don’t.”

Joel let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. “Bullshit.”

I pushed at his chest, more out of frustration than anything, but he barely moved. “You are the last person I’d ever—”

Before I could finish, he grabbed my wrist, tugging me forward. “Then tell me to stop.”

I froze.

The bonfire crackled behind us, voices and laughter distant, drowned out by the pounding of my own heart.

Joel’s eyes searched mine, his breathing heavy, his grip firm but not unkind. “Tell me to walk away, y/n.”

"What the hell are you talking about?"

Joel's grip on my wrists tightened, his eyes burning with a fury that mirrored mine. "I'm talking about the fact that I can't stand you, y/n. I can't stand watching you shut me out, push me away, acting like you've got everything figured out."

I blinked, stunned by the words he'd just said.

"You can't stand me?" The words stung, more than I wanted to admit, but I was too furious to back down now.

Joel's jaw clenched, his eyes never leaving mine. "Yeah. I can't stand how you make everything so damn hard. I can't stand how you act like I'm some kind of joke. But I can't stop thinking about you either. You don't get it, do you?" His voice dropped to a whisper, the raw emotion there now, the heat between us intensifying with every word. "I want you, y/n. I want you so fucking much, and I can't stand it."

The words hit me like a slap, and for a moment, I couldn't breathe. I stood there, my heart pounding in my chest, staring up at him, realizing that everything l'd been fighting— everything I thought I knew-was coming to a head. My body reacted before my mind could catch up, the heat and the desire that had been simmering beneath our constant bickering now breaking free in an overwhelming wave.

Without thinking, I pushed myself up onto my toes, crashing my lips into his with all the pent-up frustration, desire, and raw emotion I'd been holding back. His hands immediately moved to my back, pulling me flush against him, and the moment our lips met, it was like everything exploded. His kiss was demanding, urgent, filled with everything we hadn't said before-the anger, the passion, the need.

I tugged at his shirt, pulling him closer, feeling the heat of his body against mine, the way our breaths mingled as we kissed like it was the only thing that mattered. I could feel the way his muscles tensed under my fingers, the rawness of him, the way he was losing control just as much as I was.

"Y/n," he murmured between kisses, his voice low and raspy. "I can't stop... can't stop thinking about you."

I pulled away just enough to look him in the eye, my chest heaving with breathless anticipation. "Then don't," I said, my voice shaky but full of conviction. "Stop fighting it."

Joel groaned against my mouth, his arms wrapping around me in an instant, pulling me flush against him. The kiss was rough, urgent, months—years—of tension exploding all at once.

He backed me up until my back hit the fence, his hands gripping my hips like he was afraid I’d pull away. But I wasn’t going anywhere.

The kiss deepened, urgent, messy, full of everything we had been avoiding. I felt his hands running down my back, pulling me even closer as if he couldn't get enough, as if everything we had been holding back was finally being released in the fire between us.

My hands slid under his shirt, feeling the heat of his skin, the way his muscles flexed with every move. I pulled him closer, his breath coming fast and shallow as he kissed me harder.

I didn't think about the competition. I didn't think about the risks or the consequences. All I could focus on was the heat between us, the passion that had been building for so long, finally bursting open in a wave that left us both breathless and lost in the moment.

When we finally broke apart, both of us gasping for air, Joel rested his forehead against mine, his hands still gripping me tightly.

"Shit," he whispered, his voice hoarse. "That was-"

I didn't let him finish, pulling him back into another kiss, this one slower, deeper, more deliberate.

Joel's grin spread, a familiar cocky smirk returning, but now there was something more beneath it-something real, something that neither of us could deny.

We made it back to the bed and breakfast and I wasn't sure what I expected after everything— after the anger, the lust, the feeling of crossing some line l'd never been able to cross before-but in that moment, none of the thoughts I had before made sense anymore.

Joel's lips were still on my skin, his hands brushing against my body with a familiarity that felt too natural. I couldn't quite process it all-the way my heart raced, the way he moved so confidently, but also with that trace of hesitation like he was waiting for me to push him away. And I could feel the shift, the change, that had come with everything.

I could feel it in the way he touched me now-so gentle, but deep with a hunger I hadn't expected.

His lips trailed over my neck, down my jaw, slowly, like he was savoring every second. It made my breath catch, my pulse quicken as I let myself fall into the feeling, into him.

"Y/n..." he whispered, his voice rough, barely above a breath. "I didn't think it would be like this. But damn, I can't stop..."

He didn't finish the sentence, and I didn't need him to. I knew exactly what he meant. It was the same thing I was feeling, the same pull, the same want.

I wasn't thinking anymore. I wasn't thinking about the competition, about the rivalry, about all the reasons we shouldn't be here, doing this.

I reached up, pulling him into a kiss, my fingers threading through his hair, tugging him closer as if somehow that would make it all make sense. His hands slid under me, lifting me slightly, and I could feel him shift, his body pressing against mine with a desperate kind of intensity.

We couldn't keep our hands off each other. His touch was scorching, a contrast to the cool sheets beneath us. My hands roamed over his chest, feeling the taut muscles there, the heat radiating from him.

He groaned softly when my fingers brushed his collarbone, his lips parting in that same quiet desperation.

I could tell he was holding back-like he was giving me a chance to stop him, to pull away. But I didn't want to. I couldn't stop him.

When his hands found their way down to my waist, pulling me even closer, I couldn't stop the soft gasp that escaped me. And that was it. He kissed me again, this time rougher, the pace of his movements picking up, pushing me deeper into the moment.

I wanted him. God, I wanted him more than I wanted to admit.

Joel's mouth found mine again, his hands now working to tug my shirt off, and I wasn't stopping him. I didn't care anymore. All the walls, all the resistance, all the history between us—it melted away, and the only thing that mattered was what we were doing right now.

We were giving in. We were no longer fighting it.

My body responded instantly, moving against his, matching the intensity of his kiss, the roughness of his hands. He was relentless, his kisses growing deeper, more urgent, as if he couldn't get enough.

And I couldn't either.

The way he touched me made everything else feel irrelevant. The way his lips trailed down my body sent sparks of heat that burned away every other thought I had, until all I could think about was him.

It felt so right, but at the same time, so completely new.

Every touch, every movement, was a revelation. He wasn't the same man l'd been arguing with all day. He was someone else now-someone raw, someone real. Someone who was finally, finally, showing me all the things he'd been holding back.

And I realized, in that instant, I wasn't the only one letting go. He was too.

His body pressed against mine, heat radiating off him, as if he was saying everything he couldn't with words. His kiss was hungry, fevered, but there was something more to it-something soft, something almost... gentle.

I felt his hand on my back, guiding me, moving me closer, as if there was no space between us, as if we were meant to be tangled up in this moment, in this feeling. We were no longer the same stubborn, competitive people. We were two people who had finally let go of everything and just given in.

And I couldn't bring myself to stop.

[oldsoul007]

save a horse

cowboy!joel miller x cowgirl!reader

what started as a frustrating, never-ending rivalry with Joel Miller—his reckless riding, his cocky smirks, his infuriating ability to get under your skin—turned into something else entirely. Something you couldn’t control, couldn’t ignore, no matter how hard you tried. Because beneath all the fighting, the competition, and the stubborn pride, there was heat. And once you gave in to it, there was no turning back.

here it is

[oldsoul007]

Guess

older!joel miller x brat!younger!reader

summary: Joel never asked to be saddled with you—wild, reckless, and always testing his patience—but what started as a favor turned into something he couldn’t ignore, and by the time he realized he was in far too deep, it was already too late.

a/n: I never got over brat summer, forced proximity, tension, banter, kissing, suggestive scenes

joel miller masterlist

The first time I see Joel Miller, he’s scowling.

Like, really scowling. Deep line between his brows, mouth set in a firm, unimpressed line, arms crossed over his chest like he’s already exhausted before I’ve even said a word.

And that just makes me want to push his buttons.

He was older—forty-five, maybe—but damn if he didn’t wear it well. Tall, broad, built like a man who knew hard work and even harder days. The kind of man who didn’t waste words or time on things he thought weren’t worth it.

“Y/n,” Tommy grins, throwing an arm around me, “meet my older brother, Joel.”

Joel gives me a once-over, slow and deliberate. I feel his eyes drag over me, taking in my short dress, the bare skin, the slight smirk tugging at my lips. And just for fun, I shift my weight, tilting my head, letting my smile turn just a little more smug.

Tommy, oblivious, keeps talking. “Figured you two should finally meet since you’re always hangin’ around.”

Joel sighs, clearly already over this interaction. “Yeah. Great. Nice to meet you.”

I raise a brow. “Wow. So warm. So welcoming.”

Tommy snorts. “Don’t take it personal. He’s always like this.”

“Like what?” I ask, tilting my head, eyes flicking back to Joel.

Joel just stares at me, like he’s debating whether or not to entertain me. Finally, he mutters, “Serious.”

I grin. “And I’m guessin’ Tommy here told you I’m the opposite?”

Joel doesn’t answer, but the way his jaw flexes tells me enough.

Oh, this is gonna be fun.

I step a little closer, watching him carefully, waiting to see if he pulls back. He doesn’t—just watches me, unimpressed, unreadable, but I don’t miss the way his fingers twitch, like he’s restraining himself.

“You got somethin’ against fun, Miller?” I tease.

Joel exhales through his nose. “Just don’t got patience for trouble.”

I grin. “Good thing I ain’t trouble then.”

His eyes flick down to my lips for half a second before snapping back up. “Yeah,” he mutters. “Sure.”

Tommy laughs, clapping Joel on the back. “She’s a handful, huh?”

Joel shakes his head, muttering something under his breath before looking back at me. “You always this much of a pain in the ass?”

I beam. “You always this grumpy?”

His jaw tightens. I know I’m getting to him. And I love it.

Something about Joel Miller tells me he’s the type to resist—to hold himself back, to act like he doesn’t want.

But the way he’s looking at me now?

Yeah. He wants.

I never planned on ending up at Joel Millers house.

But life has a funny way of screwing with me.

One busted pipe in my apartment—water everywhere, maintenance useless, and suddenly, I had nowhere to stay. Tommy was out of town, and before I could even think of booking a motel, he was already on the phone, talking to Joel.

“Just for a few days,” Tommy had said. “Joel’s got the space.”

Joel, who was already looking at me like I was a problem before I even stepped foot in his house.

Now, standing in his doorway, duffel slung over my shoulder, I give him my best grin. “Miss me?”

Joel just sighs, running a hand down his face. “Just don’t make me regret this.”

“No promises.”

His jaw tightens, like he knew I was gonna say that.

I step past him, into his space, and the second the door shuts behind me, something shifts. It’s one thing to tease Joel out in the world, to push his buttons when there’s always somewhere else to go. But here? His house?

There’s nowhere to run now.

And by the way his eyes flicker over me—quick, sharp, like he already regrets agreeing to this—I can tell he’s thinking the same damn thing.

The first night at Joel’s place is… tense. In a way that has nothing to do with the fact that my apartment is currently unlivable and everything to do with him.

He didn’t exactly roll out the welcome mat when Tommy volunteered him to take me in. He just grunted, muttered something about “just for a couple nights,” and now here we are.

Joel’s house is simple. A little messy but lived-in. It smells like sawdust, coffee, and whatever soap he uses. I shouldn’t be noticing those things, but I do.

“You got a spare bedroom, or do I gotta fight you for the bed?” I ask, dropping my bag by the couch.

Joel gives me a look like he’s already regretting this. “Spare room’s down the hall. Not much in there, but it’s got a bed.”

I smirk. “A bed and a grumpy host? Wow, I’m spoiled.”

He exhales sharply through his nose, running a hand over his beard like he’s trying to summon patience. “You need anything, just… don’t.”

I grin. “Don’t what?”

He glares. “Don’t push it.”

Oh, but that’s my favorite thing to do.

—

It’s late when I finally settle in. The house is too quiet, too still, and I can’t sleep. Not used to this place, not used to him just a room away.

I pad down the hall, oversized t-shirt hanging off me, socks silent against the wood floor. The lamp in the living room is still on, and Joel’s sitting on the couch, looking lost in thought.

“Can’t sleep?” I ask, leaning against the doorway.

He looks up, eyes flicking to me—just for a second, just long enough to make me feel barely covered. He exhales, looking back at his floor. “Didn’t expect you to be the quiet type at night.”

I snort, walking over to perch on the arm of the couch. “Bet you thought I’d snore or talk in my sleep.”

Joel shrugs. “Still debatin’ it.”

I watch him for a moment, the way the lamp casts shadows over his face, the way he looks at everything except me. There’s something charged in the air, something neither of us want to acknowledge.

“You don’t like this, do you?” I tease, nudging his knee with my foot. “Having me here.”

Joel takes a slow look up at me. “Ain’t about likin’ it. It just is.”

I hum, watching him closely. “You’re so bad at lying.”

Joel’s jaw flexes.

And I know, I know, if I keep pushing, I’ll get something out of him. But for once, I don’t.

Instead, I stand, stretching dramatically. “Alright, Miller. I’ll stop bugging you. For now.”

Joel huffs. “Doubtful.”

I grin, heading toward the hallway. But just before I disappear into the dark, I hear him mutter—just low enough that I almost miss it.

“Sleep tight, trouble.”

And damn it, that shouldn’t make my stomach flip. But it does.

—

The thing about living with Joel? It’s too easy to mess with him.

I’ve been here for three days now, and I swear, every time I walk into a room, he looks like he’s debating whether or not to strangle me or throw me out. And honestly? I love it.

Like right now.

He’s standing in the kitchen, coffee in one hand, flipping through the mail like it personally offended him. His shirt is still wrinkled from sleep, hair a little messy, eyes heavy with whatever dreams he never talks about. And I? I’m perched on the counter, swinging my legs, eating the last piece of toast he made for himself.

Joel notices. His eyes flick to the empty plate in my hand, then to his own very empty hands, and then—then—he exhales so sharply it’s almost funny.

“Really?” he grumbles, setting the mail down with way more force than necessary. “You ain’t got hands to make your own damn food?”

I grin, taking a slow, deliberate bite. “Yours just looked better.”

Joel mutters something under his breath, something that sounds suspiciously like a curse, and turns to pour himself more coffee.

“Y’know,” I continue, voice sweet, “for a man who claims he doesn’t like me being here, you sure do take good care of me.”

Joel tenses. His grip on the coffee pot tightens.

“Wouldn’t have to if you took care of yourself,” he mutters, taking a sip.

I smirk. “Aww, Joel. You worried about me?”

He doesn’t answer. Just glares over the rim of his mug like he’s daring me to push him further.

So, of course, I do.

I hop off the counter, stepping closer, my bare feet silent against the floor. Joel watches me warily, like I’m a stray cat that might bite. I stop just in front of him, tilting my head.

“You sure you don’t like having me here?” I tease, my voice dropping just a little, just enough to make his fingers twitch.

Joel doesn’t move. Doesn’t step back. But his eyes darken just enough to make my stomach flip.

“You really wanna test me this early?” he murmurs, his voice low and rough.

The challenge sends a thrill down my spine. I grin, leaning in just a fraction, enough to feel the heat radiating off him.

“Maybe,” I whisper. “Depends on what happens if I do.”

Joel huffs a laugh—one of those deep, frustrated, you’re-gonna-be-the-death-of-me laughs. Then, suddenly, his turn to get close. He leans down, voice right against my ear.

“You keep pushin’,” he murmurs, his breath warm against my skin, “you ain’t gonna like what happens.”

My pulse jumps. My smirk falters—just for a second.

Joel sees it. And the bastard smirks.

Then he pulls back, grabbing his coffee, walking away like he won this round.

I exhale sharply, watching him go, my skin still tingling.

I really need to stop underestimating him.

—

I know he’s awake the second I step through the door.

The lights are dim, but Joel’s still sitting on the couch, one arm draped over the backrest, the other holding a half-empty beer. He looks relaxed—pretends to be, anyway—but his eyes flick to me the second I walk in.

I smirk. “You waitin’ up for me, Miller?”

Joel exhales sharply through his nose, setting the bottle down on the coffee table. “Just happened to be up.”

Uh-huh.

I ignore him, walking into the kitchen, feeling his eyes drag over me as I move. The dress I’m wearing is short, tight, and backless—very backless. My tattoo is on full display, the black ink running across, teasing the dip of my lower back.

I reach for a glass, pouring myself some water, letting the silence stretch, letting him look.

Finally, I hear him shift behind me. “Where the hell were you?”

I take a slow sip. “Out.”

“With who?”

I glance over my shoulder, raising a brow. “Didn’t know I had to check in with you, dad.”

Joel clenches his jaw. His fingers flex on his knee. “Y/n.”

I turn fully now, leaning against the counter, glass in hand. “Why do you care?”

“I don’t.” The lie is so blatant, so immediate, that I almost laugh.

I take another sip, watching him. “You sure about that?”

Joel doesn’t answer right away. His gaze flicks lower, over the curve of my back, the exposed skin, the ink. His jaw tenses even more—like he’s mad. Like the tattoo itself is personally offending him.

I set my glass down, smirking. “Something wrong?”

Joel exhales, drags a hand down his face. “You got no damn shame, you know that?”

I grin, stepping closer, closing the space between us. “And you got no damn claim,” I say, tilting my head. “So what’s your problem?”

Joel watches me, something dangerous flickering behind his eyes.

I lift a finger, tracing a slow, teasing line down my own spine, over the tattoo he won’t stop staring at. “You like it?” I ask, voice low.

His nostrils flare. His fists clench.

Then—just like always—he forces himself to lean back, to put space between us, to shove all that tension down deep.

I take my time walking past him, making sure he gets a real good look at what’s been driving him crazy all night. I can practically feel the heat of his stare burning into my skin, but I don’t give him the satisfaction of looking back.

Not yet.

Instead, I reach for my water again, taking a slow sip, just to draw this out a little more. Joel exhales, long and slow, like he’s trying to keep himself calm.

I almost feel bad for him.

Almost.

“You always go out dressed like that?” His voice is low, rough, like he’s forcing himself to sound casual.

I smirk against my glass. “You always staring at me?”

Joel lets out a sharp breath, but he doesn’t deny it.

I finally turn, leaning back against the counter, crossing my arms so my dress shifts even higher up my thighs. His gaze flickers, betraying him for half a second before he locks it back on my face.

“I just don’t get why you feel the need to—” He waves a hand vaguely at me. “—put everything on display.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Everything?”

Joel rubs a hand down his face, muttering under his breath. “You know what I mean.”

I grin. “What, you don’t like my tattoo?”

He clenches his jaw. “Ain’t about the tattoo.”

I tilt my head, watching him closely. “Then what’s it about?”

He doesn’t answer.

I push off the counter, closing the space between us, slow and deliberate. “Is it the tattoo, or is it the fact that other people got to see it?”

Joel tenses. Just a flicker. Barely noticeable. But I see it.

And I know.

I smirk. “That’s it, isn’t it?” My voice drops, just above a whisper. “You don’t like that someone else got to look at me like this.”

Joel’s breathing is heavier now, his fists clenched at his sides. “Go to bed, y/n.”

I step even closer, close enough that I can feel the heat of him, smell the faded whiskey and aftershave clinging to his skin. “Make me.”

His jaw flexes. His hands twitch. For a second, I think he might actually do something, might finally snap and grab me, kiss me, claim me like we both know he wants to.

But then—

He exhales sharply, dragging a hand down his face before turning away from me. “You’re a damn brat, you know that?”

I grin, victorious. “And you love it.”

Joel mutters something I don’t catch, shaking his head, still refusing to look at me.

I lean up on my toes, just enough to whisper near his ear. “Sweet dreams, Miller.”

Then I turn and head toward my room, my steps slow, unhurried, knowing damn well he’s watching.

Knowing damn well he won’t sleep tonight.

Not yet, anyway.

—

Joel is a walking contradiction.

Always looking out for me, always acting like I’m some damn problem he’s gotta fix. But then, when he thinks I’m not paying attention? He watches me.

Like right now.

I’m sitting on the tailgate of his truck, sipping a gas station soda, swinging my legs while he loads up the last of the supplies he picked up. The summer heat is thick, sticking to my skin, making me feel slow, lazy.

Joel, meanwhile, looks like he’s one deep breath away from losing his patience.

“Where’d you run off to last night?” he asks, not looking at me.

I smirk. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Wouldn’t ask if I didn’t.”

That gets me. I raise an eyebrow. “You are keepin’ tabs on me.”

Joel exhales, setting down a case of water a little harder than necessary. “Just know when you start trouble.”

I grin. “Who says I started trouble?”

He gives me a look.

Fair enough.

I take another sip of my drink, watching him work, the way his shirt clings to his back, damp from the heat. My stomach tightens, and I blame it on the weather.

“You got somethin’ to say?” he mutters, not turning around.

I smirk. “Nope.”

“Then quit starin’.”

I laugh, kicking my feet against the truck bed. “Oh, that’s rich.”

His jaw tightens. “What’s that mean?”

I tilt my head. “Means I see you lookin’, too.”

Joel freezes.

It’s quick. A small thing. But I notice.

For the first time, he actually looks at me, really looks. And there’s heat there, burning under all that restraint.

I set my drink down, hopping off the tailgate, stepping close—too close.

“You ever wonder what’d happen,” I murmur, “if you stopped pretendin’ you don’t want me?”

Joel’s breath is slow. Measured. He doesn’t step back. Doesn’t move.

“You don’t know what you’re askin’ for,” he says, voice low, gruff.

I tilt my head, biting back a grin. “Maybe I do.”

Something flickers in his eyes. Something dangerous.

For a second, I think maybe—maybe—he’s gonna snap. Gonna grab me by the waist, drag me in, let all that tension finally break.

Instead, he just exhales, long and slow, before stepping back.

“You’re trouble,” he mutters.

I grin. “You like trouble.”

Joel shakes his head, mumbling something under his breath as he turns away.

But his hands? They’re clenched into fists.

And that tells me everything I need to know.

—

Joel’s been trying to ignore me all damn day.

Which, honestly? Fair. I’ve been making it real hard for him.

I’m leaning against the counter in his kitchen, the space between us just enough for me to feel that slow, simmering tension that’s been building up all afternoon, wearing nothing but an oversized t-shirt and a pair of—well, that’s the game, isn’t it?

Joel walks in, fresh from a shower, hair damp, t-shirt clinging to his chest just enough to make me look. He barely glances at me as he grabs a water from the fridge, pretending I’m not there.

Like I’ll just let him get away with that.

“You ever gonna put on some damn clothes?”

I smirk, not even looking up. “I am wearing clothes.”

Joel exhales sharply, taking a long sip of water. “Not enough.”

That makes me grin. Gotcha.

I stretch, letting the hem of my shirt ride up just a little. “Oh, relax. It’s just a t-shirt.”

Joel scoffs, finally looking at me. His eyes flicker down, slow, then back up, jaw tightening. Yeah, he noticed.

“Guess,” I say suddenly, watching him.

His brow furrows. “What?”

I sit up, tilting my head. “Guess what I’m wearing underneath.”

Joel exhales, shaking his head. “Not playin’ this game, y/n.”

