#fic: austin alone | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pedgito · 4 months ago

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𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐑 | Cowboy!Joel Miller x reader

summary | Through all of his supposed wrong-doing, Joel has never failed you. Alternatively, falling in love with your dad's enemy while he shows you your full potential.

author's note | this is for @kedsandtubesocks's wild ride writing challenge! i struggled with this for a while, but ultimately erika and @hauntedhowlett helped me settle on something after sitting on the struggle bus for longer than i liked. this is all unbeta'd so please go easy on me dsjhkg

content warning | 18+ MDNI, no outbreak au, rodeo cowboy!joel, dbf but they're rivals now, forbidden love, hefty age gap (early 20s, late 40s), daddy issues, switches between present/flashbacks (all titled to differentiate), joel strolling around shirtless in a cowboy hat, mentions of injuries from riding, angst/internal conflict, fluff, smut (inappropriate use of a barstool), joel's such a loverboy

word count — 7.5k

Austin, Texas — Present Day:

The energy in the stadium is inconceivable.

Austin always had amazing crowds during rodeo season, especially with such a close-knit community of people supporting a passion many have attempted to pursue. For you, it was in your blood, riding on the coattails of your father, you were saddled on a horse before you could even speak full sentences.

You can hear the deep, roaring chants as you stand steadily in the waiting pen, eyes locked on the television as the words echo in your ear, a faint smile growing on your face as you feel the solid press of his hand against your back.

Joel.

It was a year of tireless dedication to get you back on a horse, somehow managing to entangle yourself in his grasp in more ways than you can explain—he wasn’t just a partner, he was your lover, a confidant, and the only person that could ease the quickly growing nerves.

“Like ridin’ a bike,” He says with an ease that comes natural to his voice, hand climbing up to settle against the back of your neck with a reassuring squeeze, “what’s goin’ on in that head of yours?”

“What if she gets startled?” You ask absently, the accident flashing through your mind in snapshots, the subtle twinge of pain in your knee that came and went when it felt like it.

“All she needs is you,” Joel reminds you, “s’never been a time I’ve seen her freak out when she’s got you on her back and you know it.”

Honey had been with you since you were a young girl, a trust built through years of connection and care, having practiced the art of non-verbal communication, you knew there was nothing to worry about, but the fear still lingered.

Joel’s Ranch, One Year Ago — Flashback:

Joel can see the way your hands shake, attempting to grasp the reins a few times with a clammy grip, over-adjusting yourself on the horse he’s ridden for many years, even into retirement. Buttercup was docile but strong and he’s attentive to Joel’s instruction, a rub over his snout as he attempted to reassure you.

It was your first time back on a horse since your accident, months of recuperating on Joel’s ranch with the help of him and his brother Tommy, working through doctor’s visits and physical therapy alongside two men who weren’t your father, but had filled the hole enough that you didn’t have to suffer through your injury alone.

“We’re just doing a few laps and getting a feel on things,” Joel reminds you, “I’m not pushin’ you and I’m not gonna let you push it too soon—what’s your number today?”

You bend and stretch your leg hesitantly, a subtle movement as Joel’s hand rests just above the thick band of your jeans, your face contorting in slight discomfort.

“Five…six,” You say indecisively, looking down at Joel.

“So, an eight,” He surmises with a smile, “alright—just a few laps and we’ll work from there.”

It was a step forward, fearful that you might never ride again.

But, Joel follows you around the ring from start to finish.

He promised in the beginning that he wouldn’t leave your side and he hasn’t lied once.

Austin, Texas — Present Day:

While dressage started their run, you and Joel slipped off into a dressing room to watch the show and deal with the insistence from Joel that you shouldn’t ride on an empty stomach.

You picked at the food sparingly though, still feeling rattled by the energy in the arena.

Joel’s presence comes from behind, palms spread over the arms of your chair as he leans his chest into your back, lips brushing against your ear in an endearing manner, a ghost of his breath against the side of your face as he presses a gentle kiss against your neck.

"Hey," he murmurs softly, his voice a soothing balm to your frayed nerves. "You're going to be amazing out there, baby. I believe in you."

You lean back into his warmth, letting out a shaky breath. His arms encircle you, strong and comforting. "I'm just so nervous," you whisper.

Joel turns your face with his fingers at your chin. His eyes, filled with tenderness, meet yours.

"Remember why you started riding in the first place? That freedom? The connection?"

You nod and his hand flattens against the side of your neck and you tilt your chin up expectantly, eager for a kiss that never comes, instead he chuckles and placates you with another kiss to your cheek.

“No distractions,” He chastises, “I meant that.”

You pout for a brief moment but relent, knowing that you needed a clear head and Joel would give you anything but with how easily he’s clouded your thoughts in the past several months.

Joel’s Ranch, Six Months Ago — Flashback:

When it happens, you aren’t expecting it.

Neither is Joel, which makes the entire situation unfold faster than you’re capable of processing.

The storm rolled in without warning, the wind picking up like someone had flipped a switch.

But, the lighting strikes unexpectedly from the right and downfield with not a drop of rain in sight.

It startles everyone, but especially Buttercup, Joel’s horse. It was quick buck, with Joel’s hands on your waist luckily, so the decent is smooth but the impact isn’t as graceful as you would have liked while Joel’s horses thrashes wildly until he can calm him down, moving you a safe distance away before he can eventually get Buttercup tucked away in the stables and return to you, jogging toward you as the rain began to mist.

As Joel approaches, his eyes lock with yours, concern etched across his features.

The misting rain clings to his cheeks, making them glisten in the fading light. He reaches out, his calloused hands gently cupping your face. Thumbs rubbing over your cheekbones.

"Are you alright?" he asks, his voice soft and filled with worry.

You nod, unable to speak as you realize how close he is.

It’s never been like this, even in the moments of physical therapy and joint dinners with him and his brother—Joel had always been careful about being respectful and keeping his distance.

Joel was prominent in your childhood, weekend dinners with him and his daughters after the death of your mother—it was all a blur now, most of it buried away and forgotten. But, there was an eventual blow-up with your father and then he was gone.

You’d see him on television and around town when shows were happening and he had a break from his extensive tour through different states, having turned his professional career into entertainment both out of a need for change and necessity.

He constantly remained out of reach, but with your injury and his willingness to yield to you when you needed someone in your life the most, he had stepped in. It made you feel like that little girl again, scraping your knee on the ground and crying for help, but instead of your dad it was Joel and the floating feeling in your stomach wasn’t because he was comforting you, but because he was touching you and neither of you had the courage to speak on it.

He’s never touched you like this. He wouldn’t.

Joel’s always been careful—too careful.

"I'm fine," you assure him, but your voice trembles slightly. Joel kneels closer, his warmth enveloping you despite the cool rain. His hands find your shoulders, steadying you, “Joel—I swear, I’m okay.”

“M’so sorry, sweetheart,” He apologises despite no wrongdoing, “I should’ve checked the weather or at least held on a little tighter,”

You look up into his eyes, seeing the genuine worry there, and something else – something that makes your heart flutter in your chest. "It's not your fault," You insist, blinking away the rain from your lashes before Joel is helping you to your feet, his touch never once leaving your body.

The rain is falling harder now, but neither of you can find the urgency to move.

Joel's hands slide down your arms, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. Your breath catches in your throat, coming out in a desperate attempt to clear the swell as you make a small, weak noise that seems to break him from his trance.

“Let’s get you dry,” He nods toward the house, grateful for the deflection as you turn, but his hand is still pressed firmly against your back as you both walk toward the door, like he’s too scared to let go - like you were too fragile to leave on your own.

Austin, Texas — Present Day:

Honey nuzzles into your chest before nibbling at the apple in your palm, always rigid about the time you spent with her before your shows, a moment of quiet and connection that strengthens the bond.

She was full of personality, leaning into the gentle touch you apply to her snout as you rub your hand up and into her mane, a small push into your ribs as she hears Joel approach.

Your heart swells with affection as you lean into Honey's warmth, savoring the sweet moment.

Joel's footsteps draw near, but you're reluctant to break the spell.

You press a soft kiss to Honey's velvety nose, whispering words of love and gratitude. As Joel appears, his eyes meet yours and a tender smile spreads across his face. He understands the depth of your connection with Honey, having witnessed your bond grow over countless shows and quiet moments like this. Even when you were much younger and Honey was twice the size she is now.

Your father had purchased her when Joel was meeting Buttercup, how the girls had hounded him over the responsibility to name his horse. He wouldn’t admit how much he liked it, either.

"You two are inseparable," he murmurs, stepping closer. His hand finds yours, intertwining your fingers as you both stroke Honey's mane, "I swear, sometimes I think you love that horse more than me."

You laugh, giving your horse one last pat before turning to Joel. "Are you jealous?"

Your head tilts, eyes as wide and vulnerable as they always were with him.

“Not when you look at me like that,” Joel explains, his hand cupping your chin as his thumb rubs against the point of it, the corners of your mouth tugging upwards as Joel mirrors that same admiration, a playful glint in his eyes as you pucker your lips and kiss his thumb, keeping your eyes on him, “boy, you are really pushin’ it today.”

It was silly to think about now, but a few months prior Joel wouldn’t even allow himself to touch you like this, despite the clear indication of how you felt and how he had ultimately fallen first, too scared to admit that he’d fallen for his old friend’s daughter, knowing your father despised everything that Joel was, it was a maze he didn’t know how to navigate.

He still felt lost on most days.

Joel’s Ranch, Five Months Ago — Flashback:

Mornings were sacred on Joel’s ranch - a beautiful sunrise etched out over the hills and through the trees, animals rousing from their sleep, and a silence that reminded you of a simpler time.

Usually you found Joel up this early, nursing a mug of coffee in his hands as rocked in the old chair on his porch, eventually finding the courage to join him after a while, when it didn’t hurt to bend down to his level, taking a seat on the deck near his legs and sipping at your own drink of choice, talking through your pain level on whatever particular day it was.

Your fondness has grown over shared meals and proximity; seclusion, too.

It was you and him, months alone aside from Tommy’s occasional visit.

Maybe it was inevitable—that your injury served a purpose.

You always tried to find a reason to excuse your own mistake, a moment of hesitation that cost you an entire year of your newfound career, excitedly filling in for Joel in his departure.

It couldn’t have been for nothing.

You felt her heart skip a beat as his footsteps approached, his gaze warm as it descended upon you, peering over your shoulder to be met with a tired smile.

The morning sunlight caught the silver in his hair, and you found herself admiring the lines around his eyes - evidence of a life filled with both laughter and hardship.

"Good mornin’," Joel's voice was a low rumble, softened by the early hour, “something botherin’ you?”

“Why do you ask?” You chirp with a soft laugh, narrowing your gaze in a manner to intimidate.

Joel smirks half-heartedly, “It’s a good place to think,” He notes, “so—what is it?”

“Can I ask about my dad?” You start hesitantly, not sure how sore of a subject it was for him.

“Whaddya wanna know, sugar?”

“I want your side,” You wanted honesty, not half-truths, “did you cut him out of the deal?”

“He cut himself out,” Joel explains without skipping a beat, “we were partners for a long time, couldn’t have imagined doin’ all I did without him before he turned on me, but it was good money, security—it put Ellie and Sarah through college.

“He’s a sell-out,” If there was any time for your father to disparage Joel Miller, he would, “runnin’ off to Florida and taking some big deal, that shit ain’t right—it’s selfish.”

Joel had never meant to turn his career into entertainment, competing in circuits at a professional level before his body started to take a toll, eventually earning the Old Timer moniker and booking shows around the surrounding cities of Texas before touring the country.

If you were involved in rodeo, or even caught a whiff of it in the media, you knew who the Old Timer was. And even with him gone, you can feel your father looming.

The echoing mantra of his words in your head as you remember watching Joel perform with Buttercup, a long-established Bronc with his own exuberant personality to match Joel’s more subdued one, a perfect balance.

Ain’t nothing out there you won’t experience here in Austin.

You weren’t sure where the animosity stemmed from until now—it was a clear path he had pictured for himself and you, riding out the rest of your career in Texas, even as you were starting to climb the ladder as one of the more notorious female riders, still just a whisper for most people, living in the shadow of your father for so long.

“He’s stuck in his ways and that’s not sayin’ I’m any different, but I don’t regret signing that deal for a better way of livin’—a easier way, it got me all of this,” He throws his arms out lazily, property that stretched for miles, a place where he’s come to offer a camp for young riders to learn the ropes and get comfortable around the animals in a safe environment.

But, it was also home.

It was a surprise waking up one morning to a yard full of kids, a handful no older than ten or eleven, showing how easily Joel molded into the teaching role in such a relaxed environment.

You weren’t sure if that was when your feelings for him had evolved or if it was during the early weeks of being injured when Joel would sit with you bedside almost every night, either reading or working on his crosswords like it was religion, glasses perched on his nose as he moved with every subtle twitch you would make, worry etched on his face.

It was a mix of both and more, countless times you’ve found yourself at a loss for words.

“If he knew,” You pause, chewing at your bottom lip with worry, “if he knew—that I was here, that I turned down his help to come to you, Joel, I don’t know how he would react,”

“There ain’t a single reason he needs to know,” Joel assures you, “I’m sure he’s said a lot about me and some of it is probably true, but you deserve a place you feel safe.”

You nod, feeling a wave of relief wash over you.

Joel's words sink in, and you realize just how much you needed to hear them. The weight of your father's expectations, his dreams for your future, had been suffocating you for far too long.

"Thank you," you whisper, your voice barely audible over the soft whinnying of horses in the nearby stables, and your words linger, like you’re holding back, “I do—I do feel safe…”

Joel hums, turning his body toward you more, his elbow meeting the railing of the ring.

“But?”

“You have to know,” You begin, heart constricting with nerves, a surge of adrenaline rushing through your veins as Joel looks at you, all of you, that familiar full body glance that you’re not even sure he realizes he’s doing, “it’s more than just safety, Joel.”

"I reckon I do know," he says, his voice low and gravelly, still thick from sleep. "Been knowin' for a while now."

The words hang in the air between you, heavy with meaning and possibility. Uncertainty.

“I feel stupid,” You laugh away the sudden embarrassment, face heating as the silence grows, “fuck I’m—I’m only a couple years older than the girls and you were helping me with my math homework while trying to teach them how to tie their shoes. It’s wrong, isn’t it?”

“Seems to me like you’re an adult capable of making her own choices,” Joel decides.

You feel a flutter in your chest at Joel's words, at the implicit acceptance in them.

Your eyes meet his, searching for any sign of hesitation or doubt, but you find only warmth and a hint of something deeper, enticingly haunting.

"I've been making my own choices for a while now," you say softly, not realizing the instinctual gravitation toward him until his chest is pressing into your shoulder. "Some good, some...not so good. But, coming here? It was the first choice I’ve made for myself that felt right."

“It always needs to feel like that, sweetheart.”

Austin, Texas — Present Day:

Joel tightens the belt at your waist, the leather stiff from lack of wear. You’ve only worn the uniform a few times for fittings, a brightly colored shirt and riding pants to match, which were still hung on the rack behind Joel.

He takes a moment to tug at the leather to assure it was secure before he drops down to his knees, catching you by surprise with a bubble of laughter slipping past your lips.

“Joel, what are you doing?”

He shrugs, pressing featherlight kisses along the top of your thigh while his hand drags along the back, hooking behind your right leg as he brings your knee to his mouth, his lips pressing over the jagged but healed scar.

You find yourself overcome with unexpected emotion, throat burning with the threat of impending tears, the moment holding still as Joel looks up at you.

Joel’s Ranch, Four Months Ago — Flashback:

It was intended to be a simple task, filling the troughs with water as you both lugged the buckets to each individual pen, narrowly escaping Joel’s increasingly boyish behavior as he fills the trough up halfway before he’s tossing the rest of the water at you, gasping at the cold, frigid temperature of it.

“You ain’t smiled today,” Joel reminds you, suddenly sheepish as you realize how big the grin on your face has grown, wasting the rest of the water to return the wet favor, tossing the bucket on the floor before you decide to make a run for the house nearly at the door before you slip on a slick spot of mud.

Squealing, your arms flail out—you accept your fate, arms bracing behind you as you wait for the impact, but instead you’re caught by two thick arms wrapping under and around you and your breath catches as you find yourself pressed against Joel's broad chest, his strong arms holding you securely.

Your heart races with an anxious stir of emotions, interlaced with excitement, suddenly very aware of how close your bodies are. Joel aids you back to your feet, shoving him away playfully as you snake your way out of his arms, trying your hardest to seem upset even though you weren’t.

“Careful,” Joel warns, “can’t have you injuring yourself any worse, you’ll be takin’ up a permanent residence here.

“Would it be so bad?” You ask curiously, a hint of teasing to your tone, “I think you like the idea of keeping me here, all to yourself.”

His eyes echo his earlier words. Careful.

The restraint he shows day by day amazes himself with how hard you’ve tried to break him down, some guilt surrounding his own growing feelings, ashamed with how strong they’ve become.

“Where’s your manners, anyways?” You ask, “You get a girl all wet and you can’t even invite her to dinner or kiss her first? And I thought you were a gentleman.”

Joel wasn’t intimidated by much in his life, but the way you see straight through him with ease—he’s helpless under your gaze, the grin on your face that follows is tortuous to his psyche.

“Oh, don’t hurt yourself, Joel,” You tease, poking at the damp fabric stuck to his chest, his eyes following the movement as you pull away and turn toward the house, “I’m just fucking with you.”

Joel snaps then, pulling at your wrist with a gentle tug, “Now, you ain’t gotta be so crude all the time, mouth like that’ll get you in trouble,”

Like this?

Joel sees the smug expression as it sneaks onto your features, his grip climbing higher until you’re at the lip of his front door and he’s got you crowded, pressing into the flimsy screen as he noses at your cheek like a wolf sniffing out prey, violently aware of how your hand squeezes into his wet shirt and pulls him closer.

“Just kiss me,” You plead, “fuck—please. Just do it.”

It was a craving so unnatural you ache, in your gut and chest, lips parting as your chin lifts in an effort to chase his hesitance. You’ve both been dancing around this for weeks.

Joel's resolve crumbles, his self-control shattering like glass.

With a low growl, he captures your lips in a hurried kiss, weeks of pent-up desire pouring out in a single, passionate moment. His calloused hands frame your face, holding you steady as he deepens the kiss, tongue seeking entrance between your lips.

And you melt instantly, fingers curling tighter into his shirt. It was everything you needed.

Rough but tender, his soft lips against your own with the satisfying scratch of his overgrown beard that tickled your cheeks and nose, hiccuping a breath into the kiss as he tilts your head up to meet his hungry mouth, each press more insatiable than the last.

When you finally part, both panting for air, Joel rests his forehead against your own and allows his eyes to fall shut for a moment as you giggle, shaking slightly in his hold.

“Now, was that so hard?”

Austin, Texas — Present Day:

He’s got you imprisoned this way—body and soul, your hand shifting to rest at the crown of his head, curling into his hair, another gentle kiss before he’s leaning his cheek against the inside of your thigh and offering a gentle squeeze of reassurance.

“You plan on stayin’ down there, cowboy?”

Joel chuckles, shifting to hide his face into your thigh.

It’s a gentle tickle, his mouth against your skin, but it brings you immense comfort.

“We’ve got fifteen minutes,” You remind him, eyeing the clock overhead, “I think we can manage.”

He shakes his head with relaxed defiance, groaning quietly as he pushes to his feet again.

“Right—right, later. No distractions,” You repeat his earlier words, followed by a playful roll of your eyes, “You’re not making it easy, you know?”

Joel’s Ranch, Four Months Ago — Flashback:

Joel’s got you on a strict schedule lately once you’re cleared for training—breakfast, a workout, practice, lunch, repeat, only a few months out until your inevitable return and he’s hammering the routine into your brain, which you appreciate, but a break would be nice.

The run-through was flawless this evening and you retired earlier, savoring the burning heat of water as it melted over your skin, dressed in a loose shirt and panties as you searched through your messy suitcase of clothes and the pile that has grown over time with your extensive stay, down on your knees.

It wasn’t always this easy, depending on Joel for nearly everything in the beginning of your stay.

He was showering in his room simultaneously, or so you thought.

Joel spotted your hat about halfway through the living room, resting on a post outside.

His chest is still wet, jeans unbuttoned but snug on his hips as he strolled barefoot outside and retrieved the item, knowing that you hardly parted with it, it was a strange sight.

You pause in your rummaging, sensing a presence behind you moments later.

Turning, your breath catches at the sight of Joel standing in your doorway, hat balanced on his head as he leaned against the frame and smiled, the muscles in his arms conforming to the stretch and pull as he crossed them, tanned skin glistening with the few droplets of water still lingering.

“Found your hat,” Well, one could only suspect.

You stand slowly, acutely aware of how little you're wearing. "Thanks," you murmur as you make your way toward him, reaching for the hat. Your fingers brush as he hands it over, his own molding around the crown of the hat, bottom side up.

Joel doesn’t let go immediately like you’re anticipating, “I think you deserve a weekend off,”

“No,” You argue instantly, “I’m finally getting comfortable with the routine, I don’t need a day off.”

Joel’s face scrunches up in with a lack of belief in you words, tilting his head with narrowing gaze, “Now, that’s something only a person who needs a day off would say,”

“Joel, no,” You put your foot down, finally prying his fingers away from the hat, seeking a few inches of space from his bare chest and the unbearable heat that radiates from his frame.

While your admission of feelings had led him to be less reserved with the way he approached your or talked, more touchy during practice and at night while you both cuddled up on the couch and watched some old western you could care less about—Joel really loved them, though, so that had to count for something.

He makes you nervous, anticipatory of his next move, waiting for him to put your misery and break the metaphorical seal over your relationship—if you could even call it that, but it never happened. It would have to be you, a choice you made entirely on your own.

Your heart races as you take a step back, clutching the hat to your chest like a shield.

Joel's eyes follow your movement, a flicker of something indecipherable crossing his face before he schools his expression back to that easy, warm smile. It’s subtle, but there.

"I get it," Joel levels, "You're afraid of losing momentum.”

You shrug, unsure if that was fully true.

“C’mon,” Joel beckons, uncrossing his arms to offer his hand, your eyes following it with hesitance.

Joel chuckles to himself and pulls the hat from your grip before placing it on your head, fingers circling your wrist before they trail toward your hand and lead you toward the kitchen, through his expansive living room until he’s guiding you toward one of the few barstool, silently ordering you to sit down.

Almost immediately, he squats behind the island to rummage through the liquor collection he kept stored away for the occasional celebration or nightcap, avoiding it mostly out of preference while you trained, but he’s sliding a glass of whiskey over before you can fully piece together what he’s doing, rounding the counter with his own glass in hand.

“Happy early birthday to me, I guess,” You joke before taking a small sip of the whiskey, knowing your 22nd birthday was on the horizon but enjoying the reaction as Joel’s face contorts through phases—first confusion, then fear, before he’s attempting to pull the glass from your grip as he realizes his mistake

You giggle and stretch the glass out of reach, “Oh, calm down—I’m old enough to drink, Joel. Old age is really getting to you, isn’t it? I didn’t celebrate last year because I was so focused on the show, but we all know how that turned out,”

“You’re tryin’ to kill me, aren’t you?” Joel asks, downing the rest of the liquid in one go.

He’s drifted closer now, palm pressed into the counter beside your arm, his free hand rising up to tip the brim of your hat up, your bottom lip pulling between your teeth with an impish gaze.

“I’m just so young and impressionable,” You feign innocence, “I blame you.”

Joel's eyes darken, a mix of amusement and something more intense swirling in the depths of brown. Holding his eyes, you slide the glass against the counter and reach for your hat before placing it back on his head, a little on the snug side but still wearable.

“Kinda like it on you better,” You decide, adjusting the brim before your fingers trail toward his shoulders and settle there, feeling the muscle underneath twitch as he laughs, though you find yourself deadly serious and sincere, no longer meeting his eyes as yours trail toward the patch of hair at the center of his chest and down, a solid wall of muscle follow—Joel wasn’t defined, but he was large, intimidatingly so. When he wasn’t riding, he was building, working with his hands, lifting and moving things around the ranch, it was mouthwatering to watch.

“Eyes up, sugar,” He warns, not realizing how dangerously low your hands had trailed before your fingers were folding over the open seam of his jeans and how blatantly obvious it was that Joel wasn’t wearing anything underneath and how his cock had swelled slightly with your proximity and innocent touches.

You feel a rush of excitement as your fingers brush against the warm skin just beneath the waistband of his jeans. Joel's breath hitches, his hand moving to grip your wrist firmly.

“But, you’re—”

Joel shakes his head dismissively, “Can’t help that part—bein’ around you ain’t easy lately.”

In any other circumstance you would take those words harshly, but you can see the pain on his face, the self-restraint he’s holding himself to.

“I can—we can,” You offer, legs spreading on their own as you turn toward him, fitting him between your thighs as you lean into him, “I mean—it isn’t like you’ll be stealing my virtue. I’m not that innocent, Joel.”

Joel's grip on your wrist tightens, his jaw clenching as he struggles to maintain control.

You can see the conflict in his eyes—desire warring with his sense of propriety.

Impatient, you surge upwards, pressing your lips against his with a hunger he hasn’t seen from you before, taking advantage of his parted mouth and dragging your tongue across his top lip, feeling the restrain in the way he kisses you back subdued with his hesitant touch.

“Think about—what you’re—askin’ for,” Joel interrupts through hurried kisses, his hand curling around the side of your neck to push you back, “What this’ll mean for you.”

“I think you should fuck me,” You respond crudely, “besides—you kissed me first.”

His resolve wavers, and you seize the opportunity.

Your free hand slides up his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your palm. Joel's eyes flutter closed for a moment, a soft groan escaping his lips at the indecent sight of you looking up at him, lips parted on a breath and eyes wide with desire.

Joel never made great choices, only what felt right in the moment.

And somehow, it has led him here.

“We shouldn’t,” He says softly, “s’just another distraction.”

