#camping food idea
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
Amazing Camp Food Ideas
Growing up camp food was very basic; hot dogs, hamburgers, sandwich fixings, chips, water and soda. I’m not going to say that it was bad in anyway but as an adult when we go camping I just can’t go those basics everyday. Honestly I don’t even like hot dogs! So when getting ready for a camping trip I went to Pinterest to find some ideas. Photo Credit: Stone Fire Campfire Pizza Campfire pizza…
0 notes
Text
Zionists/Symathizers who say "Palestinians should be taken by Egypt/Lebanon/Jordan and just live there forever" have no idea what a refugee camp is like.
#you all sit at the comfort of your air conditioned homes#meanwhile people in refugee camps struggle to find their next meal#my family member told me about how she didn't have running water for days#she didn't have food except for bread thyme and olive oil for days#how the concrete houses they slept in were so cold in the winter#how severely overcrowded they are#how terrible the healthcare is#you lot have no idea what that does to a person growing up#my family member can't remember most of her childhood because of that shit#fuck off#you will never know their pain and yet you still make decisions on their fate#their lives are ruined#fuck you#what are they supposed to do now mother fuckers
359 notes
·
View notes
Text
Summer Bucket List: 59 Activities to do this Summer
If you're looking for some fun activities to do before summer ends, I've got you covered! Here's a post of 59 Activities to do this summer.
1. Wake up early and watch the sunrise
Waking up early can leave you feeling energized for the day ahead. Watching the sunrise can also bring a little more joy into your life, helping to remind you of the beauty of the world around you.
2. Plant a garden
Planting a garden is a great way to connect more deeply with nature and to spruce up your backyard. There are many different types of gardens to choose from, such as flower gardens, vegetable gardens, or herb gardens.
3. Redecorate your backyard
Redecorating your backyard is a great summer activity to keep yourself busy and let your creativity shine through. Having a lovely and welcoming backyard can also encourage you to spend more time outside and reconnect with nature.
4. Declutter your house
Summer is the perfect time to clean out your house. It can feel daunting at first, but decluttering your house can make space for better and brighter things to come into your life. Start with one room and make your way through your home, letting go of old objects and things that are no longer serving you.
5. Donate old clothes
Go through your closet and donate clothes that are too small or that you no longer like. By emptying your drawers and closet of unwanted clothes, you make space to try new styles and fashions, expressing yourself in a new and creative way.
6. Create a new morning routine
Having a positive morning routine can make all the difference between having a good day. When you start your day off right, that positive energy snowballs into the rest of your day, filling your day with good things.
7. Try yoga
When it comes to relaxing and unwinding from a stressful day, yoga is one of the best practices to do so. Yoga is not only a great practice to relax tense muscles, but it also helps you to connect back with the present moment, enjoying all the pleasures that already reside there.
8. Practice meditating
Similar to yoga, meditation helps you to connect back to your body, releasing stress and worries. Yoga can help you to better connect with yourself and is a great tool to help you on your path to self-discovery.
9. Make fruit smoothies
Fruit smoothies are a great way to add more fruits and veggies into your life. These delicious drinks can be made with multiple refreshing fruits and can help to add a healthier boost to your diet.
10. Buy seasonal fruits and veggies
Summer is the best time to stock up on fruits and veggies. Berries are especially popular during this season and are often sweet and refreshing. Maybe try out new fruity desserts or healthy salads with the foods of the season.
11. Stay hydrated by using a water tracker
It’s always important to stay hydrated, but it’s especially important during the hot summer months. Measure your water intake with water trackers to make sure you’re staying healthy and hydrated.
12. Have a pool party
Nothing says summer like a fun pool party. Gather some friends and have a refreshing day at the pool.
13. Go on a picnic
Going on a picnic during the summer is a great activity to do with friends or family. Pack a delicious lunch with seasonal fruits and vegetables and spend the day at a relaxing park.
14. Start a new book series
Starting a new book series can be a great way to keep you occupied and provide you with some relaxing self-care time. When you need some time alone, reading a new book can be a great way to reconnect with your imagination and excitement. Go on new adventures with different characters and learn new things along the way!
15. Go outside and enjoy being in the sun
Summer means sunshine, and there’s nothing better than spending time out in the warm, nourishing sun. Maybe take a book and read on the grass while you soak up that vitamin D!
16. Try a new restaurant
Trying a new restaurant is the perfect way to break out of your old routine and try new foods. If you’re feeling adventurous, try going to a restaurant with a cuisine you’ve never tried before. There are so many different types of foods, you may find your new favorite just around the corner.
17. Try new nature hobbies like hiking or bird watching
Summer is a great time to step out of your comfort zone and try out new hobbies. While it’s easy to get stuck in the same old routine, picking up a new hobby can expose you to new feelings of joy and creativity.
18. Try a new fitness class
Trying out a new fitness class can be a great way to incorporate more exercise into your life. If you enjoy trying different workouts, try something you’ve never done before. Some examples might include, yoga, CrossFit, kickboxing, or even some form of martial arts. This can leave you feeling refreshed and rejuvenated.
19. Go to a local food market or food festival
If you enjoy trying new foods, try going to a food market or a food festival. These often provide new types of dishes and foods you may not have tried before, exposing you to new flavors and tastes.
20. Go on a camping trip
Camping is a great way to spend more time outdoors. If you enjoy connecting with nature, try going out to a beautiful camping spot and engaging in fun nature activities. Make sure to take the marshmallows and a good friend to share s’mores with!
Check out the full post on my blog: Summer Bucket List: 59 Activities to do this Summer
#summer activites#bucket list#summer bucket list#self care ideas#bucket list ideas#summer ideas#camping#food#solo dates
7 notes
·
View notes
Text
HOA AU where half-way through one of the years’ mysteries, Patricia’s application to go on the Great British Baking Show gets accepted
#she would slay the bake off#except she had no idea she was in the running bc joy and mara applied for her#i am firmly in the camp that patricia is an amazing food-smith across the board#like didn’t she cook the food/bake the cake for that dinner party?#or am i legit losing it?#anyway she was also the only one making any attempt to feed herself/her housemates when Trudy got fired#and was only thwarted by the sheer chaos in the kitchen#house of anubis#patricia williamson
40 notes
·
View notes
Text
one of these days i’ll talk about my solangelo teen parent au that came about because i work with babies and spend a lot of time sitting in a rocking chair and watching babies sleep with absolutely no entertainment besides one of them rolling over a little bit
#louise.txt#one of these days…. also i think the idea of a baby at camp is really funny#‘hey do we need to childproof anything’ ‘uh. i don’t think that’s possible.’#so like it could have been a normal baby fic but it’s the camp setting that makes it FUNNY to me#like just thinking about how much shit the babies at work can get up to in a room that is literally designed FOR BABIES#that but also there’s swords#theyre like 17 in this au btw#baby’s first food is a strawberry
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
8/9/23
This morning I had yogurt with Hemp seeds, a Kiwi, some shaved almonds, fresh black berries I picked myself, blue berries and plum, it was really tasty
Behind the bowl is a stack of gorgeous coasters that my love had made and the pictures are ones he took from our three sisters loop back packing trip
#fresh food#yogurt#healthy eating#honeycombhank#coasterset#tent#camping#outdoors#three sisters loop#hiking trip#gift ideas#breakfast
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Best Nutritious Backpacking Meals for the Trail
Hitting the trail for a backpacking adventure? Awesome! But before you lace up those boots, let’s talk about the most crucial part of any trip: the food! No one wants to be stuck with bland, boring meals when they’re miles from civilization. Plan a little to enjoy delicious and nutritious food on your journey. It will fuel your body and keep you energized. It will also keep you…
#backpacking food#backpacking meals#backpacking recipes#camping food ideas#hiking snacks#lightweight backpacking food#outdoor cooking#trail food
0 notes
Text
Being the bane of sukunas existence as you're his girlfriend because you act like a perverted old man around him... he kinda digs it tho, its mildly hilarious and he doesn't dislike the unhinged attention (he tries to be so lowkey about it)
Every once in a while, you'll caress his behind or fondle his big boobily man breasts, the same way he does to you. he was only stunned at first - now he is completely unphased by your sneaky little hands.
he texts you, asking you what you want for dinner, and he's not surprised when the answer is "i want you oiled up and naked in bed by the time i get home". then he just replies with "making pasta"
Big obnoxious smacking noises when you kiss him all over, and sukuna just lets you be, he'll be sitting on the couch turning the tv on and here you come, smooching his cheek. sometimes, its the top of his head, other times, its his forehead or neck. if you do it too much though, you'll get covered with his bite marks in return.
when sukuna gets up to go to the toilet, you ask him if you can hold his peepee while he takes a piss, bc you saw a funny tiktok talking about it... he gives you a silent judgmental stare as he closes the door on your face. but behind it, he lets out the tiniest snort and shakes his head bc the idea of it is so ridiculous.
one time when you go outdoor camping with him you genuinely accidentally stumble close to sukuna who is taking a leak in the forest bush area and he catches you staring from behind as he's buttoning himself back up. and then he's chasing you down while you're screaming that it was an accident and that you only heard him peeing and didn't actually see anything. (not that you don't know what it looks like, anyway.)
when he's sweaty after a workout or some physical exertion, you'll definitely be approaching him deviously, talking about some "covered in flavour" type of bullshit... he'll push your face away and head into the shower but his ears are flushed with red.
just... sukuna who will let u mack on him endlessly bc he secretly doesn't hate the doting 🥹🥹🥹 and if you're not being obnoxiously lewd or affectionate?? thats when he knows something's up...
and obviously, every now and then you'll say something that makes him know that you're not just lusting over his body.
during a walk back home on a summer afternoon, you point upwards while holding his hand and looking up.