“C’mon.” I stretch, making sure the hem of my shirt lifts just enough to tease. “Just one guess.”

“Clothes.”

I grin. “Not much of ‘em.”

That does it. His grip tightens on the bottle, jaw going stiff. He still doesn’t turn around, but I see it—the way his shoulders tense, the way his breath goes a little heavier.

But then, to my surprise, he plays along.

Joel finally turns, slow, lazy, eyes dragging over me in a way that makes my stomach flip.

Slow. Controlled. Like he knows exactly what this is doing to me.

And I feel it—his presence filling the space, the heat between us thick and undeniable. Joel stops just a breath away, too close for comfort, but I don’t move. I won’t.

“You’re awful pushy tonight,” he mutters, eyes dark as they settle on me.

I tilt my head, not backing down. “You’re awful curious for someone who doesn’t wanna play.”

Joel’s eyes drag over me, deliberate and slow, as if he’s taking in every inch, every detail. Then, like he can’t help himself, he leans in a little more—close enough that I feel the warmth of his body, the weight of his presence.

His breath hits my cheek, and I’m sure my heart skips a beat. I freeze, barely able to keep my focus.

The space between us is thick with something heavy, something that has my pulse racing, but Joel’s not moving. He’s standing there, looking at me like he’s debating something—maybe whether or not to keep playing. I keep my eyes locked on his, deliberately challenging, just to see how long he’ll stand there before he breaks.

I know he can feel it too—the weight of the air between us. It’s thick. Electric.

But I’m not the one to crack first.

I lean back a little, letting my hands slide across the cool counter, trying to act casual, like I’m not aware of every inch of space between us, of how close he’s standing now.

Joel doesn’t say anything for a while. He just watches me—his eyes intense, like he’s studying every move I make, waiting for me to slip up.

And then, in one smooth motion, he steps forward, close enough that I feel his presence without him even touching me. Just the weight of his gaze, the pull of his body.

I freeze for a second, breath catching in my throat. Damn it.

He doesn’t rush—he never does. Joel’s always deliberate, calculating. But I can see it now, the way his lips press together, the faintest twitch of his jaw like he’s trying to hold something back.

Without saying a word, his hand moves slowly to the bottom of my t-shirt. His fingers brush against the fabric, barely grazing the skin of my thigh. The touch is light—almost too light—but it still sends a shiver through me.

I stay still, even though every part of me is aware of what he’s doing, of the way his hand hovers, teasing, as if he’s testing my patience.

“Alright,” he drawls, voice lower now. “Guessin’ you want me to say somethin’ like… lace?”

My mouth goes dry.

Oh.

I wasn’t expecting that.

I recover fast, tilting my head. “Maybe.”

Joel takes a slow step closer, his eyes locked on mine, like he knows he’s caught me off guard. Like he’s finally flipping the script on me.

“Red?” he guesses, voice all deep and rough.

I swallow. “Wrong.”

“Black, then.”

I press my lips together, refusing to react.

“Bet they even have a little bow”

Joel just huffs a quiet laugh, taking another slow sip of water, looking way too satisfied with himself.

I narrow my eyes, sitting up. “You think you’re real smooth, huh?”

He just shrugs. “Ain’t that hard, darlin’. You’re an open book.”

And then, just as I’m about to respond, he shifts again—moving in, just enough to make the back of his hand brush mine. The contact is so light, but I feel it like a damn spark.

His lips are so close to my ear now, and I know he’s teasing. He’s testing me, waiting to see what I’ll do.

But I don’t move. I hold my ground, staring up at him, willing myself not to let the heat get to me.

“I hate to break it to you, sweetheart,” he murmurs, “but you ain’t nearly as subtle as you think you are.”

I try to keep my cool, but there’s a hitch in my breath.

Joel steps back then, like it’s nothing. But I can feel the pull, the weight of what just happened. I know he’s not done with this—not by a long shot.

—

Joel is pissed.

I see it in the way his shoulders tense as he shoves open the bar door, his grip firm around my wrist, dragging me outside like I’m some wayward kid in need of a lesson. The humid Texas night air wraps around us, thick and sticky, but it’s nothing compared to the heat burning between us.

“What the hell was that, y/n?” Joel snaps, letting go of my wrist just to turn and face me, standing toe-to-toe like he’s ready for a fight.

I roll my eyes, crossing my arms. “I was having a drink, Joel.”

“You were flirtin’ with every damn guy in there,” he growls, his hands landing on his hips like he’s holding himself back.

I smirk, tilting my head. “Oh, that’s what this is about? Didn’t realize you were keepin’ tabs on me.”

Joel huffs, his nostrils flaring as he shakes his head. “I am keepin’ tabs on you. Tommy asked me to keep an eye on you, and you—” He gestures toward the bar behind us, exasperated. “You don’t make it easy.”

I laugh, the alcohol warming me but not enough to dull the way my pulse spikes at his words. “I’m twenty-five, Joel. I don’t need a damn babysitter.”

“Well, you sure as hell act like you do,” he shoots back, eyes dark and burning with frustration.

That gets me. My spine straightens, my chin tilts up, and suddenly, I’m really not in the mood for this conversation.

“Excuse me?” I take a step closer, poking a finger against his chest. “I don’t belong to you, Joel. You don’t get to tell me what to do.”

Joel exhales sharply, like he’s trying to get a grip, but it’s useless because I can see it—the tightness in his jaw, the way his fingers flex at his sides, the way his eyes flicker down to my lips for a fraction of a second before snapping back up.

Oh, he hates this.

Hates that I push him.

Hates that I get under his skin.

Hates that he wants me.

“I didn’t say you belonged to me,” he mutters, voice lower now, rougher.

“But you sure as hell act like it.” My voice is quieter too, the space between us shrinking, the air crackling.

Joel clenches his jaw, breathing hard, and for a second, I swear he’s about to say something—admit something. But instead, he just lets out a frustrated growl, dragging a hand down his face.

“You drive me crazy,” he mutters.

I grin, stepping even closer, my chest nearly brushing his. “Yeah? And what’re you gonna do about it?”

Joel goes still.

I see it—the moment something shifts between us, the way his breathing changes, the way his fingers twitch like he wants to grab me, pull me closer, do something about it.

But instead, he just exhales sharply, turns away, and runs a hand through his hair like he’s trying to physically shake me off.

“Get in the damn truck.”

I laugh, but there’s something breathless about it, something shaky. Because if he had made a move—if he had snapped—I don’t know if I would’ve stopped him.

Hell, I know I wouldn’t have.

But for now, I just smirk, walking past him with a slow sway in my step, knowing damn well he’s watching me.

And as I climb into his truck, I wonder just how long it’ll take before Joel Miller finally breaks.

—

Sometimes, Joel does the dumbest shit, and I can't help but laugh at how he digs himself deeper without even realizing it. I've been pushing him all night, just little jabs here and there, watching him get more and more frustrated. It's my favorite game-seeing how long I can mess with him before he finally cracks.

But this time? This time, he really crossed a line.

He thinks he knows what’s best for me, and the way he treats me like some helpless kid? It drives me insane. I’m 25, not a teenager, but he always acts like I need someone to babysit me. It’s honestly infuriating.

But I guess he just couldn’t let it go anymore.

I’m standing there, crossing my arms, staring him down as he tries to come up with something to say, but all he can do is look at me like I’ve broken his favorite damn toy. He’s so damn stubborn, but right now, there’s something in his eyes I’ve never seen before—guilt.

Then, out of nowhere, Joel drops to his knees in front of me.

What the hell?

For a moment, I just stare at him, caught off guard.

I'm not even sure what he's doing, but the way he looks up at me-like he's some kind of punished dog-throws me off balance. He's trying to make a statement, I can tell. He's not embarrassed, but he's also not letting this go.

"I messed up," Joel says, his voice gravelly, as he slowly slides his hands up to rest on my thighs.

I blink at him, not sure how to react. The tension is different this time-this isn't about him giving in; this is something else entirely. There's no fear in his eyes. No submission. He's still the same stubborn bastard he's always been, but there's something else there too-something challenging.

He wants to make things right, but he's doing it on his terms.

"You're not sorry enough for this to work," | tease, holding back the grin that's threatening to break free.

He smirks, eyes flicking up to meet mine. He's still got that damn cocky attitude, even with me standing over him, and I don't know whether I want to slap it off him or kiss him.

Maybe both.

"I'm sorry," he repeats, his hands tightening on my thighs, but there's no hesitation in his voice. "But I'm not getting off my knees until you know I'm serious."

I let out a laugh, not backing down, my body giving off every signal that I'm in control. "And what's that supposed to mean? You think this is gonna impress me?"

His grip on my thighs tightens, pulling me in closer, and now I can feel the heat of him through the fabric. But instead of giving me an inch, he's still staring up at me with that damn challenge in his eyes.

"You want an apology? You got it," he says, voice low and steady. "But l'm not some puppy you can just command. Don't think for one second you're gonna play me like that."

I raise an eyebrow, intrigued despite myself. I was expecting him to grovel, to at least try to show some weakness. But Joel? Joel doesn't do weakness.

"I never said you were a puppy," I murmur, looking down at him with a smile that's too smug for my own good. "But you are on your knees."

His eyes darken as he holds my gaze, not backing down, not even a little. "Yeah, and I'm here because you deserve the apology, not because I'm asking for permission."

The heat between us shifts again, and it's not the playful teasing anymore. It's something more-something a little darker, a little more real. He's not going to give in, but he's also not letting me win either.

"So, what do you want?" l ask, my voice almost a whisper, the challenge still there but mixed with something else.

Joel doesn't hesitate. "I want you to stop testing me and accept that I'm not going anywhere."

And for just a moment, it feels like he's got me right where he wants me.

But then, I realize-he's not the only one who knows how to play this game.

"Well, if you're so eager to apologize," | start, running my fingers through his hair, "maybe you can make it up to me in a way I actually want."

Joel looks up at me, his hands still gripping my thighs as his breath catches. There's a flicker of something in his eyes-something wild, but also totally surrendered.

"Name it."

The words land between us with the weight of a promise. And for the first time, I feel the air between us change completely. I step back, my body a little off balance from how suddenly he's shifted everything.

But damn, if that doesn't make my heart race.

And then—

His hands are on me.

Gripping my waist, dragging me in hard, pinning me against the wall like he can’t hold himself back another second.

“You happy now?” His voice is low, rough, wrecked. His breath is hot against my lips, his hands firm, possessive on my hips.

I grin, breathless. “Ecstatic.”

And then he’s kissing me.

It’s not soft. It’s not slow. It’s everything he’s been denying himself—all the tension, all the frustration, all the goddamn hunger crashing down on us at once.

I moan into his mouth, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him impossibly closer. He groans, deep and low, like he needs this, like he’s craved this for so long it’s driven him mad.

His hands slide lower, gripping my thighs, lifting me effortlessly against him. I wrap my legs around his waist, gasping as my back presses harder against the wall, his body solid and hot against mine.

“You drive me fucking crazy,” he growls, dragging his lips down my jaw, my neck, biting just enough to make me gasp.

I laugh breathlessly, tugging his head back up, eyes locked on his. "Took you long enough to admit it."

Joel glares at me, but there's something wild behind it now, something dangerous. "You got no idea what you just started."

I smirk, running my fingers down his chest, feeling the way his breath shudders at my touch.

"Then don't stop," | whisper.

And he doesn't.

—

It’s like once we started, we couldn’t stop.

Every touch, every look, every little moment of tension we used to ignore? Now it’s all fire.

It starts in the kitchen. I brush past Joel to grab a glass of water, my fingers barely skimming his arm, and I swear I hear his breath hitch. It’s subtle, but I know him. I know how much I get under his skin.

And then, before I can even turn around, he’s on me.

One hand grips my waist, the other presses into the counter beside me, caging me in. His body is warm against my back, his breath hot against my ear.

“You do this on purpose,” he mutters, voice low, rough, like he’s barely holding himself together.

I smirk, tilting my head slightly, just enough that his lips graze my neck. “Do what?”

Joel exhales sharply, his fingers tightening on my waist. “Brat,” he murmurs, but it sounds wrecked, like he’s already given in.

And he has.

Because in the next breath, he spins me to face him, pressing me against the counter. His hands grip my hips, his body hot against mine, and I can feel the tension rolling off him.

“You’re playin’ with fire,” he warns, lips barely an inch from mine.

I grin, dragging my fingers through his hair, nails scraping lightly against his scalp.

Joel groans, kissing me.

Hard.

It’s desperate, messy, like every ounce of restraint he had is just gone. My hands tangle in his hair, pulling him impossibly close, gasping into his mouth when his fingers dig into my skin.

We barely make it to the hallway before he grabs me again, pressing me against the wall, his mouth never leaving mine.

“You just can’t help yourself,” I murmur against his lips, breathless.

Joel groans, his forehead pressing to mine, his grip firm like he's staking a claim. "Neither can you."

And he's right. Because the second we're alone again, I'm on him-hands in his hair, pulling him down, both of us too far gone to stop now.

Because now that we've started?

We're never stopping.

—

I leave the bathroom door open on purpose.

And the glass shower door? Yeah, that stays cracked, too.

The hot water cascades down my body, steam curling through the air, fogging up the glass just enough to blur the edges but not enough to hide me. I know Joel’s home. I know he’ll walk past. And I know he won’t be able to help himself.

It takes a minute, but then—there he is.

I catch the movement out of the corner of my eye, the way he pauses in the doorway. I can’t see his face through the steam, but I know that look—the one where his jaw tightens, where his fists clench like he’s fighting every urge in his body.

I smile to myself and tilt my head back, letting the hot water pour down my neck, dragging my hands slowly over my skin.

Joel exhales sharply. “Jesus Christ, y/n.”

I bite my lip. Bingo.

There’s a beat of silence, thick with tension. And then—I hear him move. The rustle of fabric. The soft clink of a belt buckle. The sound of a shirt being pulled over his head.

My pulse spikes.

The shower door swings open wider, and suddenly—Joel is there.

Steam clings to his skin, droplets forming against the hard planes of his chest, his broad shoulders.

His eyes are dark, locked on mine, his expression somewhere between exasperation and something dangerous.

“You really are a damn brat,” he mutters.

Before I can reply, his hands are on me, gripping my waist, pushing me gently but firmly against the cool tile. His body is hot, solid against mine, his breath warm against my skin as he leans in.

“You left that door open on purpose,” he accuses, voice rough, wrecked.

I smirk, fingers sliding up his arms, feeling the tension there. “Maybe.”

Joel exhales sharply, shaking his head. “Unbelievable.” But there’s something else in his eyes now—something wild, something hungry.

His hands grip my hips, fingers pressing hard into my skin, and he kisses me.

Hard.

It’s desperate, messy, like he’s been waiting for this, like every ounce of restraint he’s ever had just snapped. I moan into his mouth, pressing up against him, feeling the heat of his body, the way his hands roam, gripping, claiming.

"You gonna keep playin' games, sweetheart?" he mutters against my lips, his voice rough with need.

I grin, breathless, pulling him closer. "Always."

Joel groans, his forehead pressing against mine, his breath heavy, his fingers digging into my skin like he needs this.

And then he kisses me again.

And this time, neither of us stop.

—

The first night back in my apartment should feel good. Should feel like a breath of fresh air. No more waking up to Joel grumbling in the kitchen, no more stolen flannels, no more him lurking in doorways like he’s just waiting for me to do something reckless.

But it doesn’t feel good.

It feels wrong.

I don’t like waking up alone. I don’t like the quiet. I don’t like that Joel just let me go without a damn word.

So I do what I always do. I go looking for trouble.

And I find it at his doorstep.

Joel barely reacts when he opens the door and sees me standing there, arms crossed, wearing one of his shirts I forgot to return. His face is unreadable, but I know him. I see the way his shoulders tighten, the way his jaw clenches.

“What’re you doin’ here?” he asks, voice low, cautious.

I step inside without waiting for an invitation, brushing past him like I belong there. Because I do.

“I dunno,” I say, throwing myself onto his couch. “Figured I’d see if you missed me.”

Joel exhales sharply, closing the door, rubbing the back of his neck like he’s already tired of this conversation. “Y/n—”

“—You didn’t even call me.” I cut him off, watching him carefully.

He shakes his head, pacing like a man who’s got too much in his head and no idea how to get it out. “Didn’t think I needed to.”

I scoff, leaning back against the cushions. “Bullshit.”

Joel stops pacing, pinches the bridge of his nose, and mutters something under his breath.

“What?” I push, sitting up. “Go on. Say it.”

“You know why,” he says, finally looking at me. His eyes are tired. Guilty. “I shouldn’t have—I shouldn’t have let things go as far as they did.”

I laugh. A short, bitter thing. “Let things go as far as they did? You mean you finally gave in? You finally admitted you wanted me?”

Joel clenches his jaw, turning away, but I’m already off the couch, already closing the distance between us.

“You do want me,” I say, softer now. “You just don’t want to let yourself have me.”

He doesn’t deny it. Doesn’t say a word. Just stands there, looking like a man at war with himself.

“You think it was a mistake?” I ask, my voice steady even though my chest feels tight.

Joel doesn’t answer right away. And that silence? It kills me.

Finally, he exhales, voice rough. “I think it ain’t fair to you.”

I stare at him, disbelief creeping in. “Fair? That’s what you’re worried about? Jesus, Joel, I’m not some kid you need to protect. I know what I want.”

He shakes his head. “You don’t get it—”

“No, you don’t get it,” I snap. “I waited for you to stop fighting it. I waited for you to stop treating me like I’m too young, too reckless, too much for you. And the second you let yourself have me, you run?”

Joel’s breathing is heavy now, his hands flexing at his sides like he doesn’t know what to do with them. “I ain’t runnin’—”

I step closer, forcing him to look at me. “Then what the hell do you call this?”

His face twists, something breaking behind his eyes. “I call it tryin’ to do right by you.”

My chest aches. God, he’s so damn stubborn.

“You don’t get to decide that,” I say, softer this time. “You don’t get to make that choice for me.”

Joel looks at me, looks through me, and I see it—that need, that longing, that war inside him.

But I won’t beg.

So I take a slow step back, swallowing down the lump in my throat. “Fine,” I say, voice carefully even. “You wanna push me away? Go ahead. But don’t you dare pretend it’s for my sake.”

I turn, heading for the door, my heart hammering in my chest.

And I wait.

I wait for him to stop me.

But the door closes behind me, and Joel lets me go.

—

I should slam the door in his face.

I should.

But I don’t. Because it’s Joel. And even after everything—even after he let me walk out that door without a fight—I still want him.

And the bastard knows it.

He stands there, looking rough around the edges, like he hasn’t slept. He rubs the back of his neck, shifting on his feet, like he doesn’t know how to say whatever it is he came here to say.

“I fucked up,” he says, finally.

I snort, arms crossed. “No shit.”

Joel exhales, glancing down for a second before his eyes meet mine again. They’re dark, tired, but honest.

“I was scared,” he says, voice lower now. “Ain’t used to wantin’ something this bad. Ain’t used to thinkin’ maybe I could have it.”

That stops me.

Because this? This is new. This isn’t Joel pushing me away, telling me I’m too young, too much, too reckless. This isn’t him trying to convince himself he doesn’t need me.

This is him admitting that he does.

I swallow, my throat tight. “You can have it, Joel. But not if you keep pulling this shit.”

He nods, like he knows, like he’s been sitting with that realization since the second I left.

I should make him work for it. Make him suffer a little. But then he steps closer—slow, cautious, like he’s making sure I don’t shut him out first.

And when he speaks again, his voice is hoarse.

“Come back.”

It’s not a demand. Not a plea. Just Joel laying it all out, raw and real, for me to decide.

I let out a slow breath, studying him, making him wait.

Then I step forward, just enough that I can tilt my chin up and brush my lips against his—light, teasing, cruel.

His breath hitches. His hands twitch at his sides, like he’s dying to touch me.

And I smirk. “Took you long enough.”

Joel groans, grabs me, and finally—finally—kisses me like he’s making up for every second he wasted.

[oldsoul007]

guess

older!joel miller x brat!reader

Joel never asked to be saddled with you—wild, reckless, and always testing his patience—but what started as a favor turned into something he couldn’t ignore, and by the time he realized he was in far too deep, it was already too late.

here it is

[oldsoul007]

7 summers

joel miller x reader

summary: After seven years apart, you see Joel Miller again, and what once felt like a fleeting teenage fling comes rushing back, forcing you to confront the love you never truly let go.

a/n: suggestive scenes, kissing, angstyish, fluff

joel miller masterlist

The summer I was eighteen, I fell in love with Joel Miller.

Not that I ever admitted it—not to him, not to myself, and certainly not to Tommy. Joel was Tommy’s older brother, and Tommy was my best friend. He was the one person in my life who knew everything about me, who’d always been there when I needed him. The last thing I wanted to do was ruin that. So, when Joel and I started sneaking off together that summer, I convinced myself it was just a fling, a secret I could lock away and never think about again.

But it wasn’t.

That summer was everything. Stolen kisses by the lake, his rough hands trailing down my arms, the way his voice turned soft when he called me “darlin’.” He wasn’t just my first love; he was my whole world, even if I couldn’t say it out loud. I wanted to. God, I wanted to tell him. But every time I opened my mouth, the fear of what would happen—the fallout with Tommy—kept the words stuck in my throat.

By the end of the summer, I was gone. Off to work, off to whatever life waited for me outside of our small Texas town. I swore to myself I’d move on, forget him, and never let myself feel that way again.

But some loves don’t fade.

Seven summers later, I was doing just fine—at least, that’s what I told myself. Then I ran into Tommy at a bar. Same grin, same easy laugh. For a second, it felt like we were kids again, back when everything was simple.

“y/n l/n,” he said, pulling me into a hug. “Where the hell have you been hiding?”

We talked for hours, catching up, reminiscing about all the trouble we used to get into. By the end of the night, he’d convinced me to come over for dinner. “It’s been too damn long,” he said. “You gotta come by. I’ll cook, just like old times.”

I didn’t think twice about it. I should have.

When I walked into Tommy’s house two nights later, I saw him. Joel.

He was leaning against the kitchen counter, a beer in his hand, looking exactly like I remembered—but somehow more. Broader, older, rougher around the edges in a way that made my stomach twist. The second he saw me, he froze, his eyes locking onto mine.

“Y/n,” he said, my name soft on his lips.

“Joel,” I whispered, my heart hammering in my chest.

Tommy, oblivious as ever, waltzed into the room and clapped a hand on Joel’s shoulder. “You two know each other, right? Y/n used to hang out all the time when we were kids.”

Joel glanced at me, waiting, and I knew he was asking me to hold the line. To keep the secret we’d buried all those years ago. Somehow, I found my voice. “Yeah,” I said, forcing a smile. “We’ve met.”

seven summers ago

The room was dark, the only light coming from the soft glow of the moon streaming through the thin curtains. It painted faint shadows across the walls, moving slightly with the breeze that didn’t quite reach us. The night was warm and heavy, the air clinging to my skin, and the constant chirp of crickets outside filled the silence. I lay flat on my back, my head sinking into the flat pillow of the old, creaky bed in my family’s lakehouse.