“My mind has never been more clear, Joel,” You argue.

Joel’s resistance is weakening quickly and with a low growl, he’s capturing your lips in a searing kiss, his hand leaving your wrist to grip your hip with a natural possessiveness, the same touch he lends while you’re riding, not an entirely different circumstance, but the intention is loud. You moan into his mouth, arching against him as his fingers dig into your flesh.

“Slow down, cowboy,” You tease, flicking at the hat, your laugh breaking through the tension as Joel parts for a brief second, watching your fingers fold around the hem of your shirt, “help me?”

It’s devious, you know, he knows it.

But, he listens.

The moment your shirt is thrown to the floor, Joel’s jaw slackens.

Instinctually, his thumb drifts over your nipples, circling the areola before he’s using the full expanse of his grip to cup your breasts, maneuvering the barstool until you’re leaning against the marble top, his lips latching onto your skin, tongue alternate as they circle the sensitive buds.

He’ll repent later, much later.

A gasp escapes you when he grazes his teeth against your nipple, sending a spark of pleasure through your body.

"Joel," you breathe, arching into his touch. He hums against your skin, the vibration sending shivers down your spine. He knew exactly what he was doing, hesitance out the window and replaced with newfound confidence.

His hands slide down your sides, rough calluses catching on your soft skin as he explores every inch of you. When his fingers reach the waistband of underwear, he pauses, looking up at you for guidance and surety.

You nod eagerly, lifting your hips in time with his tug, pulling the damp fabric down your legs and leaving you bare. The cool air hits your heated skin, making you shiver with anticipation. Joel's eyes rake over your naked form, hunger evident in his eyes.

And you learn quickly that his skilled hands and fingers aren’t entirely for show, two fingers to start as they push inside of your cunt, head tilted back into his empty hand as he watches you carefully - the quickened breath as he curls his fingers, eyes fluttering shut when he reaches a sensitive spot deep inside of you, gasping for air while he brushes it once, twice, until you’re nothing but a sobbing mess, crying out his name until you come over his fingers, the butt of his palm pressed against your clit for added measure.

“She loves me, don’t she?” Joel teases, the gall of that man.

You offer a pathetic sound of acknowledgement, Joel's eyes never leaving your face as you come undone, drinking in every gasp and shudder. As your climax subsides, he slowly withdraws his fingers, bringing them to his lips. His tongue darts out, cleaning up the mess you’ve made, his chest rumbling with a deep groan.

You’ve had enough.

You reach for his jeans, fumbling weakly as you push them down, desperate for as much of him as you could consume—all of him, preferably.

His arousal is evident as you rid him of his jeans, watching as he kicks away the tangled mess to fit himself between your spread legs, his cock bobbing freely against his stomach, thick and heavy against your thigh as you pull him closer. You wrap your hand around his cock, stroking slowly, reveling in the way his breath hitches and his hips buck involuntarily.

"I’m good," You assure him without elaborating, guiding him towards your entrance—you could talk later, too desperate to feel him inside of you.

Joel hesitates for a moment, searching your eyes. Whatever he sees seems to convince him, both of your breaths holding as he presses inside with slow, hesitant thrusts.

The sensation steals your words, knowing just by the sight of him that it would be pushing what you were used to, and no fumbling hands either, sure in every touch he laid upon you.

The way he squeezed at your hip and curled his other hand around the back of your neck, protecting you from the hard edge of the counter before he’s slinging your arms over his neck and nearly knocking the barstool to the floor as he leans into you, his hips picking up in their intensity as he listens to your body and your voice, distant and soft but there, floating in some ethereal plane of pleasure.

Your fingers dig into Joel’s shoulders, moaning at how he fills you in the most satisfying way, amiss to the bite of the counter in your back as the chair creaks and rocks with Joel’s hurried movement, breath hot against your neck where he’s buried himself.

“Jesus, sweetheart,” He sighs, mouthing his way to your ear, hissing at the sting of your grip and with that his thrusts become deeper, more forceful— each one pushing you further over the edge. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, wanting more.

Joel’s lips find yours frantically, in desperation as he groans, a low rumble that seeps into your own mouth, “Gonna gimme one more,” He tells you,

You nod fervently, barely able to form words as Joel's movements grow more insistent.

His hand slips between your bodies, finding that sensitive bundle of nerves and circling it with a precision that leaves you breathless. The dual sensations of his thick length filling you and his skilled touch on your clit quickly push you towards the precipice.

“Good, good,” He coos, soothing your weak cries with his mouth as your voice muffles under his guise, kissing you soundly, “go on—let go for me,”

His words push you over the edge and you come undone while Joel follows, burying himself deep inside you with a guttural moan, coming forceful and deep, fucking his spend deeper inside of you as reality resurfaces too soon.

“You alright?” Joel asks almost immediately, slipping out of you with a soft grunt.

The barstool creaks ominously as you adjust yourself and Joel chuckles.

“Probably not the sturdiest spot for that,” He jokes, thankful for the levity as he helps you stand, unsteady on your legs and held up by his firm grip, “I’m blamin’ you for that one.”

The grin it brings out of you is worth the slight discomfort you feel.

You shrug, nonchalant and admit defeat, “Guilty,”

Austin, Texas — Present Day:

He’s not supposed to be here.

There was always a plan, something tucked away in his back pocket.

This time it was the element of surprise and a mix of fear, eyes landing on him for the first time since he rushed onto Joel’s property, half-cocked and throwing out demands where he had no position or right.

He knows what he’s doing, eyes locked with yours from several feet away.

“Guest speaker?” Joel asks, the words biting as they leave his mouth, “Seriously?”

“It’s okay,” It was a mantra to yourself mostly, but Joel hears you, “I know what he’s trying to do—it won’t work.”

“You say the word, I’ll take care of it,” Joel promises.

You smirk slightly, rubbing your hand against his cheek and offering a reassuring squeeze.

“Easy, cowboy,” You offer lightheartedly, “I can handle myself.”

Joel’s Ranch, Two Months Ago — Flashback:

You knew he’d figure it out eventually.

For a while he believed the lie—that you had been transferred to a beautiful place in Florida that dealt with injury and rehabilitation for your line of work and he accepted that, kept his distance.

He almost followed through on his reconciliation with Joel, that is, until he sees you at his side.

It was such a natural moment for the both of you now, Joel’s arm slung around your waist as he pulled you in, lips pressing against your temple before you both called it for the day, Honey’s head slipping between your hands as she noses at your head, suddenly whining at the shadowed intruder as he grew close.

At the sound of his voice, you fade away.

You’re still here, standing, but Joel’s protectiveness jumps out instantly.

The words were loud and harsh, but the moment you snap back is as your father’s hand squeezes at your bicep and yanks you forward, immediately met with resistance.

“I forbid it,” He shouts, “whatever brainwashin’ you’ve done to my kid, it’s over.”

“Forbid it?” You counter, “Do you hear yourself?”

“Always liked makin’ a show of things,” He sounds bitter, he is, “come on, we’re leaving.”

“No,” You tell him, voice unrecognizably strong, “I’m finally doing something for myself.”

Your father's face contorts, a mix of anger and betrayal etched into every wrinkle. He takes a step forward, his voice lowering to a dangerous growl. "For yourself? You think leaving everything behind and letting him influence you is for yourself?"

Joel shifts behind you, a ghosting of his fingers against your back but you don’t waver.

"Yes, for myself," you say, shocked at the steadiness in your voice. “I deserve a chance to figure things out my own way, I don’t have to follow the same path you did.”

Your father scoffs, shaking his head. "Your own way? You don't even know what that means, honey. All we built together, you’re ready to throw that away for him—”

"We?" you interrupt, feeling a surge of frustration. "You built that, Dad. I was a kid, I did what I was told.” It was clear he still saw you as a young girl, his protege, destined to take over after he was gone and carry on the legacy.

The silence that follows is deafening.

Your father's eyes narrow, searching your face as if seeing you for the first time. You weren’t the same young girl who stared at him wide-eyed, amazed by his ability to wow the crowd and commit to everything he did. The disappointment in his gaze morphs into something else—hurt.

“I’m not gonna sit and wait around if he breaks your heart,” Your father tells you, “let alone how inappropriate it is—you try justifyin’ that to the public. I see what this is and what you did.”

His eyes land on Joel.

Fortunately, he couldn’t be more wrong.

Austin, Texas — Present Day:

The truth was, no one cared.

You and Joel had created an amazing partnership with natural chemistry and it seared the crowds, grabbed their attention, all eyes on you when you finally took your run out in the arena.

It was weeks that had built to this, following through your routine almost masterfully and without missing a beat, ending with a flourish trick as you stood on Honey’s back for the hundredth time it felt like now, not a single waver in your movement and lasso’d the cowboy hat from the middle of the ring and yanked it in, placing it on your head before the crowd erupted in a loud cheer.

It was the feeling you had searched for since you were younger, fulfillment like no other.

Your father’s appearance couldn’t be further from your mind and as you dismounted Honey and took your bow, your eyes searched the side for the one face that mattered most. Joel's proud grin beamed at you from across the arena, his eyes locked on yours.

In that moment, the roar of the crowd faded away and it was him.

Joel’s Ranch, One Month Ago — Flashback:

You feel guilty for the way your eyes linger on his back as Buttercup trots around the ring, distracted and smiling to yourself as you step onto the railing and lean over with your forearms.

“Focus,” Joel chirps, “c’mon—put on your best voice.”

You clear your throat dramatically and lower your tone a bit, fighting through the giggles.

“You know him, you love him,” You bellow from deep in your chest, “It’s Old Timer!”

Joel chuckles, “That was horrible, baby.”

“So what?” You shrug, “I know him, I love him—point proven.”

It was rare to get a glimpse of Joel like this, back in his element as you watched him run-through your routine without all the flair, offering a slightly different view—though, he knows it won’t help.

You were barely focused on the routine, preoccupied with how easily Joel could capture a room like this, noticing your glossed over gaze as he finishes and hops off his horse, walking over with a knowing smirk.

"You weren't paying attention at all, were you?" Joel teases, his voice low and intimate.

You feel a heat creep up your neck as you meet his gaze.

"I was... distracted," You admit sheepishly.

His smirk softens into a tender smile. "By what, exactly?"

“Not Joel,” You clarify, grabbing hold of his collar as you pull him close, leaning over to press a gentle kiss to his cheek, “I like it when you ride, Old Timer.”

“All I gotta do is hop on a horse to make you swoon?” Joel asks, the skin around his eyes crinkling with the emotion as he blushes at the affection.

“Among other things.”

“Done and done, sweetheart.”

divider graphics: @saradika-graphics <3

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #pedro pascal #joel miller #the last of us #tlou #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #kedsandtubesocks wild ride #my writing

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studiogrimm810 · 2 months ago

Text

It Ends With Him

// Jackson!Joel Miller x you

summary: you’re alone. you’ve lost everything and you don’t even know how you can continue to go on without your son anymore. just as you accept your inevitable fate, an old companion finds you and and gives you a new purpose // 1.4k // base content: grief, child loss, thoughts of giving up, hypothermia, you and joel are more than friends, you knew joel from before the outbreak.

A/N: hello!! this is my first ‘joel x’ fic and i reeeeally wanna do more!! feel free to send in requests. you can check out some of my other fandom work on my page :]

The shelves were picked clean long before your arrival, you knew not to expect much, but you were really starting to lose hope of finding anything at this point.

You had been on your own for too long now, starting to see things in the shadows that weren’t clickers and hearing his voice just as you closed your eyes to rest.

Hope was fleeting fast from your veins.

The icy winter air raked over your exposed skin like shards of glass and you were honestly surprised at one point when you found no blood in its wake. Your joints ache from constant trek through the ocean of snow coating the dense skeleton of once flourishing flora.

Just a few more steps…

The words echoed around your skull, the same things you told him when all hell broke loose at the QZ all those years ago. It didn’t work for him so how could you be selfish enough to think it would work for you now?

You don’t know what fueled your mindless footsteps as you continued to hike through the snow, it’s not like you had anything to live for at this point, but whatever it was it wasn’t patient.

It ignored your feet that felt on fire and it belittled the edge you were about to leap off of in your own consciousness.

You were ready. Ready for the snow to drown you and ready to leave behind the planet the fell victim to its own mother. Ironic.

Ice seeped through your jeans and kissed your knees, running along your legs that gave out and settled you in the plush snow. It was time. You smiled.

Falling back to sit between your own swollen heels, snow devoured more of your body, sinking you deeper into the icy coffin you knew to always be yours.

Nothing on this Earth was for you now and the supplies you’ve yet to stumble on during your weeks alone was obvious proof.

The snow froze your skin, inking up your limbs and over your torso. Freezing claws pulling you deeper as you relaxed fully, letting your eyes laze shut.

You heard his voice calling for you again, but this time it was a greeting and not a bloody goodbye. You couldn’t tell if you were smiling anymore because the freezing blanket suffocated your own muscles.

It’s time.

———

Your muscles felt cemented, heavy and stiff. It was different than sleep paralysis, you could move, but it felt like you were buried under mounds of sand.

When you tried to take a full breath, your lungs only stretched so far and the burn in your throat made you cough.

Whatever room you were in was small and warm. Your body trembled, toes and fingers like ice, but you could feel your core thawing.

This isn’t Heaven, you knew it immediately because if it were, your son would already be wrapped around your neck. Whatever is left of your heart shatters and you mentally curse whatever cosmic being fucked you over so hard to keep fighting for no fucking reason.

This Earth had no right to hold you prisoner. It’s been long enough and you’re starting to think that you should’ve just done the job yourself.

Your name is called, but not your mother-given legal name that you stuck to because the only one that mattered after the outbreak was ‘mom’, no it was.. it was your name. A simple spin on your legal name, sure, but a name that only those from the old world knew.

Only people like…

“Here, drink some water.” Thick like molasses and sweet like syrup, a dampened southern drawl that you thought died with the rest of Austin. “C’mon, stay with me here, ya’ gotta open those eyes.” Aged like wine and pained by time, you know him.

Opening your eyes against the scratchy sand blanketing you 20 feet deep is hell but you have to be sure. A chill runs through your body and you convulse forward, squinting in the, honestly not so harsh, light of the room you’re in.

Cloudy vision blurs the face you already know it to be, and as he speaks again you’re convinced that it really is him.

“Hey, darlin’, you gave me quite the scare there,” he breathes out in a nervous scoff. His voice is lighter than it was a few moments ago. “Thought I found ya’ just to lose you again,” his voice is somber, a gateway to his deeper and more complex feelings of your sudden appearance, you don’t think either of you care to sit aside and assess the situation.

“Joel.?” Your voice is raspy and not your own, frozen and shattered from the bitter cold of whatever hellscape Joel has been holed up in all this time.

“It’s me,” he assures, following with your name again. A word that sounds like poetry in your eyes and ecstasy off his own tongue.

“Where am I? What is this?” You grumble out, trying to push yourself up, but the stiffness of your sore, overused and freezer burnt, muscles mock you and push you back into the cot beneath you with a heft.

“Jackson, Wyoming,” his voice is followed by the scratch of a chair that he must be pulling up to sit beside you. “It’s a settlement my brother Tommy helps run. You remember Tommy, donchya?” His warm hand grips your own lithe fingers and he feels like fire. You hum in contentment, closing your eyes to settle the spinning room.

“Yeah, Tommy and Sarah, could never forget them,” you look over to him, no longer struggling with blinking the blur out of your vision. You see him clearly now. Aged, warm skin lined with wrinkles, salt and peppered hair, a scar on his temple and the same glassy eyes that held so much love for you and his family.

You separated yourself from his family for the same reason you separated Joel from your son. Neither of you wanted to complicate your children’s lives so to them, you and Joel were barely neighbors who helped babysit, that’s all.

But behind closed doors, on nights when you could manage to sneak away without suspicion, you were something beyond lovers. Something that defied traditional laws of love and settled deep into your gut with unwavering support in the background. You were each other's rocks.

His eyes softened, though. They dropped down to your interlocked fingers, anchoring back to old habits and quick glances, and he nods only once before speaking again.

“Just Tommy, hon,” he brings his face back up but his eyes go to your hairline where he pushes some defiant strands back. Your heart breaks, echoing the grief of a lost child.

It’s quiet as the news settles and his grip tightens slightly, almost unnoticeable by the state of your frozen limbs.

“Me too, Joel,” you choke out, trying to caress a soothing thumb along the back of his hand but your muscles are still so useless that it’s more jerky than calming.

“I’m so sorry,” his eyes meet yours again, somehow holding every emotion he’s wished to bless you with the past 20-some years you’ve been separated.

You didn’t understand why you were forced to keep going after losing your boy all those years ago. For a while, you were numb and would fend for yourself. Then you manipulated your way into some groups to pick up the slack of traveling alone, but inevitably you always ended up alone. And after each departure from another era in your life, you swore that one day the Earth would swallow you up and your time would come soon, but it never did.

Maybe that’s because there was never a scale deciding what you must go through to earn rewards.

Maybe it was because you fucked up so badly in ways you didn’t recognize that solitude was your penance.

Or maybe, it was the love of your life waiting for you in a safe haven where you could live the rest of your lives together and relearn each other.

Maybe, in all of this soul-rotting madness of the world, there was still a chance to patch together what was broken and build a better outcome for each other.

Maybe it was to supply the loud-mouthed moody teenager that Joel took on a chance at a life that was hard to come by these days.

And maybe it was to watch her grow into her own person, being there for her and finding bits of your lost children in her.

Nothing could pave the cavern of grief carved into your very being, but there had to be a reason it didn’t swallow you whole.

And maybe Joel Miller was the reason.

thank you so much for reading <3

#the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller angst #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller comfort

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lvrclerc · 3 months ago

Text

✶ STEAL YOUR HEART, TONIGHT!

summary: after the united states grand prix, the drivers decide to immerse themselves in the true american experience by going to the most infamous coyote ugly in austin to celebrate ─ needless to say, max is in for a culture shock, and maybe a little heart attack when one of the coyotes seems to take a fancy to him.

F1 MASTERLIST | MV33 MASTERLIST

pairing: max verstappen x coyote!f!reader

wc: 7.6k

cw: reader is implied to be southern/has a southern accent, reader smokes, alcohol, english is not my first language, sexual/romantic tension, i know next to nothing about coyote ugly this is based on vibes and vibes alone, use of y/n, bittersweet towards the end.

note: the idea of max verstappen just stepping in a coyote ugly is so funny to me. here's to lei @cntappen who wanted to see a max fic!

WARNING!

You may get wet

You may lose your tie

You may lose your bra

No men on the bar

No touching the girls on the bar - even if it’s your own girlfriend, do that at home!

We don’t serve free water

If you pick a bad song on the jukebox, you may get skipped

If you are easily offended, this isn’t the bar for you

Be nice and have fun!

YOU WILL GET DRUNK, YOU WILL GET UGLY!

What did Max get into?

The words were written hastily on a board in front of the bar with a black marker, making him wonder how it successfully stood the test of time. The night was dark around the slightly weathered wooden structure, but the obnoxious neon red sign made each detail of the street clear as day: COYOTE UGLY.

It looked like something out of a bad, anachronic Western film ─ scratched paint, flickering lights, the low hum of American dad rock vibrating through the walls. Still, there was a line out of the door and people littering the front porch ─ girls in jean shorts and cowboy hats yelling to each other above the music, guys already stumbling out with their shirts unbuttoned too far.

Daniel was the one who insisted.

He flew in to watch the United States Grand Prix, as it would be the only one he’d be free enough to attend and it had been a little while since he caught up with some of the drivers ─ including Max, Max who had been the happy winner of the aforementioned Grand Prix. “Come on Maxie,” he’d said that afternoon wearing a cowboy hat he definitely didn’t pack. “After-parties are always the same. Fake VIP tables, same music, same people. We need something different for tonight! Something fun!”

Max had muttered that he was fine drinking in a familiar place and that nobody really went partying after Austin anyway ─ it was just another win, and they had a day to pack for Mexico. That was without knowing Daniel, obviously, who had already sent a group text. Much to Max's surprise ─ note the sarcasm ─ most of the drivers had declined due to exhaustion and the general reputation of Coyote Ugly. He thought that would be the end of it, until Lando, Carlos, Pierre and surprisingly Charles had all jumped at the idea like it was the goddamn social event of the season.

Mostly because Daniel had the talent to sell a bad idea to someone like a lawyer. And that─ that explained why Max was there.

Carlos was already walking ahead of them, sunglasses on despite the fact it was nearly midnight, yelling something to a drunkard behind him in fast Spanish. Charles trailed behind, squinting at the building like he was trying to figure out if the neon sign was ironic or a warning ─ Max concluded he didn’t look up what a Coyote Ugly was before tagging along. Lando was busy taking a selfie with a wannabe cowboy and cowgirl who stopped him, already in his element.

And now Max stood between Daniel and Pierre, outside this absurdly American fever dream of a bar, and he was pretty sure people were getting murdered inside. He wondered if Daniel had finally lost his mind.

“You’re going to thank me for this,” the latter declared, hands out like he was presenting a five-star resort instead of a glorified wooden box.

Max raised a brow. “No. I’m already regretting this.”

“I love it personally,” interjected Pierre. “Smells like tequila and questionable decisions.”

Daniel threw an arm around Max’s shoulders. “See? That’s the spirit. Come on, Max. Live a little. You just won a Grand Prix, you should be dancing somewhere.”

“I’m a driver, not a dancer. Especially not that type of dancer,” he deadpanned.

Pierre smirked. “You might not have a choice. I saw a line dance when I passed by the window, and someone getting body shots done on the bar.”

“You’re fucking kidding.” Max could feel himself blanching.

Daniel grinned like the devil himself, and Max wondered why he wasn’t in his hotel room. “Oh it’s real, mate. You’re in America─ home of deep-fried butter and girls with fire hoses full of Jack Daniels.”

Lando, who had finally rejoined them, snorted. “You sound wayyy too excited about this.”

“I am! This is culture,” Daniel insisted. “This is history. This is─”

He was cut off as someone inside screamed, followed by the unmistakable sound of a whip cracking. Max stared at the entrance, eyes narrowing at the figure of a woman sliding across the bar and before he could catch another glimpse─ the blur of the people inside blocked his view.

“... Is that even legal?” He asked.

Daniel just patted his back in fake reassurance. “Too late to back out now, champ.”

He ran to catch up with Carlos in front of them, leaving Max stranded in his own hesitation. Was he really going to…?

Pierre laughed, following suit. Well, he guessed it was indeed too late to back out, and Max never left things unfinished, after all.

The door slammed behind him like a final warning.

The heat of the bar hit Max like a punch. Everything was sweaty, loud, alive, sticking to his skin and prickling it. The floor vibrated beneath his feet from the raucous movements of the crowd, barely walkable, and the scent of whiskey and cheap perfume hung in the air. People were everywhere ─ dancing, shouting, laughing, adding to the bass escaping from the humongous, vintage jukebox in the back of the room.

Someone threw a bra across the room and no one even flinched. Carlos cheered.

It was lawless. Much more than what Max was used to.

“Welcome to America, baby!” Daniel hollered over the music, arms spread around him like he’d just stepped into a holy place.

Max shot him a look, dread comfortably installed in the pit of his stomach. He brushed someone’s feather boa off his arm with a scoff. “Is that what you call fun?”

“A little different from Monaco bottle service, huh?” Daniel grinned.

“Right now I’m just doubting your taste in bars.”

“Eh…,” the Australian clapped him on the back. “It builds character.”

Why would someone want to get literally hosed down with whiskey to build character, Max didn’t know ─ and it’s not like he pulled the example out of his ass: a guy was taking a whiskey shower in the middle of the room, given by a girl in very tight clothing and run-down chaps standing on the bar.

He squinted. “How is this even sanctioned?”

“Man, you ask yourself way too many questions, just enjoy! Look at the others, at least they’re already having fun.”

Carlos was already gone, swallowed up by a pack of cowboy boots and red lipstick, while Lando and Charles were making their way toward the bar with wide eyes and the kind of expression Max hadn’t seen since their karting days. Pierre vanished. Someone bumped into his shoulder so hard it almost knocked the wind out of him.

In the end, he just sighed. He wouldn’t win that fight. “If I get anything poured on me, I’m leaving.”

Daniel laughed. “Don’t worry, they’ll only do it if you ask. Or not. Anyways, let’s get a drink!”

Max started walking toward the bar, following in Lando and Charles’ footsteps before Daniel could even finish his sentence. If he wanted to survive the evening ─ hell, even just the ambiance ─ he needed something to keep him going. Preferably cold. Preferably strong. Preferably now.

But that’s when the music shifted, the lights dimmed ever so slightly, and suddenly ─ everything changed.

A warm glow from old projectors cut through the red haze, casting gold across the surface of the bar like a spotlight, and just like that, the crowd moved. Turned their heads toward the long wooden structure like it was a stage and not the stickiest surface in Texas. Someone behind Max let out a whoop so loud it nearly startled him, “Hell yeah, that’s what I’m talking about!”

In the shuffles of bodies and beer, Max lost sight of Daniel completely.

He would have cared in any other circumstances, and maybe a part of him did at the moment, but he was only human ─ his gaze caught on the bar as well. More specifically, his gaze caught on you as you stepped into the light.

Crimson red cowboy boots first, planted strongly on the bar top, followed by the curve of your legs and the ripped, distressed hem of your shorts, the glint of a belt buckle looking like it carried multiple stories. Your tank top clung to your skin in the heat, and you were probably drenched in something ─ what, Max wouldn’t want to guess. Your hair was catching on the light, wildfire-like, almost matching the red neons. One of your hands lifted in the air, claiming the moment, and the other held a mic ─ beat up, wrapped up in tape, completely yours.

You didn’t ask for the attention of the people in front of you, no. You commanded it.

“LET’S WAKE THIS DAMN CITY UP!” You shouted into the mic, voice hoarse and tone ecstatic, and the whole room erupted.