"sukuna, look. you're in the sky."
he reluctantly looks up, expecting some sort of dick shaped cloud or something like that. but there are no clouds in sight.
"what is there to look at?" he asks, quizzically.
"the colour, silly. when the sun's still setting, the sky always gets like this, around the same time everyday. the pretty pinkish colour, like your hair."
he turns silent and observes the sky for a minute. you call him silly, as if it's an everyday thing that you compare a person with the literal sky.
"it's my favourite time of the day..." you mumble, just barely audible to his ears. and something about the way you stand there, and speak so softly, makes you look so pretty to him. "i'll always think of you when the sun is setting."
"oh- but i think of you everyday regardless, i suppose."
he already knows that. he already knows you love him. why does he feel so flushed right now?
"alright, i get it. enough. let's continue home," he urges you, holding your hand tighter. you follow him down the street, like a puppy.
life couldn't feel more at peace right now, with your fingers interlocked with his, listening to you hum your favourite song on the way home, the street now covered with the orange light of the sunset.
"any ideas for dinner?" he asks, a few minutes after some silence.
"mmm..."
oh, he regrets asking the question now, fully knowing what's coming.
"i want your tatas in my mouth, please."
"tatas?" sukuna's asks with furrowed brows.
after bursting into laughter at the way he said it, you attempt to think up an actual food you want for dinner.
"...just for tonight." sukuna mutters.
"huh?"
"don't ask me again, i might change my mind."
"wait- really?"
let's just say, your mouth had a taste of heaven for the first time that night.
#sukuna#sukuna x reader#sukuna x you#jjk x reader#ryomen sukuna x reader#sukuna smut#ryomen sukuna#jujutsu kaisen x reader#sukuna x y/n
13K notes
·
View notes
Text
How to Plan a Solo Camping Trip
After watching countless episodes of Outdoor Boys on YouTube, where Luke Nichols showcases his solo camping adventures in some of the most remote and beautiful locations, I felt inspired to try solo camping myself. The way he connects with nature, embraces solitude, and navigates challenges is truly captivating. Planning a solo camping trip can be one of the most rewarding experiences for…
#adventure#and enjoying your adventure. Tags: camping#backpacking#campfire cooking#camping advice#camping checklist#camping essentials#camping essentials guide#camping experience#camping food#camping gear#camping guide#camping ideas#camping journey#camping locations#camping preparation#camping reflections#camping safety#camping setup#camping solitude#camping strategy#camping tips#camping trip#first aid#hiking#hiking solo#Meta Description: Discover how to plan a solo camping trip with our ultimate guide. Learn essential tips for safety#nature#nature camping#nature exploration
0 notes
Text
Pack Smart with the Camo Lunch Squad: Tips for Outdoor Meals
Join the Camo LUNCH SQUAD and elevate your lunchtime routine with a fun, adventurous twist! This unique concept brings together the practical benefits of camouflage design with a sense of camaraderie among friends or family. Perfect for outdoor
Buy now:19.95$
enthusiasts, students, or anyone who enjoys a trendy lunch setup, the Camo LUNCH SQUAD adds excitement to daily meals.
Imagine packing your favorite sandwiches, snacks, and drinks in stylish camo-patterned lunch bags or containers that not only look great but also keep your food fresh. Whether you’re hitting the trails, heading to school, or enjoying a picnic in the park, the Camo LUNCH SQUAD makes every meal an adventure.
This concept also encourages sharing and bonding over meals, making lunchtime a special event rather than a mundane task. You can even customize your gear with patches or accessories for a personal touch. So gather your squad, embrace the camouflage
Buy now
style, and turn every lunch into a memorable experience. With the Camo LUNCH SQUAD, every meal is an opportunity to explore, connect, and enjoy delicious food together!
The Vintage School Office Food Service Crew evokes nostalgia for simpler times in educational settings. This spirited team is dedicated to providing nutritious meals with a personal touch, reminiscent of the beloved school days. Clad in retro uniforms, they serve up hearty favorites like homemade soups, sandwiches, and classic desserts, fostering a warm and inviting atmosphere.
Their commitment extends beyond just food; they create a sense of community among students and staff, encouraging healthy eating habits and positive interactions. The crew often engages in fun events, like themed lunches and cooking demonstrations, making mealtimes a highlight of the school day. With a dash of vintage
Buy now
charm, the Vintage School Office Food Service Crew not only nourishes but also creates lasting memories for everyone involved.
Discover the perfect fun camping gifts that enhance outdoor adventures and create lasting memories! Think playful camping gear like colorful lanterns, quirky mugs, and portable games to entertain around the campfire. A compact hammock or vibrant camping chair adds comfort and style, while personalized gear, such as custom water bottles, adds a unique touch. Consider practical yet fun items
Buy now
like travel-sized s'mores kits or inflatable loungers. These gifts not only serve a purpose but also bring joy and laughter to every camping trip, making them ideal for friends and family who love the great outdoors!
#camo lunch squad#lunch squad#camo#camouflage#lunch group#team lunch#office lunch#vintage school#office food service#food service crew#school cafeteria#fun camping gifts#camping gift ideas#unique camping gifts#novelty camping gifts#View all AUTISM GIFTS products: https://zizzlez.com/trending-topics/hobbies/autism-spectrum-awareness-month/#All products of the store: https://zizzlez.com/
0 notes
Text
Realized I never posted any of the photos I took on my job last summer after I got back!
The animals are a snapping turtle, a Madagascar hissing roach(i think...) and a little critter I carved out of a fallen branch!
#my photography#being in the conservation corp is a very enlightening experience#unfortuanately the main thing i was enlightened to is that i never want to work for them again lol#the camping was fine but the food was not and that combined with hard manual labor is not my idea of a good time#but hey! dont knock it till you try it! i did try it so i can knock it all i want but its something thats very meaningful to a lot of folks
1 note
·
View note
Text
I'm almost in act 2 and I'm excited, I'm using the poly mod and doing all 6 romances at once fjsksk
#i realize it was a shit idea to do so while playing tactician because camp requires double food#and I'll have a loooot of scenes to do
0 notes
Text
UPDATE: Frozen Chicken for Ramadan!
Hussam managed to secure and buy 100 frozen 1.3kg chicken to the camps on his land and will work on another chicken run for the next camp! This is great news because people are lacking a lot of nutrients and protein so these will help them get a bit of their energy back!
Also, food cans are always available to everyone who needs them. People come to request food cans of meat and other things. But Hussam's team managed to distribute 1000 cans 2 days ago.
And! Diapers when available are also purchased and distributed on the spot to those who needs them.
Thank you so much for everyone who donates and spreads the word. You have no idea how much you're helping Palestinians right now!!
HelpGazaChildren Notion Site || #helpgazachildren tag
Paypal Link || GoFundMe Link
ID: [The first photo is of boxes filled with frozen chicken packages. The second and third are pictures of Hussam's team distributing the chicken.]
8K notes
·
View notes
Note
Hi ! prompt idea : What if Zuko was armed during the first episode and was stranded with the water tribe while the avatar left with Katara and Sokka, Iroh on his trail for white lotus reasons.
Oh we are going to have us some FUN with "stranded with the water tribe", say no more.
---
Zuko was dripping, and steaming, and staring down two dozen women and their gaggle of small children, plus that old not-the-Avatar crone from earlier. They were all cowering away from him. Which was--
Good. It was good. If they were cowering, then they hadn’t noticed how steam was not flames. He wasn’t sure he could make flames, not after the arctic water he’d landed in, with that last sight of the Avatar glowing; not after surfacing under the ice pack, after swimming, after kicking slamming breaking through and his ship was gone and there was only ocean all around and
and he’d made it back to this pathetic little camp of the Southern Water Tribe, because that was the only place he knew for sure would have shelter, and he wasn’t going to die just because they were all staring at him, even if felt like he would.
Even if the old not-the-Avatar woman could probably take him, right now. But she didn’t know that.
Zuko pulled himself up, taller than her by at least a few inches, and blew steam from his nose.
“I am commandeering one of your huts,” he said. And added, because Uncle said even a prince should be gracious: “You may choose which one.”
---
She choose her own.
...The only one without children that flames might scar, or younger women to catch a soldier’s interests.
Zuko sat by her fire and determinedly started struggling out of his wet clothes and she was still in here with him--
Zuko pulled one of her animal pelts over himself, and finished fighting off his clothes. When he stuck his head back out, cheeks still reddened from what was obviously the cold, she dropped a parka on his head.
“Dry clothes, Your Highness,” she said.
The parka was much bigger than he was. He fell asleep hoping that the camp’s men were on a long, long hunting trip.