Joel was beside me, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off him. His shoulder brushed against mine every time one of us moved, a gentle reminder of how little space there was between us. We hadn’t spoken for what felt like hours, but the silence wasn’t uncomfortable. It was heavy. Dense with the weight of things neither of us wanted to say.

I turned my head slightly, just enough to look at him. The moonlight caught the angles of his face, his jawline sharp and his dark eyes fixed on the ceiling like he was trying to untangle some thought that wouldn’t let him go. I swallowed the lump in my throat and fidgeted with the frayed edge of the blanket resting around our waists, trying to quiet the thoughts spinning in my head.

“What do you think you’ll be doing in ten years?” I asked, my voice soft. It felt like the kind of question that belonged in a moment like this, one that could break the silence without shattering it.

Joel’s brow furrowed slightly, like I’d caught him off guard. He turned his head to look at me, the corner of his mouth tugging up in that small, shy smile he did so well. “I don’t know,” he said, his voice low and easy. “Probably still workin’ construction, maybe startin’ my own business if I’m lucky.”

I smiled at the thought of it—of Joel running his own business. It felt so… right. “You’d be good at that,” I said, meaning it. “You’re good with your hands.”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head like he didn’t believe me, but his gaze lingered. “What about you?” he asked, his voice quiet but steady. “What’s y/n gonna be doing in ten years?”

I bit my lip, my smile faltering as I stared at the ceiling. “I don’t know,” I said after a pause. “Just something far away from here.”

I felt Joel shift beside me, his voice hesitant when he repeated my words. “Far away?”

“Yeah,” I said, keeping my eyes on the ceiling. “I just… I’ve always felt like there’s something out there, you know? Something bigger. I don’t want to stay stuck in one place forever.”

There was a long pause, and I could feel his gaze on me even though I didn’t look at him. Then, slowly, I felt his hand brush against mine. My breath caught as his fingers tentatively laced with mine, his palm warm and a little rough.

“You won’t be stuck,” he said softly, his voice sure but carrying something else—something deeper.

I turned my head to look at him, our hands still tangled between us. “How do you know?” I whispered, my voice unsteady.

His eyes didn’t waver as they held mine, dark and steady. “’Cause you’re different, y/n. You’ve got somethin’—a spark or somethin’. You’re meant for more than this little town.”

His words hit me in a way I wasn’t prepared for, filling me with equal parts hope and fear. I wanted to believe him—to believe that I was different, that I was meant for something more. But the thought of leaving, of leaving him, made my chest ache.

“What if I don’t want to leave everything behind?” I asked, my voice so soft I wasn’t sure he’d hear it.

Joel’s expression softened, his thumb brushing lightly over the back of my hand. “Then don’t,” he said simply. “But don’t let anyone hold you back, either. Not me, not Tommy… no one.”

His words settled over me, heavy and full of meaning. He was giving me permission, I realized—not that I needed it, but it still felt like he was handing me something. Something I wasn’t sure I could take.

I turned my gaze back to the ceiling, my throat tight and my heart pounding. There were a thousand things I wanted to say to him, things I couldn’t untangle from the knot of feelings twisting inside me. I didn’t want to leave him. He was the one thing that made staying feel worth it.

But I didn’t say any of that.

Instead, I squeezed his hand, letting the silence take over again. It stretched between us, thick with everything we weren’t saying, everything we might never say.

Joel didn’t pull away, and neither did I. We just lay there, our hands still tangled together, the weight of the moment pressing down on us as the warm summer night carried on.

The smell of grilled steak and warm buttered rolls filled Tommy’s kitchen, a scent so familiar it made my chest ache. It was the kind of meal I’d had a hundred times at the Miller house, back when summer nights were spent on their back porch, laughing over cold beers and fireflies.

I hadn’t expected to feel so at home here after all these years. But I also hadn’t expected Joel to be sitting across the table from me, looking at me like I was some kind of ghost from his past.

It had been seven summers since I last saw him—since I left. Seven years of growing up, of moving on, or at least trying to. But sitting here now, it felt like no time had passed at all.

“So,” Tommy said, leaning back in his chair as he nursed a beer. “Y/n, what the hell have you been up to? Feels like forever since we’ve seen you.”

I smiled, shrugging slightly. “Oh, you know. Work, life. Moved around a little, but I’m back now.”

Joel, who had been quiet most of the night, finally spoke up. His voice was lower, rougher than I remembered, like time had left its mark on him. “Didn’t think you’d ever come back.”

His words weren’t harsh, but there was something underneath them—something I couldn’t quite place.

“Neither did I,” I admitted, meeting his gaze. “Guess life doesn’t always go the way you think it will.”

Joel scoffed, shaking his head as he cut into his steak. “Ain’t that the truth.”

Tommy grinned, oblivious to the tension thickening between us. “Well, now that you’re back, maybe we can finally convince you to stick around for good this time.”

I gave a small laugh, but before I could answer, Joel spoke again. “Surprised you ain’t married yet.”

I blinked, caught off guard. His tone wasn’t teasing—if anything, he sounded genuinely curious.

“Yeah,” Tommy chimed in, smirking. “I figured some poor guy would’ve snatched you up by now.”

I rolled my eyes at Tommy’s comment, but it was Joel’s reaction I was focused on. His fork was still in his hand, his knuckles just a little too tight around it, his eyes steady on me like he was waiting for an answer.

“Guess I just haven’t found the right guy,” I said finally, keeping my voice light.

Joel’s jaw tightened slightly. He looked like he wanted to say something, but instead, he just nodded, his gaze flickering away as he took a slow sip of his beer.

I felt my stomach twist. There were a hundred things I wanted to ask him, a hundred things I wanted to say, but none of them felt safe—not here, not with Tommy sitting between us, completely unaware of the unspoken history filling the room.

“So what about you?” I asked, tilting my head. “Married yet?”

Joel let out a breath of a laugh, shaking his head. “Nope”

I waited for him to say more, but he didn’t.

And just like that, the conversation moved on, Tommy rambling about something from work, and I forced myself to laugh along, to pretend like my heart wasn’t pounding, like Joel’s words—and the look in his eyes—hadn’t completely thrown me off balance.

But I could feel it.

That pull. That thing between us that had never really gone away.

And by the way Joel kept sneaking glances at me across the table, I knew he felt it too.

Dinner stretched on, filled with Tommy’s easy conversation and the occasional laugh, but I barely heard any of it. My mind was stuck on Joel—on the way he kept glancing at me, on the weight behind his words, on the tension that hummed between us like a live wire.

It felt like the past was pressing in on us, slipping through the cracks of time as if the last seven years had been nothing more than a breath between moments.

When the plates were cleared and Tommy started rambling about a game he wanted to watch, Joel stood, grabbing a beer from the fridge. He hesitated for a second, then looked over at me.

“Come out back with me?” His voice was casual, but his eyes told a different story.

I shouldn’t have gone. I should’ve made an excuse, said my goodbyes, and walked out that door before I let myself slip any further into something I wasn’t sure I could handle.

But I nodded anyway.

I followed him through the screen door onto the back porch, the night air thick with the scent of freshly cut grass and warm summer air. The old wooden planks creaked under our weight as we stepped out, the sound familiar in a way that made my chest ache.

Joel leaned against the railing, taking a slow sip of his beer as he looked out at the yard. I stood beside him, hands gripping the edge of the wood, waiting for him to speak.

After a long pause, he exhaled and said, “Didn’t think I’d ever see you sittin’ at our dinner table again.”

His voice was softer now, quieter—just for me.

I swallowed, staring down at my hands. “Didn’t think I would be, either.”

He was quiet again, then he asked, “Why’d you come back?”

I let out a slow breath, watching the way the fireflies blinked lazily across the yard. “Needed a reset,” I admitted. “Life didn’t exactly turn out how I thought it would.”

Joel hummed, like he understood that better than he wanted to admit. “You runnin’ from somethin’?”

I hesitated before answering, because maybe, deep down, I was. But not in the way he thought.

“Not running,” I said carefully. “Just… trying to figure things out.”

Joel nodded like he got it, his fingers tapping absently against the neck of his beer bottle. He looked over at me then, his eyes dark under the dim glow of the porch light. “Seven years, y/n. That’s a long fucking time.”

I met his gaze, my throat tightening. “Yeah,” I whispered. “It is.”

Another pause stretched between us, thick and heavy. Then, so softly I almost didn’t hear it, Joel said, “I missed you.”

The words knocked the breath right out of me.

I turned to fully face him, my heart hammering in my chest. “Joel…”

He shook his head, setting his beer down on the railing before rubbing a hand over his jaw. “You don’t gotta say anything. Just—” He exhaled sharply, like he was fighting some internal battle. “Hell… It’s just… weird, you know? Havin’ you here again.”

I nodded, because it was weird. It was terrifying. It was everything I hadn’t let myself feel in years rushing back all at once.

“I missed you too,” I admitted, my voice barely more than a whisper.

Joel’s eyes flickered with something—something deep and unreadable. His fingers curled around the railing, his knuckles flexing like he was holding something back.

I should’ve walked away then. I should’ve let the moment pass before it became something bigger, something neither of us could take back.

But I didn’t.

Because the truth was, I didn’t want to.

And judging by the way Joel was looking at me, like he was seconds away from breaking, neither did he.

The night stretched thick between us, heavy with words we weren’t saying, with memories pressing in like ghosts we couldn’t shake. Joel was still gripping the railing, his fingers tightening and loosening like he was trying to talk himself out of something.

I wasn’t sure if I wanted him to.

“Feels like a lifetime ago,” he finally murmured, eyes still locked on me. “You and me. Sneakin’ around, swearin’ we weren’t—” He huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “—feelin’ things we both knew damn well we were.”

His words hit deep, settling somewhere behind my ribs. Because that was the truth, wasn’t it? We had never admitted what we were, never spoken those words out loud, and yet, we both had known.

I swallowed, forcing my voice to stay steady. “We were just kids.”

Joel turned toward me then, slow and deliberate. “That what you tell yourself?”

I didn’t answer, because we both knew the truth. We hadn’t been just kids. Maybe we were young, maybe we didn’t know how to say it back then, but it had been real. As real as anything I’d ever felt.

Joel took a step closer, not enough to touch me, but enough that I could feel the warmth of him, could smell the mix of beer and cedarwood that clung to his skin.

“You happy?” he asked, his voice quieter now, more careful.

The question caught me off guard, not because it was unexpected, but because I wasn’t sure how to answer it.

I looked up at him, at the way the years had settled into him—lines at the corners of his eyes, a little more weight in his stance, a quiet kind of tiredness in his gaze. But underneath it all, he was still Joel. Still the boy who once laid beside me on a summer night, our fingers laced together, talking about the future like it was something we had all the time in the world to figure out.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “Are you?”

Joel exhaled, his jaw clenching just slightly before he shook his head. “No”

The word settled between us, bare and unguarded.

For a moment, neither of us spoke. The sounds of the night filled the silence—distant laughter from inside, the low hum of crickets, the creak of the porch as Joel shifted closer.

Then, softly, like he wasn’t sure he had the right to ask, he said, “You ever think about it?”

I knew exactly what he meant.

I wet my lips, my heart pounding so loud I was sure he could hear it. “Think about what?”

Joel’s gaze dipped down to my mouth for half a second before coming back up. His voice was lower now, rougher.

“Us.”

I swallowed hard. “Yeah.”

Joel took another step, and this time, he was close enough that I could feel the heat of him, could see the way his breathing had slowed like he was holding something back.

“I think about it all the damn time,” he admitted. “What it would’ve been like if you stayed. If I—” He stopped himself, his hand flexing at his side before he finally met my gaze again. “If I hadn’t let you leave without sayin’ somethin’ real.”

I felt my breath hitch.

seven summers ago

The morning air was crisp for late August, the kind of cool that hinted at the coming fall. The sun hadn’t quite broken through the haze yet, and the lake behind Tommy’s house was still and gray, like it was holding its breath. My car was packed, the trunk stuffed to the brim with clothes, books, and the small reminders of home I couldn’t bear to leave behind.

Tommy leaned against the side of my car, his arms crossed and his usual cocky grin nowhere to be found. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen him look this serious. His dark hair was a mess, like he hadn’t bothered to brush it, and his shirt was wrinkled from where he’d probably pulled it off the floor.

“You sure you’re ready for this?” he asked, his voice low and unusually hesitant.

“Yeah,” I said, though my voice wavered. “I think so.”

He shook his head, a small smile breaking through. “You’ve been talking about leaving since we were ten. If anyone’s ready, it’s you.”

I tried to smile back, but my chest ached too much to manage it. “Doesn’t make it any easier,” I admitted.

Tommy’s grin softened, and he stepped forward, pulling me into a hug that was tighter than I expected. He smelled like summer—grass, lake water, and a hint of the cheap cologne he always overused.

“Don’t forget about us little people when you’re out there changing the world, alright?” he said, his voice muffled against my hair.

I laughed, but it came out watery. “I could never forget you, Tommy. You wouldn’t let me.”

“Damn right,” he said, pulling back. His eyes were suspiciously shiny, but he blinked fast and didn’t let it show. “Call me, okay? I don’t care if it’s the middle of the night. I wanna hear about everything—college parties, classes, annoying roommates, all of it.”

“Promise,” I said, my voice thick.

He stepped back, giving me a mock salute before wandering toward the house. And that’s when I saw Joel.

He was standing on the porch, leaning against one of the wooden beams like he’d been there the whole time. He wasn’t smiling, wasn’t moving, just watching me with an expression I couldn’t read. His dark eyes locked on mine, and for a second, it felt like the whole world had gone still.

I hesitated, my chest tightening as I took a shaky breath and forced myself to walk toward him. The porch creaked under my weight, and when I stopped in front of him, he straightened, his hands shoved into the pockets of his worn jeans.

“Didn’t think you’d come say goodbye,” I said softly, my voice catching in my throat.

Joel’s jaw tightened, and he glanced away, staring out at the lake like it held the answer to whatever he was struggling with. “’Course I’d come,” he said after a long moment, his voice low and rough. “Wouldn’t let you leave without it.”

I swallowed hard, my hands curling into fists at my sides to keep from reaching for him. “I’ll miss you,” I said, the words barely above a whisper.

His gaze snapped back to mine, and for a second, I thought he might say something—something I’d been waiting to hear for what felt like forever. His mouth opened, but then he closed it, his shoulders stiffening as if he’d talked himself out of it.

“Don’t let anyone hold you back,” he said instead, his voice steady but distant. “Not me, not Tommy… no one.”

The words hit me like a punch to the chest. They were the same ones he’d said to me that night at the lake house, the same ones that had stayed with me long after the summer ended.

I wanted to scream at him, to shake him, to tell him that he wasn’t holding me back—he was the only thing making it hard to leave. But I couldn’t. The words stuck in my throat, too tangled up in everything I felt for him to come out right.

Instead, I nodded, blinking hard against the tears threatening to spill. “Take care of Tommy for me,” I said, my voice trembling.

Joel’s lips twitched in the faintest hint of a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Always.”

There was a beat of silence, the kind that stretched so long it felt unbearable. Then, before I could second-guess myself, I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around him.

For a moment, he didn’t move, and I thought he might pull away. But then his arms came around me, strong and steady, holding me tighter than I’d expected. I buried my face in his chest, breathing him in—sawdust, sweat, and the faint trace of cologne he only wore when he had to.

I wanted to stay there forever, to let the rest of the world disappear, but I couldn’t. I pulled back, my hands lingering on his arms for just a moment before I let them fall to my sides.

“Goodbye, Joel,” I said, my voice barely steady.

He didn’t say anything, just nodded, his dark eyes heavy with something I couldn’t name.

I turned and walked to my car, my chest aching with every step. As I slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine, I glanced in the rearview mirror. Joel was still standing on the porch, his hands shoved in his pockets, watching me drive away.

I didn’t look back again. If I had, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to leave.

“You think it would’ve changed anything?” I asked, my voice barely more than a whisper.

Joel’s throat bobbed. “I don’t know. Maybe.” He ran a hand over his face, letting out a breath like he was fighting with himself. “But I do know one thing.”

“What?”

He lifted his hand, hesitant at first, then finally brushed his fingers along my arm, his touch featherlight but enough to send a shiver up my spine.

“I ain’t ever felt nothin’ like I felt with you,” he murmured. “Not before. Not after.”

I sucked in a shaky breath, my body swaying toward his before I could stop it.

“Joel…”

He shook his head, his hand trailing down my arm until his fingers barely skimmed mine. “Tell me you don’t feel it,” he said, voice rough and strained. “Tell me you don’t feel like we lost somethin’ we weren’t supposed to.”

I wanted to lie. Wanted to say that I had moved on, that whatever we had back then was just young and reckless, something that wasn't meant to last.

But I couldn't.

Because I did feel it.

I felt it in the way my chest ached just looking at him, in the way his touch still sent a shiver down my spine, in the way every moment we spent apart felt like time wasted.

I swallowed hard, my fingers curling slightly under his. "I can't tell you that," | whispered.

Joel's breath caught, his fingers tightening ever so slightly around mine, like he was holding onto something he wasn't ready to let go of.

For a long moment, neither of us moved. The air between us was thick, humming with something too strong to ignore, too real to pretend wasn't there.

The air between Joel and I crackled with so much unspoken tension, it was almost unbearable. My heart pounded against my chest, every nerve alight with the pull between us, but neither of us moved. We were so close, I could feel the warmth of his breath on my lips, his hands lingering on my waist as if he were just waiting for me to make the next move. And I almost did.

But before I could, the sound of the screen door creaked behind us.

“Hey, you guys coming back in?” Tommy called out from the doorway, his voice loud and clueless as ever. “I got that game on, and I’m not drinking alone out here.”

I froze, every muscle in my body locking up, and for a split second, it felt like the world had just stopped. Joel pulled back, almost imperceptibly, his hands still resting on my waist but no longer holding me so tightly. We both turned toward the door, where Tommy was standing with a grin, completely unaware of what had almost happened.

Joel cleared his throat, shifting awkwardly as he took a half step back. “Yeah, we’ll be right in,” he called back to Tommy, his voice rough, like he was trying to hide the tension that had just exploded between us.

Tommy, oblivious to everything that had just passed between us, gave a lazy wave and turned back inside. “Don’t take too long, man! You know I need company for the game.”

I watched him disappear into the house, the door swinging shut behind him with a soft thud. A long, silent moment passed between Joel and me, and I could almost hear the words that neither of us was willing to say. But we both knew it—what had just happened. What had almost happened. It hung between us like a heavy fog, and yet, neither of us moved to bridge the gap.

Joel was the first to break the silence, his voice low and rough. “Guess that’s our cue.”

I nodded, my throat tight as I tried to process everything. The heat between us hadn’t gone away, not even with Tommy’s interruption. If anything, it only made it stronger. But now, standing here with Joel so close, with everything hanging in the air, I wasn’t sure where to go from here.

“Yeah,” I managed to say, my voice shaky. “Guess it is.”

Joel let out a breath, running a hand through his hair, the familiar gesture that always made him look like the same guy from years ago. He didn’t seem as certain as he had just moments before. There was hesitation now, uncertainty.

He gave a short nod, turning toward the door. “Come on. Let’s not keep Tommy waiting.”

I followed him back inside, the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on me. The door swung shut behind us, and we both slipped back into the routine of being around Tommy, pretending like nothing had changed.

But it had.

I could feel it in the way Joel’s eyes lingered on me when he thought I wasn’t looking, in the way my chest tightened every time he spoke, like I was trying to hold myself together while something deeper, something real, threatened to spill out.

I wasn’t sure how we were going to handle this. How we were supposed to go back to the way things were. But for now, we were both content to pretend. Pretend that everything was fine, that Tommy hadn’t just unknowingly interrupted something that could change everything.

I stepped out onto the porch, the cool night air brushing against my skin, but my body still felt warm from the tension that lingered between us. I hadn’t expected things to go the way they had tonight—especially not after so much time had passed. But there was no denying it. The pull I felt toward Joel had never truly gone away.

“Let me give you a ride home,” Joel said, breaking the silence as he stepped up beside me. His voice was low, a little gravelly, and there was something in his eyes—something that made my heart race.

I hesitated for a moment, looking back toward the door, knowing I should just leave and get some space to clear my head. But the desire to be close to him again, even just for a little longer, was stronger than any of the reasons I told myself I should go.

“Yeah,” I said, finally giving in, “okay.”

We walked to his truck, the soft crunch of gravel underfoot the only sound between us. The night felt different now, charged with something neither of us wanted to acknowledge—at least, not yet. When we got to the truck, Joel opened the door for me, his eyes never leaving mine as I climbed in. The truck door shut with a soft thud, and I settled in, trying to steady my breathing.

The drive was quiet, the only sound the hum of the engine and the occasional rustle of leaves in the breeze. But the air between us was thick with everything unsaid—the years apart, the memories we couldn’t forget.

When we finally pulled up to my place, I felt a lump form in my throat. I didn’t want to say goodbye—not yet, not like this. But what else was there to say?

Joel’s truck rumbled to a stop outside my house, but neither of us moved immediately. The air felt thicker now, heavier, charged with all the things we hadn’t said. My heart was racing in my chest, the silence between us louder than any words could’ve been.

“Thanks for the ride,” I said quietly, trying to force some kind of normalcy into the situation. But my voice trembled, betraying everything I was trying to hide.

Joel didn’t answer at first, just stared at me for a moment. His brow furrowed, his jaw tense, like he was struggling to keep control. Without another word, he climbed out of the truck and walked around to my side, his movements slow but purposeful.

I froze for a second, wondering what he was doing. But when he reached the passenger door, he opened it, his eyes meeting mine with an intensity I couldn’t ignore. “Let me walk you to your door,” he said softly, as though it was a question, though neither of us needed permission.

I nodded, my throat tight, and stepped out of the truck, trying to steady myself as I moved toward him. His presence was magnetic, pulling me in as we walked together, side by side, toward the porch.

The night was quiet around us, but everything felt loud—our footsteps echoing, the rush of my pulse in my ears, the space between us that felt far too small for both of us to be standing in. My mind raced, but my body seemed to know exactly what it wanted, gravitating toward him with every step.

When we reached the front door, Joel stopped, turning to face me. There was something in his eyes, something raw and desperate, like he couldn’t stand to let go of this moment. The weight of the unspoken hung between us, and for a split second, I almost thought he would say something, but he didn’t. He reached out, his fingers brushing against mine, a quiet, gentle touch that sent a shock through my body.

“Y/n…” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. His hand lifted to my face, his thumb brushing over my cheek as he took another step closer. My breath hitched in my throat as I looked up at him, barely able to hold his gaze.

The moment felt too fragile, and I couldn’t make myself say anything else. Slowly, I turned toward the door, my hand reaching for the handle. “Goodnight, Joel,” I said, my voice barely audible.

He didn’t speak as I opened the door, stepping back just enough to let me through. I kept my gaze focused ahead, not trusting myself to look back at him, afraid of what I might see, afraid of what I might feel.

The door clicked shut behind me as I walked into my house, the weight of the night settling around me. I wasn't sure what to do with myself. I'd told myself I wasn't going to give in, that I was going to walk away and let things be, but Joel's words, his touch, had made it impossible to ignore the truth l'd buried for so long.