And the music kicked in again, louder this time ─ an unapologetic, southern rock anthem beating against the wall. You dropped low, hips rolling to the beat while your hands gripped the metal bar above you to keep you on your feet. You popped back up with a loud, teasing laugh, and, mid spin, someone handed you a bottle. You poured the liquor straight into a row of open mouths, feeding the fire you started.

Max couldn’t get himself to look away.

If all the other bartenders, or coyotes as Lando affectionately corrected earlier in the night, looked like they performed the overt confidence, you didn’t: you looked in your element, basking in the spotlight, the attention and the smell of burnt wood. And it wasn’t just the way you moved, no ─ it was the way you owned it. Unbothered, untouchable. Like the bar was yours. The music, the night? Yours too.

And then for a second, just one ─ you looked at him. Dead in the eyes, over the crowd. Over the sweat and light and noise, and you threw him a grin.

You caught him staring.

It should have been meaningless, the moment barely lasted enough to make note of it, but Max’s breath still hitched. The beat of the music wasn’t the only thing making his heart stutter off rhythm.

The chaos dulled, the music softened and just like that, you were gone. Lost behind the bar in the sea of bodies crawling in front of it. Max blinked. He wondered if he hallucinated you.

He shook his head to get rid of the haze his mind settled into. Before he could have time to think about anything else, or even try, an arm dropped around his shoulders and a cowboy hat was on his head. Daniel had reappeared. “What a show, huh?” He said.

“Where’d you go?” Max asked, rearranging the hat on his head. He knew that if he took it off now, Daniel would be quick to put it back on.

“Went to fetch you this. Stole it from someone puking in the corner,” Max's nose scrunched at the mental image. “Come on, let’s finally get that drink. Maybe the Coyote you’ve been ogling during the whole perf’ will serve you.”

He protested. “I wasn’t ogling.” Because he wasn’t. I mean ─ what else was he supposed to do? Look at the ground while you danced? But Daniel was already on his way toward the bar and this time, Max followed him without much of a complaint. Mainly because he had been eyeing the spot you disappeared behind for the entire conversation.

People crowded around the wooden counter like it was a lifeboat. Arms waving, voices raised, someone yelling for shots and someone else already halfway to a table with three beers in each hand. The bartenders, sorry, Coyotes, moved like machines ─ fast, efficient, ruthless. Max tucked himself between Daniel and Pierre, who had reappeared as well, with difficulty.

And then, he spotted you again.

It was more like flashes of you, really. A hand catching a bottle mid-air. A flash of glitter on your cheek. A bandana tied around your wrist. Your voice cut through the air like smoke, low and teasing and just loud enough to carry. That’s what made Max’s head snap ─ it was unsettlingly recognizable, even after hearing so little of it.

“That’s your third tequila, cowboy. You aiming to dance or blackout first?”

Someone laughed ─ a rough, lovesick sound ─ and you grinned without looking up as you slid another shot glass across the bar. Through their drunk delusions, everyone around the table probably assumed they were in love with you, Max thought.

He stepped up, hands braced against the edge of the counter, waiting. That was when you turned and for the second time tonight, you looked right at him, as if feeling his presence before he could even call for another bartender.

Jesus fuck─ up close, you were something else entirely. Sun-warmed and sun-kissed skin, your cheeks were flushed from the heat along with your sweat-slicked collarbones. Your lips were pulled into the kind of smirk he’s sure could cause car crashes, and your eyes sparkled under the bar lights ─ like you knew exactly what he was searching for.

If you did, spare the poor soul and tell him, because Max wasn’t sure he wanted that drink anymore.

“You lost?” You asked. Your tone was smooth, a southern accent dripping from every word. God, that was dangerous.

Max blinked. Oh, he was gaping. “No,” he affirmed, a little too harshly.

Your eyes, intense, dragged over him, twinkling a little brighter than before. “You look lost.”

Max suddenly felt very conscious of how much he had to be sticking out. He had no outfits or items of clothing that fit this type of place ─ the light-washed jeans, the tennis shoes, and the black, short-sleeved shirt with his Formula One number in the back was as casual as he could do without looking homeless. The cowboy hat had to add some more ridiculousness to it, he realized.

He cleared his throat, frowning slightly. He usually wasn’t one to really care about outfits. “Just a drink, please.”

You leaned in, close enough that Max could smell your perfume. Warm, sugary, intoxicating. “Name your poison, pretty boy.”

Pretty boy. He gulped. For fuck’s sake, where did the confidence he had a few hours earlier go, when he was brandishing the Austin trophy?

“Whatever’s strongest.” God knows he needs it right now.

You just gave him a look ─ just the faintest eyebrow raise, clearly amused. Grabbing a bottle from behind you with practiced ease, you poured without measuring, slid a glass toward him with one hand, and propped the other on your hip, where Max’s eyes lingered a little too long.

“Try that,” you said. “If it doesn’t knock the edge off, I’ll give you a second round for free.”

He reached for the glass. You looked too smug, challenging him like he was no one to you, which he probably was. But Max liked a challenge, he was known for never backing out after all. He handled stronger for sure and America wasn’t the place that was about to teach him alcohol. He threw the whole glass back.

It burned.

His eyes watered, and Max coughed so hard he thought fire was about to spill out from his esophagus. You, on the other hand, looked delighted, grinning widely at his misery.

“You hate it.”

“I didn’t say that.”

You laughed, and the sound echoed in Max’s chest like cathedral bells, so violently he froze. Must be the alcohol.

Noticing his lack of retort, you leaned your elbows onto the bar, eyes dancing. “Aww, ain’t you too pretty to be looking this miserable?”

You were going to be the death of him. The corner of your mouth curled as if you’d just lit up a fuse. Max swallowed, slowly recovering from the short circuit your voice alone had triggered. “Is that how you greet all of your customers─ uh…” He choked out, searching for your name on your shirt.

“Y/N.” The name sounded good sliding off your tongue. Max felt the need to know how it felt sliding off his. “And only the ones who look like they took a wrong turn at a country club,” you commented, chin propped in your hand, eyes still locked on his. Touché. “You got that look─ y’know, European.” You whispered that as if it was a bad word. “Quiet, repressed. Secretly judging everyone.”

“That’s harsh.” He raised an eyebrow. “I’m not judging.” He was. He just wasn’t judging you.

“Sure you’re not, Verstappen.”

Oh. Your tone was casual, tossed off like nothing ─ but the sound of his name in your mouth made something flicker in his chest. Not how you said it, even though the accent and the inflections played a part in it, but the fact you said it at all.

You knew who he was, and clearly ─ you didn’t give two shits.

“Anyways,” you kept on going, oblivious or choosing not to care about the semi-amused grin that slipped on Max’s face. “The drink in your hand says otherwise.”

He glanced down. He threw the glass back, yes, but the liquid was so strong he couldn’t even get half of it down before choking on it. “I’m drinking it.”

“Barely.”

Max straightened a bit. “Okay. Fine.” Again, his tone was harsher than he actually meant it to be. He just didn’t know how to handle whatever was happening there ─ your smiles, your presence. “What should I be drinking then?”

You didn’t answer right away ─ just tilted your head, eyes sweeping over him slowly, deliberately, like you were appraising a new kind of game. It sent shivers down his spine, and he was deeply ashamed to say he was enjoying it. “You trust me, pretty boy?”

There was the nickname again. “I don’t not trust you,” which was as far as he could go after knowing you for a dance and a drink. Maybe he needed more. Just to make sure you wouldn’t poison him.

“That’s a whole lotta syllables for yes!” You laughed, already moving, pulling down bottles Max could barely recognize, tossing ice into a shaker with a rhythm that matched the beat of the song playing overhead. Your hands moved fast, confident, dancing between ingredients as if you were born behind this bar.

Max was fast, yes, but not in the way you were ─ intricate, careful. Just like that, he was hypnotized again, eyes tracing your every movement.

It broke when you slid another drink toward him. Something golden, fizzing at the top, smelling like citrus and vanilla. Like you. “Go on, drink.”

He eyed the glass. “What’s in it?”

“You said you trusted me.”

“You put the words in my mouth.”

You barked out a surprised laugh. “Either drink or I’m telling your lil’ blond friend with the camera you can’t handle your liquor,” you nodded behind Max with a sharp grin. “Wonder how that’ll go down.”

He glanced over his shoulder, and Lando had his camera zeroed on him in a way that may have tried to be discreet but miserably failed. Max muttered a curse. First, because Lando had the bad habit of filming everything and for it to get leaked the day after ─ so if their little outing wasn’t public information already, it would be by tomorrow morning. Second, based on his first point, he couldn’t possibly be dragged through the dirt for going to a Coyote Ugly and have the reputation of a lightweight. His Dutch heritage would look like a joke. Max brought the glass to his lips.

It tasted like heat, honey, whiskey, and something floral he couldn’t name. “That’s… actually good.”

“Told you you should trust me,” you said, pleased. “Don’t worry your pretty little head, I taste-test all the cocktails before I serve them. I’m not that much of a degenerate.”

You wet your lips, and Max’s eyes caught onto them for a split second. He wouldn’t let himself acknowledge the thought that almost formed in his head.

Instead, he blinked. “Are you always like this?”

“Like what?”

“So… intense.” It was a genuine question. He met people with fire, he worked with them daily, and he could consider himself one in a way ─ however, it was the contained kind. The one that was shaped to work toward a goal. You were a forest fire, spreading, in constant reach of something. Max was sure your fingerprints could burn themselves on his skin if you let them linger long enough.

You laughed ─ loud and shameless. “Apparently. Tends to flare up when I’m bored.”

And maybe it was the alcohol, or the raucous crowd ignoring you both entirely, making it seem like you had your own, private sphere, but Max leaned forward, just enough to make your eyes imperceptibly widen by the action. It made his stomach lurch with a strange kind of pride. “And are you bored right now?”

You looked at him, gaze heavy with meaning. “Not anymore.”

Max felt something stir low in his chest ─ heat, curiosity, the burn of your drink still coating his throat. He wished he could have lingered on it, maybe make sense of it but you took it from him, leaning back and breaking the tension with a sly glint in your eyes. A reminder you were in control of the room.

“You ever poured a shot before, pretty boy?” You asked.

That was a change of topic. “Uh─ no?”

“Well, that’s about to change.”

Before he could argue, or even ask what you meant, your fingers stroked his wrist and he forgot about everything he was going to say. That’s when you tugged him forward, He didn’t resist, more out of shock than anything else, but next thing he knew he was behind the bar, ducking under the pass-through from which Coyotes went and left. Pushing him into your world.

The heat was much worse with the change of scenery ─ the lights brighter, the music louder, you right next to him.

“Are we─ Am I even allowed back there?” Max asked, stumbling slightly as he knocked into a pack of plastic cups.

“Nope,” you answered cheerfully. Just as on cue, one of your colleagues piped up, something about ‘no men on the bar’ and the wooden board of warnings at the front of the bar flashed in Max’s mind. You flipped her off lightheartedly, saying something along the line that, technically, he wasn’t on the bar. Just behind it.

From under the counter, you took out a bottle of something probably lethal and a metal shaker. “Alright, Verstappen. Time to earn your keep ─ didn’t think those drinks were for free, were you?” So that’s what it was all about. “You’re gonna help me make a round of Flaming Coyotes.”

“No way in hell that’s a real drink,” Max frowned.

“Unfortunately yes,” you said, cracking ice into a tin. “And you’re gonna light it.”

Your fingers wrapped around his hand, and Max’s heart stuttered at how your whole palm could wrap around one of his fingers. You guided it to the matchbox you set on the bar. “Relax, I’m not gonna let you burn your eyebrows off… unless you’re chicken?” You gasped, mocking.

“You really want me to set something on fire? With no… prior experience?”

“Only a little.”

You’re insane, he thought. You’re insane and he was never going to leave this bar. But Max was not sure he wanted to leave as badly as he did earlier, that’s why he lit the match.

The crowd erupted when the flame caught on the shot glasses. In front of him, Pierre, Daniel, and Charles cheered and whooped as loudly as he could, and somehow Max forgot all about them in these 20 minutes. He looked up, breathless, adrenaline buzzing through his veins like engine oil. You were watching him carefully, looking like you’d just found something very interesting in me. “Look at you,” you said, tone playful. “Didn’t think you had it in you.”

And Max smiled ─ actually smiled, for the first time since this night started. Wide, boyish, and wrecked by it all, and fucking hell did he look good, you allowed yourself to think. His chest swelled with something as you smiled back. And maybe it was the fire, maybe it was the cheers. Or maybe it was you.

The following hours were spent in a blur.

Not the kind of blur Max was used to ─ it wasn’t the sharp edges of a race weekend or the post-win daze of podiums and press conferences. This was so much more different. Warm, messy in a way that curled around his senses and dimmed the seconds together until the clock disappeared.

Shots kept appearing in his hand like magic, and he went from behind to the front of the bar as he pleased ─ most of the bartenders called him an ‘Honorable Coyote’, which shouldn’t have been as funny as it was at the time. The jukebox never stopped switching music, keeping him on his toes. Lando and Pierre had stolen a mic at some point, or maybe you gave it to them for the hell of it, and slurred She’s Country by Jason Aldean so off-key some of the girls threatened to cut them off, splashing them with ice-cold water. Daniel had tried to climb on the bar twice, failing miserably because rules were rules, Charles was attempting to dance with a girl in a cowboy hat three sizes to big for her head, and Carlos was desperately explaining race strategies to a group of drunken Texan who clearly didn’t know what Formula One was.

And then there was you.

Always moving. Always glowing, whether it be from the sheen of your efforts or the loud, obnoxious ambiance that sublimed your features. You’d disappear back into the rhythm of the bar and the beat of the dance, your natural habitat, flinging bottles in the air, laughing as someone tried to kiss your hand and you sent them waltzing away, yelling over the crowd without care. And now Max was convinced people there didn’t simply think they were in love with you. They undoubtedly were ─ six steps in and all that. And he would have been bothered in any other circumstances.

But whenever Max looked up, he caught you looking at him. Every time, you smiled like you knew exactly what you were doing.

Max didn’t know how much time had passed by that point, only that his throat was dry, his cheeks flushed bright red and hurting from how much he laughed, the back of his neck scorching from something stronger than just alcohol. Somewhere along the way, the night had stopped being about celebrating a win and started being about you.

Maybe that’s how he got roped in a messy attempt at a line dance.

He tried to resist at first. Truly. Max still stood by what he said at the beginning of the night: he was a driver, not a dancer. But when you shouted to ask if everyone wanted to see an F1 World Champion do ‘a little two steps’ and everyone cheered, including his friends and colleagues, the traitors, he couldn’t bring himself to say no. Not when you stood so close to him.

You’re Easy On The Eyes by Terri Clark twanged through the jukebox, loud enough to rattle the shelves and the floorboards, while Max tried to follow your explanations. His hands were on his hips, knees knocking together as he mimicked you except he was two steps behind and overthinking it. You were outwardly mocking him by now. “Your coordination’s better in a car, huh?” You teased.

Max huffed. “You call this coordination?”

“Aw, don’t pout, baby. You’re trying.” He rolled his eyes and you stuck your tongue at him. Daniel was somewhere in the back, filming, but Max had tuned the world out.

Somehow, in the whirl of bodies, he caught you again, his hands instinctively flying to your waist to steady himself so he wouldn’t faceplant ─ that would be the highlight of his night. Before he could process it, and you always a step ahead of him, you grabbed the cowboy hat off his head and in one slick movement, settled it on yours with a wink. The crowd roared in approval. Someone let out a sharp whistle. Max wasn’t fluent enough in Southern to know what that meant, but the half-lidded look you gave him translated across every barrier.

Game on.

You roped him into much more after that. Max followed blindly, always rising to the challenge, stuck in the daze of you. In the decadence of Coyote Ugly. In the secrecy of the nighttime, where everything felt allowed and nothing had to make sense in the morning.

By the time he was able to breathe, he’d long dismissed the idea to try and find out where his friends had scattered to. The only thing he could feel was the warmth of your hand wrapped around his wrist, tugging him past the old, swinging saloon-style door and out in the thick, velvet air of the Texan night.

The back of the bar was quieter. The hum of crickets, the soft hum of the neon signs bleeding through ancient wooden slats, and the echo of music and laughter still pulsing behind closed doors. Cardboard boxes were lying around, swallowed by the wild, uncut grass. The sky was wide and open above him, seemingly endless, stars barely cutting through the heat haze but present nonetheless. Nobody was there apart from the two of you.

Back against the structure of the bar, Max quietly watched as you lit a cigarette next to him. It didn’t surprise him in the slightest. Wordlessly, you offered him your open back with a raised eyebrow.

“I don’t smoke.” He waved it off.

You shrugged, blowing a grey cloud out to the night. He didn’t mind it ─ driving every day of your life, you get used to the smell. “I don’t really like smoking either. It just gives my hands something to do.”

Max chuckled. That didn’t surprise him either, he already figured out life moved with you and not the contrary.

It seemed like you didn’t appreciate it when conversations stilled because you were quick to speak up again. “Didn’t think I’d see the day a world champion let a girl make a fool outta him in public,” you said, leaning against the wall. Your shoulder brushed his. The number of times you touched him tonight was too numerous to count, but this one felt different. Innocent.

Max threw a smile at you, eyes darting to his feet for a second, still a little glassy. “I’m not the type to mind.”

And that, for some reason, made you look at him. Actually look at him. The type of look stripping away the chaos, the teasing, the fire-breathing version of yourself you wore so proudly behind the bar. You looked at him and Max was faced with the fact that you were just ─ you. Still half-wild, still sharp, but a little less guarded under the moonlight.

He liked it. A lot.

“D’you always enjoy losing control that much, then?” You asked with a small smile.

Max’s lips parted to answer─ pausing.

He thought about it. How rare this was, to be in a place he didn’t understand perfectly, being in Formula One for 10 years, you get used to the pattern of events, and you know what to target when things don’t go your way to make them bend to your will. Right now, he was tangled in things whose sense escaped him, and did not want to run from it.

His voice was quieter when he finally answered. “Only tonight.”

You took that in with a nod and brought the cigarette back to your lips.

“I’m glad you came tonight, then.”

That was it. No confessions, no fireworks, but Max felt his chest tighten just the same. You were just two people, sharing the silence, letting the sticky Texas air settle into your skins, wondering what the hell would happen when tonight fades. He wasn’t ready to find out the answer yet.

So, Max asked, “What led you to this?”

“To what? Coyote Ugly?” You raised an eyebrow, blowing out a slow stream of smoke and watching it curl around the humidity.

“Yeah. Why do you do it?”

“That’s two different questions, pretty boy.”

“Guess I want an answer to both.”

You hesitated, not because you didn’t want to answer, but because no one ever asked. Not your friends, not your colleagues, much less your family who was less than understanding about your life choices.

You shifted your weight, eyes flicking toward the parking lot in the distance. “Well, I came in looking for a job, obviously.” Your voice was softer now. There was still a bit of tease around the commas, but not nearly as much. “Needed rent money. Didn’t want a desk.”

Max hummed. “Makes sense.”

You tapped the ash off the cigarette. “And then I stayed ‘cause… I dunno. You ever walk into a place and, as crazy as it sounds, even if it’s a mess, I mean like pure chaos, and wild and loud you think ─ yeah. This might be the only place I make sense? I get to perform. I get to be myself. Take up space. Alive, not rotting in place like I was scared to. I wasn’t allowed to… do all that before.”

“I get it.” He nodded.

“Didn’t think you would.”

“I race cars for a living. I get messy.”

It was meant to be a light answer, something thrown back with a crooked smile and a shrug ─ but as the words settled in the small space between you, something shifted.

Max looked out in the dark, the flicker of neon reflecting faintly off the metal of a rusted old pickup nearby. He let himself sink into the silence for a second, and you waited until he was ready to speak up again. And he did, in a whisper, more to himself than to you. “Everything’s always so… calculated. In racing. It’s controlled and measured, even the mess, you know? It’s still part of the plan, of what’s expected, somewhat.”

You turned toward him slightly, hip still leaning against the wall, cigarette flickering between your fingers.

“You’re serious,” you said. Not accusatory ─ just curious. “Like, really serious.”

He glanced at you. “And you’re not.”

“Oh, I can be. I know when not to be, which just happens to be most of the time. And I like it like that, honestly,” you shrugged. “I don’t want to be stuck in something that’ll bury me before my time, and I couldn’t see myself anywhere else now, not when I get to be unashamed like that.” Your last words were just above a whisper. “Free.”

The term stagnates for a while.

Until Max lets out a soft laugh, barely even there. “I don’t think I’ve ever been allowed to be anything else but serious.”

The words surprised him. Not because he never thought about them, but because he never said them out loud. He didn’t think he meant them. Now, they felt unescapable, slightly suffocating ─ and the way you looked at him, patient, didn’t help in the slightest. He exhaled slowly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“It’s always about being perfect. Image, numbers, control. If I mess up, people lose money. I lose standing. Teams fall apart. Media goes insane. There’s no room to just.. exist? I guess?” His voice dips lower.

Max wasn’t about to say anything more. He sobered up too much to spill his guts further to a little more than a stranger. Yet, the way you looked at him ─ meeting his gaze with something softer than you’d shown him all night ─ and what you’ve told him, you didn’t feel like a stranger at all. You, who wore fire like perfume and laughed like a dare, stripped down to ashes.

You voiced what he was thinking. “So we’re not that different. I mean, we both perform. In our ways.”

He couldn’t figure you out, no matter how much he tried, no matter how much you’ve shown and hidden tonight but God, Max could have spent hours and hours trying to puzzle you back until you’d finally make sense.

Instead, he just dipped his head in agreement, which made you smile gently. You nudged him with your shoulder. “Alright, Verstappen. Guess you’re not just a pretty face, huh?”

Max choked on a laugh, and he couldn’t help himself. “You are, though. And a lot more.”

You rolled your eyes at his sad attempt at flirting, snorting, but the grin spreading your lips lingered for longer than it should have. Max shuffled a bit closer to you ─ subtle enough that it could’ve been the heat dragging him in ─ but not so subtle that he missed the way you shifted too, gravity pulling you both toward something unspoken.

Quiet still, you spoke up again, voice barely above the hum of the night. “It’s nice, though. People like us don’t get a lot of moments like this.” You gestured around, the empty half-alley, half-garden bathed in neon spill, the distant sounds of cricket, the sounds of the music and the people inside like a faraway dream. This. The in-between.

Max’s voice came back low, warm. “Then we should make them count.”

You turned to look at him, slower this time. And Max ─ he didn’t dare move. Just watched.

The way the light caught on your dewy skin. The glint of sweat at your temple. Your pupils blown wide, not just from the dark but from interest, curiosity. That sharp, electric pull that had lived between you all night, was finally quiet enough to be noticed.

Your eyes dropped to his lips, just for a moment. It was so fast that he thought he might have imagined it. His heart twisted anyway.

“And how are you planning on making it count, Max?”

His name, swirling around your tongue for the first time tonight ─ sweet, sharp, honey on a blade. It hit him square in the chest.

Something in his chest stammers, tires hitting gravel at full speed, and all reason is thrown aside after that. He doesn’t even know how it came to it ─ your back flush against the wall, his hands on your waist, your eyes boring into his and your cigarette half-smoked, forgotten on the gravel. He could feel your body heat as if it was his, your breath quickening at the contact. He could feel you and he wondered if you felt him just as intensely.

His eyes traced the curves of your lips and Max wondered what you tasted like. Smoke, citrus, spice. He wanted to memorize the taste, throw it into a drink he could get drunk on every night, threatening his health to grasp the memory of you again and again.

That was until─

“MAX?!” A shout echoed down the parking lot. Slurred, and unmistakably Daniel-sounding.

More followed.

“Mate, where did he fuck off to?”

“We’re leaving in ten, HURRY UP!”

It was muffled by the distance, but he knew you heard it as well. The half-smile on your face betrayed you.

“So, you gonna kiss me, pretty boy?” You asked.

It would’ve happened.

Max would’ve leaned in and would’ve chased the heat grasping his ribs whenever you looked at him. He would have mapped your mouth, the curve of your waist beneath his palms, would’ve swallowed every sound you made as he was starved for it. He would’ve kissed you and let you burn him alive, gladly, but─

The voices grew smaller. Daniel’s laugh, Pierre’s yell, Charles’ confusion. Reality bleeding back in. Max’s jaw tensed. If he waited a minute longer, he’d miss his ride. Miss the world contained in his hotel room that would stop spinning if he missed a minute off the clock.

He simply told the truth.

“If I start,” Max murmured, “I don’t know if I’d be able to stop.”

That earned him a look. It wasn’t surprised, or angry ─ it was something a lot like expectancy, and in some way, it hurt a lot more.

You stepped forward, hand gently rising to meet his chest. The contact was light but the weight of it hit him like a crash and when you pushed, just a fraction, just enough, it wasn’t playful or teasing. It felt like goodbye dressed like mercy. You took the cowboy hat you stole from him earlier in the night and put it back on his head.

“Then don’t start something you can’t finish,” you whispered.

You gave him one last look ─ one he’d replay for days, conflicting emotions dimmed down to the flicker of a lighter in your eyes ─ and turned toward the door.

And Max felt awfully selfish when he asked the shadow of your figure, “Are you still going to be there next time?”

You didn’t even look back at him, but he saw your shoulders shake in a bittersweet sort of laugh, now out of his reach. “In a year, you mean? When the Grand Prix calls you back to Texas? I don’t wait, Max. My life isn’t drawn for me. I take my chances.”

You disappeared.

Max didn’t follow. He just stood there, the imprint of your touch still warm over his heart, wondering if this night would feel like a dream come morning. If you ever existed ─ or if Coyote Ugly had simply conjured you from the smoke and the music to remind him what wanting felt like.

He hadn’t kissed you, but he would never forget almost doing it.