---
He woke up again. Kanna tucked her favorite ulu knife away, newly sharpened, and stopped contemplating the alternative.
---
“I am commandeering a ship,” he said.
The crone led him across the village, all twenty paces of it, to a row of canoes.
“Take whichever one you want,” she said. “Will you need help getting it to the water?”
Zuko looked at the canoes. Looked at the ocean. Watched a leopard seal, easily the size of the largest canoe, dozing just past the ice his own ship had broken through the day before. It was frozen again, a great icy arrow pointing from the waves to the village, snow already starting to cover it over.
Beyond was blue sky and gray ocean and white ice, floating in blocks like stepping stones, like boulders, like cliffsides.
There wasn’t even a hint of gray steel, or smoke. Or any land, besides what they were standing on.
He looked down at the canoes again. Somehow, they seemed even smaller.
“I, uh,” Zuko cleared his throat. “I’ll require supplies. Before I go.”
---
They... did not have supplies. Not extra ones. This didn’t stop them from trying to give him supplies, food and blankets and anything else he could think to ask for. But each blanket was a pelt hunted by someone’s grandfather, had been inked with images and stories by someone’s mother, was the favorite of someone’s husband or brother or uncle or cousin--
They couldn’t go to the nearest market to replace things, here.
And when they talked about food, about what they could spare, they kept sneaking glances to their children, who were sneaking glances at Zuko from the huts, sticking their heads just over the snowy ledges like their fur-trimmed hoods would hide them. Their mothers and aunts shooed them away, and they crept back, like barnacle-crabs. Zuko glared, and they disappeared.
“When are your men coming back?” he asked. “They’re hunting, aren’t they?”
Oh. So that was what they looked like, when they weren’t trying to hide their hate.
---
Zuko wrapped himself up in the same blanket that night. It was printed inside with fine lines and images, telling a story he didn’t know. He wondered whose favorite it was.
---
Kanna wondered how quickly he’d wake—if he’d wake—if she built the fire up with wet driftwood and tundra grass, if she had one of the younger girls boost up a child to plug the air hole, if she let the smoke draw its own blanket down over this fire child.
---
It was hard to know when to wake up, because the sun never set. So everyone was up before him, and they all had spears and clubs and—and nets, and trap lines, and snow googles with their single slat to protect the eyes from snow blindness. Zuko had seen those once, at the Ember Island Museum of Ethnography, where they’d gone when it was too rainy for anything more exciting.
Oh. They were going hunting.
“Give me that,” Zuko said, and took a spear.
The women looked at him. One of them adjusted her googles.
“I can hunt,” he scowled.
He did not, in fact, know how to hunt.
---
“Give me that,” the Fire Prince said, and Kanna almost, almost gave him her ulu. Humans, like most animals, had an artery in their legs that would bleed them quick enough.
She kept skinning the rabbit-mink one of the women had snared.
“I can help,” he said, with less grace than most of their toddlers. Likely with the skinning skills of a toddler, too. She wasn’t going to let their unwanted visitor ruin a perfectly good pelt.
“Chop the meat,” she said, and gave him a different knife. “It’s dinner.”
“...This is really sharp,” he said a moment later, looking at the knife with some surprise.
“Is it,” said Kanna.
---
Things the Fire Prince was convinced he could do: hunt (until he realized he couldn’t tell the tracks of a rabbit-mink from a leopard-rabbit apart); spear fish (at least he could dry himself); pack snow for an igloo (frustrated princes ran hot); ice fish (the prince was a problem that kept coming close to solving itself).
Things the Fire Prince could actually do: mince meat, increasingly finely; gather berries and herbs, once he stopped trying to crush them; dig roots, under toddler supervision; mend nets, after the intermediary step of learning to braid hair loopies.
“Can’t I take him ice fishing again?” asked one of the women, as she watched Prince Zuko put as much apparent concentration into braiding her daughter’s hair as his people had into exterminating hers.
“Wait,” said another woman, sitting up straight. “Wait wait wait. I just had an idea.”
---
Three words: Infinite. Hot. Water.
---
Summer was coming to an end. The sun actually set, now, and the night was getting longer, and colder. The salmon-otter nets were mended and ready. The smoking racks were still full of cod-lemmings. The children were all a little older, the women all a little more used to doing both halves of their tribes’ chores; a little more used to not watching the horizon, waiting for help to come.
The Fire Prince was staring at the canoes again.
“Are you actually going to try leaving in one of those?” Kanna asked.
“...No.”
“Come on, then; someone needs to watch the kids while the women are hunting.”
She didn’t leave him alone with them, of course. But she could have.
---
Elsewhere, the war continued.
The moon turned red, for a moment none could sleep through; they did not learn why.
The comet came and went, leaving their castaway prince laying on the beach, his breath fogging up into the night sky above him, as the energy crashed from his system as quickly as it had come. Above, lights began to dance in the sky; Zuko pulled his hood up, so none of those spirits—children, dead too soon—got any ideas about kicking his head off to be their ball.
The war had ended. The world didn’t feel any different; no one in the south would know until spring came again.
---
Suffice it to say, Sokka and Katara were not prepared for this particular homecoming.
#Sokka: please stop calling my Gran-Gran by her first name. please.#Kanna: you’re right Sokka he can call me Gran-Gran#Sokka: THAT IS WORSE THAT IS SO MUCH WORSE#Meanwhile Hakoda: you adopted WHO#Kanna didn’t ADOPT anyone thank-you-much she was very practically holding that boy for the fleet to use for ransom#why Hakoda#what would you have done if you had a Fire Prince#avatar the last airbender#atla#Zuko#Kanna#ficlet#(infinite hot water lady is ABSOLUTELY Toklo’s aunt)#(he looks to the prince looks to her and spontaneously invents the High Five)
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
How freeze dried food of pets is different to that of dehydrated food?
Food is a very important part of our life and that is why we choose for choices like Indian camping food ideas and such other theme based foods. At the same time food is crucial for pet also. New types of dog food are always coming out, and it’s impossible to stay on top. Pet owners naturally seek the best for their pets regarding food.
0 notes
Text
Stupid Prizes
Pairing: dbf!Joel x Reader
Summary: Before you head back to college, your dad wants to go on one last family outing: the county fair. The only problem? Your secret fuckbuddy, Joel, is there.
Warnings: 18+. Sneaky, unprotected p-in-v. Joel pining for you while your dad is beside him, oblivious for now. Semi-public sex (on a ferris wheel—don’t ever do that). Gross misuse of a candy apple. Age gap. Jealous Joel. Teasing. Angst(!) Mentions of infidelity/abandonment.
Word count: 10.0k
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5
The gingham dress was your best idea yet.
For Joel, nothing could’ve been worse.
He’d cum down your throat no more than ten minutes ago, and with just a glimpse of your new getup bounding down the stairs—you’d had to change after he painted your last one white—Joel almost inhaled his Heineken.
He coughed and sputtered and hacked the beer back up while you strolled past the sofa and grinned at your dad.
“Ready to go, old man?”
It was just a short red frock with a sweetheart neckline.
The fabric cinched at the waist and flowed with every step you would take. Turning slightly to toy with the hem, and teasing the only eyes on you, you corrected yourself:
“Sorry…old men, I mean.”
Something like amusement flashed in Joel’s eyes.
Didn’t seem to mind this old man’s cock down your—
“I was born ready, kid,” your dad answered, still messing with something on his key ring, “How ‘bout you, Miller?”
“Yessir.” Joel stood.
He recalled you saying something similar before opening your mouth in the guest bathroom just fifteen minutes earlier. Joel’s cock twitched in his jeans at the memory, and his cheeks might’ve tinged a little, remembering how fast he’d cum. You’d only smiled and sucked your thumb, getting a taste of the residue that had missed your chest.
“Quite a mess you made there, Joel.”
And you repeated those words, at length, with only you and him to know what it had meant to you both before.
You gestured to the smattering of crushed potato chips on his shirt, and your grin got bigger. Joel grew redder.
“Yeah…” he mumbled, brushing the crumbs off his front. He wasn’t nearly as fast with the comebacks as he was with other kinds of comings and goings, and he knew it. He set the bag of Lays aside and seemed ready to leave.
But when he’d licked the salt off his lips and caught you staring—when he saw his friend go back to the kitchen:
“I had to be quick,” he said. Then, lowering his voice, “You know better’n anyone what a messy eater I am.”
Of course you knew that. Joel winked at you, and you winked back, mostly making fun of the boomer move. He reached for you—the edge of your skirt scarcely hanging a fraction of the way down your thighs—and he opened his mouth to speak again, when there was the sound of heavy boots at the threshold of the room. Joel leaned past your body and snagged the bag of chips instead.
“Food for the road?” He turned to his friend.
“All you,” your dad replied, smiling and waving the chips off as he went for the front door, “I swear your stomach’s a bottomless pit, man. Eatin’ me outta house and home.”
Joel looked at you when your dad was past you both.
House and home ain’t the only thing I’m gonna—
“Let’s go,” you chirped, fast, “I call shotgun!”
This would be a long, long day, no doubt.
The county fair had been his friend’s idea. One last day of ‘family fun’ before his little girl went back to school out East, and Joel hadn’t seen Bellville in years, so he’d asked him if he wanted to join. After a shared, brief stint in abstinence camp, the answer should’ve been clear:
‘NO.’