I slipped out of my shoes and made my way into the living room, my heart still racing from everything that had happened. As I sank into the couch, the silence in the house felt suffocating. I closed my eyes, but all I could see was Joel-his face, his hands on me, his kiss.

I was trying to talk myself down, to convince myself that I could move on. That I should. But just as I was about to stand, I heard a knock on the door.

I froze. My heart skipped a beat.

I walked slowly to the door, trying to calm the rush of emotions flooding my chest. When I opened it, there he was— Joel. Standing in the dark, his posture tense, but his eyes searching mine like he had to say something, like he couldn't leave without it.

“I can’t walk away from you again,” he said, his voice shaking ever so slightly.

Before I could even respond, his hand reached out to gently tug me closer, and his lips crashed onto mine. The kiss was fierce, urgent, as if he was trying to make up for the years apart, as if he couldn't stand the space between us anymore. I gasped, my hands coming up to clutch at his shirt as I kissed him back, my body pressed against his, needing him as much as he needed me.

He pulled me fully into the doorway, his hands moving to my waist, guiding me backward into the house. The door closed behind us with a soft thud, but neither of us paid attention to it.

All that mattered was the way his lips moved against mine, the way his touch made me feel like I was finally coming home.

Joel's kiss deepened, his hands sliding up my back to tangle in my hair, pulling me closer until there wasn't an inch of space between us.

I felt the heat of his body, the way his muscles flexed as he held me, the way his breath caught when I tugged him.

When we finally pulled apart, I was breathless, my heart pounding in my chest. His forehead rested against mine, both of us struggling to catch our breath, to make sense of what had just happened.

My fingers curling into his shirt as I pulled him back to me, not wanting to let go, not wanting to fight this anymore. Neither of us was ready to say goodbye—not yet, not when the night was still young and the truth was finally out in the open.

The world outside disappeared, leaving only us in this moment, the only sound the rush of our breathing, the pounding of our hearts in sync.

He pulled away briefly, his forehead resting against mine, his breath shaky.

"I can't pretend anymore," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I never stopped wanting you, y/n. Not for a second."

My heart twisted in my chest, and I didn't care anymore about what we had to lose. "Neither did I," I whispered, before closing the space between us again, kissing him with everything I had left to give.

This time, there was no holding back. We were finally done running from the truth.

[oldsoul007]

wicked game

older!joel miller x younger!reader

summary: A magnetic, off-limits fling between you and your rugged, older neighbor Joel turns into something deeper as you both struggle with unspoken feelings, stolen moments, and the weight of reality.

a/n: 20 year age gap, wholesome, fluff, suggestive scenes

joel miller masterlist

I stepped out of the house into the crisp morning air, my purse slung over my shoulder and a mental checklist of errands already playing on repeat in my head. The sun was still low enough to cast a soft, golden light over the neighborhood, making everything feel calm and picturesque. I was halfway down my front steps when a familiar melody stopped me in my tracks.

“The world was on fire, and no one could save me but you…”

I froze, my fingers tightening on the strap of my bag. Wicked Game. That song always hit me in the chest, like a gentle nudge from the past, stirring emotions I didn’t even know I was still carrying. But it wasn’t just the music that caught my attention. Across the street, someone was working on a car, and it was hard not to notice him.

He had his back to me, bent over the open hood, his hands moving with practiced ease. He wore a faded flannel with the sleeves rolled up, revealing forearms that were strong and dusted with just the right amount of hair. His salt-and-pepper hair looked perfectly unkempt, like it belonged to someone who didn’t care too much but somehow always pulled off the look.

I told myself not to stare. I really did. But the way the golden light caught the broad lines of his shoulders, the subtle flex of his muscles as he worked… it was impossible to look away.

The song drifted through the air like it was soundtracking the whole moment, making it feel too cinematic to be real. I shifted awkwardly, my steps faltering. Just then, as if he could sense my presence, he straightened, wiping his hands on a grease-smudged rag.

When he turned and his eyes met mine, my breath hitched. His gaze was dark and intense, cutting through the cool morning air like a warm breeze. He had a rugged, weathered face—handsome in the way only experience and age could make someone. His stubble was a little thicker than a five o’clock shadow, and his mouth curved into a crooked smile, like he knew exactly why I’d stopped.

“Morning,” he said, his voice deep and gravelly, sending a flutter through my chest.

“Morning,” I replied, my voice higher than I intended, betraying just how off guard I felt.

He nodded toward the car, his smile widening slightly. “Sorry about the noise,” he said, his tone casual, like we’d done this a hundred times before. “Didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“Oh, no, it’s fine,” I said quickly, hoping I didn’t sound too eager. “I like the song.”

He cocked his head slightly, like he was trying to gauge if I was just being polite or if I really meant it. “Chris Isaak, huh?” His smile deepened, a flicker of something playful crossing his face. “Not bad.”

“Yeah,” I said, forcing myself to sound normal even though my pulse was anything but. “Classic.”

He stepped closer, just enough that I could see the grease on his hands and the faint lines around his eyes that only made him more attractive. He held out a hand, grease and all. “I’m Joel,” he said, his voice warm and unhurried.

I hesitated for half a second before shaking his hand. His grip was firm, his skin rough, and somehow it felt more grounding than intimidating. “Y/n,” I said, trying not to notice the way my cheeks flushed under his gaze.

“Well, y/n,” he said, drawing back and tossing the rag onto the hood of the car, “nice to meet a neighbor who appreciates good music. I hope to see you around.”

I nodded, managing a small smile before turning away, though I could still feel his eyes on me as I walked down the sidewalk. The music faded into the background as I moved farther away, but the moment stayed with me, warm and lingering, like sunlight clinging to my skin.

As I reached the corner, I realized I hadn’t checked my list once. And suddenly, I wasn’t in such a rush to finish my errands after all.

It started out small, almost imperceptible. The first few times I saw Joel, it was nothing more than a casual glance—him working on his car, me watering my plants. He’d nod, give me a polite, “Morning,” or “Evenin’,” and I’d nod back, my stomach fluttering for no good reason.

At first, I chalked it up to curiosity. He was new to the neighborhood, and Joel wasn’t the kind of guy you didn’t notice. Broad-shouldered and quiet, with those deep brown eyes that always seemed to carry a weight he didn’t talk about, he exuded a ruggedness that felt out of place on our quiet little street.

But the more I saw him, the harder it became to ignore the way my eyes lingered. Whether he was fixing something in his garage, leaning over that damn car of his, or sitting on his porch with a beer in hand, I couldn’t help but watch him. And sometimes—more often than I expected—I’d catch him watching me too.

It wasn’t obvious, not at first. A glance held a second too long. A shift in his posture when I walked by. But over time, it became undeniable. The way his eyes would follow me when I stepped out to water the flowers, or the way I’d find excuses to linger outside just a little longer, hoping for a moment to cross paths with him.

One evening, as I was locking up my car, I felt his gaze on me. I turned, and sure enough, he was standing by his car, a rag in his hands, watching me. His expression wasn’t overtly flirty—if anything, it was unreadable—but the intensity of his gaze sent a shiver down my spine.

I gave him a small wave, trying to act casual, and he nodded, his lips twitching into the faintest hint of a smile.

After that, it felt like every time I stepped outside, he was there. Fixing something, tinkering with his car, or just mowing the lawn. I’d try not to stare, but it was a losing battle. And every time I caught him looking back, it felt like a silent conversation was happening between us, one neither of us dared to speak aloud.

It was subtle, this dance we were doing, but it was there—undeniable, electric. And it was only a matter of time before one of us made a move.

It was a Friday night when everything shifted. I was sitting on my front steps with a beer, the summer air warm and heavy, when I noticed Joel crossing the street toward me. He had a toolbox in one hand and a look of determination on his face.

“Your porch light’s out,” he said as he stopped in front of me, nodding toward the darkened bulb above my door. “Figured I’d come fix it before you trip over somethin’ out here.”

I blinked at him, momentarily caught off guard, then glanced at the light. “Oh, I didn’t even notice. But you don’t have to—”

“I want to,” he interrupted, his voice firm but kind. He set the toolbox down and looked at me, his lips curving into a small, easy smile. “Unless you’re gonna send me packin’.”

I shook my head, smiling back. “I wouldn’t dream of it. Want a drink while you play handyman?”

He chuckled, low and deep. “Sure, why not?”

Two cold beers were clutched in my hands, the bottles slick with condensation, and by the time I returned, he’d already swapped the old bulb for a new one. The soft glow illuminated his face as he turned to me, brushing his hands off on his jeans.

“All done,” he said, taking the bottle I offered. “You’re safe now.”

“Guess I owe you one,” I teased, sitting on the step.

“Nah,” he replied, settling next to me. “I like keepin’ busy.”

I didn’t know when it had started, this thing between us. It wasn’t outright flirting—not yet—but there was a magnetism to Joel that made it impossible not to feel drawn in. He was older, quieter, but there was something about the way he carried himself, steady and unshakable, that made me feel safe. And curious.

“So,” I started, swirling my beer, “you’ve been here, what, a few weeks now?”

“’Bout a month,” he replied, leaning back on the step with that relaxed, effortless posture that always seemed to belong to him.

“And I still don’t know much about you,” I said, giving him a small smile.

He glanced over at me, his eyes catching the soft glow of the porch light. “What d’you wanna know?”

I hesitated, not wanting to pry too much, but the words tumbled out before I could stop them. “I don’t know… why’d you move here? What’s your story?”

Joel’s lips quirked into a faint smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He took a sip of his beer, staring out at the darkened street before answering.

“Well, I’m divorced,” he said simply, his voice low and even, like he’d said it a hundred times before.

I blinked, caught off guard by how casually he said it. “Oh,” I said softly. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine,” he interrupted gently, turning to look at me. “Trust me, best decision of my life and it was a long time ago. Been on my own for… hell, must be close to fifteen years now.”

Fifteen years. I tried to imagine what that would feel like—building a life with someone only for it to fall apart, then starting over again. Joel didn’t seem bitter about it, though. Just… resolved.

“Do you have kids?” I asked, leaning forward slightly, unable to hide my curiosity.

His face softened at that, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Yeah. Two girls.”

“Really?” I asked, my eyebrows lifting.

He nodded, and for a moment, I thought I saw a flicker of pride in his expression. “Sarah’s the older one. She’s in med school. Ellie’s still in undergrad—astromony major. Both of ’em are smarter than I’ll ever be.”

The way he talked about them made my chest tighten, like he was letting me see a piece of himself he didn’t share often. There was so much warmth in his voice when he said their names, like they were the best parts of his life.

“You must be so proud,” I said softly.

“More than you could know,” he replied, his voice quiet.

I smiled, leaning back against the porch railing. “So, two daughters, huh? That explains a lot.”

Joel’s brow furrowed slightly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just… you have that dad energy,” I teased, grinning at him.

“Dad energy?” he repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“You know,” I said, gesturing vaguely. “The whole rugged, protective, slightly grumpy thing. It fits.”

He laughed at that, a low, rumbling sound that made my stomach flutter. “Grumpy, huh?”

I shrugged, my grin widening. “If the shoe fits.”

Joel shook his head, still chuckling as he took another sip of his beer. But there was something in his expression—something lighter, more open—that made me feel like I’d broken through a wall I hadn’t even known was there.

And as we sat there in the quiet of the night, our conversation drifting back to safer, lighter topics, I couldn’t help but wonder how someone like Joel, with all his layers and contradictions, had ended up here—just across the street from me.

And why I couldn’t stop thinking about him.

We talked for hours—about everything and nothing. He told me about his work, about his daughters, Sarah, and Ellie and the things he used to do before life got complicated. I told him about my job, my friends, and the reasons I’d moved here.

At some point, the conversation drifted into quieter territory. The night was still, the air thick with something unspoken. Joel leaned back against the railing, his arm brushing mine, and I felt my pulse quicken.

“You’re somethin’ else, you know that?” he said softly, his voice low and rough.

I turned to look at him, my heart thudding in my chest. His eyes were on mine, dark and intense, the space between us feeling smaller than it should have.

“Joel…” I started, but before I could finish, he leaned in.

It wasn’t rushed or tentative—it was deliberate. His lips met mine, firm and warm, and I forgot how to breathe. My glass slipped from my hand, forgotten, as I leaned into him, my fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.

His hands found my waist, pulling me closer, and I let myself sink into the kiss, into him. He tasted like beer and something darker, something that made my head spin. When we finally broke apart, his forehead rested against mine, both of us breathing heavily.

“Y/n,” he murmured, his voice husky and raw, “tell me to stop if this ain’t what you want.”

I shook my head, my fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “I don’t want you to stop.”

That was all it took. He pulled me into his lap, his hands roaming up my back as our lips met again, hungrier this time. My mind was a blur of heat and sensation as his touch ignited something I hadn’t felt in a long time.

Somehow, we ended up inside my house, the door clicking shut behind us. I barely had time to take in my surroundings before his lips were on mine again, his hands pulling at my shirt as I fumbled with the buttons on his.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he muttered against my skin, his voice thick with want.

We stumbled into my bedroom, clothes disappearing in a flurry of hands and whispered words.

When we finally came together, it was everything—tender and passionate, slow and consuming. He held me like I was the only thing that mattered, his touch reverent but possessive.

Afterward, we lay tangled in my sheets, the room dark and quiet except for the sound of our breathing. His arm was draped over me, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on my skin.

“I shouldn’t have waited so long,” he murmured, his voice soft and low.

I smiled, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. "It was worth the wait."

And as I drifted off to sleep in his arms, I couldn't help but feel like something had shifted. Like maybe, just maybe, l'd found something-or someone-I wasn't ready to let go of.

What began as stolen moments quickly intensified. Some nights, I’d hear the rumble of his car pulling into the driveway and find myself slipping into something casual yet enticing. He’d knock softly on my door, and I’d let him in without a word, his hands finding my waist almost immediately.

Other times, Joel would invite me over under the pretense of needing help with something—though neither of us was fooled. We’d end up tangled together on his couch, my fingers threading through his hair as his lips traced the curve of my neck.

It was never more than the two of us sharing our time and bodies, but it worked. Joel was guarded, reluctant to open up about his past, and I respected that. I didn’t ask for more than he could give, content with the way he made me feel in the moment—desired, cherished, even if only temporarily.

And Joel? He couldn’t seem to stay away. There was something about him—the way he laughed, the way he didn’t push me to be more than I was ready to be. It felt easy, natural.

But as effortless as it seemed, there were nights when he lingered a little longer, his fingers brushing my skin softly as if memorizing me. And there were mornings when I woke to find him still there, his arm draped over my waist, his breathing steady in the early light.

We both knew it was a fling, but neither of us could deny the way it was starting to feel like something more.

After that first time, it became a rhythm. A pattern.

It was never planned, not really. Joel and I never talked about what we were doing or set expectations. But somehow, it kept happening.

A knock on my door late at night. A quiet, unspoken agreement in the way his eyes lingered on mine, the way his hand would find my waist as soon as the door closed behind him.

Sometimes it was me crossing the street, catching him in his garage working on that car of his. The way he'd straighten up, wiping his hands on a rag and giving me that slow, crooked smile-it made my chest tighten every time.

"You need somethin'?" he'd ask, his tone easy, casual, but his eyes told a different story.

"Always," I'd reply, tilting my head, my lips already curving into a smile.

It was always like that. Quiet. Unrushed. No promises.

It wasn't every night, but it was often enough that it started to feel like a routine.

The nights with Joel were magnetic, impossible to resist.

Sometimes it started slow, like a smoldering fire. He’d show up at my door, leaning against the frame, his dark eyes holding mine like he knew exactly what I was thinking. I’d step aside to let him in, the faint scent of leather and soap drifting past as he walked by. He wouldn’t say much—he never did—but the way he looked at me, the way his gaze lingered on my lips, said everything.

The door would barely click shut before his hands found my waist, pulling me to him with a quiet urgency. His lips would capture mine, firm and deliberate, his calloused hands sliding under the hem of my shirt, fingers rough against my skin.

He kissed like he didn’t know when he’d get the chance again, his lips devouring mine with a hunger that left me breathless. My back would hit the wall, and he’d pin me there, his body pressed against mine, warm and solid, making it impossible to think about anything but him.

Other times, it wasn’t so rushed.

I’d wander across the street under the cover of darkness, my heart pounding even though we’d done this so many times before. I’d find him in the garage, his hands deep in some repair, grease smudged across his arms. He’d glance up when I walked in, his expression softening into that crooked, lazy smile that made my stomach twist.

“You work too much,” I’d tease, leaning against the workbench as he wiped his hands on a rag.

Joel would smirk, tossing the rag aside before closing the distance between us. “And you think I should take a break?”

“Maybe,” I’d reply, my voice lighter than I felt.

And then his hands would slide around my waist, pulling me flush against him. He’d kiss me slow, like we had all the time in the world, his lips soft but insistent, teasing me until I was gripping the front of his shirt, pulling him closer.

When his hands roamed lower, gripping my thighs, he’d lift me effortlessly onto the workbench, stepping between my legs, his body fitting perfectly against mine. His kisses would grow deeper, more possessive, until I was arching into him, the tools and the world around us forgotten.

The nights he stayed over were different.

He’d let himself into my house, the quiet creak of the door waking me, and I’d turn to see him standing there, his hair messy from the ride, his flannel hanging loose over a plain shirt.

“You’re late,” I’d whisper, pretending to be annoyed, but the grin pulling at my lips gave me away.

Joel would shrug, his voice low and gravelly. “Had to finish somethin’. But I’m here now.”

And then he’d crawl into bed beside me, his hand trailing over my hip, pulling me close. His lips would skim the side of my neck, soft and deliberate, his breath warm against my skin. It always started gentle on those nights, his hands slow as they explored me, his touch careful, like he wanted to memorize every inch of me.

I’d lose myself in the way his mouth moved against mine, the way he murmured my name like it was a prayer. The room would fill with the sound of our breaths, the quiet creak of the bed as he pressed me into the mattress, his weight grounding me in the moment.

It wasn’t just the way he touched me or the way he made my body hum with anticipation—it was the way he made me feel seen. Like I wasn’t just someone he wanted for the night but someone he couldn't seem to stay away from, no matter how hard he tried.

And as much as I wanted to keep pretending it was nothing, that it was just two people finding comfort in each other, I couldn't deny the way he was starting to feel like more.

The morning light filtered through the curtains, soft and golden, as I stretched under the covers. Joel was already up, sitting on the edge of the bed with his boots half on, the laces dangling as he reached down to tie them.

I watched him quietly for a moment, taking in the way his shoulders hunched slightly, the way his hair was still a little messy from the night before. He must have felt my gaze because he turned, his eyes meeting mine, and his lips quirked into that crooked smile that never failed to disarm me.

“You’re up early,” he said, his voice low and rough from sleep.

“Could say the same about you,” I replied, my voice soft as I sat up, pulling the sheet around me.

Joel shook his head, finishing his boots before standing. “Got a lot to do today.”

I hated this part—the goodbye. Even though I knew he’d be back, it always felt like the space between us stretched further than it should.

Joel must have noticed the flicker of disappointment in my face because he crossed the room in just a few steps, his presence warm and solid as he stood in front of me.

“Hey,” he murmured, his hand brushing a strand of hair from my face. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” I asked, trying to keep my tone light, though my chest tightened.

He didn’t answer, not with words. Instead, he leaned down, his lips brushing mine in a kiss that was softer than I expected. It wasn’t rushed or desperate—it was deliberate, slow, like he wanted to make every second count.

Then, without a word, he shifted lower, his lips finding the curve of my jaw. He kissed a line down my neck, lingering there for a moment as his hands slid to my waist, holding me gently.

“Joel,” I whispered, my voice catching as he continued his path, his mouth pressing soft, warm kisses across my collarbone, then down my arm.

When he reached my wrist, he paused, turning my hand over to press a kiss to my palm, then to the tips of my fingers.

It wasn’t just physical—it felt like something more. Like he was trying to say something he couldn’t put into words.

When he finally straightened, his dark eyes met mine, and I felt like he could see straight through me. “I’ll see you later,” he said, his voice rough but steady.

I nodded, my throat tight as I watched him grab his jacket and head for the door. He paused in the doorway, glancing back at me one more time before he left, and I couldn’t help but smile.

Joel didn’t have to say goodbye like that—but he did. And it was those little things, those quiet moments that told me more than any words ever could.

My mom called me three times that morning to remind me about dinner, as if I’d forgotten the weekly ritual of overcooked chicken and her latest gossip updates. By the time I pulled into my parents’ driveway, the sun was setting, casting a soft orange glow over the neighborhood. I smoothed down my dress, grabbed the bottle of wine I’d brought, and headed inside.

“Y/n! You’re just in time,” my mom called from the kitchen, her voice bright and cheerful. The smell of rosemary and garlic wafted through the air.

“Hey, Mom,” I called back, setting the wine on the counter.

I could hear my dad laughing with someone in the dining room, his deep voice carrying through the house. A guest, maybe? Mom hadn’t mentioned anyone else joining us.

I walked into the dining room, my casual smile freezing on my face when I saw him.

Joel.

He was standing next to my dad, holding a beer, his flannel rolled up at the sleeves like always. He turned at the sound of my footsteps, and for a split second, I saw the same shock mirrored in his eyes before he quickly masked it.

“Y/n!” My dad grinned, clapping Joel on the shoulder. “This is Joel, my buddy from the hardware store. We got to talking the other day, and I figured I’d invite him over. Thought you two might’ve crossed paths in the neighborhood!”

Joel’s lips curved into a polite smile, but I could see the tension in his jaw. “Good to meet you, y/n,” he said, his voice perfectly even, his hand extended.

I stared at him for a second too long before snapping out of it and shaking his hand. His touch lingered for just a moment, his thumb brushing against mine in a way that made my stomach twist.

“Nice to meet you,” I managed, forcing a polite smile, my voice tighter than I intended.

“Joel just moved in a few weeks ago,” my dad continued, oblivious to the storm brewing between us. “Seems like a good guy. Figured we’d make him feel welcome.”

“Oh, he’s definitely that,” I said, my tone a little sharper than I meant. Joel raised an eyebrow at me, but he didn’t say a word.

Dinner was a blur of awkward silences and stolen glances. Joel was calm and collected, answering my parents’ questions with ease, like he hadn’t been in my bed less than 24 hours ago. I, on the other hand, felt like I was about to combust.

“Mom,” I said sharply, nearly choking on my wine. My face burned as I glanced at Joel, who was watching me with an infuriatingly calm expression.

“Oh, come on,” she said with a laugh, waving a hand. “I’m just joking! But seriously, sweetie, you’ve had…what? A handful of boyfriends?”

“More than a handful,” my dad chimed in with a chuckle. “You’d think we were running a speed-dating service out of the house at one point.”

I wanted the floor to swallow me whole. “Okay, that’s enough,” I said quickly, forcing a tight smile as I stared daggers at my parents. “We don’t need to go down memory lane right now.”

“Oh, lighten up, y/n,” my mom teased, clearly oblivious to the tension in the room.