When he climbed in the back of Daniel’s car, he evaded all the questions, the friendly mockery, the knowing glances, the snickering about the cowboy hat he still held in his hand like it was something breakable. Max just sat there, humming along to the comments Carlos made about the night, fidgeting with the brim and rubbing his thumb along the worn fabric like it might give him answers. Maybe it had caught something of you ─ your perfume, your voice, your laugh, the heat of your skin ─ and would let it slip back to him if he held on it long enough.

But it didn’t.

Later, Max crawled into bed with the weight of the night hanging around his ankles like shackles, dragging the air from his lungs. He didn’t sleep much. He didn’t want to.

He woke up with the sun, far too bright for the early morning, streaming through the blinds he forgot to close. He could feel his brain pulsing behind his eyes, his bloodshot eyes struggling to stay open, the remaining, chalky taste of whiskey sticking to his palate like cement. The evening flashed before him, a fever dream he wished he had the strength to push away ─ the obnoxious music, the sweat, the alcohol, and your smile.

Almost.

Max groaned, sitting up with difficulty on his bed. Every single one of his muscles ached, a sore reminder of the failed attempts at dancing and bartending he made last night ─ some spots hurt more than others, and in some measure, they felt like the shape of your hands.

The cowboy hat he had tossed last night, in the desperate attempt to stop anguishing about the brush of your breath across his lips, laid in front of him, miserable. Max couldn’t help himself and he reached for it out of instinct.

It felt cheaper than it did before, most imperfect underneath the daylight. He’d already memorized the texture and shape of the memento, obsessively tracing it, and yet it didn’t feel sufficient. He supposed it never would, and he’d have to live with this reality.

Max was about to put it back on his nightstand. To swallow down an Ibuprofen, chase it with an ice-cold shower, and carry on with his life like always. Another plane, another race, hopefully another win.

But something made him pause. He turned the hat in his hands again, just like he did a few hours before sleep took him by surprise.

And there it was. Tucked just inside the brim, where the lining met the crown ─ scrawled in smudged black ink he’d bet his life was eyeliner, barely visible unless you were compulsively looking for it─

if you dare.

A little heart, and a phone number scribbled right beside it.

Max blinked, mouth parting just slightly, heart mistaking the rhythm of his breathing for the first few notes of a country song. He read it again, and again until it stopped feeling like a trick of the light and started feeling like a choice.

He left thinking you were supposed to be one moment. One night. A blur of burn and guitar chords ─ but you’d left a door open.

And it was seemingly Max’s turn to take his chance.

©LVRCLERC 2025 ━ do not copy, steal, post somewhere else or translate my work without my permission.

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justagalwhowrites · 7 months ago

Text

Fucksgiving 2k24: Growing Family

You and Joel try to patch things up with your father while starting a family of your own. A Thanksgiving oneshot in the Stranger in a Bar universe.

^This is how I pictured this Joel as I was writing, with his lil tie on. Sorry not sorry.

Pairing: DBF!Joel x Female Reader (from Stranger in a Bar)

Length: 3.8k

CW: BREEDING KINK. Unprotected P in V for obvious reasons. Planning for pregnancy. Age gap (Joel is 20 years older, reader is 35 and Joel is 55.) Reader's dad is kind of a dick. No outbreak AU. Can be read as a stand alone fic with the understanding that Joel was reader's dad's bestie and he and reader are living together after dating years prior. No use of Y/N, minors DNI 18+ only.

A/N: Here's something to read while you navigate your own Thanksgiving dinner situations which are, hopefully, less awkward than this one. Happy Thanksgiving!!

“I mean it,” you said, clutching the casserole dish of mashed potatoes tightly to your stomach. “Best. Behavior.”

“When am I ever not on my best behavior?” Joel asked, his hand on the small of your back possessively.

You stopped in the middle of the drive on the mercifully long walk to your parents’ front door to stare at him, incredulous.

“When are you?” You asked, brows raised. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you behave yourself, not once, especially not where my dad is involved…”

“Alright,” he chuckled good naturedly. “I’ll do my best.”

“You’d better,” you said. “He’s just coming around to this, OK? I’d rather not blow it.”

“I know, baby,” he said, kissing your temple. “I’ll be good. Promise.”

“Thank you,” you said, continuing up to the front door.

“Your dad needs to behave too, though,” Joel said, sticking close to you. “Because I’m not gonna just let him say the same shit he always does, I don’t care.”

“Please try,” you said, ringing the doorbell. “If you do, I’ll make it worth your while.”

“Really?” He asked, his voice husky. “Dyin’ to know what you mean by that.”

“I mean,” you said, keeping your voice low. “Given how much I want to fuck your brains out, I’m pretty sure I’m ovulating and I can think of all kinds of ways you can try to knock me up - hey Mom!”

“Hey, honey!” Your mom opened the door and pulled you in for a hug. You just caught Joel’s expression out of the corner of your eye, his mouth slightly agape as he stared at you. “Oh, it’s so good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you, too,” you gave her a squeeze, carefully angling the casserole dish away from her before stepping back. “We come bearing potatoes.”

“So you do!” She said, taking the dish before turning to your boyfriend and taking a deep breath. “Joel. Always good to see you.”

You looked to Joel and saw him collect himself for half a second before smiling to your mom.

“Good to see you, too,” he said. “Been a while.”

“Yeah,” she smiled a little bigger and reached out to give his arm a squeeze. “It has.”

You gave Joel an encouraging smile as the two of you followed your mother into a kitchen that was overflowing with dishes.

“Can I help?” You asked, laughing a little as you looked around.

“Oh…” she sighed, looking around before she laughed, too. “Yes, yes please. Your father has been utterly useless, just wandering around, muttering to himself. Not that he’s the most helpful in the kitchen but he’s not completely incompetent…”

“He’s good on the grill,” you said. “Kitchen… eh.”

“Well, yes,” she giggled conspiratorially. “But I try to give him credit where it’s due. Usually I’m not on my own for a holiday but this year he’s been… something.”

You just hummed in agreement and started in on the green beans because you were pretty sure you knew the reason why your dad was acting strange and that reason was currently asking your mom how she wanted the cucumber cut for the salad.

Joel and your father had barely spoken in the six months since you’d moved back to Austin and gotten back together with Joel.

Not that you were too surprised about that. He was, after all, one of your dad’s closest friends and was much closer to his age than your own. You hadn’t exactly expected the news of your relationship to go over well but it had been even worse than you’d anticipated.

You’d arranged to talk to your parents in public when you decided to tell them. Neutral ground, as it were. Plus, you were pretty sure your father would be less likely to punch Joel in the face if you were in public.

It ended up not making much of a difference.

“You’re what!” Your father stood up so fast that his chair fell over, the sharp clatter of the wood on the tile restaurant floor and violence of his tone plunging the once bustling room into silence.

“Dad,” you said gently. “It’s not a big deal…”

“The hell it’s not!” He yelled, looking between the two of you. “When the fuck did this start, hm? When the hell did you start fucking my daughter!”

“Why don’t you sit down and…” Joel began, but your dad didn’t let him finish.

“Don’t you dare tell me what to do,” he put his finger inches from Joel’s face. “She is a child!”

“I’m 35!” You gaped at him. “Dad, you’re being ridiculous!”

“You’re already in hot water,” he snapped at you. “So keep your damn mouth shut while…”

“Don’t talk to her that way,” Joel said, standing up with too much force, his voice hot. “You got a problem with me, handle it with me, don’t take it out on her.”

“Don’t you tell me how to treat my own fucking kid!” Your dad yelled. “I’ll handle her however I damn well please!”

You weren’t sure who threw the first punch but it devolved quickly then, your mother pulling your father away while you dragged Joel back, both men bloody and panting for breath.

You kept your distance from your father after that. You talked to your mom regularly - she was smart enough to give up on trying to talk you out of your relationship quickly and, eventually, was even happy for you - but your father took some time.

After a while, he was willing to talk to you. Your mother must have given him strict rules - he didn’t try to talk you out of your relationship or question Joel’s integrity - but it was stiff and awkward.

Thanksgiving had been your mom’s idea. Joel was hesitant but - after you conspired with Sarah (you and Joel’s daughter becoming fast friends once you moved past the awkwardness of your closeness in age) so she would stay in Dallas to go to have dinner with her boyfriend’s family - he’d agreed eventually.

“If this don’t prove how much I love you, woman,” he’d grumbled as he tied his tie that morning.

“You? Love me?” You asked, adjusting the knot under his chin. “News to me…”

“Uh huh,” he smiled a little, just enough to make his cheek dimple.

“Never said it,” you had to fight to hold your smirk back. “Definitely not 20 times while you were inside me last night…”

“That don’t sound like me at all,” he teased back before going to kiss your cheek. “You look beautiful, baby.”

“Well, I do have a hot date.”

“Really? When’s he showing up?”

You glared at him and he laughed before giving you another kiss.

“Let’s go before I lose my damn nerve,” he said. “Gonna be the most awkward Thanksgiving ever.”

For a little while, there in the kitchen with just Joel and your mother, you almost forgot how awkward this was supposed to be.

You and Joel moved around each other in tandem now. You’d been living together for months and you’d fallen into sync so fast it was almost strange when you stopped to think about it. When you’d moved in with your ex, it took what felt like a small eternity to really understand the flow of his life, to subconsciously recognize where he was going in the kitchen when you were cooking side by side, to remember to consider him when making decisions big and small. With Joel, it was almost instantaneous. There had been no odd fumbling around each other as you went through your lives under one roof, no putting one brand of peanut butter back to pick up the one you suddenly remembered he preferred, no confusion or frustration when you came home from the office to find him not back yet. It all clicked, like you’d been built to do this alongside each other all along. Even in the unfamiliar space of your parents’ kitchen, his hand found the small of your back as he moved behind you to get a serving bowl and you just knew which knife to pass him from the block beside you when he went to reach for it.

Things shifted when your sister showed up about an hour and a half before dinner, her arrival finally coaxing your father out from wherever he’d been hiding since you and Joel had gotten there.

“Hey Dad,” you smiled at him after he finished greeting your sister and he stood, hovering awkwardly in the kitchen. “Good to see you.”

“Good to see you, too, princess,” he said pulling you in for a quick hug.

He turned his attention to Joel then, looking him up and down like he would an adversary.

“Joel,” he said, nodding once.

“Hey man,” Joel said, holding his hand out. Your father’s jaw twitched but he shook Joel’s hand all the same. “Good to see you.”

Your father just grunted before going to the fridge and getting out a beer. Joel followed him and you and your mother exchanged worried glances.

“Think the Cowboys are gonna pull out a win this year?” Joel asked.

Your dad held his beer for a moment, looking like he was considering just not responding but then seemed to think better of it.

“We’ll see,” he said. “With their record, I’d settle for not getting our asses handed to us.”

Things were easier after that. Your father and Joel disappeared to the living room and you heard the telltale sounds of football follow immediately after.

“I still can’t believe you’re fucking Dad’s weirdly hot friend!” Your sister said, just quiet enough that your mother was out of earshot. “Or that you were for years, forever ago! Seriously, there are rules about holding back to your sister like that.”

“You don’t need to know everything I do, you know,” you said.

“No but I need to know everyone you do,” she said. You snorted. “So… you think it’s going to last?”

“Well, we’re trying for kids,” you said, putting the last of the shredded cheese on the mac and cheese. “So it’d better.”

“What!” She yelped.

“What?” Your mom ran over. “Everyone OK? Did you burn yourself?”

“We’re good,” you smiled. “Just catching up. Sister shit, you know.”

“Yeah,” your sister said. “Sister shit.”

Your mother went back to the other side of the kitchen and your sister mouthed oh my God at you and you fought the urge to laugh. Your dad might hate your boyfriend but at least you could count on your sister to be your sister.

Eventually, the rest of the family came over, too, and everyone settled around the overly full dining room table, Joel sitting beside you with a reassuring hand on your knee as he made small talk with one of your uncles.

Dinner went surprisingly well, at least until everyone was a few glasses of wine deep and your father decided to pick a fight.

“So, Joel,” he said, setting his wine glass down with a little too much force. “Not sure if I should thank you for getting my daughter to move back home or if I should blame you for her obsession with being a failed musician for a living.”

“Dad!” Your sister gaped at him. “What the fuck!”

“Language, please!” Your mother said.

“Just seems to be real clear to me now,” he said. “Doubt she’d be so stuck on playing that damn guitar all the time if it weren’t for your bad influence.”

“Bad influence?” You laughed. “Dad, I’m almost middle aged, I’m not some impressionable teenager. I love my work, I don’t consider myself to be a failure just because I do music therapy instead of being a rock star, I…”

“You could have actually done something with yourself, you know,” he cut you off. “Instead, you decided to drive your life into the ground with this man and some bullshit career path…”

“Watch it,” Joel said sharply. “Not gonna let you talk to her that way. You will treat her with respect or I will make you treat her with respect.”

“Respect?” Your dad asked, his eyebrows raised. “You’re gonna sit there, in my house, at my table and lecture me about respect when you decided to take up with my daughter?”

“Stop it!” You shoved your chair back, throwing your napkin on your gravy smeared plate. “Both of you! Dad, stop acting like your my keeper and that I don’t have any goddamn agency because you raised me! Joel, stop acting like I need you to defend my honor! Just… fucking stop it!”

“Baby,” Joel said but you ignored him, stalking off to the guest room at the back of your parents’ house, needing some space from everyone.

You let yourself cry for a minute, sitting on the edge of the bed and staring at an old family photo of you with your parents and sister, back when you were just 10 years old. Your hand drifted to your lower stomach. You weren’t pregnant yet - at least, not that you knew - but you couldn’t imagine your child doing anything that would make you as mad at them as your father seemed to be at you loving Joel.

There was a soft knock at the door and you wiped your eyes on the backs of your wrists.

“Yeah?”

“S’me,” Joel said quietly. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah,” you sniffed.

He came in, closing the door gently behind him before sitting next to you.

“You OK?” He asked after a moment.

“I will be,” you sniffed again.

“I’m sorry baby,” he said, reaching out and cupping your face, his thumb tracing the arch of your cheekbone. “Know I promised to be on my best behavior but… Look, him being a dick to me is fine, I can handle that. I just can’t watch him say that shit to you. But that don’t mean I should get… aggressive and…”

“It’s not your fault,” you said. “I’d do the same thing if I were you, I can’t really blame you for it. And I appreciate that you care about me…”

“I love you,” he smiled a little. “More than just about anything else. But that means I need to take care of you in the way you want me to, not just the way I want to do it.”

You smiled tightly before leaning in to kiss him. Joel kissed you back, gentle at first but, before long, something shifted, the kiss becoming hot and needy.

“Baby,” Joel said, his voice low. “Should… should probably get back out there…”

“They can wait,” you said, panting a little. “I want you.”

He groaned, nipping at your lower lip but still hesitating.

“Please, Joel,” you breathed, pressing yourself closer to him. “I need you. Let’s make a baby.”

“Fuck,” he said, his tone shifting, and then he was on you. His tongue plunged into your mouth as he lay you back on the bed.

He didn’t bother taking your panties off, just tucking them to the side and tugging the low v-neck of your sweater down to expose your cleavage.

“Christ, you’re so fuckin’ pretty,” he groaned, cupping your sex with one hand and tugging your breasts free of your bra with the other. He mouthed at your nipple, licking and sucking over your breasts as he ground his palm against your clit, one thick finger slipping inside your seam to your already dripping entrance. “Don’t deserve you, baby.”

“Yes you do,” you whispered. “You deserve the world.”

He just moaned in response, kissing you again, one large hand cupping your breast, his thumb brushing your nipple.

It wasn’t long before he shoved his pants and underwear down just enough to free his cock and he jerked himself a few times with the hand that had become coated in your wetness. He notched himself at your entrance, his head thick and large and swollen, and pressed inside, a moment of resistance before your channel stretched over him and he buried himself within you.

He pulled his lips from yours, his head falling to the bed over your shoulder as he panted for breath.

“Goddamn you feel good,” he said, voice tight and hot in your ear. You rolled your hips up against him, making him moan.

“Good,” you said. “Love making you feel good, sometimes that’s all I want to do.”

“Fuck, you think your daddy hates me now,” he said. “If he knew what you do to me he’d shoot me.”

He started to fuck into you then, keeping his chest pressed tight to yours while his cock worked you hard and fast inside, his head finding that soft and tender place within you that built your orgasm fast with every stroke. He ground his cock against you there, his hips on your clit, making every ounce of need inside yourself gather tight and low.

“Fuck, Joel,” you panted. “I’m gonna come, you’re gonna make me come, I…”

“Good,” he growled. “Come for me, come while I get you pregnant, c’mon baby and come all over me.”

You had to bury your face in his shoulder to keep quiet, your orgasm hitting you hard and fast, your center fluttering over his thick length as he held himself inside you.

“Oh you like hearin’ that, huh?” He asked, breathless, starting to move again, already building your next orgasm as he did. “Like hearing how I’m gonna put a baby in my baby, that it?”

“Yes,” you groaned, your second climax growing quickly. “Yes, please, please, please, please…”

“You don’t gotta beg for it baby,” he said, pulling back from you enough to look you in the eyes as he spoke. “I’ll give you everything, as many babies as you want, fuck, gonna give you my baby right now, gonna make you pregnant, fuck!”

He buried his face in your neck and pressed himself so deep inside you as he came, the heat of him spilling into you in thick, heavy pulses.

“Fuck,” he said after he finished, kissing your neck before pulling back from you to kiss your lips, too. “Didn’t mean to come that quick, wanted to get you off one more time first.”

“It’s OK,” you said, panting, even though it was kind of a lie. You’d been so close to coming again that you felt tight inside your skin, an energy rippling over you that you knew you wouldn’t be able to shake until you came again once you got home.

“No, it’s not,” he said, sitting up and slowly, carefully pulling his softening cock from you. “Got you all worked up, not taking care of you the way you deserve if I don’t finish the job.”

You felt some of his come slip out of you but he caught it with the tip of his cock, pressing it back inside before tucking himself away in his underwear and cupping your swollen, aching sex.

“I’ll take care of you,” he said quietly. “Take care of you the rest of my life.”

He worked your clit, slow and gentle circles at first before his touch grew firmer, drawing your orgasm back to the surface in the way that only Joel seemed to know how to do. You came to his touch, feeling his thick come inside you as you did, like your body was trying to pull him even deeper inside.

“There you go,” he said, his eyes locked on your dripping pussy. “Fuck, so pretty, every damn inch of you.”

You panted for breath, relaxing down into the bed before suddenly remembering that your entire family was down the hall.

“Fuck,” you sighed. “We should get back.”

“We should,” Joel said, tugging your panties back in place and helping you cover your chest again before chuckling. “Think your daddy really might shoot me if he found us like this.”

You laughed and sat up, looking at Joel for a moment. You trailed your fingers through his hair and he smiled a little, his eyes crinkling at the edges.

“Really not sure why you think I’m worth all this trouble,” he said. “But I sure am thankful I have you.”

You smiled back.

“I’m thankful for you, too.”

You kissed him and he helped make sure your hair and makeup didn’t look like you just got fucked within an inch of your life before you emerged, the party having moved to the living room, your mom and aunts on one side of the room, your dad and uncles on the other, an uncomfortable silence falling when the two of you walked in.

“Joel,” your dad said, getting up and walking over with a sigh. “Look… not sure I’ll ever really be OK with this but… my daughter could do worse than a man seems to adore her and is willing to stand up for her.”

“I do adore her,” Joel said. “I love her. I want to do everything I can for here as long as she’ll let me.”

Your dad nodded slowly.

“Think I can live with that,” he said. “But you hurt her? I will kill you.”

Joel laughed a little.

“I expect nothing less.”

Joel and your dad seemed a little more like the friends they’d started out as after that, laughing and talking and watching football. When the two of you left for home, your father and mother walked you out, containers of leftovers in hand.

“It was so good to see you both,” your mom smiled, giving you a squeeze. “We’ll have to do this again. Soon.”

“We will,” you kissed her cheek before turning to your dad. “It’ll be nice.”

“It will,” he said before looking to Joel and holding out his hand. “Welcome to the family.”

Joel smiled a little, taking his hand and shaking it.

“Thanks for letting me in it.”

You smiled the whole drive home, Joel’s hand on your knee.

“So,” he said, looking at you conspiratorially as he pulled into the drive way. “Think the family will be even bigger next Thanksgiving?”

“I sure hope so,” you smiled. “But I think we’ll have fun trying either way.”

“Think we should try again now?” He asked, taking your hand and kissing your knuckles. “Because, you know… if you’re ovulating, should probably do it again. Seems like the smart move.”

You laughed, already adding pregnancy tests to your mental shopping list.

“Well we can’t start out our lives as parents doing the dumb thing,” you said and he laughed before the two of you went inside to try again to grow your family.

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x oc #joel miller smut #breeding kink fic #breeding kink Joel miller #dbf!joel x reader #fucksgiving #stranger in a bar

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no-144444 · 9 months ago

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married man- l.hamilton

Day 4 of fic-tober! fic-tober masterlist

summary: Married? Maybe. But why does everyone else need to know?

pairing: lewis hamilton x indycardriver! fem! reader

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Lewis smiled as you walked into his driver’s room. It had been literal months since you’d last seen each other in person, months since you’d been in his sights in general, and a year since you’d been at a race.

“Don’t you look pretty,” he smiled, wrapping his hands around your waist as you chuckled.

“I could say the same for you,” you smiled, bringing a hand up to play with his hair. “Get ‘em retwisted recently?”

He nodded. “Had to look good for you,” he joked.

You laughed. “You’re too good to me.”

He pressed his lips to yours, and man, did it feel right. You hadn't been with him for months. You missed your husband, and he missed you right back. His hands slid lower, gripping your ass as he sighed into your lips. “Missed you so much,” he mumbled. “Too long to not see you.”

It had been a very long time. You two lived together in Monaco, but you were successful in your own right. You were part of the Indycar racing series. You loved Indycar, and truly had no intention to pivot into F1. You were an American after all, born and raised out in Marfa, Texas. The seasons were never going to match up, but you and Lewis worked damn hard to make your relationship work, and work well. You texted everyday, called every second day for at least an hour, and made it a habit to see each other at least every 4 months. You’d gone longer this time, 6 months, since both of you were too busy with work or holidays or something else. But now, the Indycar season is over, you were the victor, and you planned to come to the rest of the F1 races, under the guise of being Carmen’s friend, not Lewis’s wife. No one really knew you two even knew each other, let alone got married 2 years ago.

“I missed you too,” you smiled as he pressed kisses down your neck. “We can’t let it go this long again.”

“I promise it won’t,” he sighed. “Missed having you here. It’s been a tough fucking season.”

“I know baby,” you pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” he shrugged. “Ferrari better be the right move next year.”

“It will be. You’ll win your 8th and then you can come be my WAG in Indycar,” you smiled, making him laugh.

“Always with the solutions,” he chuckled. “Who says I’m settling with 8?”

“Me. You’re getting old, baby. If you want little Hamiltons’ running around, then you’d better be at home to take care of them,” you smiled, though stern in your tone.

“Yes ma’am,” he smiled. “Man, I love you.”

“I love you too, now, I’ll see you later, yeah?”

“See you at the finish line my love,” he pressed a soft kiss to your cheek before you left.

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He’d done it again, another win, somehow. Through the fucking Austin heat, he’d pulled through with that piece of shit strategy from Mercedes. You cheered in the paddock, all cameras on you, but you didn’t care. He’d won yet another GP and you were hardly going to gently clap.

You ran up to the Parc Fermé with Carmen, both ecstatic at the result (George got P2). You watched in awe as he left the car, celebrating with the team. You’d missed his latest victory in Silverstone and you were delighted to not have missed this one. He ran over to the team, searching only for you.

“Where’s Y/n?!” he shouted over the cheering. You grabbed at his arm and smiled when he finally made eye contact with you. Suddenly he helmet was pulled off, his lips were on yours, you were over the barricade and in his arms.

“Lewis!” you scolded with a smile, pulling away. “What are you doing?”

“Celebrating with my beautiful wife,” he smirked.

It was difficult to stay mad at him when he was looking at you like you hung the stars just for him.

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Transcription of Lewis Hamilton’s GQ Sports interview:

GQ: So, Lewis, another win in Austin this time, how did it feel?

Lewis: It was amazing, I mean there was just so much riding on the moment, and it gave us the extra points to get up to Ferrari. There’s such a great atmosphere at places like Austin, especially since it’s a Sprint race and a Feature race, it means a lot to get to win both.

GQ: And now we’d like to talk about the obvious elephant in the room

Lewis: And what’s that? (chuckling)

GQ: Your secret relationship with Indycar winner Y/n Y/l/n?

Lewis: It’s Y/n Hamilton, actually, and yes, what about it?

GQ: You’re married?

Lewis: Past 2 years, but we’ve been dating for 5. Best 5 years of my life.

GQ: How did you keep this from the press?

Lewis: Well, we’ve always been the kind of people who do our own thing, and we never really felt the need to be super open about our relationship because of that. We’re both introverts and we both enjoy what little privacy we can have in our mad world, and I think that’s another reason we didn’t tell anyone. We’re also not stupid. Sometimes relationships don’t work out, it’s happened to everyone, and we didn’t want to tell anyone until we were serious about each other, and by then, we were engaged and while we became less careful with hiding our relationship, we’re naturally private people, so it just… never slipped out I guess (shrugging).

GQ: And what has your reaction been like to the reception of your relationship?

Lewis: (chuckling) It’s funny to see how the internet sees us now, y’know, it’s pretty amusing to see the edits and the theories and the people swearing they’ve known from the start. Honestly I’m really enjoying it. So is she.

GQ: How did you two meet?

Lewis: I think it was actually Austin. Whenever we’re in America we usually get roped into meeting the Indycar side of our teams, if we have one, and she was just… there when I went to the track. It was so ridiculous, I was asking everyone who she was, and like, everything about her, it was bordering on embarrassing.

GQ: What drew you to her?