But Joel hadn’t learned very much from the Fireflies in the less than 72 hours he’d spent living—and also fucking you—there, so he’d nodded and said ‘Okay.’
Now you were twenty minutes out from the fairgrounds with a near-depleted tank of gas in the truck, obliged to make a quick pit stop at a Texaco. It was the first time he’d been alone with you since you’d set off from Austin. The second his friend was gone and headed inside to buy a pack of smokes, he heard a seatbelt come undone.
Earlier, he had raced you and beat you to the car to lay claim on the passenger seat, so you’d been in the back this whole time. He barely saw you before he felt you, climbing over the center console and then into his lap.
Straddling him while the Eagles played faintly overhead.
“Feel fucking insane not being able to touch you right now,” you huffed against his lips, kissing him hungrily.
Joel groaned. Felt your lower half grind into his. Almost rutted his hips up and yearned to have you seated on something other than just his denim-clad crotch when he sucked in a breath and remembered where he was. He nudged your hips and fisted the fabric in his hand.
“You in this dress ain’t helpin’ me either,” he growled.
You grinned against him, then hiked the red-and-white material up your legs a little more. Joel felt something like a shockwave when he saw what was underneath it.
Or, rather, what wasn’t there at all: your panties.
“Bathroom quickie?” you said, already breathless, “I’ll tell my dad I got cramps. I’ve been so wet this whole ti—”
“Darlin’.”
Joel’s eyes had drifted down to the place where your body and his were touching—rubbing—now. Even from this limited vantage point, he could see a glistening patch sticking from your bare seam to his jeans, and it was pooling on the fabric. Practically oozing out of your cunt while you rocked your hips and begged him please.
“Please, just one. I’ll be good the rest of the day, daddy.”
“Fuck,” Joel hissed.
His pupils were wide, and his mind was seriously considering it. Stupidly so, he reckoned; your dad was bound to be back any second, and surely you couldn’t both be gone for more than five minutes without raising suspicions. It was a reckless endeavor, he already knew.
And when he saw his old friend strolling out the front doors of the Texaco, his decision was made for him.
He watched you scramble off his lap and back to your seat, body quick and lithe and giggling the whole way.
“Gonna get me murdered, girl,” Joel panted, gruff.
Your own smile didn’t waver; you just settled back into the middle seat and let your gaze trail out the window, trying to fix your eyes on something to calm you down.
You already had the sense that nothing would. Your teeth bit your bottom lip between them to forestall the threat of another laugh while your dad approached the vehicle.
From the radio, ‘Life in the Fast Lane’ kept playing.
As old as they were, Joel Miller and your dad had a funny way of acting more like kids than you ever had, at any age. As your trio approached the wide, gleaming gates of the Austin County Fair, you saw your dad nudge Joel, and Joel shoved him back, and somewhere in the midst of all the ribbing, you heard your dad say, clear as day:
“If I’m takin’ a whole day off work, I’m gettin’ hammered.”
You knew by that tone this would an interesting afternoon, to say the least. You held your ticket tighter.
And for a moment, you wished you’d worn underwear. It’d been a split-second decision to peel them off before skipping downstairs, and it had worked well enough—Joel walking with a limp all throughout the parking lot and trying to shield the tent in his jeans—but now you were the one in greater danger still. Seeing your secret family-friend-with-benefits in his tight, light, heather grey shirt and jeans, hips adorned with a hefty belt and moving deliciously with each new step he took, you were transfixed. Left to watch him and gawk and grow wetter between the legs with every passing second, there was nothing you could do about it now. Likely sensing this, Joel raked a hand through his grey-flecked hair and hummed to himself. His bicep bulged through the sleeve.
“Nice little view, ain’t it?” he asked, nodding to the outline of a dozen shining rides and attractions ahead.
Go fuck yourself, Joel.
“Can’t wait to ride that.” You pointed to the ferris wheel, though the finger in your mind was aimed closer to him.
“Funnel cake,” your dad beamed, eyeing a nearby stand.
The three of you weren’t walking for much longer before he insisted on buying one. Joel had had a hankering for lemonade himself, so he’d fallen in line behind you and your dad. When it was your turn to order, you paused.
Then, pointing again:
“Can you get me one of those?”
You’d had to stand on tiptoes to see it inside the display, but from Joel’s own height, he was certain to have seen what you meant. While your dad shilled out the cash, not batting an eye, the man behind him clenched his jaw.
Candy apple, hon? Real fuckin’ mature.
Your eyes met his as soon as you’d turned, treat in hand.
I thought you liked seeing big things in my mouth, Joel.
He would’ve scowled if he wasn’t next in line—and your dad wasn’t walking so close behind, sniffing his food.
Joel ordered his drink, drank it fast, and found his thirst no better quenched than when he’d started. You’d sat across from him at the table and made sure of that.
You dragged your tongue up the sugar-coated apple just like you’d done to his shaft that morning and blinked, savoring the taste. Feigning innocence as he looked on.
And what else could he do? If not watch you, then peer at your father, furtively, and make sure he wasn’t able to see so much as a second of this little show you were putting on now. Joel glanced around you, too. No one else seemed to notice what was going on, even when your lips left a soft, sweet suction near the top of the apple, and he could’ve sworn he’d heard you moan.
It was just in his head. He was remembering how you’d done it that morning, mouth sinking down his length and whimpering when you’d reached the base. The way your eyes had watered, your free hand had reached between your legs, and your lips had welcomed him in; it was all burned in his memory, and not retreating any time soon.
Neither was the blood rushing to his dick, he reckoned.
You didn’t seem to care. Even when a bright pink river of spit and sugar trickled out of your mouth, you didn’t flinch. You let it slide down to your chin. Right before it reached the end of your face, and you were certain Joel’s gaze was glued to the spot, you licked a little bit of it off. You didn’t get it all in one go, so you shifted your snack to the other hand and then swiped your thumb under your lips. You brought it up to your mouth and sucked it, just like you’d done with Joel’s cum on it earlier that day.
Joel chucked his cup in the trash. Your dad took another bite of his deep-fried pastry and, talking between chews:
“That was fast.”
“Need’a stretch my legs,” Joel announced, abrupt.
He turned to you, and your thumb came out of your mouth. The frown on his face was unmistakable, though your father probably thought it was just from having to squint against the sun. Not because he was incensed.
Out for revenge.
“Ready to get wrecked, kiddo?” he asked you.
Your eyes widened, and your tongue quit licking.
What?
Then you saw him nod to some spot over your shoulder. You didn’t have the nerve to follow his gaze as he did.
Faintly, you could make out a smirk crossing his lips.
“Arcade’s over there. Unless you’re too scared.”
Your dad raised a dumbass, not a quitter.
You’d accepted Joel’s proposal without a second thought, and your father seemed pleased to have the chance to peruse the food stands and beer carts to his heart’s content. You’d set off quickly. Your candy apple was still in your hand when you saw your friend lean over.
Joel opened his mouth, and he took a big, angry bite.
“You’re insane,” he said after, words muffled by fruit.
You took your first steps inside the dark, cool building littered with machines and fun activities of every kind, and deep down, you were happy you’d had that treat. You took a bite yourself, then discreetly patted his ass through his jeans and told him, ‘Only for you, Miller.’
You weren’t sure why you’d said it. As soon as the words came out of your mouth, you regretted it, no matter how stupid and playful the message was meant to be read. But then Joel nudged you back—actually wrapped his arm around your shoulder and pulled you into his side.
His mouth was close to you, and you could feel the smile:
“Just how I like it.”
Your cheeks heated a little. You weren’t so fond of the intimate move—in public like this, even as dark as the arcade happened to be—but you couldn’t deny the flutter in your stomach. You swallowed the rest of your apple, and with it, any shred of emotion, or so you were hoping. You nudged Joel off of you under the guise of trying to point to something new, and his eyes followed.
“C’mon. At least pick something you’ve got half a shot of winning,” he said, swiftly. Sounding smug as he spoke.
You plodded on anyway, not hesitating at all.
“I’ve got more than half a shot,” you assured him, tone arguably twice as conceited, “Now if you’re scared—”
“You can’t use my own lingo against me, little girl.”
“Then nut up or shut up, old man.”
Joel scoffed. You chewed. The two of you approached the Skee-Ball machines with near identical looks of ambition and zeal, and sensing this tension wouldn’t dissipate with any more shit-talking, you got to work.
The first game was close. You beat him by less than ten points, and you guessed that that had been due in part to Joel’s own will. You saw him make more than two pitches so outrageously bad that you’d had to have guessed he was going easy on you. As soon as you felt that, you’d scowled. Pointed angrily at the scoreboard.
“You can’t just let me win, Miller!” you said, shrill.
Joel’s hands went up, and you knew he’d deny it all.
“No need to gloat, now, honey—”
“Fuck off,” you snapped, all while fighting back a smile, “Gimme your A game or don’t bother playing, honey.”
And he did.
The next game left you destroyed, roughly 900 to 320. You stepped back from the machine, feeling a frown start to form on your lips but knowing you’d asked for this, and just as Joel was about to lean in to offer a conciliatory hug, he had to stop. Both of you turned.