I dared a glance at Joel, expecting him to look awkward or uncomfortable. Instead, he was hiding a smirk, his dark eyes glinting with amusement. I shot him a glare, silently daring him to say anything, but he just shrugged innocently.

Dinner couldn’t end fast enough.

When my mom asked me to grab dessert from the kitchen, I jumped at the excuse to escape. But as I reached for the pie on the counter, I heard footsteps behind me.

“Y/n.”

I turned to see Joel standing in the doorway, his expression somewhere between amused and exasperated.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I hissed, keeping my voice low.

“I could ask you the same thing,” he shot back, leaning against the doorframe like he had all the time in the world.

“This is my parents’ house, Joel. What are you doing here?”

“Your dad invited me,” he said simply, his dark eyes scanning my face. “Didn’t think it’d be a problem.”

“A problem?” I repeated, my voice rising slightly before I forced it back down. “You didn’t think to maybe mention that you’re best buddies with my dad?”

“Didn’t know it was your dad,” he said, his voice low and steady, though there was a flicker of something like amusement in his eyes. “Until I walked in and saw you.”

I stared at him, my cheeks burning. “So what, we just pretend we don’t know each other?”

“Seems like the best option,” he said, his lips twitching into the faintest smirk. “Unless you wanna tell your parents the whole story.”

I glared at him, hating how calm he was. “This isn’t funny, Joel.”

“Never said it was,” he said, stepping closer, his voice softening. “But you’re the one who’s gotta decide how to handle it.”

Before I could respond, my mom’s voice called out from the dining room. “Y/n! Everything okay in there?”

I swallowed hard, grabbing the pie and pushing past him. “This isn’t over,” I muttered under my breath.

“Looking forward to it,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing as I brushed past him.

As I walked back into the dining room, my face carefully neutral, I couldn’t help but glance over my shoulder. Joel followed a moment later, cool and composed, like nothing had happened.

But when our eyes met across the table, I knew this was only the beginning of a much more complicated mess.

Later, after we’d finished and everyone was saying their goodbyes, Joel and I stepped out into the warm night air together. My parents stood at the door, still chatting about something, so Joel and I started walking toward our cars, the silence between us heavy.

Once we were far enough away, Joel glanced at me, his voice low and teasing. “So… how many guys?”

I stopped in my tracks, my mouth dropping open. “Excuse me?”

He turned to face me, a lopsided grin on his face, the kind that made my stomach flip no matter how annoyed I was. “Your mom brought it up,” he said, shrugging like it wasn’t a big deal. “I’m just curious.”

I crossed my arms, glaring at him. “I am not answering that.”

“Why not?” His grin widened. “You embarrassed or something?”

“No,” I shot back, even though my face was practically on fire. “It’s just none of your business.”

Joel chuckled, stepping closer. “Fair enough. But if you’re not telling, then I guess it’s only fair you ask me.”

“Oh, really?” I said, raising an eyebrow. “Fine. How many women have you been with?”

He didn’t hesitate. “Two.”

I blinked. “Two?”

“Yeah,” he said casually, slipping his hands into his pockets.

I stared at him, completely baffled. “Two? That’s it?”

Joel’s brow furrowed slightly, as if he didn’t understand why I was so surprised. “Yeah. Why’s that so hard to believe?”

I laughed, the sound escaping before I could stop it. “Joel, have they seen you? You look like that, and you’re telling me only two women?”

He smirked, leaning slightly closer. “What can I say? I’ve always been a quality over quantity kinda guy.”

The way he said it, his voice low and laced with humor, sent a shiver down my spine. I quickly looked away, trying to collect myself.

“Well,” I muttered, still trying to process his answer. “I guess that makes you… selective.”

“You could say that,” he said, his smirk softening into something warmer, something that made my chest tighten.

I shook my head, refusing to let him get the upper hand in this conversation. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

He chuckled. “And you’re dodgin’ the question. But I’ll let it slide… for now.”

As we reached our cars, I could still feel the heat of his gaze on me, that teasing smile lingering on his lips. And as much as I hated to admit it, I knew I’d be thinking about this conversation long after he drove away.

The air was thick with the lingering heat of the day as I stepped onto my porch that night, a glass of wine in hand, hoping the cool breeze would clear my head. Running into Joel at my parents' house earlier had thrown me. I hadn't expected to see him there, standing in their kitchen like he belonged, casually sipping a beer while talking to my dad like they were old friends.

It had been almost too much-the way his eyes found mine across the room, the flicker of something unreadable passing over his face.

The way my mother had smiled, oblivious, as she chatted away, completely unaware of the tension humming between us.

I had barely spoken to him then, just a brief exchange, a nod, a polite smile. But it had been enough.

Now, as I sat in the quiet of my porch, the cicadas buzzing in the trees, I heard it-the unmistakable rumble of his truck pulling into his driveway.

I should've looked away, should've ignored the way my pulse jumped at the sound. But I didn't.

Instead, I watched as he stepped out, his movements slow, deliberate. He didn't go inside. He stood there for a second, hands on his hips, looking over at me like he was debating something.

Then, without hesitation, he crossed the street.

I didn't move, didn't say anything as he walked up the steps, stopping just in front of me. His eyes searched mine, and for a moment, neither of us spoke.

"You left fast earlier," he said, his voice low, rough.

I swallowed, gripping my glass a little tighter.

"Didn't expect to see you there."

"Yeah, well," he exhaled, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. "Didn't expect to see you either."

There was something else in his voice, something unspoken.

A question. A challenge.

I should've told him to go home. That whatever this thing between us was, it didn't need to spill over into the rest of my life. But I didn't.

Instead, I stood, stepping closer, letting the space between us disappear. His gaze dropped to my lips, and that was all it took.

Joel reached for me, his hands firm but careful as he pulled me to him, his lips crashing into mine like he'd been holding back all damn day.

I sighed against his mouth, my fingers gripping the front of his shirt, anchoring myself as his hands slid to my hips, pressing me flush against him.

The kiss was different tonight-deeper, more desperate, like the sight of me earlier had unraveled something in him. He groaned softly when I tugged at the hair at the nape of his neck, his hands gripping tighter as he walked me backward, until my back hit the wall beside the front door.

"Joel," I murmured against his lips, my voice barely there, but he didn't stop. Didn't pull away.

"Mm?" He hummed, his lips trailing down my jaw, my throat, his hands slipping under the hem of my shirt, fingers warm and rough against my skin.

I shivered, tilting my head to give him more, to let him take whatever he wanted, because God, I wanted this, wanted him.

"We should go inside," I whispered, barely recognizing my own voice.

Joel exhaled sharply, his forehead pressing against mine for the briefest second before he pulled back, grabbing my hand and leading me inside, the door clicking shut behind us.

The second we were alone, it was like we couldn't get close enough. Clothes were pushed aside, hands roaming, mouths meeting over and over like we were making up for the time lost earlier.

He lifted me effortlessly, carrying me through the dark toward my bedroom, his lips never leaving my skin. When he laid me down, his body pressing into mine, I knew this wouldn't be like the other nights.

Tonight, it felt different.

Tonight, it felt inevitable.

The room was quiet except for the steady hum of the ceiling fan and the sound of our breathing, still heavy from the way we’d just spent the last hour tangled together.

Joel lay beside me, one arm resting behind his head, his bare chest rising and falling in the dim light. I could feel the heat radiating off his skin, the scent of him—woodsmoke, leather, and something distinctly Joel—lingering in the sheets.

I turned onto my side, propping myself up on my elbow as I trailed my fingers along his arm. His eyes were closed, but I knew he wasn’t asleep.

“What’s on your mind?” I asked softly, watching as his brows furrowed just slightly.

Joel let out a slow breath before finally opening his eyes, staring up at the ceiling. “Nothin’,” he muttered.

I didn’t buy it. “You sure about that?”

For a long moment, he didn’t answer. Then, he shifted, rolling onto his side to face me. His dark eyes held something I couldn’t quite place, something heavier than usual.

He hesitated, then ran a hand over his face. “I’m too old for you, y/n.”

I blinked, caught off guard by the sudden confession. A slow smirk tugged at my lips. “That didn’t seem to stop you before.”

Joel exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “That was different.”

“Different how?” I challenged, pushing myself up slightly, looking down at him. “Because I don’t remember you thinking twice about it when you were kissing me against my front door.”

His jaw tightened, and I could see the conflict in his eyes, the way he was wrestling with something.

I softened, reaching out to trace a finger along the scar on his shoulder. “Joel,” I murmured, “what’s this really about?”

He let out a humorless chuckle, shifting onto his back again. “Your parents.”

That made me pause. “What about them?”

Joel sighed, rubbing a hand over his chest. “I sat in their kitchen, y/n. Drank a damn beer with your old man, listened to your mom talk about how she just wants you to be happy.” He shook his head. “Felt like I was lyin’ straight to their faces.”

I stared at him, my heart tightening. “You weren’t lying.”

“Ain’t that simple.”

“Yes, it is,” I argued, sitting up fully now, the sheets pooling around my waist. “You think they’d hate you if they knew?”

Joel didn’t answer right away, just looked at me, his gaze heavy, unreadable. “I think they’d wonder why a man like me is in their daughter’s bed.”

I swallowed hard, my throat tightening. “You think too much.”

Joel huffed, shaking his head. “And you don’t think enough.”

That stung, but I refused to back down. “You act like this is something I just fell into, like I didn’t make this choice. I know what I want, Joel.”

His eyes searched mine, like he was trying to figure out if he could believe that. If he could believe me.

After a long pause, he sighed, sitting up beside me. His hand reached out, fingertips grazing my knee before curling into a loose fist. “I don’t wanna be the reason you regret anything.”

I stared at him, my chest tightening at the way he said it—so serious, so damn certain that he was the problem. That he was something I’d one day wish I could undo.

I reached for his hand, lacing my fingers through his, squeezing tight. “If I regret anything, it’ll be not seeing where this goes.”

Joel let out a breath, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. His eyes softened just slightly, but there was still hesitation there, still that damn weight he always carried.

I shifted closer, leaning in until my lips brushed against his. “You gonna kiss me, or keep thinking yourself out of it?”

He sighed against my mouth, shaking his head, but then his hand was at my waist, pulling me into his lap, and all that hesitation melted away as he kissed me slow and deep—like he knew this was a bad idea but couldn’t stop himself.

And I had no plans to stop him, either.

[oldsoul007]

future days

joel miller x reader

summary: you and ellie find joel and have to face abby, once back to jackson the fear doesn’t stop

a/n: im not sure why I wrote this, angstyyy, blood, guns, knives, don’t worry there’s fluff

joel miller masterlist

part i

The cold bit at my tace as I trudged through the snow, my breath coming out in white puffs.

I caught sight of a lodge nestled between the trees, its silhouette foreboding against the gray sky. My heart dropped when I saw Ellie's horse, Shimmer, pawing anxiously at the frozen ground..

I approached the lodge cautiously, the rifle gripped tightly in my hands. Shimmer whinnied softly as l passed her, like even she was begging me to hurry. "Hang in there, girl," I whispered before slipping around the side of the lodge.

The main door was locked, but a cracked window at the back gave me just enough space to climb inside. The second my boots hit the wooden floor, I froze. The air was heavy with the smell of sweat and blood, and the faint sound of muffled cries reached my ears.

I crept through the dimly lit cabin, my heart thundering in my chest. The sounds grew louder-a mix of grunts, thuds, and pained screams. Ellie's scream pierced through the chaos, raw and frantic.

Adrenaline surged through me as I found the door at the end of the hallway. Pressing my ear against it, I could make out another voice— mocking, cold.

I didn't hesitate. I threw the door open and stormed inside, my rifle raised. The sight before me made my blood boil.

Ellie was pinned down by a large man, her knife just out of reach. Tommy was slumped against the floor, barely conscious, blood streaming down his face. And Joel... Joel was on the floor, a crumpled heap of blood and broken bones. A girl stood over him, gripping a golf club, her expression cold and unfeeling.

The man pinning Ellie jerked back as my bullet tore through his shoulder, and Ellie wasted no time. She grabbed her knife and drove it into his throat, sending blood spraying across the floor.

"y/n!" she gasped, scrambling to her feet.

Before she could move toward Joel, the girl turned toward me, the golf club swinging wildly. I ducked, barely avoiding the blow, and fired another shot. She sidestepped it and rushed me, slamming her shoulder into my chest.

I stumbled back, hitting the wall hard enough to knock the wind out of me. My rifle fell from my hands as the girl grabbed me by the collar and shoved me to the floor.

"Big mistake," she snarled, raising the club again.

Ellie then charged at the girl with her knife. She spun just in time, catching Ellie's wrist and twisting it, forcing her to drop the blade. I scrambled to my feet, grabbing the nearest object-a broken chair leg-and swung it at her head.

The impact made her grunt, and she staggered, but it wasn't enough to bring her down. She kicked me hard in the stomach, and I hit the floor again, gasping for air.

Tommy groaned from the corner, struggling to get up. "Ellie, behind you!" he yelled.

Ellie ducked just as she swung her club at her head. The momentum sent the girl off-balance, giving Ellie enough time to tackle her to the ground. They rolled across the blood-streaked floor, trading punches and kicks.

I grabbed my rifle and aimed, but before I could pull the trigger, someone grabbed me from behind—a second man I hadn't seen before. His arm wrapped around my throat, cutting off my air as he dragged me back.

"Not so fast," he growled.

I drove my elbow into his ribs and stomped hard on his foot. He loosened his grip just enough for me to twist around and slam the butt of my rifle into his face. He stumbled back, blood pouring from his nose, and I finished him off with a shot to the chest.

Ellie screamed, and I turned to see the girl pinning her down, one hand around her throat and the other raised to strike. I fired again, forcing her to roll off Ellie to avoid the bullet.

"Y/n, help me with Joel!" Ellie shouted, crawling toward him.

I nodded, but before I could move, the girl came at me again, tackling me into a wooden table.

The impact shattered the table beneath us, and pain exploded through my back.

"You should've stayed out of this," she hissed, wrapping her hands around my throat.

I clawed at her arms, desperate for air, when Tommy suddenly appeared behind her, swinging a piece of debris into her side. She cried out, releasing me and stumbling back.

She sprang up, flipping the table toward Ellie and making a break for the side door. Ellie stumbled but regained her footing, chasing after her. I was still on the ground, struggled to stand, blood dripping from my temple.

She barreled through the cabin's side door, the rain immediately soaking her to the bone.

She could hear Ellie's footsteps behind her, but she didn't look back. She sprinted into the dense woods surrounding the cabin, her boots slipping in the mud.

By the time I got up, she was gone.

"Dammit!" I shouted, coughing as I staggered toward Joel.

Ellie was already by his side, her hands trembling as she cradled his bloodied face.

"Joel! Please!"

I dropped to my knees beside them, tears streaming down my face. Joel's breathing was shallow, his body limp and broken.

His face was pale, his knee—God, his knee. Blood soaked my hands as I pressed down to try and stop it, but he was barely breathing, his chest rising in shallow, weak gasps.

“Joel, stay with me,” I whispered, my voice shaking as tears burned in my eyes. “Please, stay with me.”

"Come on, Joel," I whispered, pressing a piece of fabric to his bleeding knee. "We've got you.

“Just hold on."

Tommy leaned heavily against the wall, blood dripping from his forehead. "We've gotta move..."

Ellie and I nodded, lifting Joel as gently as we could. His weight nearly crushed me, but I refused to let go.

As we stumbled out into the cold, my only thought was simple: She's not getting away with this. Not again.

The quiet hum of Jackson’s infirmary felt wrong. It was too still, too calm, when everything in me was screaming. Joel lay on the cot in front of me, his face pale, his breathing shallow but steady. His leg was wrapped in layers of bandages, elevated on a stack of pillows.

He was alive. Barely. But he was alive.

Ellie sat across from me, her knees pulled to her chest, her eyes fixed on Joel. She hadn’t said much since we’d dragged him back, and I didn’t blame her. There wasn’t much to say. Tommy was down the hall, getting stitched up himself. Everyone in Jackson was moving, working, trying to help.

Except me.

I couldn’t leave him.

“Y/n,” Maria’s voice came from the doorway, soft and full of concern. “You should get some rest.”

I shook my head, my eyes glued to Joel’s face. “I’m not leaving him.”

Maria sighed but didn’t push. She came into the room, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder. “He’s stable for now. The doc said it’s a miracle he made it back.”

A miracle. That’s what everyone was calling it. But it didn’t feel like one. Joel wasn’t the same. He was broken in ways that couldn’t be fixed, and no matter how much I’d fought to save him, I couldn’t give him back what he’d lost.

Ellie finally spoke, her voice quiet and raw. “He’s gonna hate this.”

My chest tightened. She was right. Joel wasn’t the kind of man who could sit still, let alone live with a shattered body. The thought of him realizing what had happened, of him waking up to a world where he couldn’t walk, couldn’t fight—it terrified me.

“I’ll handle it,” I said, my voice firmer than I felt. “When he wakes up… I’ll be here. We’ll figure it out.”

Ellie gave me a sharp look, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “We’ll figure it out,” she echoed, her tone hard. “You’re not doing this alone.”

I nodded, but the weight in my chest didn’t lift.

Hours passed, and the room grew darker as the sun set outside. I stayed by Joel’s side, holding his hand, even when my body screamed at me to rest. I couldn’t let go. Not after everything we’d been through.

It always started the same way.

The door was slightly ajar, the soft creak echoing as I pushed it open. The warm, golden light of the room felt suffocating, too calm, too wrong. My heart pounded in my chest as I stepped inside, already knowing what I would see but praying-pleading-that I wouldn't.

Then I saw him.

Joel.

He was lying there, motionless, crumpled on the floor, blood pooling around him. His broad shoulders that had carried the weight of the world now slumped and lifeless, his face pale and streaked with crimson. The man I loved, the man who had saved me in every way a person could be saved, was gone.

"Joel!" My voice ripped through the silence, raw and trembling as I fell to my knees beside him. My hands hovered over him, shaking, terrified to touch him and confirm the worst.

The scent of blood filled the air, thick and metallic, choking me as tears blurred my vIsion.

"Please," | whispered, my voice cracking. I reached out, brushing his cheek with trembling fingers. His skin was cold, and I felt my chest cave in. "Joel, no. Don't do this. Don't leave me. Please."

But he didn't answer. He never did.

I pressed my forehead to his, my tears falling freely now, soaking into his bloodied shirt. My sobs filled the room, raw and unrelenting, as her shadow lingered behind me, silent and unmoving.

Her presence was a weight I could feel pressing down on me, but I didn't care. All I could think about was him-his laugh, his touch, the way he'd pull me into his arms like the world couldn't touch us there.

The room faded, the world blurred, and all I could feel was the unbearable weight of losing him.

And then I woke.

I jolted upright, my chest heaving, the ghost of my scream still caught in my throat. My heart pounded as I blinked away the nightmare, my eyes adjusting to the dim light of the room.

Joel was there, lying in the bed beside me, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. Bandages wrapped around his torso, stark white against his tanned skin. His face was bruised, battered, but alive.

Alive.

I let out a shaky breath, pressing a hand to my chest as the nightmare's grip loosened its hold. The sight of him breathing, even in his battered state, was enough to bring tears to my eyes.

I leaned forward, brushing a hand lightly over his forehead, careful not to wake him. His skin was warm beneath my touch, grounding me in a way nothing else could.

"God, Joel," I whispered, my voice breaking. "I thought I lost you."

The nightmare still lingered in the corners of my mind, its sharp edges threatening to pull me back under. But as I sat there, watching him sleep, his breaths steady and sure, I reminded myself of the truth.

He was here. He was alive.

And as long as he was, I wasn't letting go.

I sat on the edge of the worn-out couch in the dimly lit living room, my hands twisting together in my lap.

I could faintly hear Ellie’s voice from the other room, low and steady as she talked to a sleeping Joel.

She sounded like herself , but I knew better.

Not since that day.

I shut my eyes, willing the memory away, but it was relentless—Joel crumpled on the floor, blood pooling around him, Ellie screaming for him to hold on.

I inhaled sharply, trying to focus on the crackling fire in front of me, but the weight in the room was impossible to ignore. Ellie stormed into the room, her boots heavy against the wooden floor, her shoulders tense. She looked like she was about to burst, all that anger and grief swirling behind her eyes.

“She got away,” Ellie muttered, her voice tight with frustration. She didn’t sit down, just paced the room like she was ready to explode.

I sighed, already knowing where this was going. I’d been waiting for this conversation, dreading it. “Ellie… I know what you’re thinking. But it’s not worth it.”

Her head snapped up, and the glare she gave me hit like a slap. “Not worth it?” Her voice cracked, raw and full of fury. “She almost killed Joel, y/n. He almost died. And you’re telling me to just let her go?”

I stood, slowly, carefully, keeping my voice calm even as my chest ached. “I’m saying you don’t even know where she is. You’d be chasing shadows. What then? How far are you willing to go for revenge? What happens if you find her and it costs you everything?”

She scoffed, running a hand through her hair. I could see the storm in her eyes, the way she was barely holding herself together. “Everything? What do I even have left? You know Joel would already be out looking for her if it were me. Or you. Or Tommy. He wouldn’t just sit here.”

Her words hit me harder than they should have, but I held my ground, stepping closer to her. “That’s not the point, Ellie,” I said, my voice trembling just enough to betray the fear I’d been trying to keep buried. “Joel made his choices, and so did you. But running off to find her now? You’ll leave him here—leave us here—wondering if we’ll ever see you again. He almost didn’t make it, Ellie. You think he could survive losing you, too?”

She turned away, gripping the edge of the table so tightly her knuckles turned white. My heart broke watching her, knowing she felt like she was carrying all this weight alone. “And if they come back?” she asked, her voice strained. “Abby and her the rest of them? What then? You think they’re just gonna leave Jackson alone after everything? You think Joel’s safe?”

Her words struck a chord, but I couldn’t let her spiral. I swallowed hard, forcing down the lump in my throat, and took another step closer. “You don’t know that. And you don’t know if she’s even alive,” I said softly, though my voice shook.

She didn’t look at me. The firelight flickered against her face, catching the tears she refused to let fall. She was so much like Joel—stubborn, relentless, and so full of love she didn’t know how to handle it.

I wanted to reach out, to pull her into my arms like I used to when she was younger, but I knew it wouldn’t help. All I could do was stand there and hope my words were enough to keep her from walking out that door.

The soft, steady rhythm of Joel’s breathing was the only thing that kept me grounded. I sat beside his bed in our house at Jackson, my fingers tracing the edge of the blanket over his chest, though I hadn’t really noticed how tightly I was holding it.

My mind was still reeling from everything that had happened—Ellie, the cabin, the fight—but the moment I’d gotten him here, I’d finally allowed myself to breathe. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

The room was quiet, save for the occasional murmur of the staff moving through the clinic. My thoughts drifted as I watched Joel’s still form, the way his chest rose and fell, so incredibly fragile despite his strength. There was no telling how bad the damage had been after everything—his body had taken a beating, but it was his mind I worried about.

His refusal to rest, the guilt he carried… I knew how he was. He wouldn’t give in to the exhaustion, wouldn’t let himself heal until he felt sure that everyone else was safe.