Lewis: She’s just one of those people you meet once and know you can’t live without. She was so kind, and she was helping another team with their car because she’s an engineer, and she was literally being told off by her boss right then and there, and all she said back was, ‘If they have no car, they have no race. They’re not even close to us in the championship, all I’m doing is helping them put the thing back together. Have a bit of empathy’. I knew I was a goner. I just wanted to know everything about her.

GQ: She’s a woman of the people?

Lewis: She’s always helping people. We’re philanthropists when we’re not racing and she teaches free classes on engineering in the deep south to get kids out of poverty. They don’t even know who she is, she’s just their teacher, same as anyone else. It’s pretty incredible stuff.

GQ: Wow, that sounds amazing. She sounds like a very incredible woman.

Lewis: She is.

GQ: Finally, why did you keep this from everyone?

Lewis: Why shouldn’t we? When you’re in the public eye, everyone knows everything about you, and you’re just supposed to deal with that. We both just wanted something for ourselves rather than to broadcast absolutely everything. I’m deeply uninterested in giving the media more things to write about, and so is she. The only media about us we should be hearing is our race results, not who we’re dating and I think we’ve forgotten that in the past few years. It’s all become quite the popularity contest, and I’m getting tired of playing it.

GQ: Thank you for your time.

Lewis: You too.

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navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

fic-tober masterlist

taglist: @anotherapollokid @theseerbetweenus @simbaaas-stuff @5sospenguinqueen

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grandprixprincess · 9 months ago

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hermana part 2 || ln4

lando norris x fem!reader smau + written

part 1!

warnings: some language, slightly steamy scene (no smut but mdni!!), carlos being a protective big brother and lando being down bad

a/n: thanks for all the love on part 1! I decided to do a mix of written + smau for this part. requests are open for smau and text fics <3

landonorris posted

liked by maxfewtrell, yourusername, maxverstappen1, and others

landonorris perfect day in the sun with the best company. getting lots of rest and relaxation before the triple header 🤙

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user1 "best company" aka just y/n

user2 wait she was with him again today??? user1 yes! f1gossip just posted the photos. they were alone all day 👀

user3 omg this means y/n took these pics! y/n.jpg when?

maxfewtrell looks like my invite got lost

user4 💀💀💀

yourusername ☀️🤗

user5 queen y/n thank u for taking these great pics

f1gossip posted

liked by user1, user2, and others

f1gossip Lando Norris and Y/N Y/L/N were spotted getting cozy this afternoon. The two embarked on a private yacht for an afternoon filled with swimming and laughter. Eyewitnesses say the two were alone all afternoon. It seems like things are rapidly heating up with these two. The next time Y/L/N is seen in the paddock, will she be rocking red ❤️ or papaya 🧡?

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user2 LANY/N NATION WAKE UP

user3 i can't believe lany/n is real omg

user1 right?? people used to ship them during the carlando mclaren days and now it's REAL

user4 the hand placement omgggg

user5 i wonder what carlos thinks

user2 who cares? it's their lives not his

user6 y/n in papaya at the austin gp pleaseee

user5 ain't no way. she'll always support carlos first, he is basically her brother

yourusername posted a close friends story

story replies:

yourbestfriend not the private yacht on the FIRST DATE

yourusername technically our first date is tomorrow night yourbestfriend literally stfu you know what i meant

carlossainz55 don't stay out too late

yourusername 🙄

landonorris posted a close friends story

story replies:

maxfewtrell did you tell her that you've been secretly in love with her for like 5 years yet or

landonorris OBVIOUSLY NOT i'm trying to play it cool

oscarpiastri I think I missed a chapter

carlossainz55 get my sister back home early cabrón

landonorris leave us alone carlos carlossainz55 excuse me? landonorris NO SORRY THAT WAS Y/N SHE TOOK MY PHONE landonorris I'll make sure she gets home safe mate! 👍

You giggled as you watched Lando frantically type a message back to Carlos. "Sorry, I couldn't help myself!"

You played with the stem of your wine glass. It had been a dream of a day. You were now sharing a bottle of wine together to end the night.

"Your brother is going to have my head!" He finished typing his message out, feeling satisfied, before setting his phone back down.

Fighting the urge to roll your eyes, you said, "You know he isn't really my brother, right?"

Lando chuckled. "You try telling him that."

"Yeah, yeah, I know." You swirled your glass a bit, taking another sip. "He's always been protective like that."

Lando let out another chuckle. "Oh trust me, I know."

His response and tone piqued your interest. You turned your head towards him, seeing a sly smile on his handsome face. "What do you mean?"

Lando opened and closed his mouth for a few moments, contemplating his words. Finally, he spoke. "I may have tried to ask you out in the past, but Carlos sort of, put a stop to it."

Your jaw dropped in shock. "What?!" You tried to fully understand what he was saying. "When was this exactly?"

Without hesitation, Lando responded, "During Carlos' last year in McLaren."

The shock was evident on your face. Silence rang in the air as you tried to find your words. Lando took the opportunity to speak again.

"And again during his first year in Ferrari."

"What?!" You couldn't believe what you were hearing. When Carlos was at McLaren, you were taking a few years off from school to travel. Traveling the world ended up being easy to do when Carlos agreed to let you tag along to all the races as his "assistant". Carlos was on a new team in F1 with a rookie teammate that was your age. You and Lando became friends quickly, and it wasn't long until you began to harbor a crush on him.

It was a secret only you and Y/BSF/N knew about. You definitely didn't tell Carlos, because you knew how that would go.

Once Carlos left McLaren, you went back to school and your appearances at the races dwindled down to one or two a year. You and Lando went from spending every weekend together running around the paddock, to seeing each other in passing as you made your way to Ferrari and he made his way to McLaren.

"That little shit. I'm going to kill him."

You weren't sure if it was the wine or just how carefree and fun everything with Lando was, but you couldn't stop the fit of giggles that escaped you. After a few moments, Lando joined you in your laughter. Tears began to escape both your eyes.

As the laughter died down, the moment suddenly felt very intimate. Lando's face was extremely close, the rest of the world melting away. "I'm pretty sure I started having a crush on you after that first race weekend." You suddenly felt shy, but you couldn't stop the confession from slipping out.

Now it was Lando's turn to express his surprise, his eyes widening for a moment. He searched your face for a moment, almost like he was waiting for you to tell him you were kidding. Finally, he spoke.

"I really want to kiss you."

You were grateful that the sun had fully gone down now, so there was minimal lighting to help hide the blush creeping on your cheeks. Your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest as you whispered out, "Why don't you?"

Lando's adoring gaze had you captivated. "I've wanted to do it for so long now," he confessed, "I want to do it right."

You couldn't help the sly smirk on your face as you teased, "I think we've been pining after each other long enough, don't you think?"

Lando reached his hand forward, cradling your cheek in his hand. His thumb brushed against your cheek, causing goosebumps down your arms.

You wanted to live in this moment forever; Lando being this close, his lips inches from yours. Finally, you both instinctively moved forward, your lips colliding after what felt like an eternity.

You both stilled for a moment, trying to rack your brains over the realization that this was actually and finally happening. After a few seconds, you melted into the kiss, sliding your hands up to rest around his neck.

The two of you moved in sync. It felt like your lips were made for each other. Lando's hand around your head tightened, while his second hand found its home on your waist. One of your hands slide up Lando's neck and into his hair, playing with his curls lightly.

Lando slightly pinched your waist, causing you to gasp, which allowed for his tongue to sneak in. You responded with a slight tug on his curls, causing a groan to escape out of him and into your mouth.

You giggled slightly, breaking the kiss for a moment. "You like that, huh?"

Even though it was dark, you could see how Lando's eyes darkened. With no shame, he responded, "Yes," suddenly his hands slipped down, grabbing your thighs and easily moving you to straddle his lap, "You have no idea the effect anything you do has on me."

Now you were sure it was the wine giving you confidence when you ground your body down to feel his already hard erection. "Oh, I think I have somewhat of an idea." Your hands slipped back into his curls at the nape of his neck, tugging softly.

You relished in the way that Lando's eyes fluttered shut, his hands moving to your hips, guiding them as you continued to grind your body with his.

Lando was putty in your hands. You began to feel the heat in your core. You tugged on Lando's curls again, pulling his head back and eliciting a small moan from his lips.

Bringing your head down, your lips connected with his jaw, peppering him with open mouth kisses on both sides of his face before moving down to his neck.

Lando continued guiding the movement of your hips, his hands tightening around your waist and moving them faster as he felt your lips on his neck. You couldn't hold back the moan that escaped your lips, letting it ring out right in Lando's ear.

Lando was sure he was in heaven. Your moans were music to his ears.

He let one hand leave your hip and travel to your face, bringing you back towards his lips. Your lips collided again, this time with more urgency and desperation.

You both couldn't believe that you had let all these years go by wasted, when you could've been doing this the whole time. You were kissing each other like your lives depended on it.

Lando's hand moved up and down your sides, squeezing slightly, causing another moan to escape from you, and allowing his tongue entrance again.

You moved your hands down his chest, and began to play with the hem of his shirt.

Lando suddenly broke the kiss, breaking the blissful bubble you two had been caught up in.

"We should stop."

You felt fear creep up on you. Had you done something wrong? Did he not want this anymore? As if he could read your worries on your face, he softly brought his lips to yours again for a moment.

"Trust me, I don't want to stop," he began, chuckling lightly, "but I told you. I want to do this right."

You softened at his words. "You're right." You lazily played with his curls again. "Feels like we have to make up for so much lost time, but I'm not going anywhere."

Lando chuckled. "Me either. Now that I know you want me like I want you, you're never getting rid of me." Lando gave you a goofy grin. He moved his hand up, playing with a strand of your hair for a moment before tucking it behind you ear, "I could spend all night making up for lost time, and even then I guarantee I would be leaving wanting more."

You blushed, grateful again for the minimal lighting. Words lost you. Instead, you just gazed lovingly into Lando's eyes.

"Plus, Carlos told me to make sure you're home early, so..."

Lando relished in the way you rolled your eyes and chuckled softly.

The two of you always felt deep down that you had missed out on something great with each other. Now the universe was giving you a second chance to act on it.

yourusername posted

liked by yourbestfriend, iamrebeccad, landonorris, charles_leclerc, and others

yourusername 🌊🤙🖕

tagged: carlossainz55, iamrebeccad

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user1 not tagging lando is crazy 💀 girl we know

user2 shhhh let them cook up a soft launch user3 why would she tag him in this tho user1 that's literally lando's jolly lol

charles_leclerc hahaha the last photo

yourusername yeah that's actually me to carlos rn charles_leclerc never a dull moment with you two 😂😂

user2 her and lando used the same emoji. she posts his car but doesn't tag. he's in the likes. the soft launch of the century is about to begin. in this essay, I will-

user4 carlos in that pic is him reading these comments fr

user5 lando behind the camera of that first pic like 😍🤳

user1 we need y/n on lando.jpg stat

As you waited impatiently for Carlos to return home, your phone chimed, signaling another text had come through. You rolled your eyes, thinking it would be another message from Carlos, but you felt your heart skip a beat seeing Lando's name across your screen.

"Maybe Carlito thought you didn't like him, and was trying to help you out."

You stared at your sister's face on the screen in disbelief. "You're supposed to be on my side here."

Your sister laughed. "I am! I just also know Carlos wouldn't do something like this without a valid reason."

You heard a jingle at the door. "Speak of the devil, he's back."

"Call me later, don't give him a hard time, mana." She gave you a wave. "Oh, and have fun tomorrow night."

"I will, talk to you later." You gave your sister a wave back before ending the call.

You got up from your spot on the couch, walking towards the front door. You stood with your arms crossed as the door opened slowly. Suddenly Rebecca's head popped into view. You gave her a small smile.

"Your brother is behind me waving a white flag."

You couldn't help but laugh. "There shall be peace."

Carlos slowly came into view, his hands raised in defeat. He walked hesitantly towards you, waiting for you to react. Rebecca walked past you, giving your shoulder a light squeeze before disappearing into the bedroom.

"I don't want to argue, mano. I just don't understand."

Carlos stared at you for a moment before leading you back to the couch, sitting down and signaling you to do the same. "Listen, back then, you were so young and I was supposed to be looking after you on the road," he started, "and I know how it is once you get to F1. The fame, media, parties..." he paused for a moment, "The girls." He waited a beat before saying, "That's why I'm telling you to be careful with him now."

You had to fight the urge to roll your eyes. "Lando and I used to have movie nights every race weekend while you and other drivers would go out to clubs and party." You looked down, nervously playing with your hands. "And yeah, I know he does go out now and that he's been seen with different girls, but I know deep down he's still that same guy."

"You guys were kids back then, but now? Lando is usually the first to arrive and the last to leave the club now, always a different girl on his arm."

You finally looked Carlos in the eye, whispering out, "So you think I'm just another girl for him to flaunt around until he gets bored?" You felt your face get hot due to a mix of anger and shame. "I'm not good enough to be something real for him?"

The regret was evident on Carlos' face the second after you spoke. "No, no, hermana, you know that's not what I mean."

"Then what is it? Is it because he's your friend?"

Carlos chuckled. "No, no," he sighed, "I knew you liked him back then. I saw how you looked at him. That dreamy, goofy gleam in your eyes," he said, "and when Lando came to me and said he wanted to ask you out, I panicked."

You were listening intently now. "Why?" you whispered out.

"I think it was the first time I realized you were growing up. The idea of my hermanita dating anyone, nevertheless a driver, freaked me out." He laughed. "I just wanted to protect you from the craziness that comes with being with an F1 driver; I still do."

"Lando said he respects you, and that's why he stayed away back then. But now we're adults, and we're making our own decisions without interference from others." You couldn't stop the smile from creeping back onto your face. "I've always liked him, mano. I want to see where this goes."

Carlos couldn't help but match your smile. He liked seeing you this happy, and if that was because of Lando, then he was willing to be open-minded. "Okay, okay, I'm on board," he chuckled, "but I told you already. If he breaks your heart, he goes into the wall."

You rolled your eyes playfully. "You'd have to catch up to his rocketship in your tractor first."

Carlos' jaw dropped, disbelief written on his face. "I can't believe I've already lost you to the papaya army."

You let out a laugh, nudging his shoulder. "Hey, family always comes first. I'm a Ferrari girl first, papaya girlie second."

"Good, because that would be where I'd draw the line."

"I'm ready for next year, though. Blue is much more my color."

The two of you shared a laugh, before Carlos leaned over to end the moment with a hug. "I love you, hermanita."

"Love you too, Carlitos."

As you and Carlos embraced, you heard a door open slightly. Rebecca appeared, smile evident on her face, happy to see Carlos back in your good graces.

"Anyone down for a late night ice cream run?"

yourusername posted stories

story 2 caption: making them pay for my ice cream like: 🥺 👉👈 i'm just a baby

story replies to story 1:

user1 LANY/N ANTHEM???

user2 "we were supposed to be just friends" omg omg omg

yourbestfriend dude has my girl posting love songs on main already 😭😭😭

yourusername 😂

landonorris is this what they call a soft launch

yourusername 😂🫣 maybe landonorris hmm brb yourusername huh?

story replies to story 2:

yoursister hahaha he really said here have some ice cream pls forgive me

yourusername no but fr 💀

user3 girl you can't just post that song and move on this quickly!!

landonorris posted a story

story replies:

danielricciardo is little lando norris in love???

yourusername 🥹😭

landonorris ❤️

user1 oh ya'll are in LOVEEEE

user2 you guys ain't slick posting these back to back 😭

carlossainz55 thanks a lot, she won't stop playing this song now

oscarpiastri okay I DEFINITELY missed a chapter

a/n: yep there will be a part 3 because I can't stop myself lol if you'd like to be tagged, let me know!

Part 3

tag list: @npcmia @tinyhrry @that-one-little-soybean

1K notes · View notes

yellowharrington · 1 year ago

Text

wildflower and barley -- joel miller x reader

pairing + fandom: joel miller x reader, the last of us (hbo)

word count: 5k+ oops

warnings/notes: smut smut smut!!! minors DNI, 18+!!! no outbreak!au. age gap (it's implied reader is in her 20s while joel is 45) and mentions of joel being kinda perverted and liking it lol. drinking (both reader and joel, not excessive), use of a dating app like tinder but not specified, unprotected PIV w creampie and oral (m+f receiving), do not fuck your tinder hookups without protection i'm just horny and gross. excessive use of darlin' as a nickname. implied that reader likes men. she/her pronouns used, afab!reader (with mentions of body parts), no use of y/n. if i missed anything lmk!

a/n: heavily inspired by this post by @yesttoheaven about joel's tinder profile!! it has been rotting my brain since i saw it which literally inspired me to write my first fic in the tlou fandom ever so please be gentle with me. i imagined show!joel because i've never played the game so do with that what you will. please reblog and leave comments if u enjoy it <3333

divider by @cafekitsune

summary: after deciding to change your age range on a dating app in hope of a change of scenery, you stumble across joel miller.

No one likes using dating apps.

Swiping left, left, left mindlessly at troves of men holding fish, showing off their trucks, or with deer heads mounted to the walls behind their selfies holding guns.

This was Texas, after all.

Having just moved here, it was a little shocking, to say the least. But you were getting used to the “eligible” bachelors that were your age generally looking and acting the same. When you did end up finding someone of interest, you were usually turned off pretty quickly by whatever shitty pick-up line they had chosen. Or, your personal favourite, “wanna fuck?”

No thanks.

It was an idyllic summer evening, the hot stuffy air of Austin flowing in through your windows. You laid in bed, propped up on the pillows against your headboard and sorting through the faces that adorned your screen. No one particularly interesting, as usual, and every profile was starting to melt together to look the same.

You sighed, looking into your settings, adjusting and increasing different metrics to hopefully change the pool just enough for there to be someone new or interesting.

Age range: 25-30

Your eyebrow cocked as you looked onto the screen, pulling the slider more to the right experimentally. No one was here to see you, and even though it was slightly embarassing to be interested in older men, you’d be lying if you said it didn’t pique your interest to imagine it. Even just to try, and see, if they ever really did grow up. You imagined it was wishful thinking, but increased the range anyways.

Age range: 35-45

Feeling the need to throw your phone across the room after doing that, you placed it face down under your pillow and slid out of bed. No use in swiping through them now, and you were getting tired of looking. A pint of Ben and Jerry’s and a new episode of your favourite show was waiting for you downstairs.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾

Joel Miller does not use dating apps.

He barely knows how to send a text on his phone, let alone navigate the world of online women. Not to say he didn’t explore the options, so to speak, but they usually were not ones that were single, his age, and in his area. Unless the ads on those sites were real, that is.

“It’s starting to get sad,” Sarah had remarked at breakfast, when they got on the topic, and Joel feigned hurt. Hand over his heart, he dropped his fork onto the plate. “It’s not sad, Jesus. I’m just busy, is all.”

“Busy not gettin’ busy,” Sarah remarked, and Joel’s eyes widened. “Hey now! None of that.”

A blush spread up his cheeks and ears as they continued to eat breakfast in slightly awkward silence, before Joel took his plate to the sink. “Okay, off to school, you. And no more conversations about my dating life. Ever.”

Sarah laughed as she finished off the last of the juice in her glass. “I’m just saying, dad. You can if you want to. Might be nice for you.”

Joel planted a soft kiss to her head before she bounded out the door, rolling his eyes and calling out a ‘love you’ before she closed the door swiftly behind her. Joel stared at his cell phone on the table. Maybe it would be nice.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾

The following evening, you were a little too excited to see the dating app specimens you had acquired. Not sure what to expect, really, and you went in with no expectations. It’s not like they’d magically all be tall, dark, and handsome, but some variety never killed anybody.

Paul, 41

Daddy, but not yours. No libs allowed. 6’ because that matters.

You sighed deeply. Some things never change.

After swiping through much of what you were used to, a profile managed to catch your eye among the sea of disappointment.

Joel, 45

Just a Southern gentleman trying this out for the first time. Contractor of over 10 years. I love my daughter, BBQ, strong coffee, and sleeping in.

Now that was the most interesting thing you’d seen in a while.

He didn’t look a day over 40. His eyes creased at the corners when he smiled wide in his photos. He looked tan, a product of the Texas heat and his job, you thought. His features were accompanied by salt-and-pepper facial hair and messy curls that looked soft and pliable. His photos showed off his physique incredibly, tight wash-worn t-shirts pulling over his arms and shoulders, looking big, broad. He was no doubt the most handsome man you’d seen on an app, maybe ever.

When you swiped right before you could think too hard, you were surprised to see the green “Match!” Flash across your screen.

Your fingers ghosted over the keyboard on your phone, thinking of a witty thing to say, probably for too long.

Your phone buzzed as you saw a notification pop up.

Joel has sent you a message.

Hey, darlin’. How are ya?

You felt your face warm at the sweet message, when was the last time someone had called you darlin’? Ever?

Hey cowboy. I’m great, how are you?

He was certainly an eager responder, taking only a few seconds to reply. You found yourself smiling down at your phone screen.

Cowboy… I like that. I’m better now that I’m talking to you.

Oh, Joel, who told you to say that? 😂

No good?

Not bad. 6/10.

Only 6/10? I’ll work on it. I like to think I’m better in person.

I would love to find out.

You found yourself emboldened by how easy the conversation was flowing. Joel was certainly easy to talk to, easier than the other matches you had going for you, and infinitely more handsome.

Oh, would you? Alright. I’d love to take you to dinner sometime. If you don’t mind being seen with an old man such as myself in public. Or meeting a stranger from the internet.

He’s a very handsome stranger. I would love to go to dinner with you. Know any good spots? I’m new around here.

There’s a great barbecue spot in downtown Austin. If you’d prefer something fancier, let me know.

I love bbq. Just tell me where and when, cowboy.

Tomorrow, 7pm ok?

You sent him your phone number in the message. Fuck it.

Sounds great. Text me the address, I’ll be there. :)

Joel’s reply didn’t come. Instead, a text appeared at the top of your screen with an unknown number.

It’s Joel. This the right number?

Yup. You found me.

Great. Talk tomorrow sweetheart. Looking forward to it. :)

He texted you the address of the restaurant, right before you opened the contact card, saving his name as “cowboy ♡”.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾

Cowboy. Cowboy. Cowboy. It was playing over in his head like a broken fuckin’ record.

Joel was positively freaking out about this date.

Sarah had managed to secure a sleepover at her friend’s place, so the house would be empty for the night. He had been busying himself with cleaning the entirety of the house, even taking the time to mow the grass before work and vacuum the family room. He can’t remember the last time he vacuumed anywhere.

Would she even make it back here? How does this work? Will she want to sleep over or hang out on the couch or should he be making a dessert for after?

His mind was brought out of it’s craze by Sarah jumping down the stairs. She plopped her bag down on the freshly wiped countertop.

“Careful,” he warned, putting a hand up. “I just cleaned that off.”

“I can tell. It smells like the cleaning aisle threw up in here.”

He smirked before patting her head with his hand, as she aggressively smoothed out her hair. “Dad! Don’t!”

“When do you wanna go to Ellie’s?” He asked, more gaging how long he has left to get ready than actually asking.

“Probably soon. Why? Tryna get rid of me?” she poked her dad in the side, but when she flinched away instead, a large smile spread across her face. He was tense.

“What’s your deal?” Joel hated the way she knew him so well sometimes.

“Nothing.“

“Are you going on a date?”

Silence fell over the kitchen between the two of them, as Joel’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “How did you know?”

“Oh my god, you actually took my advice,” Sarah laughed, watching her dad’s face burn red with embarrassment. “Just don’t do anything weird on communal surfaces, please.”

Joel shook his head at her suggestion, already becoming annoyed with the whole prospect. He was so nervous, about what to wear, how to act, what the expectation was… let alone, what would happen if they made it back to his place at all.

Although, when he was able to shake his nerves for a second, he was just really fucking excited.

“Wear those dark jeans, and that green shirt you wore to Tommy’s last week. Looks good on you.” Sarah smiled as she put her arms around Joel’s middle, while his worries melted away with her touch. “She’ll love you, I promise.”

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾

It had been such a long time since you’d been on a proper date, you were starting to lose your mind at the simple process of deciding what to wear.

Clothes were strewn across every surface of your apartment, shoes matching with jeans that matched with cardigans, tops that matched with belts and jackets.

It’s 87 degrees at 5 o’clock, idiot. You’re not wearing a jacket. Relax.

Exhausted of picking out outfits and making decisions, you collapsed on your couch and took a look at your options. You landed on an easy sundress, putting the rest of your clothes back in their respective drawers, and pulling out all of the products you were expecting to use to get ready.

You scrolled through your phone aimlessly as a notification bubble popped up on the screen.

We still on for tonight darlin’? Or did you change your mind?

No worries if you did. I respect that.

You let out a cackle at the message, thinking about how he must look right now. Was he nervous? Scared? Was he just looking for a controversially young fuck?

You weren’t… completely against that.

Didn’t change my mind, wouldn’t in a million years :)

Meet you there. Can’t wait to see you.

His eagerness to meet up would’ve been a red flag if it were any other run of the mill guy, but something about Joel felt special. There didn’t seem to be any funny business with him; too sincere to try anything other than just a good old fashioned date.

You too, cowboy.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾

When Joel showed up at the restaurant, he clenched a small bouquet of pink peonies in his right hand and checked his watch obsessively. The minutes ticked away, as he kept a high alert for anyone who could be his potential date. He knew what you looked like, of course, but this being his first time doing anything of this sort is making him hyperaware of anything going awry.

When he does lay eyes on you, his whole gaze softens. A pink sundress, hair pristinely styled and a bounce in your step that reminded him of summer. You looked like an angel, the sunset behind you painting the sky tangerine, which reflected off of the shine against your supple skin. So young, beautiful, it was taking his breath away.

“Joel?”

Your voice matched your sweet demeanour, and he was taken out of his waking daydream.

“Hi,” is all he can say, letting his breath out as he relaxed. “Yes, hi, sorry. I’m Joel.”

“Hi,” you laugh back, eyes darting to the flowers in his hand. They matched your dress.