Somewhere behind you, you’d heard a voice.
It was young, male, and audibly amused.
“He really whooped your ass, huh?”
Your eyebrows raised as soon as you saw the source. Your scowl morphed into a smile, and your eyes were bright—too bright, almost. You ran over to hug the boy.
He was a boy, after all. Likely no more than half Joel’s weight soaking wet and wearing the biggest, dumbest grin that could only belong to a guy your age. He hugged you back, and his arms tightened around you. Comfily.
“Wade!” you gushed, squeezing him hard. You stepped back and looked him over, as if in shock, “It’s been…”
“Forever,” Too-comfy-cozy Wade finished for you.
Joel frowned.
“And here I thought you were gone away for good!” you laughed, “Went off to get that fancy Stanford degree—”
“—and you, in Boston—” the boy chimed in.
Before the reminiscing could go on much further, you remembered yourself and turned back to Joel. Still beaming as bright as you’d been when you first saw the kid, you gestured indistinctly, tongue-tied for a second.
“This— Joel, this is Wade Pritchett, one of my friends from high school,” you introduced him. Letting the two men—or, rather, mustached boy and muscled man—shake hands. Evidently, you were too stoked to notice.
“He moved out to Sacramento our senior year, and none of us thought— well, we— we figured we’d probably never see him again. Fuckin’ west coast hot shot he is.”
You smirked as you nudged his ribs, and something in Joel turned to month-old milk: sour, rancid, and heavy. His stomach turned inside him, and he hardly knew why. All he noticed was that he didn’t like the eyes you were making at him, and he hated the face Wade had for you.
Joel was just looking out for you, really.
You could do so much better than this douche.
“This is my friend,” you said to Wade, motioning back. Then, reconsidering just a second, “My dad’s friend.”
Joel didn’t like that.
Wade gave him a brief once-over and hardly seemed to see him at all. In that millisecond of a look, Joel saw it:
‘Old family friend. No worries there.’
Foolishly, Joel wished the chump could’ve seen what you’d been doing the night before—impaled on his cock and riding him as hard as your knees would allow you:
‘Daddy, please, daddy, daddy, daddy.’
“Joel?” Your voice cut in his mind like a knife.
Joel blinked.
“Yeah?”
“Okay if Wade joins?”
“Oh, yeah. Yeah.”
Not that it mattered now. Royal pain-in-the-ass Pritchett was already getting the machine next to yours set up.
Joel eyed him once more and tried to swallow his pride.
Somewhere along the way, it got stuck in his throat.
Three rounds was all he could take.
You on Wade, Wade on you—goading each other on in the most sly, flirtatious ways. Or maybe it was just Joel imagining that. Regardless, the man didn’t feel guilty at all when, at the conclusion of the third game, he’d tried to feign a casual tone and told you your dad would be expecting you back any minute, better wrap things up.
“He texted me like twenty minutes ago saying he’d be neck-deep in craft beer for an hour. I think we’re good,” you replied, and the indifference in yours didn’t have to be faked. You grinned at Wade, and Wade grinned back.
“Well, he texted me a second ago that he was holding a spot for us in line at the ferris wheel, so let’s roll, kid.”
That was a lie.
Joel didn’t like himself for doing it. But, again, he didn’t like Wade Pritchett even more, and he reasoned that he was doing you a favor, anyway. He searched for the exit.
“It’s alright, my mom’s probably looking for me, too.”
We get it, Pritchett. You’re a mama’s boy.
“Ah, okay.” You almost sounded sad.
Don’t be, baby. You’re daddy’s girl, remember?
Wade pulled you in for a hug; Joel wanted to deck him.
“I’ll be in town all week if you wanna—”
“I wish. My flight leaves tomorrow,” you cut in. Now your tone was really despondent. Your mouth was pouting.
It was just Joel’s eyes. He was seeing things. He was thinking you cared for this guy more than you probably ever did, and he was getting himself worked up over nothing. He clenched one hand into a fist by his side and waited for the anger to subside. Sadly, it was slow to go.
“Maybe we could…go out for drinks later or something?”
That suggestion didn’t make things any easier on Joel.
“I’d love to.”
Your reply didn’t exactly set his mind at ease, either.
At last, he decided he’d had enough. Turning on his heels, he bid a terse goodbye to shithead Pritchett and walked out of the arcade. He didn’t stop until he’d hit one of the bar carts your dad had been raving about outside.
He contemplated buying a drink. Maybe two. In fact, he’d just been eyeing three cans of Coors Light and was fishing for his wallet when he heard your voice again.
“Joel?”
“Yeah?” His tone was clipped.
If you felt it, you didn’t show it.
“Are we riding the ferris wheel or not?”
He probably should’ve given a verbal answer in the affirmative. Instead, he’d just nodded his head and started off the other way, expecting you to follow.
The walk was short. You’d had to weave through a sea of fairgoers, including schoolkids, college-aged drunks, and more than a fair share of loved-up couples, but that wasn’t too bad. Joel just ignored each one and didn’t stop until you’d reached the line for the ferris wheel.
Or what was left of the line, anyway.
Unlike what Joel had told you, there was no wraparound queue for you to join. Your father wasn’t there. Once you’d passed a look over the dozen-odd people waiting patiently for it to be their turn on the ride, you felt your stomach turn. Joel had never texted your dad at all.
“He’s not coming, is he?” Dispensing with the obvious.
Joel still wouldn’t look your way. He’d just sidled up behind the last people in line—a group of older folks who all seemed eager to get on the ferris wheel. You scoffed when you saw Joel’s expression harden, and you planned to turn away. Then the people up front started to move. For a moment, you were torn between telling him off and leaving him there. At length, you settled on saying, low:
“You lied.”
Joel followed the moving line, and a few more people started to trickle in behind you. Before you could even think to speak again, you were nudged ahead by the force of that crowd, and had only to keep glaring.
“Hey—” you hissed, only five steps away from the platform now. The ride attendant was scanning the line, appearing to count the people approaching the gate, and when his eyes landed on you, you made out a little grin.
“Aww, your daughter scared’a heights or somethin’?”
He’d said it to Joel, sounding cheeky. His teeth gleamed in the light of a hundred different neon bulbs, and you had to avert your face to keep from revealing its disgust.
So everyone else still thinks he’s my dad. That’s nice.
You couldn’t see Joel’s expression, but you imagined it looked the same. You shuffled ahead, reluctantly, and heard a lady behind you laugh; the sound had a tipsy lilt.
“My kid’s the same way—you’ll be fine, hon,” she slurred.
Heights aren’t the issue here, you’d wanted to snap back, for no other reason than your own disdain for Joel and the present situation. He walked in front of you, still refusing to meet your gaze, and soon you were perched on the platform, sandwiched between two semi-rowdy throngs of fairgoers with no clear means of escape. You crossed your arms and stared up at the back of his head. The look you gave him probably could’ve burned holes in his skull if irritation had been the means of achieving it.
You were seated on the ride in minutes. The compartment was surprisingly large, and its walls high, with glass on every side. Under a waning afternoon sun, the views you expected to see were bound to be pretty. All that was left to detract from its splendor was Joel— hunkered down opposite you and manspreading. Wide.
Sitting in total silence with his denim-covered legs split in a ‘V’. Watching you and rubbing one thigh, absently.
“You’ve got some nerv—” you started in.
“Yeah, no. No. That kid was gettin’ on my nerves—”
It amazed you how fast Joel was to return your words with a hostile quip of his own, anger flashing in his eyes.
“What’d he even do?! He’s my friend— my best friend—”
Fury flitted to something like discomfort, momentarily.
“Oh yeah? Just friends?”
“What the fuck does it matter to you?”
In your own expression, rage flared unchecked. You didn’t particularly care what Joel thought now if he was immature enough to act like this, and the walls of the compartment were thick enough to prevent anyone else’s hearing a word of it. The ride continued to rumble along, letting on new passengers with each new stop.
Joel might’ve paused. Could’ve stared out the window for all you knew—everything but the wheel itself seemed to be moving at lightning speed, and time was sliding.
“Because I— I— I give a shit, kid. I care.”
“And that makes lying to me alright?”
“I was just worried for your—”
“Bullshit. What would you need to be so worried about? Me playing Skee-Ball with an old friend and maybe getting drinks? You can fuck right off with that.”
Joel opened his mouth to speak, but he shut it when the ride suddenly jolted to a stop. It sputtered. Then, after a long, tense moment, it slowly ascended again. You took this lull in speech as your own chance to re-intervene:
“That’s not ‘care.’ Or ‘worry,’” you continued, words dripping with condescension, “That’s controlling.”
“Controlling?”
“Don’t play dumb.”
Joel Miller always did.
“It’s not—”
“It is—”
“Protecting you from assholes like him—”
“—he’s not—and I never asked you to do that!”
“So I just sit by and watch him touch what’s mine—”
“I’m not yours, Joel!”