I leaned back in my chair, trying to will myself to stay awake. The events of the past few days had left me feeling drained, but I couldn’t leave his side. I had to be here, just in case he woke up. And when he did, he’d find me waiting, like always.

Hours passed, and the steady beeping of the machines became almost comforting, until it suddenly stopped. My breath caught in my throat, and I leaned forward, my heart racing.

A soft groan broke the silence. Then, the faintest flutter of his eyelids. Joel’s hand moved slowly, reaching out toward his face as he tried to stir, his body stiff and weak.

His eyes opened slowly, barely more than a flicker, and my heart stopped. I’d been sitting here for days, watching, waiting, barely holding myself together. But now—now, he was looking at me. Joel. Not a ghost of him, not the broken body we brought back, but him.

I leaned forward, afraid to move too quickly, afraid he might slip away again if I wasn’t careful. My hands hovered over his, trembling as I reached out to touch him. I stopped short, hesitating, because he looked so fragile. Bruises bloomed across his skin, his face swollen and pale beneath the harsh light of the room. The man I loved—the man who had always seemed untouchable—was lying here, shattered, and I couldn’t stop the tears from blurring my vision.

“Joel?” My voice broke on his name, and I hated how small it sounded. I hated how useless I’d been.

His lips parted, dry and cracked, and he let out a weak, raspy breath. His brow twitched, his eyes fluttering again as though the effort to stay awake was too much. But then he focused on me, just for a second, and I saw it—recognition.

“Y/n,” he croaked, barely audible.

I broke. The tears came fast and hard, spilling down my face as I leaned in closer. “I’m here,” I whispered, over and over, my voice shaking as I said it. “I’m here, Joel. I’ve got you.”

His hand moved, sluggish and unsteady, but it found mine. His fingers were cold and weak, but I clung to them like they were the only thing keeping me grounded. I brought his hand to my lips, pressing a trembling kiss to his knuckles, my tears soaking into his skin.

His voice came in a raspy whisper, still laced with concern. “You’re hurt.”

I couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled up from my chest. I shook my head, trying to fight it back, but it was impossible. “Oh Joel,” I scoffed lightly,

“If I ever were to lose you…” The words slipped out, raw and broken, the weight of them catching in my throat. I couldn’t finish. I didn’t need to. He knew. I could see it in the way his eyes softened, in the way his grip on my hand tightened just slightly. He always knew.

I leaned forward, pressing my forehead to his. My tears mixed with his, falling against the bruises on his skin. The room felt too quiet, too small for the storm raging inside me. But for the first time in days, there was something else. A flicker of hope, faint and fragile, but real.

Joel didn’t respond immediately. Instead, his thumb brushed the back of my hand, the warmth of his touch sending a wave of comfort through me. “We’ll be alright,” he said quietly, though there was a firmness in his voice that I hadn’t heard before. A promise.

For the first time in what felt like forever, I let myself believe him.

Joel was awake. Weak, groggy, but alive enough to ask for Ellie. I’d been sitting with him when he rasped her name, his voice broken but insistent. He didn’t need to say more; I knew what he wanted.

I pushed myself up from the chair and made my way down the hall to the room Ellie had shut herself in. The floor creaked under my boots as I stopped in front of the door and knocked softly.

“Ellie?”

No answer.

I knocked again, leaning closer. “Ellie, it’s me. Joel’s awake. He’s asking for you.”

There was a shuffle of movement inside, but she didn’t respond.

“Ellie, I know this is hard,” I said gently, resting my hand on the doorframe. “But he’s awake, baby girl. And he wants to see you. You don’t want to wait too long.”

Still nothing. I sighed, leaning my forehead against the door for a moment before speaking again. “You’ve been through so much, Ellie. Both of you have. But you’re here now. He’s here. That’s what matters. Don’t let what happened keep you from him.”

The door opened a crack, and I stepped back as Ellie appeared, her face pale, her eyes rimmed with red. She didn’t look at me right away, instead staring down at the floor as she tugged at the hem of her jacket.

“I don’t… I don’t know what to say to him,” she mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper.

I reached out, resting a hand on her shoulder. “You don’t have to say anything, Ellie. Just being there is enough. He needs to see you. And I think you need to see him too.”

Her jaw tightened, and for a moment, I thought she might turn away and shut herself back in the room. But then she nodded, her shoulders sagging as if the fight had gone out of her.

“Okay,” she said softly.

I gave her a small, encouraging smile. “You’re doing the right thing, kiddo. He’s waiting for you.”

We walked down the hall together, and I kept close, just in case she faltered. When we reached Joel’s door, she hesitated, her hand hovering over the handle.

I leaned in slightly, my voice low and steady. “He’s not going anywhere, Ellie. Take your time. But he’s awake, and he’s still Joel. You know that.”

She nodded again, more firmly this time, and pushed the door open.

Joel’s head turned weakly on the pillow as she stepped inside, his eyes finding her immediately. Even from the hallway, I could see the way his gaze softened, the faint trace of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Ellie froze for a second, and then she moved, crossing the room to his bedside. Her voice was quiet, but there was a warmth in it that hadn’t been there before. Joel’s hand lifted weakly, and she took it, holding it tightly like she was afraid to let go.

I stepped back, giving them their space.

Leaning against the wall in the hallway, I closed my eyes for a moment, letting out a slow breath. This wasn’t going to fix everything. The road ahead was still long, and the scars they both carried wouldn’t heal overnight.

But they were here. Together.

And that was enough for now.

The early morning sunlight spilled through the house windows, bathing the small space in a golden glow. I stood in the kitchen, my hands working methodically as I prepared breakfast. Outside, I could hear the faint hum of Jackson starting to stir—people calling out to one another, the sounds of horses being saddled, and the occasional bark of a dog. It was peaceful. Almost perfect.

Except for the faint limp of boots on the wooden floor behind me.

“Joel, sit down,” I called over my shoulder without even turning around. I didn’t need to look to know what he was doing.

“I’m fine,” Joel muttered, his tone dismissive. But I could hear the slight hitch in his voice, that subtle strain he tried so hard to hide.

I set down the wooden spoon and turned to face him. Sure enough, there he was, by the fireplace, trying to stack a few stray logs. He moved slowly, deliberately, his left leg dragging just enough to remind me of the bullet that had torn through his knee a month ago. His stitches, now mostly healed, still marked the side of his head like an ugly map of everything we’d endured.

“You’re not fine, Joel,” I said firmly, crossing my arms. I softened my tone, but I wasn’t about to back down. “You almost died, for God’s sake. You can’t just go around acting like nothing happened.”

He froze, his shoulders stiff. For a moment, he just stood there, staring into the fireplace like it held all the answers he couldn’t find. Then he let out a heavy sigh, one that seemed to carry all the weight he refused to speak aloud.

“I know,” he said finally, his voice low. “Believe me, I know.”

My chest ached at the sight of him. I could see it—the anger in the way his hands balled into fists, the guilt that seemed to weigh down every line on his face.

“It was stupid,” Joel said suddenly, his voice sharp and raw. “I was stupid. Letting myself get caught like that. Letting her get the upper hand.”

“Joel…” I started, but he cut me off.

“I should’ve known better,” he growled, slamming the log down onto the hearth with more force than necessary. “I let my guard down, and it damn near got me killed. Got you and Ellie hurt.”

I stepped closer, placing a hand on his arm. His muscles were tense, coiled like a spring ready to snap. “Joel, stop,” I said gently.

He turned to look at me, and for a moment, I saw everything he was trying so hard to hide—the vulnerability, the guilt, the pain. The lines on his face seemed deeper now, etched with all the things he wouldn’t say out loud.

“You’re alive,” I said softly, letting my hand slip down to take his. My fingers brushed over his rough skin, and I held on, grounding both of us. “That’s what matters. We’re alive. We’re here. Together.”

His lips pressed into a thin line, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he let me guide him to the worn-out couch near the window. He sank into it with a groan, his body betraying him even as his pride tried to fight it.

I knelt in front of him, my fingers brushing against the scar near his temple. It was still red and angry, but it was healing, just like everything else.

“You’ve been through hell,” I said, my voice steady. “But you’re still standing. That’s enough for me.”

Joel let out a dry laugh, shaking his head. “Barely standin’,” he muttered.

I smirked, trying to lighten the mood. “Yeah, well, you’ve always been too stubborn for your own good.”

The room fell quiet then, the warmth of the morning sun wrapping around us like a blanket. Joel reached out, his rough hand cupping my cheek. His touch was gentle, a stark contrast to the strength I knew he carried.

“I don’t deserve you,” he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion.

I leaned into his touch, letting the moment linger. My heart swelled, and I felt a smile tug at my lips. “Well, you’ve got me anyway,” I said softly. “So you better start taking it easy, or I’ll tie you to that couch myself.”

A small smile tugged at his lips, and for a second, I saw the man beneath the scars—the one who still had a spark of life left in him. “You’re somethin’ else, you know that?”

“I’ve been told,” I teased, standing up and leaning down to kiss his forehead, careful to avoid his healing stitches. “Now sit there and behave. Breakfast is almost ready.”

Joel didn’t say anything at first, just stared at me with those deep, shadowed eyes of his. There was something in his expression—gratitude, maybe, or something softer, something he couldn’t quite put into words.

Then, slowly, he pulled me on him, his hand reaching across the table to cup my cheek. His touch was gentle, his fingers calloused but warm as they brushed against my skin.

“I don’t say it enough,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, “but I love you, y/n. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

My breath caught as he pulled me closer, and then his lips were on mine—warm, firm, and familiar. The kiss was slow, tender, filled with all the things we didn’t need to say. My heart swelled, and for a moment, the rest of the world faded away.

When we finally pulled back, I stayed close, resting my forehead against his. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” I whispered, my lips brushing his as I spoke.

A small smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, a rare lightness flickering in his tired eyes. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

I laughed softly, kissing him again before leaning back into the couch. The sunlight streamed through the window, warm and golden, wrapping us in a calm that felt almost too good to be true. But it was real.

The storm outside might not be over, and Joel still carried the weight of everything that had happened, but here, in this moment, it didn’t matter.

We had each other. And for now, that was more than enough.

As I turned back to the kitchen, I glanced out the window. The world outside was still dangerous, still broken, but for the first time in weeks, it felt far away. For the first time, I let myself believe we could have this—a quiet life in Jackson, filled with love and second chances.

Joel might not have forgiven himself yet, but I had faith. And for now, that was enough. It was more than enough.

[oldsoul007]

sweetest strings

joel miller x reader

summary: Joel comes back early and catches you playing guitar, which surprises him, and you two share a sweet moment together.

based of this request

a/n: veryyy domestic

joel miller masterlist

The sun dipped low behind the mountains surrounding Jackson, casting the town in hues of warm orange and deepening shadows. Life here was quiet, steady—a rhythm that Joel and I had fallen into like an old song. For once, peace felt like something tangible, not fleeting.

Ellie was Joel’s current project. He’d decided to teach her the guitar, and from the sounds that drifted through the house most evenings, she was… learning. It was sweet, really, hearing Joel’s gruff patience as he guided her through the basics. Tonight was supposed to be another one of those lessons, but Joel had gone out on patrol, promising to be back by sundown.

Ellie was off with her friends for the afternoon, so I had the house to myself. The old guitar Joel had been using sat in the corner of our bedroom, catching my eye every time I walked by. It had been years since I’d even thought about playing. I wasn’t exactly good at it back then, but the urge to strum the strings was nagging at me today.

Before I could talk myself out of it, I grabbed the guitar, plucked a pick from Joel’s stash on the dresser, and perched on the edge of the bed. The weight of it in my hands was familiar and comforting. I adjusted the tuning, as best I could remember, and let my fingers find their way across the strings.

The first chords were shaky, the notes rough around the edges. I winced, but it wasn’t terrible. Muscle memory kicked in, and soon I was playing a song I hadn’t thought of in years. It was a slow, bittersweet melody, one that matched the stillness of the evening.

I started humming along, the words tumbling out softly.

“Because I’m still in love with you… I want to see you dance again…”

The room faded away as I fell into the music, lost in the quiet rhythm of the song. For a moment, it was just me, the guitar, and the ghosts of a simpler time.

“On this harvest moon…”

The last note lingered in the air, and I let out a soft sigh, the kind that comes from releasing something you didn’t even realize you were holding in.

It wasn’t until I felt the weight of someone’s gaze that I realized I wasn’t alone.

I looked up sharply, and there he was—Joel, leaning against the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest and his patrol gear still on. His expression was soft, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, and his eyes were shining in that way that always made my heart flutter.

“Joel,” I breathed, my cheeks burning. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough,” he said, his voice low and warm.

“Oh, god.” I set the guitar down hastily, burying my face in my hands. “You weren’t supposed to hear that.”

“Why not?” He chuckled, crossing the room in a few easy steps. He sat down beside me on the bed, his hand resting on my knee. “That was beautiful, y/n.”

I peeked at him through my fingers, my embarrassment still burning hot. “It wasn’t that good.”

“Darlin’,” he said softly, his tone almost reverent, “it was more than good. Why didn’t you ever tell me you could play?”

I shrugged, glancing at the guitar. “I only played for a couple of years when I was a teenager. I wasn’t any good back then, and I figured you and Ellie didn’t need to hear me mess around.”

Joel shook his head, his hand sliding up to cup my cheek. “You’ve been holdin’ out on me.”

I laughed, my nerves easing under his gentle touch. “Didn’t think it was a big deal.”

“Well, you’re wrong about that.” His thumb brushed over my cheekbone, his gaze steady and warm. “Hearing you play… it’s somethin’ else, y/n. That song…” He trailed off, his voice catching for a moment. “You don’t even know what you just did to me.”

I smiled, my heart swelling at the look in his eyes. “Guess I’ll have to play for you more often.”

Joel leaned in closer, his forehead resting against mine. “You better. Ain’t no way I’m lettin’ you keep this to yourself anymore.”

Before I could respond, he closed the distance between us, his lips capturing mine in a kiss that was soft and slow, like the song I’d just played. I melted into him, my hands tangling in his shirt as the guitar sat forgotten on the bed beside us.

When we finally broke apart, his thumb brushed over my bottom lip, his voice a soft murmur. “Still in love with me, huh?”

I laughed, my forehead pressing against his. “Always, Joel.”

And in that moment, with the warmth of his touch and the memory of the music lingering in the air, I couldn’t imagine a more perfect kind of love.

request by: @underneath-the-sky-again

[oldsoul007]

Can I request a fic where Joel and reader are in an established relationship living in Jackson and Joel is teaching Ellie how to play the guitar (and reader never mentions that she knows how to play). One day Joel comes back from patrol earlier than expected and catches reader playing and singing in their bedroom, so distracted that she doesn't even see Joel watching her. Joel is all soft and sweet and mesmerized by reader, saying that he never knew how to play the guitar. And reader is a little embarrassed, because she only played for a couple of years when she was a teen before the pandemic hit.

Oddly specific, I know, but I would love some domestic/soft Joel just appreciating his girl. Thanks!

Um I absolutely love this!!! ✍🏻✍🏻✍🏻✍🏻

[oldsoul007]

crawling back to you

joel miller x reader

summary: you haven’t seen joel since he let you leave boston with tommy, until…

a/n: grumpy joel, angsty and fluffy

joel miller masterlist

The last thing I remember was the blinding midday sun and the crackling of the dried leaves beneath my boots. I’d been walking for hours—too many hours—with no food, no water, and no sign of a single soul. The world was too quiet, and when the dizziness hit, I knew I’d pushed too far.

I hadn’t seen the raiders coming. Not until it was too late. They burst out from the tree line, shouting, armed, and I’d tried to run. But my body betrayed me. My knees gave out before I could process what was happening, and the hard, cracked asphalt of the road rushed up to meet me as they closed in.

Then darkness.

For a while, there was nothing but a foggy void, until I felt something. A jolt of awareness. The weight of the world slowly pressed back on me: the ache in my limbs, the sting in my throat, and the cold chill of shade falling over my skin.

Voices.

“You think she’s alive?”

The words floated into my consciousness, sharp and clear. My heart raced. The raiders—had they caught me? I wanted to open my eyes, but my body wasn’t listening.

“How the hell should I know, Ellie?”

That voice was rough and edged like the bark of an old tree. Deep. Grumpy. Close. Familiar.

“She looks alive. Kinda.”

“Kinda doesn’t cut it, kid.” A sigh, heavy and annoyed. “She’s breathing, so that’s a good sign. Or bad, depending on how you wanna look at it.”

The ground beneath me was rough gravel digging into my side. Someone must’ve moved me. My knife. My hands twitched instinctively for it, but I didn’t feel the familiar weight at my belt.

“She’s got a backpack,” the girl—Ellie—said. “Maybe she’s got something useful on her.”

“Don’t even think about it,” the man snapped.

“Relax, I was just saying!”

They didn’t sound like raiders. But I wasn’t taking chances. Slowly, I forced my eyelids to lift, but it was like peeling back layers of lead. The light stung, and all I could make out at first was a blurred silhouette looming above me.

“She’s moving!” Ellie’s voice jumped an octave.

“Yeah, I can see that,” the man grumbled.

The shapes above me sharpened: a man with graying hair and a perpetual scowl crouched close, while a girl with curious, wide eyes hovered just behind him. Bottoms of their faces covered with a bandana. My muscles tensed, and instinct screamed one thing: fight.

I surged up, lashing out before I could think. My body felt sluggish, weak, but adrenaline drove me forward.

“Whoa!” Ellie yelped, stumbling back.

He moved faster than I expected. In one fluid motion, he grabbed both of my wrists and shoved me back down onto the ground, pinning me there with a strength I had no hope of matching.

“Don’t even think about it,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. His face was inches from mine, his grip like iron.

“Get off me!” I spat, twisting against him, but it was useless.

“You wanna try that again?” he snapped, glaring down at me. “Because I guarantee it won’t go how you think.”

“Joel, should I—” Ellie’s voice cut through the wind, and I glanced up to see her pointing a gun at me.

“Hold on,” the man—Joel—said. His voice made something in my chest clench, though I couldn’t place why.

He shifted, one hand leaving my wrist to yank the bandana down from my face. The cold stung my skin as it was exposed to the biting wind, but all I could focus on was his face.

Joel froze. His eyes widened as he stared down at me, his grip slackening just enough for me to shove at his chest.

“Y/n?”

Hearing my name in that voice—his voice—hit me like a gut punch. I blinked up at him, snowflakes catching on my lashes as my brain struggled to catch up.

“Joel?” I rasped, disbelief and anger warring inside me.

He let go of my wrists, sitting back slightly, but I wasn’t done. With a grunt, I shoved him hard enough to make him stumble.

“Get off me, asshole!” I snapped, scrambling to my feet.

Ellie lowered her gun, her brows furrowed in confusion. “Wait, you know her?”

Joel stood slowly, brushing snow off his jacket, his eyes never leaving mine. “Yeah… I know her.”

“Know me?” I barked, crossing my arms against the cold. “That’s all you’ve got to say after years?”

“Not now,” he said, his voice quieter but no less firm. “We need to move. It’s not safe out here.”

“Oh, now you care about safety,” I shot back, but the storm was picking up again, and as much as I hated to admit it, I couldn’t stay out here alone.

Ellie glanced between us, still holding the gun loosely. “So… are we just letting her come with us?”

“She’s coming with us,” Joel said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

I snorted, pulling my scarf back up. “Like hell I am.”

“Fine,” Joel said, stepping closer until he was towering over me. “Then freeze out here on your own.”

We locked eyes, the familiar stubbornness in his gaze making my blood boil. Finally, I sighed, muttering under my breath. “Fine. But if you pull something like that again, I’m putting a bullet in your knee.”

Ellie raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything.

Joel smirked—barely, but I caught it. “Good to see you haven’t changed.”

I looked around us.

“Where—” My voice cracked, my throat dry. “Where are they?”

“The raiders?” Joel asked, his tone clipped. “Dead. You’re welcome.”

Ellie shot him a look. “You don’t have to be such a dick about it.”

Joel ignored her, turning to scan the horizon like he was already regretting stopping to help.

Ellie turned back to me, her tone gentler. “You need water? Food? You look like you’re about to keel over.”

I swallowed hard, forcing out a hoarse whisper. “Water…”

Ellie looked at Joel expectantly. “She needs water.”

Joel sighed heavily, like this was the biggest inconvenience in the world, and dug a bottle out of his pack. He shoved it toward me without a word, his scowl deepening.

“Don’t drink too fast,” he muttered. “You’ll puke.”

I took the bottle with shaking hands, sipping carefully.

Ellie gave me a small smile. “See? He’s grumpy, but he’s not so bad., but i’m guessing you knew that already. I’m Ellie, by the way. What’s your name again?”

“Y/n,” I croaked.

“Well, y/n,” she said, leaning back on her heels. “Looks like you’re stuck with us for now.”

Joel shot her a glare, but she just smiled sweetly at him.

As I sipped the water, trying not to choke, I couldn’t help but wonder why Ellie seemed so eager to help me—and why Joel seemed so reluctant to.

The pain in my thigh hit me like a freight train the moment I tried to stand. It was sharp and hot, radiating up my leg with every twitch of movement. I glanced down and saw the blood, dark and sticky, soaking through a jagged tear in my jeans. My stomach turned.

“Shit,” I muttered under my breath, dropping back to the ground.

Joel and Ellie were still nearby, Joel pacing with his rifle slung low, Ellie crouched by the fire, poking at it absentmindedly. I pressed my hand against the wound, trying to stop the bleeding, but it wasn’t doing much good.

“You okay?” Ellie asked, looking up.

“Fine,” I lied, my voice tight.

“Yeah, sure you are,” Joel muttered without even glancing my way.

I glared at him but focused back on my leg. I needed to stop the bleeding, clean it—do something before it got worse. My hands fumbled as I tried to tear a strip from the already-ruined part of my jeans, but my fingers were shaking too much to get a good grip.

“Dammit,” I hissed, tugging harder.

Joel finally turned, watching me struggle with an expression that screamed irritation. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I can handle it,” I snapped, not looking at him.

“Yeah, sure looks like it,” he said dryly, crossing the distance in a few long strides. Before I could protest, he crouched down in front of me and grabbed my leg.

“Hey!” I yelped, jerking back.

“Hold still,” he growled, yanking my jeans up over the wound to get a better look.

“What are you—”

“Helping,” he said sharply, cutting me off. “Because you clearly can’t do this yourself.”

“I didn’t ask you to.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t need you bleeding out and slowing us down,” he shot back, his hands already pulling a small bottle of alcohol from his pack.

I froze when I saw it. “Wait—wait.”

He didn’t stop, just uncapped the bottle and dumped it onto the wound in one swift motion.

Pain exploded through my thigh, white-hot and searing. I couldn’t stop the scream that ripped out of me, my whole body jerking away from him.

“Goddammit!” I shouted, clutching at my leg. “What the hell is wrong with you?!”

“Stop moving,” Joel barked, his hand clamping down on my leg to keep it still. “You’re just making it worse.”

“You could’ve warned me!”