“These are for you,” he gets the hint, extending his arm out, and you can see the veins bulging in his forearm. He looked so much stronger in person, it was making your knees go weak.

“Thank you, wow,” you held them up to your nose to smell the sweet aroma. “I love peonies.”

“Me too,” he smiled, showing off a string of pearly white teeth, that contrasted with the pink of his lips and the even tan of his skin.

“Shall we?” He extended his arm to you for you to grab onto, and you got to feel the warmth of his skin for yourself. Your hand wrapped around his forearm as he opened the door of the restaurant for you, leading you inside and catching a glimpse of the backs of your thighs as you walked in front of him.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾

When you were finally sitting, the conversation flowed easily. He was truly a Southern gentleman, like he had said. It wasn’t normal for you to open up so quickly, but Joel was so easy going and smart, he asked the right questions and knew when to listen. He knew how to listen, a warm gaze and a nod along, asking follow up questions to your answers and easily getting to know you.

You asked about his daughter, his family, his work. He was happy to tell you.

“So, what’s a man like you doing being single in this city?” You take a sip of the wine in the glass in front of you, burgundy staining your bottom lip.

He takes a bite of the food in front of him, a napkin pressing to his lips quickly after. “Been busy,” he started to say, honey brown eyes meeting yours for a second. His gaze sent an electrifying pulse down your spine.

“And, well, when Sarah’s mom left there was a ton to do,” he says it nonchalantly, as if that should be something normal to happen. “House, work, school, she keeps my hands full. Hasn’t been a lot of time.” His syrupy drawl is pulling you in, you’re enticed by the way he speaks to you. So easy, warm, soft. You wonder what his hands feel like on your body, lips pressed to your neck, torso pressed against yours.

“Sorry, that’s a lot of information for a first date,” he laughs to cover the awkwardness, and quietly curses himself for going into so much detail about his precarious family situation and basically admitting to you that he hasn’t fucked anything other than his hand in the last 5 or so years.

“No, it’s okay,” you slide your hand across the table, palm up, urging him to slot his hand into it. He takes it, easily, enveloping yours. His fingers find the pulse point on your wrist. You let your eyes drift up to his, drinking in the way his chest fills out the shirt he chose.

“What’s your story?” He asks earnestly, giving your hand a squeeze. “Can’t imagine there isn’t a long line of people outside waiting to take my place, darlin’.”

You blush furiously at the nickname, and let your eyes meet his once again. “You have no idea the… mess that is out there,” the wine is calling your name to take another sip at the mere thought, but you refrain. “Certainly not too many I am interested in.”

“So, is that why you’re on a date with an old man on a beautiful summer night in Austin?”

You could tell Joel, in a twisted way, liked that you were younger than him. It made him feel younger by admission, that you’d want to spend time with him.

“You’re not that much older,” you laugh, not even believing it yourself as the words left your lips. “And I like to try new things. Don’t you like trying new things, sometimes?”

It was his turn to let his face go red at your insinuation. If only you knew how ‘new’ this really was for him, how much he was pushed out of his comfort zone right now.

You didn’t notice.

A little more polite small talk and exchanging of stories was all you could take before the tension was becoming too much. After another glass of wine and a shared plate of sky-high chocolate cake for dessert, you were enjoying his company and could tell he was enjoying yours all the same. When you met his gaze again, hands still intertwined, you could tell there was a question on the tip of his tongue.

“Would you want to…“ - a nervous pause, with a halo of lust - “come back to mine for a nightcap? I’ve got an empty house this evening.”

You couldn’t help but smirk, knowing in your heart that Joel must’ve made arrangements for his family not to be home in anticipation. He had to have planned for you, known in his heart you’d say yes.

“I’d love that.”

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Joel’s home is unmistakably him. It smells like a pine candle that sits near the front door and a faint aroma of laundry detergent. There’s photos everywhere, him and his daughter, his brother’s family. Big windows were letting in the twinkling lights of the city outside, the inky sky making them look brighter against its canvas.

“You have a beautiful home,” you say, although it seems a little formal for the situation. What else do you say to a grown-up in their house?

“Thank you,” he takes a bottle of whiskey from the bar cart and pours two rock glasses, handing you one. He flicks on a lamp, ambient light filling the room and painting his skin amber orange, as he joins your side by his kitchen table.

“I did a lot of the construction myself, the decorations are my daughter.” He points lazily to the trinkets on the shelves and photos on the wall. “I don’t really have a good eye for that type of stuff.”

You take a sip from the drink and it coats your throat, burning down as you suppress a cough at the taste. You nod along as he explains the design choices he made in the home, and you play along, knowing it’s likely out of anxiety.

“What about upstairs?”

Your eyes are innocent as they meet his, although you understand the implication you’re making whole-heartedly. He puts his glass down on the kitchen table and you follow his lead, his strong hand around your wrist as he leads you up the stairs wordlessly.

“It’s not anything,” - he clears his throat - “special,” he shows you around the second floor, finishing at the door of his bedroom that has been left slightly ajar.

You step in quietly, leading him inside as you take in the bedroom. Neatly folded clothes, a made bed that looks well loved. Blue sheets and fluffy pillows, big bay windows that let the moonlight in.

“I think it’s nice,” you say simply, letting yourself turn around to meet his broad frame. He looks down at you slightly, eyes meeting yours as your hand drops from his grasp and snakes around his neck. His hands come up the sides of your dress, pulling it up slightly, but landing on your waist.

“Is this okay?” He asks tentatively in the dark of the room, his lips so close to yours already you can practically taste the whiskey on his lips for yourself. You answer him by pressing your tentative lips to his, slotting them together easily.

Joel’s grip on your waist tightens momentarily as he takes you in, pulling you as close as he possibly can. He can smell the perfume on your neck and the wine on your lips from earlier, and it’s making his need for you increase tenfold.

You pull him into you as you stumble back to let your knees hit his mattress, sitting down and letting your hands come to his belt buckle. Your hands came to undo it as he pulled his t-shirt off to throw onto the floor beside him, bending down to help you pull the dress over your shoulders to meet his t-shirt.

You made quick work of his jeans, pushing them to the ground and looking up at him with a keen glance. You could see the breath making his belly rise and fall, anticipating your touch on him any second.

When your hand wrapped around the base of his cock, his breath hitched and his head rolled back. He was already half-hard only from kissing you, so a few pumps made him easily ready for your mouth.

“You’re so big,” is all you can think to say, head spinning from the sheer size of him right in front of your face. Your mouth watered at the way his hand palmed through your hair, pulling you in closer to him for some relief.

It was intoxicating to him, the way your mouth fit around his cock. Such a beautiful sight to see, your head licking and sucking at his tip, gathering spit there to lubricate him. His knees were going weak as he watched intently, no thought able to cross his mind, other than maybe how long it had been since he’d had anyone to do this with. He was going to have to pace himself if it was all like this.

Your mouth constrained around the length of him, taking him deeper and deeper with every bob of your head. Filthy sounds were filling the room now, of your eager mouth pulling him in as best you could. His hand stayed steady at the back of your head, not pushing, just softly pressed there for support. His other hand found your shoulder, pushing down your bra strap.

“God, darlin’,” was all he could choke out, using his hand to pull you off of him. Your hand lazily stroked him as you looked up at him, spit collecting at the corners of your mouth. “I’m not gonna last long if you keep doin’ that,” his laugh eased some of the tension in the room, as you took your other hand and wiped the spit away.

He leaned down, pressing a fervent kiss to your lips before using his own hands to unclasp your bra and let your breasts free. His lips traveled to the side of your neck, before he was kneeled down between your legs, sucking your nipple into his mouth. He lapped at you, all consuming, as his hand came up to grasp the other breast that wasn’t being serviced. He moaned at the noises you were making, lewd whines into the night air that only encouraged him.

His lips made their way down your body to your clothed centre, your back against his soft sheets. You looked down at him intently, watching as he pulled your panties down your legs and immediately delved into your pussy with broad strokes of his tongue.

Your body jerked upwards at the contact, hand fisting the sheet beside you as he lapped at you, like a man starved. His expert tongue found your clit easily, sucking and licking at you for what felt like hours. You thought about his heavy cock between his legs, begging to be touched, hard as ever as he licked at you desperately.

“Joel,” you whined out, feeling your hand reach down to grab at his curls and push him deeper into you. That only made him moan, one hand lazily fisting his cock as the other came up to dip a finger into you, allowing you to see stars when you screwed your eyes shut.

His fingers were so large, pressed into your core as you fucked yourself on them and his tongue in tandem. He was groaning and grunting, and you hoped his neighbours couldn’t see into the window at the desperate filth that was going on in his bedroom.

“Fuck, Joel, please,” you begged, but he had no mercy, and your orgasm was creeping up on you. He was ready to watch you come undone, pushing a second finger into you and furiously sucking on your clit. His other hand left his own pleasure and wrapped around your breast, pressing and playing with the hard nub there, pinching to provide a little bit of sting to it. It was sending you into another dimension.

“Come for me, sweetheart,” and his voice is gravely and debauched, enough to send you into your first orgasm, chanting his name and pulling on his hair. He was happily licking at you, fingers still pressing in and out as to not mess up the rhythm, as you rode out your orgasm against his face.

When you started to come down, he finally detached himself from you before standing up between your legs and pressing his broad palms to your thighs. He stayed there for a moment, cock still hard and heavy between his legs as you gazed up at him, out of breath from his work.

“You’re really good at that,” was all you could think to say, head clouded with arousal. You moved up on the bed a little, opening your legs and pressing your knees apart to show your pussy to him again.

“Please fuck me, Joel,” you breathe out, letting your hand find your own clit to rub it teasingly for him. It was still so sensitive, but the way he was looking down at you, eyes dark and stormy with need, you could almost come again just from that.

He put a knee down on the bed and crawled on top of you, his lips finding yours once again as your hands found his face. You held him there, savouring the kiss as his tongue crashed against yours, all warmth and spit and the taste of you. His hand found your breast and continued to play with your nipples, softly, coaxing more moans into his mouth from yours.

He leaned back and slipped his cock inside of you, filling you up immediately and making you gasp. He groaned into the side of your neck, tonguing the side of your ear and kissing you feverishly as he pumped in and out of you.

Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him impossibly close, your moans filling the room as he rocked in and out of you. He kissed your jaw and chest, before reaching down between your bodies and pressing his thick finger to your clit again, using the wetness there to draw circles around your sensitive nub.

“So pretty,” he smiles into your neck, your hand on the back of his, playing with the now-sweaty strands of hair on the nape. “So pretty for me, taking my cock,” the dirty talking is welcome as he continues to bring you closer to a second orgasm, your breath hitching once again.

“Come inside of me,” you say it like a whisper, a secret in the stillness of the room, and Joel is unsure he even heard you correctly.

“Are you sure?” He says it not accusingly, but in a way that conveys he feels like he just won the lottery.

“Yes, please, fill me up.”

You can see the way his eyes darken more, shifting so he’s on his knees and using your body to fuck himself on his thick cock. His hand continued to play with your clit, bringing you so close to your orgasm that tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. His cheeks were getting hot as he thrusted in and out furiously, and you could almost see the stress melt off of his face as he came close to his own undoing.

The white-hot feeling washes over you once again, eyes shutting before you’re back on your elbows and watching intently. Your whole body feels like it’s on fire as his thrusts become sloppy, your name pouring out of his lips like a prayer. You’re clenching around him and letting him ride out his high alongside you, slowing after his hot cum coats your walls and leaves you full of him.

He collapses on top of you, cock softening inside as you both catch your breath together. Your chests are sticky with sweat as you breathe, taking in the smell of him, and the feel of his warmth on your body.

He pulls himself from you and flops beside you, still taking a moment to admire you. You look over at him, a lazy smile on your face as your hand reaches out to caress the skin of his chest. He takes the time to run his fingertips up your arms and back as you lay there in silence together, just soaking in the moment in a post-sex glow.

“I guess I should get going,” you say after a few beats, sitting up to grab your dress off the floor. You cringe at the thought of throwing your underwear on and leaving, this being just another random hookup for you that never lead to anything. Joel was sweet.

A confused look spreads across his features and his brows knit together, before sitting up next to you at the edge of the bed.

“I mean, I don’t know how these things usually go,” he laughs, as his hand finds your lower back. “But you don’t gotta run outta here like a scared animal or somethin’.”

You look up at him again, unsure of what to do next. In your, albeit limited, experience with dating app hookups, you were expected to leave pretty much right after.

“Oh, um,” you look around the room at the soft worn-in sheets and the TV across from Joel’s bed. You take a look at him again, your eyes meeting his to match his gaze, where you can tell he’s mentally begging that you’ll stay the night.

“I mean, if you don’t mind, I’d be happy to stay.” Joel smiled lopsidedly and let his hand rub soothing circles at your lower back.

“I’ll make it worth your while,” he laughs, stepping over to go into the bathroom and warm up a cloth for the mess spilling out from between your legs. “I wouldn’t mind wakin’ up and doing all that again tomorrow.”

You laugh and lay back onto his bed as he presses the warm cloth to your pussy, his lips once again finding yours to pull you in for a sweet kiss.

You nod, sliding between the comfortable sheets as Joel runs downstairs to grab your abandoned drinks as well as a couple of bottles of ice cold water. He slips into the sheets next to you, not bothering to throw on any pajamas (not that you were complaining), and settling in beside you. After a few gulps of water, you nestled into his chest and let your hand find his tummy, resting on it as you listened to the even pattern of his breath.

“We should do this again. Like, after tomorrow morning.” you say quietly as you’re drifting in and out of sleep. His fingertips continues to slide across your arm and give you goosebumps as you snuggled closer into him, hearing a laugh exhale out of his nose and feeling a kiss press to the top of your head.

In his sleepy, deep southern drawl, he replies. “Don’t have to ask me twice, darlin’.”

#joel miller fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #tlou fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x female reader #joel miller one shot #joel miller fic #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fanfic

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for-a-longlongtime · 2 months ago

Text

As You Are - Marcus Moreno x Joel Miller

Rating: Explicit 🔞🏳‍🌈 Warnings: softdom!Joel, subby!Marcus, oral/deep throating, anal sex, dirty talk, “sir” (part of the scene, not main dynamic), sex toys (plug, handcuffs), unexpected interruption, Joel Miller has a apadravya (cock piercing) and isn’t shy about it. Word count: 8.7K

A/N: For those of you who recognize the pairing from a previous fic; this stand-alone one shot greatly expands on it and is just about Marcus and Joel (so the last part in Joel's POV will look familiar to you). Thank you to @sin-djarin @qveerthe0ry @lotusbxtch @mountainsandmayhem for always helping me make it to the finish line and understanding my guys so so well <3

read on AO3 | main masterlist

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“Mr. Moreno, can we have a moment of–...”

“How serious is the threat this time?”

“Sir, as the leader of the Heroics, what do-...”

“Marcus, why wasn’t this prevented?”

“When do you think–...”

Marcus shakes his head as he makes his way out of the press room, trying to tune out the herd of journalists calling out to him. He knows it’s all part of their job, but even after all these years there is something particularly vulture-like about how they never accept an end to a press conference.

“Taylor, how long until you’re expecting more information?”, he asks the tall press officer walking ahead of him. They’re always so smartly dressed to the point that Marcus wonders why they aren’t the ones in front of the camera all the time. Taylor has never made a wrong impression or said a wrong word, moving around with a confidence that’s beyond admirable, and a disarming smile that works with anyone.

“We’re not sure. For now the next press meeting is scheduled for 20:00 hours,” Taylor says, scrolling through their phone as they head for Marcus’ office, somehow still finding time to greet people along the way. “Until then, I’m gonna need you to-...”

“No, please.” The words slip from Marcus’ lips before he realizes it, that sickening feeling in his stomach worsening at the thought of spending more hours in meetings. It’s been a couple of gruelling weeks dealing with the recent conflicts around Austin, but these past two days have been particularly hard. “I can’t anymore. It’s been over a day and a half since I was last home. I know things are critical, but there’s nothing that I-…”

“Sir… I know it’s not ideal.” Taylor closes the door behind them, locking the outside noise out of Marcus’ office, then takes a seat while flipping through a stack of papers. “I know you’re tired. But it would really be helpful if we can do some more things on the Atzer deal. If you want to nap on your couch first, I’m happy to give you an hour.”

He knows it would be useful. Knows that the few higher ups are adamant about the deal he’s been negotiating for the safety of the city. But frankly, there is no reason why he would be better suited for the upcoming gathering than anyone else would be. Not to mention he’s running on much less sleep than anyone else at the office.

Just when he’s about to give in to Taylor’s request, his phone beeps, pulling away his attention for a moment. *Joel*. He swipes immediately, not aware anymore of what Taylor is saying, and the bad feeling in his gut calms down immediately when he sees the picture. It’s the front of Joel’s house, the one Marcus has known for over twenty years now. Joel is on a ladder, fixing up some final detailing on the door frame. A second ding indicates the follow up text, and he can’t help but smile as he reads it.

Joel: remember when we first did this? had to show you how to use a damn drill, pretty boy MM: Yeah, well, you deliberately let me mess around with it first on that ladder just so you could check out my ass. Joel: legs. plus those shorts left fuck all to the imagination. hey- you sleep yet?

“Sir?”

He looks up at Taylor, who gives him a slightly forced smile in return this time. “Sorry, sorry. I need to answer this,” Marcus says as he gestures at his phone. “How about you take five?” He doesn’t listen too much to the answer as he turns his attention back to his phone, quickly typing a response.

MM: A few hours on my couch. I’m okay. Joel: didn’t make it home yet? damnit. you’re gonna collapse, powers or not. go home MM: I can’t. There’s another press conference at 8. Joel: it’s not even noon. nicole would tell you the same. go home

He sighs deeply, knowing Joel is right. But after so many years of obligations coming first, it’s hard to change his ways. People are counting on him, always - work, his daughter, his wife Nicole. Joel too, in a way. Except he has known Marcus for longer than anyone else, and always navigated Marcus’ workload with a straightforward and direct attitude, knowing it was best to let him be. However, when things become too much, he’d pull him back unapologetically and with a firm hand. Not asking, just telling him. Something Marcus wouldn’t be able to accept from anyone else but Joel. But today… it’s just not good timing. Another nap on the couch will have to do.

Joel: [image.jpg]

A quiet whine escapes Marcus’ lips as he stares at the photo. God, it was absolutely obscene - and it made his mouth water. The shot was clearly taken in Joel’s truck, camera held high. No face showing, just a snapshot of his lap.

Jeans undone, boxers showing, shirt pushed up just a few inches so the treasure trail leading the way down was clearly visible. Joel’s big, strong hand cupping his balls through his boxers, the hard outline of his cock pushing upward to his left. Only the head peeked out of the fabric, showing the slightest bit of foreskin.

Marcus’ heart races as he zooms in on the image, and he bites his lip when he spots what he’s been looking for. The gleam of that delicate metal bar, pierced through Joel’s glans from top to bottom, with a round stud on each end. It has been a good fifteen years since Joel got his apadravya piercing, but still it never fails to affect Marcus. It’s not just about seeing it – it’s how he’s immediately immersed in the memory of it resting on his tongue, the cool metal such a contrast with how warm Joel’s body is. Not to mention how strongly Marcus’ powers react to it. On top of that, there’s the thick smear of pre-cum over the fat head of Joel’s dick, along with further evidence casually glistening on his thumb, only adding to how much Marcus wants Joel’s cock in his mouth.

Joel: go home. nap. tommy will do the afternoon stuff- see u soon. better be rested

For a moment Marcus hesitates, glancing at the door while he contemplates whether anyone would actually physically try to stop him from going home. Then his phone beeps again, and he grins as he gets up from his desk chair, grabbing his jacket. “So damn bossy,” he mutters to himself with a smile as he locks the phone, seeing a quick flash of Joel’s latest text before the screen goes dark.

Joel: that wasn’t a question, moreno

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Forty some minutes later, Marcus finds himself half asleep in Joel’s bed; freshly showered, dressed in briefs and Joel’s green flannel that was laying around. Joel moving into the house with Marcus and Nicole had initially been for convenience’s sake, due to renovations at his own house. None of them had initially expected it would end up being a turning point, but when things evolved - it felt right. Familiar, comfortable with a twist, certain things new in certain ways. Getting to come home to both of them is what kept Marcus going through the long hours he made at the HQ.

When Nicole told Marcus that their daughter would be coming home for summer break, he had been thrilled about the prospect. But despite his numerous attempts to spend quality time with her, he found her even more reluctant than she had been in previous years. His increased visibility as the Heroics leader didn’t help much either, something she had come to detest during her teenage years. He frequently found himself wishing that she had been able to spend more time with his mother Anita before she passed. She had been a trainer for the Heroics as long as Marcus could remember, a solid team together with his father’s powers and leadership, something that he knew would be passed on to him. A blessing, they would tell him when he was still a child.

Marcus had never looked at it that way. His powers as a Heroic were less of a family trait and more of a generational burden that had controlled both his parents’ and grandparents’ lives. There had been no other choice for him but to make peace with it, which he had done many years ago. It still posed a challenge for him all the time, particularly in setting boundaries with the HQ in order to keep putting his family first. But as it was, Marcus didn’t see any other way of dealing with it - even though his kid clearly had a difference of opinion where there was ‘no other choice’ resignation. Something she made clear all the time.

It isn’t until the lamps and electronic devices around him start to flicker on and off, a low buzzing sound in the back of his head, that he realizes he is too worked up - and it is affecting his powers unintentionally. “Stop overthinking.” He can hear Joel’s voice in the back of his mind, calm but resolute as always.

So he tries. Focuses on how Joel’s scent lingers on the bed sheets, and the green plaid shirt he’s wearing, and tries to have it ground him. He still has time before Joel will be back home, so he might as well close his eyes and get some rest. Here, surrounded by the smell of Joel’s soap and cologne, it is easy to imagine the weight of him pressing against his back, an arm wrapped around him in quiet comfort. And apparently, thinking of that is all it takes for his exhausted brain and body to slip into some much needed sleep.

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“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

“Hey…” Marcus groans softly as he feels Joel’s breath warm against the back of his neck. Finally hearing that deep, slightly raspy voice behind him was by far the best part of the past 36 hours. It’s a struggle to make himself wake up, but he tries, attempting to roll over so he can look at Joel. But Joel simply wraps an arm around his waist, pressing his broad chest all the way against Marcus’ back. A solid wall of warmth and the faint smell of wood envelops him, mixed with Joel’s cologne, and for a moment he’s tempted to fall right back to sleep again.

“ ‘s okay. Take your time to wake up.” Joel’s stubble brushes against his neck as he kisses him, fingers running over the green plaid Marcus is wearing. “That my shirt?”, he asks, his voice rumbling low in his chest. It’s a no-brainer - nobody else in the house has plaid shirts like he does, but still Marcus likes him asking about it. Likes him noticing it on him.

“Yeah. Smells of you, I like it. Makes it easier to fall asleep.” He’s still drowsy, words he didn’t really intend to say out loud spilling too easily from his lips, but he doesn’t feel like holding them back. Especially not when he rolls over and sees the beginning of a smile tugging at Joel’s lips. It’s clear how tired he is, the smell of lumber and paint from the long day still lingering on him. But to Marcus, it’s Joel who is a sight for sore eyes, especially today.

“You’re becoming a sap in your old age.” Joel grins when Marcus tries to smack him, catching his hand as he clearly anticipated that. With a soft groan and creaking knees he moves on top of Marcus, one thick thigh on each side to cage him in, and he easily brings Marcus’ wrists up above his head, holding them there with one hand.

“Who are you calling old? I’m one year–...”

“Yeah, yeah,” Joel mocks him, leaning down to claim his mouth again, and Marcus feels the heat travel through his body as Joel gently grinds against him. “Still older,” he continues, eyes freely roaming over Marcus’ body as he watches Marcus’ chest heave. When his eyes catch the way that the green button up has slid up on Marcus’ stomach, he clearly gets distracted by the view of bare skin, lips parting as he takes in the sight.

“Forty-four isn’t old,” Marcus tries half-heartedly, but the way Joel is looking at him makes it feel rather useless to try and win an argument about this.

“God damn near ancient.” Joel sighs, a twinkle in his eye. “I’m basically sucking old man’s dick here.”

Marcus glares at him - but with Joel’s weight resting on him, and now the thought of Joel’s mouth on his dick, he’s pretty sure even a pointed look isn’t very convincing right now. “I don’t see you sucking anything right now, Miller.”

This time there’s a full on smirk playing over Joel’s face as he shifts on Marcus’ lap, holding his wrists still together while leaning down to kiss him. Right before their lips meet, he changes directions, and Marcus nearly whines in frustration, until Joel’s mouth ends up on his neck. “Got that right. I’m not the one who needs his pretty little head fucked empty,” Joel whispers at him, and Marcus’ breathing hitches as his hips buck up. Fuck.

“Joel…”

“Oh, I know you want it so badly.” Joel hushes him as he grinds back harder, his dick clearly hard in his jeans as he rubs it against Marcus’ briefs. He’s sparse with his words in general, but that makes his filthy mouth all the better during moments like this. “Yeah. I really do.” After one more hard kiss, Joel reluctantly gets up from the bed and begins to unbuckle his belt. “Been a long day. How about I go shower—...”

“Hell no.” Marcus is up almost immediately, grabbing for Joel’s jeans as he tugs him closer, eager to undo the zipper. “It’s fine, I want you like this, let me-...”

“That so?” Joel’s sharp voice stops him in his tracks, demanding attention, and Marcus’ mouth goes dry when Joel grips his chin with his thumb and index finger. The expression on his face has shifted, stubbled jaw more tense now, his eyes as serious as the tone in his voice - it wasn’t a question, but an order.

“Did I say you can undress me?”

He shakes his head slowly, cock throbbing by the authoritative turn in Joel. “No. I’m sorry,” he breathes as he lets go of him. His first instinct is to go to his knees, but he knows how this goes - the whole point is for him to not have to think or worry or make decisions. Joel is in charge and decides what happens; he just has to be good and follow that. So when Joel’s free hand grabs him tightly by his hair, Marcus stays in place, seated on the edge of the bed with his eyes still locked on Joel’s face. Waiting for further instructions.