Your last words echoed through the car like a shotgun’s report. You’d said it with such force—so emphatic for him not to be mistaken in what this was, or whose you were—when you hardly even knew how you felt yourself. It was a knee-jerk reaction, and one that Joel knew only too well. The last time you two fucked, he’d begged the same: ‘Say you’re mine,’ and no matter how close you’d been to release at the time, you simply couldn’t say it. Now, clear-headed and mostly clothed, you still despised those words. Emotions. Uniquely juxtaposed with Joel’s jealousy over Wade, you’d never wanted to say it louder:
“I’m not yours, and I never will be. So just stop.”
More cruel.
“Are we clear?”
The car came to a halt near the top. When Joel still hadn’t deigned to answer, you leaned in closer.
“I said, are we fucking clear, Miller?”
Then you didn’t have to wait.
“I hear you.”
Of course he heard. His face was hard. His eyes were like two brown stones in the sockets, and the line of his mouth was tight. Whatever use you might’ve had in trying to decipher that look was ignored for the time being; you were still too angry. And, perhaps owing to this state—with a white-hot look fixed on him and your head full of blinding, bitter thoughts—you were more than susceptible to surprise. You jumped when you felt it.
Felt him with a hand moving from his leg to yours.
It went quick but was almost too ridiculous to fathom—how swift Joel was in reaching for you, hoisting you into his lap, letting your limbs straddle his hips with all the ease of old, welcome habits. It might’ve worked just as well, were it not for the tension in your legs. The short, sharp, ‘Joel’ and a look flitting out to either side of you.
“What?” he grunted.
You heard a fly unzip.
“We’re on a—”
Before you could finish, and as if to furnish the answer for you, the ride shuddered back to life. Its descent was slow, but any movement now made your stomach churn. It didn’t matter that most of the cabin was encased in metal, the rest semi-tinted plexiglass, or that your space was almost entirely shielded from the view of other cars—it was too much of a risk, as was everything with him.
Joel remained blind to it all. Your cabin came to a stop, still high in the sky, and then you felt him grip something between you. In one swift motion, he had the head of his cock rubbing your seam. You sighed; his eyes were cold.
“C’mon then…show me what ain’t mine,” he murmured.
His voice was low. You hated those words. This was more than just that. Your cunt slid and accepted him anyway.
For a second, your gaze was level with his. Your hips hadn’t stirred, and he was crawling inch-by-inch inside you, pulling you down. The act could’ve been intimate, had the words that passed before not been so harsh—and the place not been a fucking amusement park.
When the ride resumed its slow, rumbling circuit, he didn’t make your bodies part, but instead flipped you around. Your back was flush with his front, and by all appearances, you were innocently perched on his lap.
What the tens, or dozens, or hundreds of strangers ambling around down below couldn’t see was that a cock was nestled inside you, too. That with every gentle bump of the wheel, a man several decades your senior was filling you to the hilt, sending waves of pleasure through your body and his while he stuffed you tight. What your dad didn’t know was that this was his friend. That the nose nudging the skin between your sleeve and your neck belonged to Joel, and his breaths were short.
Trying to calm the flutter of his pulse and the pull of his lungs, he flattened his hands on either one of your thighs. He rubbed his palms back and forth, and you glanced down to find the insides of your legs extra shiny.
Slick, pretty, and full of him. He tilted your chin back up.
“Nice and quiet for daddy—nice and still. No squirmin’.”
He nudged your hips forward, and his cock brushed a wet, spongy ridge inside you. You had to purse your lips to swallow a noise. You felt your cunt drool even more.
The car swung low, in the line of sight of far too many eyes, and then it stopped again. You weren’t at liberty to move at all, and still, the feel of Joel inside you was raw.
Grating, almost.
It made the prospect of conversation seem the tiniest bit easier, though—forced to face away from each other and act civil now. Right before the ride started up again, you gripped the armrest and anchored your feet to his boots.
“Feels…good,” you whimpered.
“That so?” Joel murmured back.
“So—oh.”
Your words fell apart at the next brush of his hand, sliding down to your heat and taking his index and middle fingers to the precious, pulsing bud in between.
Soon the car was up at a comfortable height. You sighed.
Your legs pressed together over Joel’s, and you felt him rub the tips of his fingers even harder, circles tighter.
“I know,” he said, sensing your words before they came, “I know it feels nice, baby. Keep that chin up for daddy.”
Don’t let them know I’m inside you. Stay quiet.
But his girth was so much. The tug of his smooth, throbbing manhood between your walls was almost more than you could take. You laced the fingers of your free hand with his over your thigh, and you held them tight as your hips wriggled back. You couldn’t help it, feeling a welt of pleasure start to blossom in your belly.
“Joel—” you started.
“Don’t talk,” Joel grumbled, stern, “It’ll draw attention.”
You sensed there was more to it than that. Your fingers threaded even deeper through his, and he squeezed them back. Between your bodies, there rose a soft, gentle tap, tap, tap with the thrusts Joel was able to deliver now that you were back up high and out of sight. If there was any time to speak, this was your window.
Joel probably wished you hadn’t, but you tried, anyway.
“You know it’s been years since—”
“Since?”
Now you didn’t want to say it. But you knew you had to.
“Wade’s been my friend since—”
Another influx of something soft and tender inside you. Joel holding your hand, pushing himself deeper, and trying not to groan when you clenched around him. Hating that he had to hear that name, most likely.
You despised the words even more before you said them:
“—since my mom left.”
It was an awful time to be bringing this up, admittedly. Both of you on the brink of release with Joel’s cock buried as far inside you as it would go, his fingers entwined with yours, and the ride drifting lower.
And lower, lower, lower still. Joel’s breaths picked up.
The car shuddered to a halt almost halfway down. You didn’t have to see his face to picture it a little more rigid than it’d been before. He’d known your dad long enough to remember the time his wife had walked out on him.
“When we were, like, thirteen—” You continued, as if you needed to remind him of any of the particulars. Joel hardly knew you back then, though, “—he was my friend. Wade’s been one of my— my closest— he was there—”
You couldn’t be sure if it was the subject of discussion or simply how close you were to cumming that kept your tongue from forming a coherent string of words, but here you were. Joel’s grip on your hand had loosened, and the movements of his hips had slowed considerably. You hoped he’d be too lost in his own pleasure to care.
“I remember,” he returned quietly.
That was all he said for a moment. Out of habit, your legs parted more for his touch, and you whimpered, feebly, as the fingers kept circling your clit. The ride started again.
“You don’t have to—” And again, his voice was low.
“I’m not saying that as an— as an excuse or anything.”
You didn’t know why you were saying it at all. You just wanted Joel to know he didn’t need to be jealous. That Wade had been a friend through a dark and bleak season of your life, and that was all it had ever, or would ever, be.
While the car was still suspended in air, and the sights below all relatively small, you got the sense you’d have to deal with this budding bliss inside you a bit quicker than anticipated. Joel was all wordless encouragement. You almost wished you could’ve seen his face as he urged you to come undone, keep making yourself feel good, that’s it, cum for me, but frankly, it was probably for the best you couldn’t look him in the eye right now. Beyond just needing release, you wanted him to see you in a more vulnerable light than you’d ever been—facing away seemed the least painful position to have that happen.
With your fingers and his still interlaced and your hips moving a little more quickly, Joel could feel your pleasure soaking his jeans, and he pulled you down closer to him.
He nudged the back of your neck with his nose. He panted against it gently, tenderly. Then he kissed it.
“Don’t need’a say anything else, darlin’. I’m sorry.”
I’m sorry.
Under any other circumstances, an apology from a man would have been the last thing to send you over the edge, but today, you couldn’t help it. Just as the car started up again, you hit your peak with Joel still stuffed inside you, and you gripped his hand as hard as you could. You fought to keep the moans contained behind your lips, but it was hard—and Joel’s constant, tender caresses with his lips and fingers made it that much worse. He trailed kisses down your neck and shoulder and told you gently, ‘That’s it, good girl, that’s my girl.’
My girl.
Again.
You almost didn’t mind it being said this time around.
Almost.
In truth, you didn’t have half a mind to think much of anything in that moment. You just curled your toes and pressed your back into Joel while the warm, euphoric waves coursed through you, and you let yourself be content with what he’d said. Whatever he meant by it.
In the minute that followed, you sensed he was perilously close to finishing, too. So, as soon as you’d made it down from your high—and the ride, too, was circling back and making its way through the final cycles—you crawled off of Joel. You got on your knees. For the first time in what seemed like hours, you locked eyes with him; your mouth moved lower still. You’d barely latched your lips onto the head of his cock before he was shooting off rope after rope after rope of his cum. Warmth splattered down your tongue and throat, and you swallowed it all obediently.
You didn’t need to be told when the ride was over. You heard a buzz, felt it jolt, and, unfortunately for you and Joel, your car was one of the first to be let off. You had to hurry off your knees and back into your seat, across from your panting, silver-haired friend, just seconds before the door to your left swung open. You began to stand.
Joel followed you out. His spend was still stuck to your throat in some places, the scent of his skin and his stubble and his extra heavy load all fresh to your senses. You wiped one corner of your mouth and kept walking.
And it was in this state you remained another second or two. You were just about to take your first steps off the platform, mind floating over somewhere tranquil and warm, when your thoughts were presently interrupted.
Your steps, too, were cut short. Joel had stopped you.
Then he grabbed your face, and he kissed you.