“I did,” he said flatly, grabbing a clean cloth and pressing it firmly against the cut.

“Yeah, great warning!” I hissed, still trying to recover from the burn.

Ellie was sitting nearby, watching the whole thing with wide eyes. “Uh, yeah, he’s not exactly the most… delicate, if you hadn’t noticed.”

Joel ignored her, wrapping the bandage tightly around my thigh with the kind of practiced efficiency that made me wonder how many times he’d done this before.

“Can you walk?” he asked once he was done, standing and offering me a hand.

I stared at it for a second, then grudgingly took it. He hauled me up, steadying me when my leg wobbled.

“I’m fine,” I muttered, even though I wasn’t.

“Sure you are,” he said, his tone making it clear he didn’t believe me.

Later that night, we camped near a small fire Joel had built, the warmth of the flames doing little to ease the tension between us. Ellie sat across from me, poking at the fire with a stick, while Joel leaned against a nearby tree, his arms crossed and his rifle within easy reach.

“So,” I said after a long silence, my voice cutting through the crackle of the fire. “Where are you two headed?”

Ellie perked up immediately, her mouth opening before she could stop herself. “We’re going to—”

“We’re going to the Fireflies,” Joel interrupted, his voice steady and sure.

Ellie froze, her eyes darting between the two of us. “Joel!?” she hissed, clearly caught off guard by his honesty.

I frowned, looking between them. “The Fireflies? Why?” I could tell there was something they weren’t saying, something important.

Joel sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. “Because Ellie’s immune,” he said, his voice calm but carrying the weight of what those words meant. “And they’re working on a cure.”

I blinked, my mind racing to catch up. “Immune?” I repeated, glancing at Ellie.

Ellie shifted uncomfortably, clearly not used to someone new knowing. “Yeah,” she mumbled, shrugging. “I got bit. Didn’t turn. That was, like, forever ago.”

I stared at her, processing what Joel had just admitted. “And you’re taking her to the Fireflies,” I said slowly. “Because they think they can use her immunity to make a cure.”

“That’s the idea,” Joel said, his tone neutral. “Whether it’ll work or not, that’s anyone’s guess.”

I leaned back, crossing my arms as I studied him. Joel wasn’t the type to trust anyone with this kind of information lightly. The fact that he was telling me now said a lot.

“And you’re okay with me knowing all this?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at him.

Joel held my gaze, his expression unreadable. “I wouldn’t’ve said anything if I didn’t trust you.”

That hit harder than I expected. For a moment, I couldn’t find the words. Joel and I had history—messy, complicated history—but this… this was something else.

After a long pause, I finally spoke. “Where are the Fireflies at?” I glanced at Joel, trying to keep my voice steady.

“Salt Lake City,” he replied, his tone flat, as if that was the only answer he had to offer.

I nodded, thinking for a moment. “That’s a hell of a trip.”

Joel didn’t respond to that, so I let the silence stretch a bit longer, watching the flickering flames. The crackle of the fire was the only thing filling the space between us.

I shifted slightly, the weight of the night starting to press on me. “I was with a group,” I said after a beat, keeping my voice low, like the words might break something if I said them too loud. “Good people. Or… they were. Got separated after some raiders hit us a couple days back. Didn’t have much of a choice but to run.” I paused, my gaze flicking to Ellie, who was staring at the fire, her expression unreadable. “I wasn’t planning on being out here alone.”

Joel watched me for a long time, and I could tell he was taking in every word, sizing up what I said, probably weighing if it added up. “You got a place to go?” he asked.

I swallowed, hesitant. I hadn’t told him much about Jackson yet. The thought of it felt like a fleeting memory, a piece of the past I wasn’t sure I could go back to. But the truth was, it might be the safest place for all of us, at least for a while.

“Yeah,” I finally said, my voice steady. “I got a home back in Jackson. It’s… safe there. Got supplies, people. It’s not perfect, but it’s the closest thing to normal I’ve seen in years.”

Ellie looked up then, her brow furrowed. “Jackson? You mean, like, an actual town?”

I nodded. “Yeah. Walled-in, secure. We’ve got farms, housing, everything you’d need. It’s not perfect, but it’s better than out here.”

Joel’s face darkened slightly, though I couldn’t tell if it was from hope or suspicion. I felt the weight of the unspoken questions hanging in the air between us. I had to bite back the words that wanted to spill out—about Tommy, about how he was safe and well in Jackson. But I stopped myself. Ellie was sitting there, and I didn’t know how she’d react if Joel found out his brother was there.

Instead, I kept my tone even. “If you’re heading to Salt Lake City, we can stop there first. Restock on supplies, maybe grab a decent meal. Then you can keep moving.”

Joel turned his gaze toward me, his eyes narrowing a little, his jaw clenched. “You sure it’s safe?”

I nodded, my voice firm. “It is. Safer than out here, anyway.”

Ellie, still quiet, looked from Joel to me. After a moment, she shrugged, but her gaze lingered on me for a second too long. “I mean… doesn’t sound like a bad idea.”

Joel looked at her, then back at me. He hesitated for a moment, and I saw the conflict flicker in his eyes. Finally, he gave a small nod. “All right. We’ll stop there. But just for supplies. Ain’t got time to waste.”

I nodded, a small relief washing over me. We’d do this. I’d help them, guide them, and maybe even find a moment to tell Joel about Tommy—if I could. The fire crackled between us, the sounds of the night closing in as we all settled back into the quiet.

Joel leaned back against a log, his eyes flicking upward to the stars, while Ellie poked the fire again, lost in her own thoughts. I wrapped my coat tighter around myself, feeling the weight of the journey ahead pressing down.

I wasn’t sure what would come next, but I was going to get them to Jackson first. Maybe, after that, I could finally tell Joel the truth.

Joel didn’t say anything else, just turned his attention back to the fire. But the tension between us felt lighter now, the weight of unspoken things settling into something almost comfortable.

Whatever happened next, I knew one thing for sure: Joel trusted me enough to tell me the truth. And that, in this world, meant everything.

The three of us sat around the small campfire, its glow casting flickering light onto the trees surrounding us. The temperature had dropped as the sun set, and I was grateful for the warmth of the flames and the smell of something vaguely edible Joel was cooking over them.

Ellie sat cross-legged on her sleeping bag, fiddling with the pages of her battered joke book. She had already gone through a handful of them today, and each time Joel looked like he was about ready to roll his eyes out of his head.

“Okay, okay,” Ellie announced, holding up a hand as though commanding our attention. “This one’s a classic. You ready?” She cleared her throat dramatically, glancing between me and Joel. “What do you call an alligator in a vest?”

I stifled a laugh already, knowing she was probably more excited about the punchline than the joke itself.

Joel, stirring the pan of food, gave her a sideways look. “Do I even wanna know?”

“An investigator!” Ellie exclaimed, cackling as if it were the funniest thing she’d ever heard.

I couldn’t help but chuckle along with her, more at her reaction than the joke. Joel just shook his head and sighed heavily, setting the pan down on a flat rock by the fire.

“She’s been doin’ this since we left Boston,” he muttered, as though he were lamenting some great burden he’d been forced to bear.

“Damn right I have!” Ellie said, puffing out her chest with mock pride. “You know you love it, Joel.”

He gave her a look that was somewhere between amused and exasperated. “You keep tellin’ yourself that, kid.”

Ellie smirked, flipping through the pages of the book again. “Oh, I’m not done. I’ve got more where that came from.”

“God help us,” Joel said under his breath, but there was a ghost of a smile on his face.

I leaned back, my hands stretched out toward the fire, watching the two of them. “You know,” I said, grinning, “I think it’s impressive she’s been carrying that book all this way. Priorities.”

Ellie nodded vigorously, pointing at me. “Exactly! See, y/n gets it. I’m spreading joy in the apocalypse. That’s a valuable service.”

Joel snorted. “Sure. That’s what it is.”

Ellie stuck her tongue out at him before turning to me. “Okay, y/n, this one’s for you: Why couldn’t the bicycle stand up by itself?”

I thought for a second, but before I could even guess, she blurted out, “Because it was two tired!”

Her laughter was contagious, and I found myself laughing right along with her. Even Joel let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head as if he couldn’t believe this was his life now.

“Two tired,” I repeated, grinning. “That’s actually not bad.”

“Thank you!” Ellie said, pretending to tip an invisible hat. “I’ll be here all week. Or, you know, as long as it takes us to get to Jackson.”

Joel let out a long sigh, but there was no missing the warmth in his expression as he looked at her. “You’re somethin’ else, kid.”

Ellie beamed, clearly pleased with herself. “Damn right I am.”

And in that moment, as the fire crackled and Ellie started flipping through her book for another gem, I couldn’t help but think that even in a world like this, there was still room for laughter. And that was worth holding onto.

The fire crackled softly, its warmth flickering in the cool night air. Ellie was asleep, her body curled up tightly in her sleeping bag, breathing steady and slow. Joel sat across from me, his figure dark against the firelight, eyes distant as usual. There was a heaviness in the air, a silence that weighed on both of us.

I’d been toying with whether or not to tell him, but after today, I couldn’t keep it to myself any longer. It was something Joel needed to know, something that would either ease his mind or make the road ahead even harder.

“Joel,” I said softly, not wanting to disturb Ellie’s sleep.

His head turned slightly, his eyes catching mine in the dim firelight. He didn’t say anything, just waited for me to speak.

“I’ve been thinking about Jackson,” I began, feeling the weight of the words before they even left my mouth. “And… there’s something you need to know.”

Joel gave a slight nod, signaling me to go on. I hesitated for a moment, gathering the courage.

“Tommy’s there,” I said, keeping my voice low but steady.

The moment the words left my lips, I saw the shift in him. His face didn’t betray much, but his posture stiffened. He didn’t react right away, though I could feel the tension building in his body. His jaw tightened, and for a long beat, he was silent, staring into the fire.

I let the words settle in the air. I could see him thinking, piecing together the years of separation, the anger, the hurt.

“You didn’t know, did you?” I asked quietly, already knowing the answer.

Joel’s eyes flicked up to meet mine, the weight of his past with Tommy hanging between us. “No,” he said, his voice rough, like the realization had hit him harder than he expected. “I thought… I thought he was dead.”

I swallowed, knowing how much those words meant. Joel had carried the guilt of losing Tommy for so long, thinking the worst, even when he didn’t want to believe it. I hadn’t expected the reaction I got—gratitude in his eyes, mixed with that edge of disbelief.

“Tommy’s alive, Joel,” I repeated, my voice softer now. “And he’s at Jackson. He’s been there, rebuilding, trying to make a life. I thought you should know.”

For a long moment, Joel didn’t speak. He just stared at the fire, his brow furrowed, a storm of emotions brewing behind his eyes.

Finally, he exhaled a long, steady breath, as if the news had knocked the wind out of him. “I thought… I thought I’d lost him for good,” he said, almost to himself.

His words trailed off, but the gratefulness in his voice was clear, almost as if he’d been holding onto the idea of Tommy being gone as a way to shield himself from hope. It had been easier to live with the belief that Tommy was lost than to think he might have been alive all this time, somewhere out there.

I watched him carefully, feeling the rawness of the moment between us. “Maybe he’s been waiting for you,” I said quietly, not wanting to push, but knowing the door was now open. “Maybe he’s been hoping you’d find your way back to him.”

Joel didn’t respond right away, his face unreadable. He ran a hand through his hair, the weight of the past catching up with him.

I could see the turmoil in him, the complex mix of emotions he’d buried deep for so long.“You don’t have to decide anything now. But I wanted you to know.”

Joel finally looked up at me, the hardness in his eyes softened by something else—relief, maybe. Or maybe just the shock of knowing his brother wasn’t lost to him after all.

“‘preciate you tellin’ me,” he said quietly, his voice rough with something I couldn’t quite name.

There was a silence, thick with all the things left unsaid. Joel turned back to the fire, but this time, I didn’t sense the same tension in him. The news had cracked something open, a small window of possibility where before there had only been despair.

And as the night stretched on, I couldn’t help but wonder if this was the first step in bringing Joel and Tommy back together—or if the past would remain an insurmountable wall between them. But one thing was clear: the hope he’d long buried was alive again.

The snow crunched softly beneath our boots as we trekked through the wilderness on the way to Jackson. The cold bit at my nose and cheeks, but it was nothing compared to the warmth of Joel and Ellie’s banter ahead of me.

Joel led the way, his rifle slung over one shoulder, his other hand gesturing as he explained something to Ellie. She hung onto his every word as usual, peppering him with questions about the terrain and wildlife.

“Do you think we’ll see any bears?” she asked, wide-eyed.

“Nope,” Joel replied gruffly. “Too cold for ‘em right now. They’re holed up for the winter.”

Ellie groaned in disappointment. “Lame. What about wolves?”

“Let’s hope not,” Joel muttered, throwing a glance over his shoulder. “You don’t wanna see wolves, trust me.”

“Speak for yourself,” Ellie grumbled, kicking at a chunk of ice. “I think wolves are badass.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle as I brought up the rear. Ellie’s energy was infectious, even if Joel often acted like he was too old to keep up.

We rounded a bend in the trail, and that’s when we saw it.

An elk.

It stood in the middle of the clearing, its tall, proud antlers stark against the white of the snow-covered forest. Its coat gleamed in the weak winter sunlight, steam rising from its breath as it exhaled into the cold air.

Ellie gasped audibly, her mouth falling open. “Whoa. No way.”

Joel stopped in his tracks, holding out an arm to keep her from running ahead. “Stay still,” he warned softly.

Ellie ignored him completely, taking a careful step forward. “Oh my god, it’s huge. It’s so cool.”

The elk’s ears twitched, swiveling toward us, and for a moment, I thought it might bolt. But instead, it let out a low, guttural bugle—a deep sound that echoed through the trees.

Ellie froze, her eyes going even wider. “Did you hear that? Holy shit, it talked to us!”

Joel chuckled under his breath, his shoulders relaxing as he watched her excitement. “That’s not talkin’, kid. Just elk bein’ elk.”

But Ellie wasn’t listening. She took another step forward, her hands lifted slightly as if to beckon the creature closer. “Hey, buddy,” she said in a soft, awestruck voice. “You don’t have to go. We’re cool, I promise.”

The elk snorted, its breath visible in the cold air, and then—with a graceful bound—it leapt into the trees, disappearing from sight.

Ellie whirled around to face us, practically vibrating with excitement. “Did you see that? That was the most amazing thing ever! Did you hear it? That noise was insane!”

Joel shook his head, but there was a small, fond smile on his face. “You’re somethin’ else, you know that?”

“I’m serious! That was so badass!” She turned to me, her grin so big it lit up her entire face. “Y/n, tell me you got how cool that was.”

I couldn’t help but laugh as I adjusted my pack. “I got it, Ellie. You’re right—it was pretty incredible.”

Ellie groaned dramatically. “Pretty incredible? That thing was, like, majestic as hell.”

We started walking again, Ellie skipping along beside us as she reenacted the elk’s bugle. Joel shook his head at her impression, and I felt a warm glow in my chest as I watched them together.

The world outside was cold, dangerous, and unforgiving, but moments like this reminded me why we kept going. For Ellie’s wonder. For Joel’s quiet, steady presence. For the strange, beautiful family we’d become.

The cold cut deep as we trudged through the snow, the wind howling like it wanted to drive us into the ground. My leg throbbed with every step, the makeshift bandage Joel had wrapped around it holding tight but doing little to ease the pain. I wasn’t about to complain, though. Not after they saved me from those raiders.

Ellie walked beside me, her steps crunching in the snow as she glanced over. “You sure you’re okay?” she asked for the third time since we started walking.

“I’m fine,” I said, though my voice was tight. The truth was, I wasn’t fine. But what mattered was getting all of us somewhere safe, and Jackson was the only place I could think of.

Joel walked ahead, his rifle slung low but ready, his eyes scanning the horizon. Always the same—guarded and alert, like danger was lurking just around every corner. In this world, it usually was.

I’d agreed to help them get to Jackson. It was the least I could do after everything they’d done for me. And Jackson? It was my home now. A place that, for all its faults, still stood strong in a broken world.

“Not much farther now,” I said, though the storm had made it hard to tell. “If we keep moving, we’ll make it before dark.”

Ellie gave a tired nod, pulling her coat tighter around her. “Good, ‘cause I don’t think my toes are gonna make it.”

Joel glanced back at her, his expression softening for just a moment. “You’ll be fine. Just keep moving.”

We’d just crested a small hill when the sound of horses cut through the wind. My heart leapt into my throat as I turned to see them—figures on horseback emerging from the blinding snow, their weapons drawn.

“Joel,” I hissed, grabbing his arm.

He saw them too, his posture tensing as he stepped in front of Ellie and raised his rifle. “Stay behind me,” he muttered, his voice low and firm.

The riders spread out, circling us. There were at least six of them, their horses pawing at the snow as the riders aimed shotguns and rifles in our direction. My stomach churned as I recognized one of the voices calling out through the storm.

“Drop your weapons!” Maria shouted, her voice carrying over the wind.

“Maria!” I called back, stepping forward despite Joel’s arm shooting out to stop me. “It’s me—y/n!”

The tension in the air crackled like static. For a moment, no one moved. Then Maria urged her horse forward, squinting through the snow until recognition crossed her face.

“Y/n?” she said, lowering her shotgun slightly. “What the hell are you doing out here?”

“It’s a long story,” I said, relief flooding through me. “But these two—” I motioned to Joel and Ellie, who were still frozen in place. “They’re with me. They saved my life.”

Maria’s gaze shifted to Joel, her eyes narrowing. “That him?”

I blinked, confused, until realization dawned. Of course, Tommy must’ve mentioned Joel before.

“Yeah,” I said quickly. “It’s him. And this is Ellie. They’re just passing through. Please, Maria, lower the guns.”

Maria hesitated, her gaze flicking between me, Joel, and Ellie. Then she gave a sharp whistle, and the other riders lowered their weapons.

“Alright,” she said, her tone cautious but less hostile. “Let’s get back to Jackson. You look like hell.”

I almost laughed. “You have no idea.”

The ride back was quiet, the tension between Joel and Maria palpable. Ellie, for once, didn’t say much, her gaze fixed on the snowy landscape as we made our way through the storm.

When the gates of Jackson finally came into view, I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. The sight of the sturdy walls, the faint glow of firelight beyond—it was the first time in a long while that I felt like things might actually be okay.

The gates of Jackson creaked open as the group rode in, the heavy snowfall outside muffled by the sturdy wooden walls of the settlement. Inside, the warmth of fires and the sound of distant chatter greeted us. It was like stepping into another world—one where life hadn’t completely crumbled. The bustling streets, people moving with purpose, children playing—it was overwhelming after days of cold, silence, and death.

Joel dismounted his horse slowly, his eyes scanning the settlement as if it were a mirage. His rifle hung loosely on his shoulder, his posture stiff, as if he wasn’t quite ready to believe this place was real. Ellie stuck close to him, her eyes wide with curiosity as she took in the sight of people—families—living normal lives, or as close to normal as you could get these days.

Maria swung off her horse, handing the reins to a stablehand. “Y/n, go with Ethan and get checked out. You’re in no condition to be walking around on that leg,” she said, but her gaze flicked to Joel.

Then Tommy appeared.

Tommy was working on some construction, the sound of hammering and the distant clatter of tools filling the air. As we walked closer, I could see a few men working, their backs turned to us as they focused on their tasks. The moment I saw Tommy, though, my breath caught in my throat.

He was hard at work, his back bent as he nailed some boards into place, completely unaware of our approach. I could feel the tension rising in Joel beside me, the anticipation thick in the air.

And then, without warning, Joel’s voice broke through the stillness, loud and commanding:

“Tommy!”

The sound of his name cut through the air like a crack of thunder. The men working nearby stopped what they were doing, and for a brief moment, it felt like the entire world went still.

Tommy froze, his back still to us, and I watched as his shoulders stiffened. He slowly turned, his eyes scanning the area, before they landed on Joel. His face went slack for a moment—an unreadable mix of disbelief, relief, and confusion. The moment seemed to stretch on, as though neither of them quite believed what was happening.

Then, Tommy blinked, and before I knew it, he was striding across the ground, closing the distance between them. He didn’t say a word at first, just reached Joel in two quick strides and pulled him into a tight, almost desperate hug.

The sound of it—the weight of all that lost time between them—was deafening. The hard lines in Joel’s face softened, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he let out a deep breath, like something inside him had been released. They stood there for a moment, holding onto each other like nothing else mattered.

Tommy pulled back first, his hand gripping Joel’s arm, his voice gruff as he spoke, almost too soft for me to hear. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

Joel looked at him, his eyes full of that familiar pain but also something else—something deeper. “Thought you were dead, Tommy.”

Tommy’s face softened, and for a moment, I saw a flicker of the brotherly bond they once shared. “Guess I got a bit tired of waitin’ around, but I’m here now, Joel.”

The silence between them spoke louder than any words could. It wasn’t just a reunion—it was a reckoning. Years of pain, of choices that had torn them apart, now coming to a head.

They pulled back, Tommy’s hands gripping Joel’s shoulders as he looked him over, his eyes scanning every line, every scar. “You look like hell,” he said with a half-smile, though his voice wavered.

Joel gave a faint huff of a laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, well… it’s been a long road.”

Tommy’s gaze shifted, landing on Ellie, who was standing just behind Joel, watching the reunion with quiet curiosity. “And this must be…?”

“Yeah,” Joel said, stepping slightly to the side so Ellie could step forward. “This is Ellie.”

Ellie gave a small wave, clearly unsure of what to say. “Uh, hi.”

Tommy chuckled, the sound warm and genuine. “Well, any friend of Joel’s is welcome here.”

For the first time in a long time, the weight Joel carried seemed to ease, if only slightly. It wasn’t just Jackson that felt like a safe haven—it was the connection, the bond that hadn’t been broken, even after all this time.

And for a moment, it felt like the world wasn’t so heavy after all.

Joel walked slowly down the stairs, the creaking of the wooden steps the only sound in the quiet house. The dim light of the living room pooled on the floor, where I sat curled up on the couch, my eyes fixed on him as he approached. The tension in the air was palpable, thick with the weight of everything that had just transpired. His steps faltered slightly, the heaviness of the fight with Ellie still weighing on him.

I didn’t say anything at first, just watched him with an unreadable expression, the flickering light casting shadows across her face. He rubbed his hand over his face, feeling the exhaustion in his bones. The world felt quieter in moments like this, like it was holding its breath.

“You really think that’s the answer, huh?” I said, my tone biting but not cruel.

Joel didn’t meet my gaze right away, his hands shoved deep in his pockets.

He huffed out a bitter laugh, the kind that wasn’t funny at all. “Don’t start with me. You don’t know the half of it.”

“Don’t I?” I finally spun around to face him, my voice rising with the heat of my anger. “You think I haven’t been watching this slow-motion train wreck of yours? You think I don’t know what you’re doing—pushing her away before she can leave you?”

His face darkened, the shadows casting sharp lines across his features. “This ain’t about me and Ellie. Don’t twist it. This is about you always thinkin’ you know better.”