“Sorry what?”

“Sir.” The word trips off Marcus’ tongue quickly, and Joel’s eyes darken with desire at that word in a way that always makes something burn bright inside of Marcus’ chest. Whenever this happens, this ‘thing’ between them, it never is just one-sided. Joel gets as much out of this as he does, too, even when it's Marcus who needs him the most during moments like this, when life has been unraveling him. “I’m sorry, Sir.”

“Not sure you actually are.” Joel’s eyes drop down to look at Marcus’ mouth, and he then lets go of him, taking two steps away from the bed. “On your knees. Now,” he continues, snapping his fingers when Marcus doesn’t move fast enough.

“Yes, sir.” He’s on the floor almost immediately, his knees bumping against Joel’s boots, and it takes effort to keep his eyes on Joel’s face instead of the bulge in his underwear. He’s rewarded for it with Joel’s hand approvingly brushing through his hair, nails scraping just a little bit over his scalp, and Marcus bites his lip to not moan at the feeling of it.

Sometimes Joel tells him what to do - or rather what’s about to happen. Step by step, as simply hearing him talk about it is already enough to get Marcus desperate. Other times it’s quicker, more instinctual and quiet, but just as good. Today, Marcus’ restraint is particularly low - he’s worn out from the endless meetings and responsibilities at work, the never ending chatter. Trying to dissociate just to push through, and it makes his fingers twitchy, the anxiety crawling under his skin even though he knows how to hide it from most people. But Joel sees it nevertheless, can tell so by the slightest signs - knows how Marcus needs him. Even when it’s hard to ask.

“I’ve got you.” Joel’s voice is soft and warm, making shivers run down Marcus’ spine. “Any requests?”

Marcus takes a deep breath, searching for what he wants to ask for, and Joel’s fingers rubbing soft circles on his scalp become a little stronger. Urging him to let it out - it’s something they’ve been working on. “Cuffs,” he says eventually as he closes his eyes, and Joel hums softly as he cradles the back of Marcus’ head, letting him press his forehead against his belly. The smell of wood somehow lingers the strongest here on Joel’s work clothes, and Marcus breathes it in deeply, fixating on it, as he rubs his nose against the shirt covering Joel’s stomach, eager for skin on skin contact. He’s so wrapped up in it that even when Joel moves away, the scent still remains, as does the memory of his belly.

Only once he feels Joel kneeling down behind him, he realizes that he’s moved. Large warm hands brushing over his shoulders to his arms, gently tugging Marcus’ hands behind his back. The metal of the handcuffs touching his skin makes all the little hairs on his body stand up straight, like a low current of electricity flickering under his skin. He feels the sensation increase when Joel puts the cuffs around his wrists and snaps them closed, and he takes another deep breath, rolling his head over his shoulders as he tries to relax into the feeling.

It’s hard to describe how the metal that he can manipulate with his powers also has the opposite effect on him. How it pushes him into a state of surrender when used like this, a low level of anxiety that somehow becomes freeing when placed into Joel’s hands. His cock throbs in anticipation, and when Joel pushes his chin up gently, Marcus opens his eyes again to look at him. He is woozy at the sight of Joel towering over him, and the moment he feels Joel’s thumb brush over his lower lip, he opens his mouth - tongue out without even being told to.

“Good boy, Marcus.”

His breathing grows heavier right away at the praise, and moments later he is rewarded by the sight of Joel pushing his underwear down, half hard cock in hand now. He bites his lip as he watches Joel give himself a few strokes, his heartbeat thundering when he sees the foreskin slide back to expose the fat tip, both of them knowing that’s exactly what he’s eager to see.

The two metal studs from the apadravya piercing gleam softly, practically calling his name, and Marcus shivers as he feels his body responding to it - especially now he’s wearing the metal cuffs. “I could see it in the picture you sent,” he says hoarsely, then licks his dry lips for a moment. “Made me so fucking hard in front of Taylor.”

“Figured.” A pleased smile plays over Joel’s face and he spits in his hand, using it to give himself a few strokes while keeping his eyes on Marcus’ mouth. “Just the tip, y’hear me?”, he warns and Marcus nods eagerly, his tongue back out again to welcome Joel’s erection.

The nerve endings in his body spark hard when the cool metal touches his tongue, and the pleasant dizziness in his head only increases as he suckles on the thick head. He loves taking his time like this, that Joel lets him spend as much time on it as he needs. It’s harder to keep his balance when cuffed, but he enjoys the challenge, as well as the strain he can already feel in his shoulders and arms.

A low groan calls his attention, and when he glances up, he sees Joel’s eyes are heavy lidded, staring back at him in need. Marcus can’t help but smile at him, his tongue slowly running over the piercing, and he hears a quiet curse when he sucks on the metal studs. First the one under his dickhead, then the one on top of it - always in that order - before tongueing the slit of his cock, where Joel is already leaking a considerable amount of pre-cum.

“You’re so good at that.” Joel’s voice is like a hum that Marcus feels through his entire body, with the slightest hitches of breathing that clearly indicate his excitement. He brushes his fingers through Marcus’ hair, his hips moving lazily - barely even, but just enough to chase the friction of Marcus’ lips and tongue. “Saving the entire world constantly, but then you also suck dick like this.”

“Joel…” This time it’s Marcus who groans, resting his head against Joel’s belly for a moment as he tries to compose himself, then chases after the tip of his dick again with his mouth.

“Nuh-uh.” Joel smacks his cheek unexpectedly, stopping him in his tracks, and the sudden sensation of the slap makes Marcus leak into his briefs. He sucks in a deep breath, fighting the urge to rub his dick against Joel’s leg for some friction and get some relief for himself. Instead he lifts his eyes back up to Joel, lips still pressed against his dick, to see him staring right back with a frown. “What did you call me, Moreno?”

“Sir,” he gasps against Joel’s cock, realizing his mistake as he’d gotten too carried away. “Fuck – I’m so sorry, sir.” He doesn’t wait to see if the verbal apology is enough, but instead pops the head of Joel’s cock back into his mouth again to show him just how sorry he is. The groan he gets in return drowns out the last bits of noise in his head, flooding his senses, and all he wants to do is to just take in Joel’s cock completely. But Joel holds him back, denies him, teases him until Marcus feels like he’s about to break, his throat thick and heart heavy with want.

“Please”, he moans eventually, his body tight with tension as he lets the head of Joel’s dick fall out of his mouth.

“So say it,” Joel demands, tugging at his hair so he has no choice but to stare up at him. “If you want it, you-...”

“Fuck my mouth,” Marcus breathes, not even caring about how much his voice is shaking. “Please fuck my mouth, sir.”

So Joel does.

One hand in Marcus’ hair, the other under his chin to hold him in place, and as he keeps his eyes locked on Marcus’, he calmly slides his thick cock into the wet heat that Marcus offers. Going so deep without missing a beat that for a moment Marcus isn’t sure whether he can take it all without warming up, mouth and heart full of Joel just as he wants it. But there’s no need to wonder, because Joel knows - gives him exactly what he needs, uses him the way they both want it, reassuring Marcus in every way that he’s got him.The caresses, murmured praise, the salty taste of pre-cum leaking on Marcus’ tongue as his breathing keeps getting heavier.

Joel pushes him just a little further every time he slides back into Marcus’ mouth, hips steady and hands confidently holding him at just the right angle, until Marcus can feel his cock in his throat, has to work hard on relaxing more so his gag reflex doesn’t kick in - because he wants this. No thoughts, just the coarse tickle of Joel’s pubes against his nose. Just Joel filling him up so much that he can barely breathe, anything but graceful as he’s drooling around his length.

The rush of being pushed to his limits, of feeling Joel’s stomach pressed against his forehead once he has taken all of his cock, the “Good boy, Marcus - fuck, FUCK” in Joel’s strained desperate voice as he keeps himself inside - keeps Marcus in place with a hand firmly on the back of his head.

He groans around Joel’s thickness, eyes rolling nearly back into his head when he feels the piercing’s zing once again. It’s always good, but this time - inside of his throat - it vibrates through him in a way that makes his head spin. It’s overwhelming, making it hard to breathe, but it’s all he can think of right now. Even though he hears Joel hush him and calm him down, even tries to withdraw from Marcus’ mouth, he feels frenzied now and needs more. More as he starts to bop his head on his own accord now, creating more friction for Joel as well as his own benefit, as he’s unwilling to let go - despite Joel's repeated attempt to pull out of him.

Instead he doubles down in his determination, despite the fact that it’s making him gag, with tears coming to his eyes as he pushes himself further and harder. Because all he can think right now is how good the rush feels, how alive and unfettered his body and mind are in this moment, filled up with Joel. So much that he’s barely even aware of the bedside lamp that has started to flicker its light erratically, and the low buzzing of other electronics in the room.

“Marcus,” Joel’s hoarse voice is barely a whimper, but his hand grabbing Marcus’ hair tightly is a lot more adamant and forceful, trying to pull him off his cock. “Calm down. Hey, you gotta let go-...”

He shakes his head, barely able to keep breathing because of how filled up he is, and oh- that was a mistake. His throat contracts almost violently, and before he knows it he’s half choking on Joel’s dick, his face a blur of tears and spit. This time Joel literally drags him off his cock, pulling it completely out of his mouth as he snaps their safe word at Marcus.

It’s hard to even hear it through his coughing fit. Marcus’ throat feels just as raw as his dick is hard, both almost painfully throbbing as he tries to catch his breath - pressing his forehead against Joel’s hip as he sucks air into his lungs. His brain initially doesn’t register how Joel is leaning over him, hands quick to undo the cuffs, but once he gets it, he starts to protest despite his foggy brain.

“Sir, no...”, he pants, turning his head so it’s now his cheek that’s pressed against the warmth of Joel’s pelvis. He licks his lips when he realizes just how close this puts him to Joel’s cock again, and without even thinking twice he leans in, mouthing the heavy ball sack in front of him, just wanting Joel inside of him somehow.

“Fuck. No, c’mon,” Joel’s gasp is barely concealed as he removes both cuffs, then gently urges Marcus’ mouth off his balls. It’s taking Marcus effort to not whine at it, his head cloudy from the rush that got snatched away too soon from him, but he follows Joel’s lead nevertheless, legs cramping as he gets back up to his feet with Joel’s support.

“Not ‘sir’ anymore, just me,” Joel warns him before he can say anything, and then there’s just Joel’s mouth on his, hot and hungry and impatient and comforting. His hands are fast as he strips Marcus from his shirt and underwear before discarding his own clothes, and then finally - FINALLY - Marcus gets what he wants, what he’s been craving. All of Joel, naked and warm and on top of him, their cocks rubbing together, and he’s never been more glad about having prepped earlier in the shower.

“Need you inside right now.” His voice is hoarse and gruff from the deep throating, but he pushes the words out anyway, unable to wait any longer. He’s not even sure which one of them grabs the lube from the nightstand. All that registers is the look of arousal on Joel’s face when his index finger slides inside so easily, just like the second one, and Marcus almost whines when he feels Joel’s fingers curl inside of him.

“Fucked yourself open in the shower for me?” Joel’s voice is just one long needy growl, and moments later the head of his dick presses against Marcus’ asshole, slick with lube. “Ohhh, FUCK,” he breathes, and Marcus moans, digging his fingers into Joel’s back as if he’s literally trying to pull him inside. “Yes, yes - take it, all of me, just like that…”

“Don’t have to go slow.” Marcus buries his face against Joel’s shoulder, then hisses in pleasure at Joel sinking fully inside of him, all in one smooth go. “God - yes, please, please.” He’s always come up short with a way to describe the sensations he feels from the apadravya piercing, even after more than fifteen years, and this time is no exception. It would feel good for anyone, but with the way his body and powers respond to metal - having that hit his sweet zone becomes unlike anything else he’s ever felt.

Everything seems foggy, but in that really good kind of way that lets him surrender himself, lost in the feel and smell and taste of Joel. He’s drunk on him and still wants more, more pliable than he usually is, as every thrust feels both too intense yet not quite enough.

“So tight for me always,” Joel’s breathing hitches, his voice almost like a coo for a moment, and Marcus groans when Joel thrusts a little harder into him, straightening up so he has a better angle. “I know, baby, I know, you feel so goddamn good. I’ll give you more, don’t worry,” he reassures him, groaning in frustration when his position doesn’t quite allow him to go as deep as he wants to. “Hang in there. Gonna move you,” he promises, and Marcus whines when he feels him pull out. But Joel is quick and strong, and moments later he has Marcus laying right at the bottom corner of the bed.

He grabs Marcus’ leg and brings it up to rest over his left shoulder, improving the angle and grip on him, and Marcus watches breathlessly as Joel strokes his dick. Foreskin sliding up and down, once again that teasing flash of metal, and then he guides his cock back to Marcus’ ass. “Here we go. Y’got it, always taking me so well”, Joel reassures him with a soft chuckle, and then it’s just all white hot heat for Marcus as Joel fills him up even more than before - going even deeper at this new angle.

“Open your mouth, take these fingers for me,” Joel groans and Marcus obliges promptly, wrapping his lips around Joel’s thick fingers the same way he did earlier with his cock.

“Please…” he gasps, full of want and desperation, and fuck - Joel towering over him in this position makes him seem even broader than usual, and even more in charge, turning the rest of Marcus’ brain into mush. He sucks harder on Joel’s fingers, stroking himself as his cock throbs hard, especially seeing how much it affects Joel to be inside of him in more than just one way. It makes Joel even more feral, thrusting faster into him, and Marcus can tell it’s not gonna be much longer before he’s gonna come on Joel’s cock.

“I know, I know. You wanna be so full of me always,” Joel hushes him, and Marcus moans in response. “Every single way, huh? Taking whatever I give you.” He pulls his fingers out of Marcus’ mouth and leans down to capture his lips in a deep kiss, growling softly as he claims him with his tongue. Marcus’ cock jumps hard as Joel’s fingers wipe the leaked pre-cum off his sticky stomach, using it for lubrication as he pushes Marcus’ hand aside and takes over jerking him off.

“Good boy,” Joel gasps as their kiss ends, thrusting hard into Marcus. “Ooh, you’re such a good fucking boy, Marcus.”

Marcus’ breathing stutters at the praise, his hips jerking up against Joel as he buries his face against his sweaty hair. Heat is flashing through his body, even more intense thanks to the metal stud of Joel’s piercing hitting his prostate, and he can hardly breathe as his climax is so close to hitting, making him oblivious to everything else around them.

“What the FUCK?”

The voice is so shrill that Marcus doesn’t even recognize it - he just startles, suddenly jerked away from the release that was about to overtake him. But before he can look at who is suddenly standing in the room, Joel swears under his breath - his arms protectively cradling him closer, turning Marcus’ head away from the sudden intruder.

“What the… DAD??”

“Shit!” The shock slams heavily into Marcus’s body as panic takes over, his fucked out brain only now realizing who walked in on Joel and him. It’s his daughter.

His fingers claw into Joel’s shoulders to stop him from moving, not realizing Joel had already stopped doing that, and he’s scrambling to gather his wits so he could give any explanation for what she just walked into. “Honey, this isn’t what—...”

“HE HAS HIS DICK UP YOUR ASS!! What is not—” He hears her gasp as she abruptly interrupts herself to stop speaking - clearly realizing this was not the moment to start an argument. There should be something he could say, Marcus thinks to himself, trying to shake himself out of the mental paralysis that seems to have overtaken him, but there’s nothing he can think of. Judging by how Joel keeps him covered and prevents him from looking at his kid, he seems to be of exactly that same thought.

“I thought… But you… Fucking assholes. You’re screwing each other?”, she continues in disbelief, followed by the noise of her knocking into furniture. “You’re screwing each other?? Mom!!” With a loud yell she leaves the room, followed by her footsteps rushing down the stairs.

It’s like her departure suddenly brings air back into the room, because at last Marcus can breathe in deeply, oxygen finally rushing into his lungs. So does Joel, who sighs deeply as he finally lets Marcus turn his head so they can look at each other.

“You’re okay?”, Joel asks him softly, but all Marcus can do initially is shake his head.

No. He’s not okay, not in the slightest bit.

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Joel’s POV

The panic in Marcus’ eyes is abundantly clear, his eyes growing even bigger when his daughter storms out of the bedroom, yelling for her mom. “Shit. Shit, Joel, we - I’ve gotta–”

Joel shakes his head immediately, his hand firm against Marcus’ chest as he stops him from getting up. “Yeah, no,” he says calmly, letting Marcus’ leg slide off his left shoulder. “You don’t gotta do nothing. And we ain’t done here.”

The lights in the bedroom are flickering erratically, some spiking in brightness that shouldn’t be possible for regular bulbs in household lamps. Others are blinking and buzzing in a jittery way that sounds suspiciously like Marcus’ elevated heartbeat under Joel’s warm hand.

Once again Joel shakes his head. “Marcus. Look at me. Breathe.” He gently urges Marcus down on his back again, brushing his fingers through Marcus’ hair as he brings their foreheads together.

“You’re fine.” A soft whisper, knowing it requires more attention to listen to than his usual speaking voice would. That’s exactly what Marcus needs in moments like this; something to focus on that pulls him out of his head, gets him out of the anxiety. “Hey. You hear me? Repeat it.”

Marcus shakes his head, too dumbstruck by what just happened. Joel tries to stop himself from sighing, nudging his nose softly against Marcus - and cursing the interruption. Not just for the obvious reasons, but also because Marcus is right back at where he was earlier that day; high strung and anxious, as if all of Joel’s efforts to clear his mind had been for nothing.

“Repeat. It.”

“I’m… fine. I’m fine.” Marcus doesn’t sound too convincing as he takes another deep breath, his head tilting upward as he brushes his lips over Joel’s. “Promise I’m fine,” he then manages, and as if on cue the lights around them stop flickering; some of them turning off, while others stay as they were earlier.

Joel nods, hums in relief as he lets his tongue lick softly at Marcus’ lower lip. “Good. She’s an adult - she’ll be fine too. Cranky, but that ain’t nothing new,” he muses, and Marcus’ laugh bubbles up quick and suddenly as he wraps his arms around Joel, heaving a sigh of relief.

“But what if she…”

“No.” Joel moves up with a frown, gently shrugging Marcus’ arms off, then also pulls his cock out of him, ignoring the gasp of disappointment that gets him in return. “Thought I told you that you’re fine. We clear or not?”, he asks as he gets up and reaches for the water on his nightstand, taking a few gulps of it as he admires Marcus laying spread out on the bed.

It’s not often enough Joel gets to see him like this, just - laying down. Not doing something. The work at the Heroics HQ had been keeping Marcus away from home more than usual, which neither Joel nor Nicole were too pleased with. But it had been a very long time since anyone had been able to convince Marcus that he needed a break, no matter the tempting suggestions they’d presented to him.

“You’re so bossy.” But Marcus smiles as he watches Joel rummage through his nightstand, pulling out a few things he drops next to one of the pillows before he gets back on the bed.

“You like that about me,” Joel reminds him, leaning down to press a kiss against Marcus’ belly who groans happily in return.

“I do. That - and that big cock of yours. Good selling points.” Marcus fingers some of the gray streaks that have started creeping into Joel’s hair lately, wrapping a lock or two around his index finger. “Maybe a few other things that I like, too.”

Joel grins. “Good. Can’t live on cock alone - we’re not twenty anymore.” He rubs his hand over Marcus’ belly, watching the shivers run down to his neatly trimmed pubes. The dark hair is still sticky from all that precum Marcus had leaked earlier, even though he is no longer erect right now due to the unexpected interruption.

For a moment Joel’s mind drifts to Marcus’ daughter barging in on them. He felt bad for her, even though she had no business being in his room in the first place. At age 22, she hardly was a child anymore, but that didn’t make it any less unfortunate that she walked in on this - or that Nicole now had to explain the situation to her. But there was nothing that Joel could do about that, except let it go for the time being. Because right now, Marcus needed him - was craving the mind clearing bliss that would allow him to go back to work again later.

“Hey. Where’d you go, Miller?” Marcus’ voice and the gentle tug on his hair brings him back into the moment. Joel shakes his head as he runs his hands over Marcus’ narrow waist, giving his cheeks a quick squeeze.

“Didn’t go anywhere, I’m right here.” He kisses Marcus’ belly button, mapping his skin with his lips and tongue as he moves lower, running his fingers through Marcus’ sticky, matted down pubic hair. “Look at you being a mess. Just how I like you.”

Marcus whimpers when Joel brushes his nose against his cock, giving him a few small licks before he runs his tongue all over the sticky head. “God, Joel. You can’t just say shit like that.”

“ ‘Course I can. Know what that does to you.” He knows they don’t have long until Marcus is leaving again, but he’ll take what he can get for now. Teasing Marcus with his tongue and lips, toying with his foreskin - the gasps that escape from Marcus when Joel pushes his tongue inside of it simply never fail. So Joel ignores the clock on the wall, taking his time to let his mouth pay homage to every bit of Marcus’ cock and balls, feeling how most of the tension has left his body by now. His moves are slow and hazy, lips parted in pleasure the entire time as he watches Joel go down on him. But by the time he’s almost fully erect, his hips are pushing up needily, wanting so much more than he is getting right now. “Joel. Want you back inside of me.”

Joel grabs the lube he’d put next to the pillow, squeezing a considerable amount on his hand which he then uses to fists his cock, slicking himself up anew. Marcus likes it wet, messy and intense - and Joel was never shy about using plenty of lube, wanting to make sure Marcus could take him the way and for as long as he wanted to.

He slips the three metal rings on his right hand when Marcus’ eyes are closed for a moment. They’re thick, even around his fingers, and Joel flexes them as he gets used to the initial heating of the metal to match his body temperature.

“You want it hard, baby?” Joel runs his fingers over the head of his dick, thumbing the two metal metal studs from his apadravya piercing. He still remembers the first time they fucked after it had healed. Marcus wouldn’t let him out of his bed for a full day, eager to discover all the new ways that Joel felt and tasted and responded to him. That little zing that still happens whenever Marcus cups Joel’s dick, even if he’s fully clothed. By now, Joel was more than adept at making Marcus fall apart for him so beautifully, especially with the apadravya stimulating his prostate.

But the rings… They were still a fairly new addition, another experiment by Joel. He was no scientist when it came to electromagnetic waves, but he knew what worked for Marcus. And every time Joel fucked him while also using his ringed hand to jerk him off, the eventual release would simply knock Marcus out. Even Joel could feel the pieces of metal respond to each other, which would almost violently shove him towards a release that made his brain short circuit.

“Yes.” Marcus’ eyes are black with need as he watches Joel, breathing heavily as he reaches out to run his hands over Joel’s soft belly. “I really… Really need it hard. Please, Joel.”

“Not gonna slow down.” He can’t help but wrap his fingers around Marcus’ wrist, bringing his hand up so he can press a kiss to his palm, nuzzling his stubble against the soft skin. “Unless you decide to safe word.”

“I know. We’re good.” Marcus’ free hand slides lower on Joel’s belly, down until he reaches Joel’s cock, the fat head leaking against Marcus’ taint. He covers it with his hand, and Joel holds his glance as he sees Marcus focus on him - his breathing easing down, eyes becoming more clear, and then Joel feels the tingling around his piercing and Marcus’ fingers.

“Fuuuck,” he growls in a low voice, slowly - oh so slowly - rubbing his cock against Marcus’ taint, enjoying how sensitive both of them already are. Marcus’ breathing hitches, and Joel can feel him shiver as he just lets go - lets his mind go blank, stay in the moment, willing and accepting anything that Joel wanted to do to him and with him. No Heroics, no being in charge, no city of Austin.

Joel takes his time to sink into Marcus, inch by inch, knowing that if he goes too fast they’re both going to blow in no time. Once he’s fully inside he holds still for a moment, his cock throbbing from the sensation of being enveloped by Marcus.

“Fuck, you always feel so good.” The words escape from Joel’s lips before he can even think about them. When he puts his ringed hand on Marcus’ stomach, the response is instantaneous. Electricity rolls through Marcus’ body as a thunderstorm, making him jerk up, and Joel can’t control himself anymore when he sees Marcus’ pupils dilate, as he’s gasping both in pleasure and need.

“Take it. Take me, pretty boy, that’s it - that’s it, yes,” he pants as he picks up his pace. Their mouths crash together, desperate kisses from both of them as Joel fucks him, needing very little time to get both of them riding as high as they were right before they got interrupted. When Joel wraps his ringed fingers around Marcus’ cock, he feels the charge jump through their bodies - whatever that exactly means -, setting off sparks around them as light bulbs and devices start to buzz again. This time it’s no stress response, but Marcus coming apart under him, having let down all of his defenses to surrender to Joel.

And Joel fucking loves it. It’s his absolute favorite thing in the world, taking Marcus apart and watch him get fucked up. Eyes wide and so dark as he gets all cock drunk, greedily rocking his hips along with Joel’s moves. Fingers trying to hold on to him, and digging into Joel’s shoulders, arms, and the sounds he makes as Joel jerks him off make Joel wish that he could just record them, keep them with him at all times.

When Joel takes a particular hard thrust into Marcus, he swears that for a moment he hears Marcus’ voice on the inside of his brain. “Harder,” a plea that’s not coming from Marcus’ lips, but from somewhere deep within his chest. “Hold me down.” And that - THAT is Joel’s cue. Because Marcus may be a Heroic, a leader for their city and justice, but this… this was the man himself surrendering, this was no longer a superhero, but simply desire as sharp as nails digging into Joel’s skin.

Joel reaches up with one hand and gathers Marcus’ wrists above his head like earlier, seeing and feeling him tremble as he nods breathlessly. “Make it quiet,” Marcus gasps, and Joel takes over his mouth again with a deep kiss until all of Marcus’ words have disappeared.

“No more thinking. Want you to come on my cock.”