Your world froze a moment. You didn’t have time to think, or react, or even kiss him back, so you just stood there and let him hold you to him. It was over in a blink.
And one glance over Joel’s shoulder after he did it, to the ride attendant and nearly every last person in line, said they were just as stunned. Some sick, by the looks of it.
‘He’s NOT my dad!’ you wanted to yell, out of habit.
Seeing the eyes Joel had fixed on you—the smile that followed—their suspicions didn’t matter to him at all.
You walked off together, still considering those words:
My girl.
A month wouldn’t be so bad. Two was tolerable, even.
The next few hours spent with Joel made it seem like you could go a year or longer without seeing his face, and nothing between you would change too much.
He was a friend. A good friend. Not just your dad’s old companion, but your own. Whatever else was left beyond that could be explored down the road, but for now, you were content to just let him hold your hand in places you weren’t likely to be seen, and kiss you in those he hoped your dad wouldn’t be. Maybe fuck you on a ferris wheel.
At the thought of going back to college tomorrow, not seeing him again until Thanksgiving or Christmas at the earliest, you didn’t feel too sad. You did get an extra burst of yearning when Joel’s hands would find your hips and push you off to some shaded, semi-discreet area and he’d tell you, softly, ‘I don’t know what I’m gonna do without ya, kid’ before kissing you with a hunger all over again. That made you think you might miss him a little.
You’d warned him not to lie to you again. He promised he wouldn’t. You believed him, at least as far as your general mistrust of men would allow, and you had left it at that.
Now the tips of his fingers were brushing your own, and his mouth was grinning—coated in all sorts of sauces from the barbecue you two had been devouring. It was approaching six o’clock. He held the last Carolina-style pulled pork slider up to you, and you shook your head.
“I’m stuffed,” you said, pained.
Really, you were. You and Joel had decided to join in on the fair’s 25th annual BBQ and Chili Cook-off an hour ago, and now your stomachs were suffering immensely.
You made a face in disgust when he tried to push it closer, ‘Joel, I’ll projectile vomit if you don’t— don’t—’
You squealed when he leaned in, thinking he was planning to smush the patty in your face—you’d done that to him with some coleslaw not too long ago—but instead, he dropped the burger. He pressed what non-sticky parts of his hands he could get on your face and, cupping your cheeks between his palms, he kissed you.
Then he kissed you again, and again, and again.
This time, it felt more like an attack. Not an attempt at being affectionate, which he’d shown himself amply capable of all day, but really just a way to smear your lips and chin with sauce and get you extra pissed off at him.
It worked. You bit his lower lip at the last kiss.
And, instead of wincing in pain or biting you back, Joel surprised you by groaning a little bit against your mouth. His grip loosened from your face, and he leaned back.
‘Behave’ was all he said. Smirking.
If any one of Joel Miller’s quasi-fatherly lectures had ever met with success before, this would not be one of them. You only rolled your eyes and were about to reply with some variant of ‘Make me’ when your phone buzzed in your pocket. You pulled it out to see the new notification.
Nothing more than a reminder to check in for your flight. But that sight also roused some awareness in you that it was just then starting to get late, and you hadn’t heard a word from your father in hours. You and Joel had been extraordinarily fortunate that day in hearing that your dad happened to run into some friends at the livestock show, and had been occupied—plastered, most likely—ever since. You hadn’t thought to question it before, just happy to have your dad out of your hair for the afternoon, but now that it was late and all the shows were long since over, you had to wonder if it wasn’t time to shoot him that text. Bring your last happy, fun-filled night with Joel for the next two months to an end, and head home.
You started to send him a message. Joel peered over your shoulder, absently wiping his hands on a napkin.
“He said he was headed over to a concert last time we talked. Some band he likes,” he hummed, “Wanna go?”
You weren’t too keen on seeing the likes of any Creed-adjacent artist your dad so loved to listen to himself, but if it gave you an excuse to stretch your time with him and Joel, you didn’t mind. You nodded, then deposited your phone back into your pocket. You were just about to stand when Joel held you back. He’d snagged your hand.
“Hang on, ya got a little—” he said, soft. Then he lifted his napkin and started wiping at the sides of your mouth. His motions had all the crude, brute force of a man who’d never wiped a person’s face before—he seemed more concerned getting the vinegar-based glaze off your cheeks than impressing you with how tender he could be—but the gesture was received well enough. For once, you resisted the urge to roll your eyes and just smiled.
“You’re taking me to the airport tomorrow, right?”
“Long as it’s alright with your dad.”
“You could spend the night, too.”
Joel paused. He flitted a look from your lips to your eyes, then, finding a sly playfulness in both, only hummed. Stopped wiping long enough to kiss you on the cheek.
“We’ll see—”
“I’ll be real good—”
“Oh, I bet you won’t.”
But by the end of it, Joel was grinning too. He didn’t protest when your lips returned the favor from his, and they left an equally sweet and clean kiss on his cheek.
He didn’t bat an eye when your hand slid up his leg either. He just squeezed yours back and helped you up.
“Gonna get me murdered, I’m tellin’ you,” he murmured in your ear as you stood, just like he’d said to you earlier.
You figured if he’d had his pick of ways to risk his life, sneaking into your room tonight wouldn’t be the worst possible option. You threw your trash away and started off for the entertainment pavilion, following the music.
It was almost like you could feel Joel contemplating whether to sling his arm over your shoulder while you walked. Not once, but twice did his fingers twitch beside him, and he looked around you both from side to side. He decided against it, at length, and contented himself instead to just nudge your elbow and tell you that he liked that dress a lot—he hoped you would wear it again.
Come up for a football game, and you might see it then, you’d urged him back. The red of your dress wasn’t quite the perfect match for your school’s hundred-year-old crimson and black color scheme, but that was alright. You’d bend the rules for him. The two of you were just approaching the outskirts of a big, noisy crowd when Joel was about to respond. Your eyes glazed over a sea of people, surprised by its size, when you cut back in:
“We’re never gonna find him in here.”
Joel assessed the crowd. Checked his phone. Heard the wail of a guitar from somewhere up at the front and instantly surmised this was a Lynyrd Skynyrd cover band—and that your dad wouldn’t leave until he’d heard every song. Silently, he kicked himself for suggesting coming to look at all. He could’ve taken you on a few more rides, filled your overstuffed belly with a little more cotton candy, popcorn, or ice cream, if you’d been up for it, but instead, you were obliged to find your old man. It wouldn’t have been awful if it wasn’t so hot and—
“Hey,” Joel broke in, before he could think.
His eyes had landed on a person—a pair—in the crowd that you hadn’t seen, and his heart clenched in his chest.
You’d barely tilted your head to him, “Yeah?”
“We should go,” he told you. He hadn’t meant for his voice to come out so rushed, or strained, but it was.
He couldn’t help it, especially when your gaze had shifted fully to him. Your eyes searched his, curious.
“Why?”
“‘Cause I…” Joel trailed off, looking around. Scrambling to procure an excuse of some kind, “I gotta…go piss.”
“Then piss. I’ll wait here,” you replied.
You didn’t get it. Really, there was no way you could. You hadn’t yet seen the short-sleeve, turquoise-colored PFG shirt at the back of the crowd, the beaming face Joel spotted above it. You hadn’t caught so much as a glimpse of the man’s profile, much less the full, wide smile on his face, the beer in his hand, or the woman by his side. She was either laughing, or singing, or nudging his hip. They looked happy. And yet, you shouldn’t see it.
Joel would kiss you—that was it. It would be the riskiest thing he’d done, but at least it’d save you from seeing.
So he tried. Joel leaned in and ventured to press his lips to yours, gripping your face, but the second he did, you pushed him away. Your eyes were wide. Cheeks heating.
“What the hell, Joel?” you hissed, “Dad could be—”
Your gaze darted to the side, and then you stopped.
The eyes grew wider. Your lips stayed the course, as if to keep going, but no sound came out, and all that was left of your mouth was a round, stunned ‘o.’ You blinked, like you couldn’t believe it: the two people were kissing now.
Joel reached for your arm, but you were far too fast. You shot off to get away, toward them, and didn’t stop until you’d made it to the edge of the crowd where they stood. The music was loud, the audience was rowdy, but still, even at a distance, Joel could hear you as clear as day:
“Dad?!”
The man and the woman split as quickly as they could.
You were standing there, watching them watch you in utter shock for a second or two. Joel wasn’t counting, but he did find himself next to you before he could blink. He was reaching for your arm again, then stopping. Looking to his friend, whose gaze was plastered on his daughter with all the markings of awe. Embarrassment.
“Honey—” he started.
“What the fuck is this?”
Bad question. Terrible timing. Joel knew what it was—clearly his friend knew it too, but you weren’t supposed to find this out yourself for at least another month or two. That was what he’d told Joel back then, anyway.
“Sweetheart, this is my—this is Helen.”
You looked like you wanted to be sick.
“I know who she is!” you spat. You waved an angry, inarticulate hand in Helen’s direction. Helen looked away.
“Why don’t we go someplace quieter?” That was Joel, cutting in over the thumping bass and the strain in the air like he might’ve been a father to you himself. Wanting to shield you from what was coming next if he could help it.
Once more he reached for you, and still inflamed, you shoved him off. Your eyes were too hurt to turn away.