“Oh, so it’s my fault now?” I stepped closer, my hands trembling with fury. “You don’t get to stand here and act like you’re the only one who’s been hurt. You let me leave, Joel! You stood there and let me walk out of Boston like I was nothing to you. You never even tried to stop me.”

His silence hit harder than his words ever could. I saw his throat work, his jaw tightening as he stared at me like he was trying to break me down with his gaze alone.

“You wanted to leave,” he finally said, his voice quieter but no less cutting. “What the hell was I supposed to do? Beg? You made your choice.”

“Because you didn’t give me a reason to stay!” My voice cracked, the words laced with all the pain I’d kept buried for far too long. “Do you know what it was like, leaving behind everything—leaving you—because I thought I wasn’t enough? That I’d never be enough for you?”

The firelight flickered in his eyes, and for the first time, I saw it—the guilt, the regret. He took a step closer, his broad shoulders sagging under the weight of unspoken words.

“Y/n…” He said my name like it hurt to say it. “I thought I was doin’ right by you. You deserved better than what I could give you. Still do.”

I let out a bitter laugh, shaking my head as tears threatened to spill. “You’re such a goddamn coward, Joel. Always thinking you know what’s best for everyone else. You don’t get to decide what I deserve. You don’t get to—”

But before I could finish, he closed the distance between us in one sudden, desperate motion. His hands came up to cup my face, rough palms trembling against my skin. His breath was warm, ragged as it ghosted over my lips.

“I ain’t a coward,” he murmured, his voice raw.

I opened my mouth to argue, to push him away like I had every right to, but the words caught in my throat. His eyes burned into mine, and in that moment, everything else—the fight, the years of distance, the pain—faded into nothing.

He kissed me like a man starved, like he was afraid I might disappear if he didn’t hold on tight enough. My hands found their way to his chest, gripping the worn fabric of his flannel as I kissed him back with all the anger and longing I’d been too afraid to admit.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t gentle. It was years of unspoken feelings, of missed chances and buried love, all colliding in one explosive moment.

When we finally broke apart, his forehead rested against mine, both of us breathing hard. His hands lingered on my face, his thumbs brushing away the tears I hadn’t realized had fallen.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “For Boston. For everything.”

I closed my eyes, my fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. “Me too,” I whispered back, my voice trembling.

For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of our breathing and the crackle of the fire. And for the first time in years, I didn’t feel so alone.

[oldsoul007]

every breathe you take

joel miller x reader

summary: jackson was perfect for the most part until it wasn’t, you get really worried when Joel and Tommy go out on patrol and never come back

a/n: angstyy, this is sorta a “rewrite” if you will, let me know if y’all want a part ii…

joel miller masterlist

part ii



The warm glow of the lanterns strung above the Jackson town square created a magical ambiance, the laughter and music of the town dance filling the crisp night air. I was in Joel’s arms, my hand resting gently on his shoulder as we swayed to the melody. Despite the crowd, it felt like we were the only two there, lost in our own little world. Joel’s rugged charm and quiet confidence had drawn me in months ago, and every moment since had only strengthened my feelings for him.

I caught the soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips, a rare sight that made my heart flutter. Joel was complicated—worn by the weight of his past—but with me, he seemed to allow himself fleeting moments of peace.

Suddenly, the music was interrupted by a loud commotion. My gaze shifted to the edge of the dance floor, where Ellie and Dina stood, their smiles replaced by tense expressions. A man was shouting, his words venomous and cutting through the cheerful atmosphere like a knife.

“That’s just what we need, another loud mouthed d*ke,” he spat, his tone laced with hate.

I felt Joel stiffen beside me, his entire body tensing. I knew that look, that spark of protective anger that flared in his eyes. Before I could say anything, he was already moving toward the source of the disturbance.

“Joel, wait—” I called after him, but he didn’t stop.

By the time he reached the man, Ellie was already closing in, her hands clenched into fists. Joel stepped between them, shoving the man back firmly but not violently, creating space before Ellie could get any closer.

“Get the hell out of here,” Joel growled, his voice low and commanding.

“Get your hands off me” The man stumbled but didn’t retreat entirely, glaring at Joel with defiance.

“You alright kiddo?” Joel asked walking toward Ellie.

“What is wrong with you?” Ellie demanded, her voice sharp as she fixed Joel with a glare.

“He had no right,” Joel replied, his tone firm but calm.

“And you do?” Ellie shot back, her anger cutting through the air. “I don’t need your fucking help, Joel”

Joel faltered for a moment, his expression hard to read. I could see the tension in his jaw, the quiet battle between his need to protect Ellie and the reality that she didn’t want him to.

Without another word, he turned and walked away, his shoulders stiff with frustration. I hesitated, glancing back at Ellie, who was still fuming, before deciding to follow him.

I found Joel near the outskirts of the square, his back to me as he stared out into the dark horizon.

“Hey, You okay?” I asked softly, stepping beside him.

Joel didn’t look at me right away, his gaze fixed on the distance. “She don’t need me no more,” he said finally, his voice tinged with sadness.

“That’s not true,” I replied, placing a gentle hand on his arm. “But Joel… Ellie could’ve handled Seth.”

He turned to look at me then, his expression a mix of frustration and vulnerability. “She shouldn’t have to,” he muttered.

“I know,” I said, my voice steady. “But sometimes protecting someone means letting them handle things their way.”

He nodded slowly, my words sinking in. The two of us stood there in silence for a moment, the distant sounds of the dance continuing behind us. I laced my fingers with his, offering silent reassurance.

Joel didn’t look at me right away, his gaze fixed on the distance. “She still hates me for what I did,” he said finally, his voice low and heavy.

“She doesn’t hate you,” I replied, placing a gentle hand on his arm.

“She’s got every reason to,” he muttered. “I lied to her. Took away her choice. It ain’t something you just forgive.”

I sighed, squeezing his arm gently. “Maybe not, but she’s still here. That means something.”

Joel turned to look at me then, his expression a mix of frustration and vulnerability. “It’s hard watchin’ her hate me when all I wanna do is protect her.”

We stood there in silence for a moment, the distant sounds of the dance continuing behind us. I laced my fingers with his, offering silent reassurance.

Whatever storm raged inside Joel—whatever distance still lingered between him and Ellie—I was determined to help him navigate it. We’d made it this far together, as a family. I wasn’t about to give up now.

Whatever storm raged inside Joel, I was determined to weather it with him. Together.

The house was quiet, save for the faint creak of the old wooden floor beneath my feet as I moved through the kitchen. I’d been tidying up, distracting myself from the heaviness of the night’s events. The front porch window was open, letting in the cool night air, and through it, I could hear the soft, familiar strumming of Joel’s guitar.

I paused for a moment, leaning on the counter and letting the sound wash over me. There was something about the way Joel played—steady, thoughtful, like every note carried a piece of him. It always managed to soothe my mind, no matter how tense things felt.

But then, just faintly, I caught the sound of footsteps on the porch. My brow furrowed as I turned toward the window. Joel’s playing had stopped abruptly.

Peeking out, I saw Ellie standing there, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. She looked hesitant, like she’d been pacing before finally working up the nerve to stop. I stayed inside, watching quietly as Joel set the guitar down and stood to face her.

Their voices were low, too quiet to make out, but I could see the tension in their stances. Joel stood still, his hands resting on his hips, while Ellie shifted from foot to foot, her face a mix of frustration and something else—something softer.

I let them be. Whatever they were talking about wasn’t for me to interrupt.

A while later, after finishing up in the kitchen, I climbed into bed. Joel still hadn’t come up, but I figured he needed time to think. He always did after heavy conversations, especially when it came to Ellie.

When I heard the soft creak of the door opening, I looked up. Joel stood there, framed by the dim light from the hallway. He didn’t step in right away, just lingered in the doorway like he wasn’t sure if he should. His shoulders were slumped, and the way he avoided my eyes told me everything before he even said a word.

“You okay?” I asked, keeping my voice soft.

He finally closed the door behind him and nodded, but it was the kind of nod that didn’t mean much. “Ellie stopped by,” he said after a moment, his voice quiet.

I nod as I sat up slightly, resting my weight on my elbows.

Joel let out a slow breath, his shoulders relaxing just a fraction. “She said… she’ll try.”

The words hung in the air for a moment, heavy with meaning.

I reached out, placing my hand on his back. “That’s something,” I said softly.

He nodded, his gaze fixed on the floor. “Yeah. It is.”

I nodded, though the heaviness in his tone left an ache in my chest. Joel wasn’t one to open up easily, not about things that mattered, but I’d learned to read him over time. The tightness in his jaw, the way his hands hung at his sides like they didn’t know what to do with themselves—he was carrying too much again.

I didn’t ask him to explain. He would, if and when he was ready. Instead, I patted the space next to me on the bed.

“Come here,” I said quietly.

Joel turned then, finally meeting my eyes. There was a hint of relief there, though it was guarded, like he didn’t quite dare to hope. I gave him a small smile, sliding closer to wrap my arms around him.

“She loves you, Joel,” I murmured. “She’s just trying to figure out how to deal with it all.”

He rested his forehead against mine, his voice barely above a whisper. “I hope you’re right.”

I leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his jaw before settling my head against his chest. His hand slid up my back, warm and steady, and I felt the tension in his body start to melt away.

We didn’t need words tonight. The quiet was enough, his presence beside me enough. As his breathing slowed and evened out, I brushed my fingers through his hair absently, watching him fall asleep.

It wasn’t long before my own eyelids grew heavy, and I let myself drift off, safe in the warmth of his arms. For this moment, at least, the world outside didn’t matter.

The faint sound of boots on the wooden floor stirred me from sleep. At first, I didn’t move, my body still heavy with the warmth of the blankets and the lingering pull of dreams. But when I heard the soft creak of the bedroom door opening, I blinked my eyes open to see Joel standing in the dim light of dawn, his broad frame silhouetted against the faint glow coming through the window.

“Joel?” I mumbled, my voice thick with sleep. I pushed myself up onto one elbow, squinting at him. “What time is it?”

“Early,” he said quietly, his voice low and steady, the way it always was when he was trying not to wake me fully. But there was something in his tone—something careful.

“What’s going on?” I asked, sitting up fully now.

“Maria’s sendin’ me and Tommy out. Couple folks said they heard infected near the ski lodge, just outside the fences.”

That woke me up completely. I sat up straighter, the blankets pooling around my waist. “What kind of reports?”

“Couple folks said they heard ‘em,” Joel said with a shrug. “Probably nothin’, but we don’t want to take chances.”

I frowned, rubbing at my eyes before meeting his gaze. “Then let me go with you.”

Joel shook his head immediately, stepping closer to the bed. “Ain’t no need for that, y/n. Me and Tommy can handle it.”

“It’s not about whether you can handle it,” I argued, my voice sharper now. “If there’s a group of infected, wouldn’t it be better to have more people out there? Just in case?”

Joel sighed, sitting down on the edge of the bed. He reached out to rest a hand on my knee, his touch warm and familiar. “It’s not gonna turn into somethin’ bigger. We’ll be back before you even start to worry.”

I gave him a look, folding my arms. “You know I’m going to worry the second you walk out that door, right?”

He gave me a faint smile, the kind that softened the hard edges of his face. “I know. But you don’t need to be out there every time somethin’ like this comes up. You deserve a night off, y/n.”

I huffed, leaning back against the headboard. “Fine. But you’d better come back in one piece, or I’m dragging you and Tommy back here myself.”

Joel chuckled, leaning over to press a kiss to my lips. “I’ll be back, darlin’. You don’t gotta worry about that.”

I watched as he stood, grabbing his gear and slinging his rifle over his shoulder. He paused in the doorway, glancing back at me with that faint, knowing smile.

“Get some rest. I’ll see you soon.”

I studied his face, trying to decide if I should push back, but the way he looked at me—steady and reassuring—made me stop. He always had a way of making me believe him, even when I didn’t want to.

“I love you,” I said quietly, the words slipping out without much thought.

Joel paused, turning back to look at me. His expression softened, the faintest smile tugging at his lips. “I love you too, y/n.”

I watched as he stepped into the hallway, his boots creaking on the wooden floor. The door closed a moment later, the sound faint but final.

I laid back down, staring up at the ceiling, trying to shake the unease in my chest. I’d said “I love you” a hundred times before, but something about this time felt different—like I hadn’t realized it might be the last.

And with that, he was gone, the door creaking shut behind him. I laid back down, staring up at the ceiling as the quiet settled back over the house.

Joel always came back—but that didn’t stop the unease from sitting heavy in my chest as I listened to the distant sound of his boots fade into the night.

The cold bit through my gloves as I fastened the strap of my pack. Patrols were usually dull—staring into a white wasteland of nothing and praying it stayed that way. But something about the morning felt… off. The sky was too heavy, and the wind howled like it knew something I didn’t.

“Y/n!” Jesse’s voice cut through the noise as he jogged toward me, snow crunching beneath his boots. His breath puffed white in the air, and his expression was tighter than usual. “You ready? We’re up for the lookout.”

I pulled my hood tighter and nodded. “Tommy and Joel are still there, right?”

“Supposed to be,” he said, his tone clipped. “Let’s go check in and swap shifts.”

We trudged through the snow, the trees around us bending under the weight of frost. Jesse kept the conversation light—something about a stupid bet with Manny—but I could see the same unease in his eyes that I felt in my gut.

When we reached the lookout, my stomach dropped.

Empty.

The door hung ajar, snow drifting into the cabin like it owned the place. No sign of Tommy. No sign of Joel.

“This isn’t right,” I muttered, scanning the room. “They wouldn’t just leave.”

Jesse stepped in, jaw tight as he swept his flashlight across the interior. Supplies were scattered, but nothing screamed fight. No blood, no overturned furniture. Just… absence.

“They didn’t radio in,” Jesse said under his breath, almost to himself.

“What now?” I asked, heart thudding harder.

The wind howled outside the tower as I adjusted my scarf, pulling it tighter around my neck. Jessie sat across from me, fiddling with the straps on his rifle, his expression tight with concern. We’d been here for hours, long past the point when Joel and Tommy were supposed to relieve us.

“Something’s wrong,” I said, my voice tense, glancing out the window at the snowstorm swirling outside. The visibility was getting worse by the minute, and my chest tightened with worry. Joel wasn’t one to miss a patrol, not without a damn good reason.

Jessie stood, slinging his rifle over his shoulder. “We should head out. Let Ellie and Dina know.”

I didn’t argue. The unease in my gut had been growing since the first hour they were overdue, and sitting around wasn’t going to do us any good. Grabbing my gear, I followed Jessie out into the biting cold, where our horses were waiting just outside the tower.

Ranger, my chestnut gelding, pawed at the snow anxiously as I mounted up, his breath visible in the freezing air. I leaned down to pat his neck, trying to calm both of us. “C’mon, boy. Let’s go.”

We rode back to where Ellie and Dina were as quickly as the storm would allow, the snow biting at my face and stinging my eyes. By the time we reached the stables, I was frozen to the bone, but that didn’t matter. I needed to find Joel.

Ellie and Dina were in the Eugene Linden's hideout. They looked up the moment Jessie and I burst in, snow clinging to our clothes.

“Why aren’t you at the fucking look out?” Dina asked, her brows furrowing.

“Tommy and Joel never showed up,” Jessie said, cutting straight to the point.

“What?,” Ellie asked as she stood up.

Dinas expression immediately serious. “How late are we talking?”

“Hours,” I said, my voice tight as I brushed the snow from my jacket. “We waited as long as we could, but… something’s not right.”

Ellie’s jaw tightened, and she grabbed her gear without hesitation. “Then we go find them.”

The four of us were out the door in minutes, the urgency unspoken but understood. We saddled up and split to cover more ground.

Ranger’s hooves crunched through the snow as I urged him forward, my eyes scanning the white expanse for any sign of Joel or Tommy. The storm was relentless, the wind cutting through my layers and making it harder to see.

My chest felt heavy, the cold sinking into my bones as my mind raced with worst-case scenarios. Joel wasn’t invincible, no matter how much I wanted to believe he was. If something had happened out here… I shook the thought away.

We pressed on, the snowstorm making the search feel endless. Every second that passed without finding them made my heart pound harder. Joel was out there somewhere, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was very, very wrong.

“C’mon, Joel,” I muttered under my breath, gripping Ranger’s reins tighter. “Where are you?”

The storm raged on, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t stopping until I found him. Until I brought him back.

[oldsoul007]

not a lot, just forever

joel miller x reader

summary: joel keeps grieving about what could’ve been of you two had kids…

a/n: angsty but also fluffy

joel miller masterlist

Joel leaned against the weathered railing of the porch, the cool evening breeze ruffling his shirt as he watched y/n through the open door. She was inside the house, cradling Tommy and Maria’s baby in her arms, her soft laughter mingling with the gentle cooing of the infant.

The sight hit him harder than he expected.

He had seen y/n with children before—she was great with them, always patient, always so gentle. But seeing her hold that tiny, perfect little thing, with a look on her face that could only be described as tender longing, made something shift deep in Joel’s chest. It was a quiet ache, one that had been there for years but had never been so sharp before.

He knew that look. He had seen it in the way she held Sarah when she was younger, the way she’d always cared for the people around her. But now, watching her with Tommy and Maria’s baby, he realized something he’d never allowed himself to think too deeply about: the family she might’ve wanted—the life they could’ve had—was a dream that had been stolen from both of them by the outbreak.

Joel clenched his jaw, trying to swallow down the lump in his throat.

It wasn’t fair.

Not to y/n. Not to anyone, really. They had lost so much, so much that words couldn’t even begin to explain. But when he saw her, holding that baby, a different kind of loss settled over him, one that felt heavier than the weight of everything else.

He could never give her that. He could never be the man who could offer her the kind of future she deserved. He had tried, in the early days, to imagine a life beyond survival. But he knew better now. Every time he let his guard down, every time he allowed himself to hope for something, the world seemed to take it all away again. And this… this was one thing he could never give her—something simple, something pure: a family. A child of their own.

He pushed himself off the railing and took a deep breath. The ache in his chest was still there, gnawing at him, but he wouldn’t let it show. Not now. Not when y/n was happy, not when she was in a moment that brought her peace. She didn’t need him to carry that weight for her.

Stepping inside, he paused in the doorway, watching her with the baby in her arms. She was smiling down at the infant, her eyes soft with a mixture of affection and something Joel couldn’t quite name. She looked up and caught his gaze, her smile widening in that way that always made his chest tighten, even in moments like this.

“Hey,” I said softly, my voice warm and inviting. “Come on in. Maria said we could keep her for a little while longer.”

Joel nodded, his throat tight. He didn’t trust himself to say much, not with the lump still lodged there. Instead, he stepped closer, his footsteps quiet on the wooden floor.

He reached out, brushing a lock of hair from my face. I tilted my head slightly, my smile turning into something softer, understanding.

“I know,” I said quietly, reading him in a way only I could. “I know what you’re thinking.”

Joel gave a small shake of his head. “I don’t know what you mean.”

I didn’t push, just offered him a look that was equal parts sadness and understanding. “It’s okay, Joel,” I murmured, my hand reaching out to rest on his. “I’m okay. We’re okay. It’s just… a moment.”

He swallowed hard, his hand trembling slightly as he placed it over hers. “I should’ve been able to give you that,” he said before he could stop himself, the words spilling out before he could rein them in.

I was silent for a moment, my gaze flicking to the baby in my arms before meeting his eyes again. “You gave me so much more than that,” I replied, my voice steady but full of emotion. “You gave me your trust. Your love. And you gave me the chance to live again, to be here. That’s all I’ve ever needed, Joel.”

The words settled over him like a balm, soothing the raw ache that had been gnawing at him. He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, and for the first time in what felt like forever, the heaviness lifted, even if just a little.

He looked at her, really looked at her—the woman who had stayed by his side through the worst of it all. And in that moment, he realized that he didn’t need to give her the things he’d lost. What mattered was the life they had now, the one they were building together, despite everything that had come before.

He took the baby from my arms, his hands steady as he held the tiny life against his chest. She smiled softly at him, the love in her eyes undeniable.

And for once, Joel allowed himself to believe that maybe this—just this—was enough.

I sit on the couch, staring out the window at the setting sun, trying to settle the mix of emotions swirling in my chest. I know Joel’s been brooding; I could feel it even before he walked into the room. His footsteps are soft but heavy, his presence unmistakable as he steps inside

He doesn’t say anything right away, just stands there in the doorway. I can feel his eyes on me, on the empty bassinet where the baby had been sleeping earlier.

I don’t look at him. Instead, I say, “You’ve been quiet all day.”

He lets out a low sigh, stepping further into the room. “Just been thinkin’.”

I nod, knowing what’s coming but not sure I want to hear it.

“She is… somethin’ else, wasn’t she?” he says after a moment, his voice soft. “You looked good with her, y/n. Real good.”

I finally turn to look at him, leaning back into the couch. “She’s a sweet baby. But you know it’s not about her, Joel. Just say what you’re thinking.”

He hesitates, his eyes drifting back to the bassinet. “I can’t help it,” he finally says, his voice thick with emotion. “Holdin’ her, watchin’ you with her… I keep thinkin’ about what could’ve been. If the world hadn’t fallen apart. If we’d had a chance to…” He trails off, his voice catching. “To have a family of our own.”

My stomach twists, and I take a steadying breath. “Joel…”

He shakes his head, looking down at the floor. “I think about Sarah, about how things might’ve been different. I think about Ellie. And then I see you with that baby, and all I can think is… we never got the chance.”

I sit up, folding my hands in my lap. I know this pain. I feel it too, but I’ve had years to reckon with it, to make peace with what life took from us. “What do you want me to say, Joel?” I ask softly. “That I wish we could’ve had kids together? Of course I do. There was a time when I wanted that more than anything.”

He looks at me then, his face a mix of regret and longing, his hands still shoved deep into his pockets.

“But that’s not how life worked out,” I continue, my voice steady even as my heart aches. “And it’s okay to feel the loss of what could’ve been. But Joel, you’re all I need. You always have been.”

He stares at me for a long moment, his jaw tight, his eyes searching mine. “You mean that?”

I nod, giving him a small, sad smile. “I do. We’ve been through hell and back, Joel. And I wouldn’t trade what we have for anything. I just need you. That’s enough for me.”

Joel exhales slowly, like he’s been holding his breath. “I’m sorry, y/n,” he says quietly. “For not seein’ it sooner. For… not bein’ enough.”

I reach out, taking his hand in mine, squeezing it gently. “You are enough. You’ve always been enough. We’re here now, Joel. That’s what matters.”

The room falls quiet again, but the tension has eased. Joel sits down beside me on the couch, his shoulder brushing against mine. He doesn’t say anything else, and neither do I.

The bassinet is empty, but the space between us feels full—of love, of pain, of all the things we’ve lost and found together. And as the sun dips below the horizon, I lean into him, letting the silence say everything that words can’t.

“She’s lucky to have you watchin’ over her,” he says, his voice lighter now.

“And she’s lucky to have you around too,” I reply, a small smile tugging at my lips. “Uncle Joel has a nice ring to it.”

He chuckles, the faintest hint of a smile on his face. “Guess it does.”

We stand there for a moment, the weight of the past still there but just a little easier to carry. For now, that’s enough.