“What? This is y—your—” you started back, stammering.
“We were going to tell you, honey, I swear.”
In all the years he’d known him, Joel had never seen his friend look so contrite—or fucking moronic. The man had ditched his beer, was wringing his hands trying to pace a little more carefully your way while he spoke, but you weren’t having it. Or anything, really. When Joel brushed his touch against your elbow the slightest bit, about to murmur words low in your ear, like, ‘We’ll talk. C’mon,’ you’d jerked your arm away from him entirely.
He didn’t need to see your face to hear the pain in:
“Fucking stop, Joel!”
That caught your father off-guard. He didn’t hesitate before he cut back in, looking more pointedly at you.
“Hey. You don’t talk to your Uncle Joel that way,” he said, sharp. Joel winced. He went on, “I’m the one who told him not to say anything, okay? Now just calm down—”
And whatever effect his friend had intended to produce created just the opposite in you. Instead of focusing on your dad, your eyes shot to Joel, and in an instant, your body was turning. Your face was half-hatred as you did.
“You knew?!”
“Honey, I told him—” your dad tried saying.
But your look was too enraged. Your jaw was too tight. Your mouth could barely form the words you wanted to say, and your eyes were like two bloodied daggers. Joel was amazed you could speak a syllable at all, but when he heard it, he got a sense for why that was. He had to.
“You knew?”
You were hurt.
When you left, he followed. He wasn’t sure what he’d bothered saying to your father as he did, but it sounded like an excuse—‘It’s fine. I’ve got her.’ He didn’t, though. You were gone quicker than he could turn around, and by the time he’d made it far enough away from the crowd to yell your name, you were too removed to hear it. He saw the top of your head through a whole new cluster of strangers, and he yelled it again. You kept walking.
Joel was fast, but you were adept, all things considered. You slipped through the crowd with ease and gained more and more distance than he could attain in twice the time. Joel bit the inside of his cheek and kept going. He didn’t reach you until you were approaching the front gates, when he called out for you again, out of breath.
You probably wouldn’t have turned if you’d had a choice. But as it was, you were up against a bottleneck effect of more people trying to leave than the exit could fairly handle at once, and everyone at the back was at a standstill. Your jaw tightened when he said your name.
“Darlin’— hey— baby, just let me—” Joel had weaved his way around your neighbors, but the area was cramped.
You didn’t move. Your gaze was trained elsewhere.
“—explain. Let me explain, and I promise, I didn’t—”
The line shifted forward, and you moved with it. Your body was turned; while you kept walking, shuffling, Joel earned a few uneasy looks from the people around him.
“I didn’t mean—” he forged on.
But as soon as he reached for you, he knew he’d overstepped. Confirming every onlooker’s suspicion that you didn’t want to be disturbed, you snatched your arm away, and your eyes flared with anger. You faced him.
“Fuck you.”
Before he could reply:
“Leave me the hell alone, Joel.”
And, while the words were still fresh on your tongue and no one else tried stepping in themselves, you walked off.
You left him again—for what other place, Joel wasn’t sure. You just made off the other way, breezing past carts and stands and now-shuttered booths and more faces than either one of you could count. You kept walking until you found an open space a tolerable distance away from all the noise, then went further.
Your face was fixed in a hard, immutable stare when Joel approached you again. The look behind your eyes was worse; he could tell in a second you were about to cry.
“Darlin’—”
“You knew this whole time,” you said. Seething.
“I didn’t—”
“My dad’s been dating the woman he cheated on my mom with and you didn’t think to fucking tell me?!”
“I thought—”
“Not ONCE?! Huh?” you screamed it this time, “Known you my whole goddamn life and you hide that from me?”
Joel winced. He knew the tears were coming before they even filled your eyes, but the sight still made him hurt. You wouldn’t let him near you, either. You just shook your head and swallowed a lump and blinked hard, and he felt stupid. Whatever favor he’d thought he was doing your father—and you—seemed infinitely small to him now.
That knot you’d tried pushing down in your throat kept you silent for a minute. Joel opened his mouth to insert a word or two himself, but then you looked keen to keep hold of the conversation, no matter how much it hurt, and you were starting again. Blinking harder. Hating it.
“She’s the reason mama left,” you said, hoarse, “Helen was her best friend, and then she went and— and— and— fucked my dad, and because of that, I didn’t have a family for half my fucking adolescence. You knew that.”
Another beat. Joel’s own throat constricted considerably as he considered his next words, but there was no need.
“You saw how much I hated my father, and her, and myself for years, thinking there was something just…wrong with me not being enough to make her stay. And you knew all that, and you still kept it a secret from m—”
“I know, baby. I shouldn’t have kept it from you, I know.”
He’d also known your dad was in the wrong. That hadn’t stopped Joel from trying to rationalize his friend’s actions while they happened: it was a one-time hookup with Helen, then a casual, no-strings deal that the man only indulged when he was feeling extra lonely, then a thing, a relationship of two, three, six months now. Joel had known all along what kind of profound ramifications these decisions would have if you were to ever find out. But his friend wasn’t so easily swayed from old habits, and Joel couldn’t stomach having to break it to you.
Then the roadtrip from Boston happened.
You seemed to be remembering the same.
“Was fucking me a way to make yourself feel better?”
Your words had never struck Joel with more deliberateness or force. He croaked ‘No’ in a moment. You took a step back, and there came the look again—more spiteful than before and repulsed to its core.
“Is that why you offered me a ride back in the first place? Just felt guilty for all the stuff you knew my dad was—”
“No. No, no, honey, I would never, ever—”
“Then why hide it?! Why all this? Why bother?”
You gestured between his body and yours; you didn’t seem to know what you meant. Your cheeks were wet with tears. You had to scrape your palms down your face, sniffling and struggling to clear your own vision, but the efforts appeared to be in vain. You couldn’t stop crying.
“For you,” Joel said, and he hated the way his own voice was splintered. He didn’t know how to make it better, “You were off at school when it started, then— then Boston. Just thought it’d be safer…for you…for us—”
Somewhere in his brain, he’d meant to say that he didn’t want the news of your father to hurt you, or else jeopardize a shred of something Joel had had with you.
It was stupid. Your instantaneous reaction said as much.
“Us?!”
Joel blinked. The eyes across from his were alight.
“Us, Joel?! Are you fucking kidding me? There is no us.”
Their brilliance wasn’t appreciative by any means. If anything, the words made the flow of your tears even worse. You pressed your hands to your face, rubbing your cheeks and trying to shield your eyes, and saying again, ‘There is no ‘us,’ Joel, that’s not an excuse—you knew!’
With his insides in knots, Joel wanted to hold you again. You were still in pain, and your scowl wouldn’t move, and when he tried to touch you, you stepped back in disgust.
He knew better than to think he could reach you now.
“Whole thing was a mistake,” you spat, unfeeling.
“Baby—”
“You and me. Dad and Helen.”
“You don’t mean—”
“Anything you need to keep a secret probably isn’t worth keeping at all, right?” And when you said it, he could tell you’d meant it to hurt him. As if the tears and the time and the sheer resignation in your eyes didn’t say enough.
Now Joel felt an ache in his bones, worse than it’d ever been, and he still couldn’t touch you. Where the heart demanded comfort of a kind you couldn’t give, the head knew better than to ask, and his hands fell limply at his sides. He saw you cry and had only himself to blame.
You turned back to the fairgrounds’ exit. The crowd was as big as it had ever been, but anywhere away from him seemed to be as welcome as anything else, Joel guessed
He’d try something stupid. Again. Even more desperate.
Never in his life had he said the words to someone else, and he sensed it wouldn’t do a thing to change your mind right now, but he’d say it anyway. If not to extricate himself, to let you know what he felt beyond every thing that had taken place tonight. He reached for you again.
“Darlin’, I lov—”
But before the words could register with you, the simple act of pressing his fingers to yours made you blanch. You hadn’t heard him at all, and seemed only concerned with jerking yours away as fast as you could, then shrieking:
“I HATE YOU, JOEL!”
Then you choked back a sob, trained your glossy gaze on him in one last pitiless look, and left him. He didn’t move. He didn’t try to. Sights and sounds and the ground underneath him seemed apt to swallow him whole, and still, he couldn’t move an inch. Somewhere ahead of him—too serendipitous, really—he heard you call a name.
Of course, it wasn’t his. You weren’t running to him.
It wasn’t Joel in the crowd making its way out the gates. It wasn’t him standing a little ways off to the side, eyes wide and confused as he watched you rush over. Almost stumble over yourself falling into his arms and hugging him, burying your face in his chest. Joel watched it all with a raw and hollow heart and wished it were him.
But it was Wade.
Wade hugged you back and held you close, and the look on his face was too bewildered and distraught for Joel to blame him. He hadn’t been the one to hurt you. Joel had.
He watched you leave.
There was nothing more to say.
#HAHAHAHAHAHAHAi’mgonnashitmyselfHAHAHA#dbf!joel you will always have a special place in my heart#and my *****#joel miller smut#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller imagine#joel miller one shot#joel miller tlou#the last of us fic#dbf!joel#dbf!joel miller#joel miller fic#joel tlou
2K notes
·
View notes