Marcus cries as he nods, arms trying to shove Joel’s away, but Joel knows how he works. Knows that he’s about a minute away from losing it. “You heard me,” he runs his tongue over Marcus’ neck, then sucks a hickey into the sensitive skin. “Y’wanted me to fuck the noise out of your head?” Joel’s hand tightens as he keeps holding Marcus’ wrists pressed down hard against the bed, feeling the shock waves that are running through him start to increase.

The moment Joel’s ringed fingers close around Marcus’ throbbing and leaking cock, he can feel that Marcus is pretty much done for. He feels him buck up against him, hands trying to break free, but Joel shakes his head as he only holds him down more.

“I’d threaten to tie you up, but you’re not even gonna last that long, baby,” Joel coos at him, and Marcus fucking whines at him, begs him even louder this time. His cock twitches hard as Joel jerks him off roughly, electricity bouncing between their bodies in a way that makes it impossible to tell where it starts and where it ends.

“Where d’you want it?”, Joel pants against his ear, his tight grip still holding Marcus pinned to the bed. “Tell me. Use that filthy mouth of yours. Want me to come on your face?” Marcus twitches under them, wordless, so Joel takes it a little further. “On your chest? Down your throat?”

“You know… where.” Marcus’ voice stutters, and this time there are sparks flying around Joel’s fingers, around his rings. “Ple–...”

“Use your goddamn words, Marcus,” Joel growls as he shifts his hips and drives himself home, right against Marcus’ prostate, until Marcus’ body convulses and his teeth bite hard into Joel’s shoulder.

“Inside,” Marcus sobs, and Joel feels him spurt his hot seed onto both of their bellies. “Fuck, Joel, come inside, want you to fill me up.”

“That’s right. Take it like a good boy, all of me,” Joel gasps, and then everything goes bright-hot-white in his head as his body gives out from holding on so long. He buries his face against Marcus’ neck as he shakes, fucking the last bit of his come deep into him before he collapses, completely spent.

It takes him a while to recover, only coming back to his senses by the feeling of Marcus’ lips on his face - soft kisses and sweet whispers as he cradles Joel’s head against him. Joel whimpers, then shakes his head weakly when he feels Marcus start to move - knows he’s about to get up and grab the nearest thing for clean up. “Mmmm, no, no. Not yet,” he mumbles as he puts pressure again on Marcus’ wrists to hold him pinned to the bed, stopping him in his tracks. “Gimme a sec.”

He feels Marcus’ cock twitch hard, despite being completely spent, followed by a deep sigh from Marcus. “If you do that again, I’m just gonna stay and not go back to work,” he mumbles against Joel, who can’t stop himself from smiling. Perfect.

“Got a better idea.” He smacks the side of Marcus’ ass, tilting his hips up to him so he can pull out of him with ease, going much slower than he usually does. “Stay like this for a second,” he orders Marcus, resisting the urge to spread his cheeks and watch his warm cum drip out of him. “Here’s what we’re gonna do.”

He sweeps his fingers through Marcus’ come on his belly and spreads it over the head of the compact metal butt plug he’d taken out of the nightstand earlier. No - it’s gonna have to stay in him for a while with that press conference coming up. So he takes a quick dollop of lube and slicks up the toy some more, then spreads Marcus’ legs a little wider for him.

“How about you keep that f’me, huh? Until you get back home later.”

Marcus gasps as Joel pushes the metal plug inside of him, hips bucking up as his ass eagerly takes the offering. “No, Joel, God… I have to do a press conference,” he croaks, looking at Joel in disbelief as the static crackles between those rings, Joel’s piercing and the plug that’s now snugly inside of him. “You can’t–...”

“ ‘Course I can. Just did it. ” Joel smiles slowly, tiredly at him, as he leans down for one more kiss. “You’ll have a little something to remind you of me.” He strokes his fingers one more time over Marcus’ ass, making sure there’s no discomfort - he knows Marcus can take it, because it hasn’t been the first time Joel sent him back to work like this. Though never before when he was scheduled to talk to press.

“Bastard,” Marcus mutters, but he can’t hide the smile on his face as he gazes at Joel. “Were you always such a fucking menace?”

“Yeap. That, being bossy, and having a big ol’ cock is what kept you hooked on me all those years.” Joel grins as he moves to sit up, groaning when his back protests slightly. “Consider it an incentive to come home right after you’re done.”

“What’s the reward if I do?”

A slow grin spreads over Joel’s face as he raises an eyebrow at Marcus.

“If you’re good, I’ll let your wife eat my come out of you when you come home to us.”

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Updating this with some tags for folks who might be interested and may not yet have seen this (didn't get to do it when I posted it in the middle of the night):

@wannab-urs @baronessvonglitter @gruaig-rua @thebeldroramscal @reallyrallyauthor

@jessthebaker @bitchesuntitled @avastrasposts @almostempty @rebel-held

@din-cognito @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @lady-bess @musings-of-a-rose @cosmic-kid-in-motion

@alltheglitterandtheroar @pedroacrossthestreet @maladptivedaydreaming @h0wardp0tts @comics-nerd-number-3001

@woodensunflower @kt86 @iolaussharpe-24 @bumblepony @love93sstuff

@symphonyoftheoverdosed @katw474 @skdjdjjnak @thesassyteacher91 @vichons

@chujo-hime @ghostofaboy @elvenmother @crowandmousewritingco @nonbinairyboi

@spdetore @stellaiuna @your-voice-is-mellifluous @penvisions @mellymbee

@itwasntimethatdidit40 @sheepdogchick3 @auteurdelabre @survivingandenduring @ryjmhcore

@untamedheart81 @electriclasso @goodvibesonly421 @wave0fg00dvibes @tinytinymenace

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#pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #marcus moreno x joel miller #joel miller x marcus moreno #marcus moreno fanfiction #marcus moreno smut #mlm #queer fic #slash fic

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irb-pascalito-99 · 3 months ago

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One Last Time

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader (no outbreak AU)

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Word Count: 5.8k

Warnings: angst, smut, rough sex, oral f!receiving, oral m!receiving, overstimulation, semi public sex (at Joel’s job site), pinv sex, multiple orgasms, breakup sex

Summary: After a conversation that ended in a breakup, Joel’s girl shows up at his job site to talk after hours. Despite everything else going on the two agree to be with each other one last time.

A/N: This is an excerpt from chapter 16 of my ongoing fic Always an Angel, Never a God. To read more of this pairing check out my a03.

The inside of the dive bar is hazy with smoke. It's a dingy place, hidden on the outskirts of Austin with only a handful of patrons gathered around. Aside from a group of men at the bar who appear to be celebrating something, the place is dead. I nurse my drink at a table in the corner of the bar where they keep the jukebox, doing my best to disappear into the background. I wouldn’t bring anyone out to this bar for a night out, but it was close by the house and I wanted to get out of the house after Tommy picked Ellie up for her sleepover with Sarah. Apparently Joel is working late tonight.

I’ve been doing my best to ignore them, but Maria’s words still repeat in my head. The only one getting in the way of you actually being happy is you. I close my eyes and sway to the soft melody playing throughout the bar as I attempt to turn off my thoughts.

“Excuse me,” a husky voice with a British accent says from beside me. I turn to see a man standing to my left. He’s tall, with tousled brown hair and a muscular build. “Sorry to bother you, miss, but you look awfully lonely over here.”

The man’s bright blue eyes look me up and down, a sly smile painted across his face. He holds a beer in one hand, standing between me and the exit. I shake my head and take another sip of my drink.

“And what makes you think that?” I retort when I put the glass back down.

“You’ve been alone all night.” He responds. “You haven’t made a move to talk to anyone.”

“So you’ve been watching me.” I say, spinning the straw around my glass.

“Well, it’s pretty hard not to when you’re the prettiest girl in the bar.”

I take another look around at the other patrons. An older woman and her husband are drinking at one table. A middle aged man is arguing with the bartender, and the group of men my new admirer must have come from is watching us intently from the other side of the room.

“Yeah well, there doesn’t seem to be much competition.” The man looks around as well and laughs.

“You might be right about that.” He averts his attention back to me as I pick up my glass and finish the last of my drink.

“My name is Andrew.” He sticks out his hand which I reluctantly shake. “And yours is…”

“I’d rather keep it to myself,” I explain. I expect him to look dejected as I shut him down, but instead he looks amused. The man smiles at me as if I’ve issued him a challenge.

“Alright then, can I at least buy the nameless beauty a drink?” I don’t really want the company, but what harm could come from letting him buy me a single drink? I nod my head and hand him my empty glass.

“A Long Island” He smirks at me, taking it with him as he walks back to the bar.

It only takes him a couple of movies considering how dead the bar is tonight. When he walks back over to our table he walks with a swagger.

“Here you go,” the man says when he reaches the table, giving me a wink. He places the drink down in front of me.

“You really been drinking Long Islands all night?” He asks as I pull the drink closer to me.

“Yes, and?” I ask, maintaining eye contacts as I take a sip. The man chuckles and shakes his head.

“Nothing, it’s a strong drink that’s all…” For a moment the bar feels as though it’s morphing around me.

The dead hazy dive bar shifting to a lively country joint in the city. The man’s shocking blue eyes melting into familiar warm brown ones. I can almost feel my heart stop beating, my breath becoming shallower as I try to make sense of what I’m seeing. His hand grazes my thigh, his fingers smooth and gentle where there should be callouses. I blink again and the memory is gone, a panic beginning to set into my body. What am I doing here?

“Are you alright?” He asks, a look of concern cascading his face. I nod and push my untouched drink back toward him.

“I’m sorry, I actually have somewhere I have to be.” I say, stumbling a little as I place my feet back on the ground.

“You sure you’re alright?” He asks again, reaching over to help me as I gather my things. I pull out my phone to call a ride.

“Yeah, I’m sorry. Thank you for the drink.” I say over my shoulder as I rush back outside.

I walk a little ways down the block before I pull out my phone and the little scrap of paper Joel gave me the other morning. I don’t know what I’m doing when I type the address of his jobsite into Uber. I try not to think too hard about it on the drive there either.

When the car finally pulls up to Joel’s jobsite the gravel parking area in front is empty, aside from Joel’s old truck sitting on the outskirts. I’ve managed to sober up a bit on the drive over, though my skin is still flushed. The car idles as I get out and thank the driver. After I hear the car drive off I walk closer to the construction area in the hopes of finding Joel.

The building in the lot is nothing more than a dark frame in the blue haze of dusk. No flashlights or lamps illuminate the space from what I can see. As I get closer I notice a faint orange glow through the window of a trailer near the entrance. I bury my hands in my pockets as I walk over, trying to ease my nerves as I try to figure out what I’m going to say.

The metal steps scrape against the gravel as I walk up to the door of the trailer. My stomach lurches when I stop just in front of the door. I swallow back the nerves climbing their way up my chest and throat.

I pull on the door, but it stops in its place making a thumping sound as the lock keeps it latched. Maybe he isn’t here after all. This was a stupid idea anyway. I turn back to the building behind me, trying to decipher if I can hear any sounds from the area.

“Damnit John, you forget your keys again?” I hear from behind me. The door slides open and I whip around to see Joel standing in the doorway, one hand on the handle and another on his hip as he turns around. He’s wearing his usual flannel shirt with a bright orange safety vest overtop. He stops in his tracks when he turns to me and realizes I’m not a member of his crew.

“Hey,” Joel says softly. He examines my face with a concerned look on his own. “Are the girls okay?”

“What?” I ask, distracted by the way the sleeves of his flannel bunch up around the elbows. I’ve never seen him in work mode before. “Oh, yeah, they’re still with Tommy and Maria.”

He looks tired. There are circles under his eyes and his curls are messier than normal. I can’t imagine how many hours he’s been putting into this project.

“Are you okay?” Joel holds the door open a bit wider to let me in.

I squeeze past him, breathing in his scent as I pass by. He waits by the door while I stand in the middle of the trailer looking around. There are blueprints spread out on the table near the kitchen area which consists of a microwave, a small countertop with a coffee pot on it, and a small fridge.

There’s a desk in one corner of the room with a pile of hard hats laying on the floor next to it. Orange vests and dirty coffee mugs litter the top of the desk. Closer to the kitchen space is a group of chairs and a couch the crew must use to lounge on between shifts. The entire place is covered in a layer of dirt.

I’ve never put much thought into what Joel’s work looks like. I’ve overheard him and Tommy discuss projects from time to time, but it’s different seeing him in this element. I walk over to the table and look at the plans Joel has there.

There are various lines erased and moved around. I struggle to read the different numbers and labels written in each of the empty spaces. I’m vaguely aware of the sound of Joel’s footsteps crossing the room as I attempt to figure out what it is they’re building. I feel the warmth of his body behind me as he murmurs my name.

“Are you okay?” He asks again. I turn to face him, immediately lost in the depth of his eyes. His eyebrows knit together in concern.

I hadn’t put much thought into what I would do when I got here, I just knew leaving that bar I had to see him. It’s selfish, but I can’t say goodbye without something to hold onto.

“I was thinking, I really don’t want to leave it where we did, physically. So I was hoping maybe, maybe we could…” I close the distance between us. My body presses against his. I feel his breath falter as I move my hands beneath the hem of his shirt, gently feeling the warmth of his skin while he shivers beneath my touch. “One last time.”

The minute the words leave my mouth his lips are pressed to mine again and then his tongue slides across my bottom lip. We grip each other close as we devour each other, my fingernails running down his chest, until we have to break for air. Even when our lips do part we stay close, our breaths tied together as they fan across our lips.

“You know, it’s really not safe for you to be on a jobsite without wearing the proper equipment.” Joel mumbles against me, making a joke to lighten the mood while I regain my breath.

His hands move up my body to rest loosely on my hips. I move my hands back out from under his shirt and grab his biceps. Leaning on my tiptoes, I kiss along his neck. His jaw tightens as he looks up at the ceiling while I press my lips delicately along the column of his neck.

“Is that so?” I whisper, swiping my tongue along his skin. The salty taste of sweat lingers fills my mouth as he gulps.

I move my hands from his arms and place them on his chest gingerly before gently pushing away from him. He watches with lust blown eyes as I cross the trailer to a pile of hard hats I saw when I came in.

I look over my shoulder with a wink before bending over to pick one up from the bottom of the pile. Joel audibly groans from across the trailer at the sight. I bite my lip and grin while I stand back up and grab a vest off the desk.

Before putting the vest on I turn back to Joel and take my shirt off, exposing my bare chest and torso to him. I throw my shirt in his direction which he grabs with one hand. A mischievous look is spread across my face when I put the vest on and place the hard hat on my head. I keep my eyes glued to his as I walk slowly back to where I left him.

Once I’m in reach Joel reaches out and grabs my hips beneath the vest, his thumbs skimming my bare skin while he rests his palms on the denim of my shorts. I press my lips against either side of his neck slowly before sinking to my knees. My hands trail his body carefully on my way down while I continue watching his face. He starts to breathe heavier when I kneel on the floor, his breath stopping entirely when I begin to unclasp his belt.

“I can’t…“ he begins, shifting on his feet when I free his belt from the loops of his worn down jeans. “I’m not gonna last if we-“

“I want to taste you one more time. Just relax, enjoy it for a little bit and I’ll stop before you come.” Joel nods ever so slightly and watches me push his jeans down his legs.

His cock bulges against the thin material of his boxers. I nearly drool at the sight of it, delicately tracing a finger against the outline of him. It twitches at my touch and Joel groans loudly. He reaches out to grip my shoulders while I move my hands slowly up his thighs to rest on the waistband of his underwear.

I look up at him beneath my lashes, placing the tips of my fingers under the elastic. His eyes are darkened, watching my every move intently. His length immediately leaps up when I pull his waistband down. Joel struggles to remain still as I ease his boxers down to the floor.

He looks perfect like this. I can feel the wetness gathering between my legs while I run my hands up and down his thighs. His chest heaves as he continues to watch my every motion. I love my hands up once more, holding his hips in place as I look up at him again.

I press a soft kiss against his left hip bone. His body tenses under my grasp, his chest no longer rising as he holds his breath. I grin against the skin on his hip and move to kiss the other side. When I pull my lips away he exhales again, a shiver running through his body at the same time.

His grip on my shoulder tightens as I slide my hand across his hip to his length. I watch his face intently with each movement. He grits his teeth as I begin to slowly stroke him. My confidence grows seeing the way his body reacts and the way he struggles to maintain composure under my gaze.

After a couple of strokes his tip pulses and begins to leak pre-come. I bat my eyelashes at him, leaning in slowly. He groans and immediately closes his eyes when I take him in my mouth. I start with the head first, swirling my tongue around it slowly. His hips twitch when I wrap my lips around him and he groans loudly as I push him further in my mouth.

I take my time with him, bobbing my head up and down slowly, taking more and more of his length each time. He inhales sharply the first time he hits the back of my throat, my lips wrapped around the base of him. I drool a little as I pull back. Joel wipes the saliva from my chin.

“Fuck baby,” He groans. “I’m so close.”

I grin, ignoring what I said earlier as I revel in the way he’s coming undone in my grasp, and pushing him back down my throat. He sputters at the motion, breathing heavily as I hold him there.

“Sugar,” he growls. He tangles his fingers in my hair and looks up at the ceiling. “Slow down, ya gotta-“

Joel lets out a strangled moan as I choke slightly around his length. I pull him out of my mouth, a trail of spit and pre-come dripping onto my chest and sliding between the valley of my breasts. I wipe my chin with my fingers, and push them into my parted lips while I maintain eye contact with Joel. A redness creeping up his neck as he watches me.

“Fuckin’ naughty,” Joel growls, grabbing me by the arm and pulling me to my feet. “Alright babygirl, my turn.”

Once I’m standing he grips my face with both hands. He kisses me hungrily, pushing me backward until my back meets one of the walls of the trailer, the hard hat clunking against the wall as he angles my face up to kiss me easier.

When I’m cornered between his body and the wall he moves a hand down my body to my shorts. I whimper against his lips as he undoes the button and pushes the denim down my legs. His fingers dance across the bare skin he’s exposed. Joel pulls his lips from mine to look down at his fingers between my thighs.

“No panties?” He groans. I giggle and bite my lip, squirming against him. Joel groans again and delves his fingers between my folds.

He slides his fingers through my slick a couple of times before sinking to his knees in front of me. He pulls his now soaked fingers from my center and brings it toward him.

“All this just from putting me in your mouth?” Joel asks, looking up at me and showing me his glistening fingers.

Past the point of being able to form a sentence, I whine in response as my slick starts to drip down my thighs. He smirks at me and brings his fingers to his lips to clean them. I pant while I watch him through hooded eyes, desperate to have his fingers back on my body.

Joel continues to grin up at me, watching my desperation as he lifts one of my legs to rest on his shoulder. The coarse hairs of his mustache rub harshly against my thigh as he presses kisses to the skin there, starting at my knee and moving closer and closer to where I really need him.

I hold my breath when his lips stop right at the top of my thigh. His darkened eyes sparkle as they look away from my face to the view in front of him.

“Fuck, I’m gonna miss this baby. Looks so pretty for me.” He presses a kiss to my clit next, the hard hat on my head thunking against the wall again as I throw my head back and squeeze my eyes closed. “Taste real good too.”

He teases me first, licking smooth circles over my clit but not adding enough pressure to actually get me anywhere. I squirm against him and desperately try to move my hips up to meet his mouth, but he pushes them back against the wall with a devilish grin.

“Joel, please,” I groan in frustration.

“Just relax, enjoy it for a little bit,” he says cheekily, quoting what I had said earlier when the roles were reversed. I huff and lean back to watch as he continues his languid strokes.

He slowly adds pressure until I begin to arch into his mouth again, my fingers pushing his cheeks away from his forehead to get a better view. He scrunches his eyebrows together in concentration while he pushes me further and further and fur-

“Oh god, right there,” I moan as he manages to apply just enough pressure to the right spot.

He continues the motion over and over as the pressure builds. The hand I have tangled in his hair pulls slightly, causing him to groan. I gasp as the vibrations send a shiver down my spine. Sensing the effect it had on me, Joel groans again and I snap. My walls clench around nothing as I moan and buck my hips while my climax washes over me.

The noises I make spur Joel on. Now that he’s gotten my first orgasm, nothing is holding him back from seeing out the next one. He laps at my folds hungrily, ignoring the way my body twitches under him. I’m seeing stars, still not completely over my first climax as a second washes over me.

I scream as this one tears through my body, more intense than the last. I yank at Joel’s hair and feel the tears build in my eyes as each wave of pleasure rushes through my body, electrocuting every nerve inside me.

“Joel!” I whine as I attempt to squirm out of his grasp. My body aches, my clit throbbing in sensitivity but Joel still isn’t stopping. “Joel, fuck. It’s too. Fuck it’s too much.”

I struggle to get any words out while I pull at his hair the wood paneling of the trailer sliding against my sweaty skin as I thrash. It’s so intense I’m nearly numb as he slides his fingers through my center.

“Oh babygirl, if this is the last time I’m ever gonna taste this pussy I have to savor it,” Joel says, kissing my throbbing clit again. “You can take more, right sugar?”

I’m not sure I can, the sensitivity from the past two orgasms is nearly painful, but I’m not ready for this to end. I’m not ready to be done with him, and I’ll take everything he gives me until it is over. I let out a whimper, looking up at the ceiling as I nod.

“Good girl,” Joel murmurs and dives back into my folds. His tongue laps up the juices from my last orgasm before moving up to my clit. I twitch as I try to remain still beneath him.

His tongue moves back to my clit, drawing circles on the bundle of nerves. I moan and clench his hair between my fingers. My third orgasm is already building when he pulls a hand from my hip and pushes two fingers inside me.

The sensation is overwhelming. I lose all ability to think as he begins curling his fingers inside me, pumping them in and out while I moan his name. I feel his lips twitch into a smile at my sounds as he continues to move his tongue against me.

My whole body tenses with each motion. I’m so close. I grip him harder, pulling at his hair and hearing my teeth as I feel the pressure building. I’m on the edge, peering into absolute bliss when he pushes a third finger in. My jaw drops as I gasp and immediately let go, no longer aware of anything except the feeling of Joel between my thighs.

My jaw drops in a silent scream and my body begins to slump down the wall as I no longer have the strength to keep myself up. Joel slows his movements, working me down from the edge as my breathing slows. I’m vaguely aware of the way he supports my body, even as he stands and wipes my juices from his chin.

He wraps my arms around his neck to help support me while keeping his hands around my waist. My eyes droop as I watch him press delicate kisses against my neck and collarbone.

“Mark me,” I whisper, not even realizing the words had left my mouth. Joel hums against my neck.

“You sure about that darlin’?” Joel mumbles against my skin.

We’ve always been careful not to leave evidence of our trysts visible to others, but if this is the last time I get to have him I want the reminder. I want to look at my skin tomorrow and remember I once was his. If this is the last time I want everything. I don’t want to hold anything back in concern for others.

“Yes, please, make me yours,” I mutter.

He starts with my breast, sucking the skin on the top of my left breast into his mouth before pressing his teeth into me delicately. A soft purple bruise is already forming on the skin when he pulls away to move further up my body. He pushes the bright orange vest down and nips my shoulder next, taking his time to smooth his tongue over the mark before moving on to make another on my neck.

He continues littering my body with marks, leaving as much of him as he can while pressing his hard length against my thigh. I move one arm from around his neck, trailing my hand along his body until I reach his throbbing cock. His teeth clenched a little tighter around my shoulder and he hisses against my skin when I wrap my hand around him.

“Baby,” he whispers as I position him between my thighs, rubbing his cock through my wet folds. The wet sounds of him sliding through my slick are obscene, only making me wetter.

“I need you,” I whine, sliding my hips against him again. His cock twitches at the words and he pulls his lips away from my neck.

He pushes his hips against mine and watches me with dark eyes. I can feel every vein and pulse of him against my clit as I try to push my hips further toward him. Another thrust forward and his head catches my hole, eliciting a moan from both of us.

“Jump,” he growls into my ear.

“What?”

“Jump” He doesn’t have to ask again, my body reacts to the word before my mind can even process what’s happening.

I jump up, Joel grabbing my ass and hoisting me against the wall. He holds me in place while I reach down and grab his length. I run my finger along the vein as I line him up with my entrance. He groans as he slowly pushes inside, my eyes closing at the stretch of him.

I’m going to miss the burning sensation of my walls stretching around him, and the way I can feel him pulse inside me. I’ll miss the way his hips feel against mine as he bottoms out and the sound of his low moan as the soft curls around the base of him tickle my clit while he holds me in place to let me get used to the size of him.

He starts the pace slow, his hands on my ass holding me up as he moves his hips to meet mine. There’s an intimacy to the way he’s holding me. He pushes himself deep inside me, each thrust a fluid motion, entangling our bodies so much so that we almost become one. I close my eyes as the emotion of it all becomes too much.

Behind closed eyes the memory of the night before my father’s funeral plays in my mind. The way he held me. The way he saw me. The way my ever needs and emotion became a part of him comes rushing back as I scratch my fingernails along the expanse of Joel’s back. I clench around him while he continues his movements.

“Look at me sweetheart,” Joel grunts. “Come on beautiful, look at me.”

I snap my eyes open to see his deep brown ones peering into my soul. The pure adoration on his face is enough to send me over the edge again. I gasp as another climax washes over me, gentler than the ones before but pulsing through my entire body. He maintains eye contact, continuing his thrusts as I hold onto him. He loves me. Each movement serves as a confirmation of what he told me, the action to prove the meaning behind his words. He loves me, and I feel so guilty because he shouldn’t.

As my orgasms ebbs I try to push the guilt away, rocking my hips against his in an attempt to change the pace. I bring my lips to his neck and make a mark of my own which seems to spur him on. Joel’s thrusts become harsher. He groans as I nip at the skin on the other side of his neck. As I pull away and lean back against the wall he wipes his thumb against my lip and glances down at my body.

The vest now hangs from my elbows, barely brushing the floor as my entire body moves with each thrust. His cock glistens under the bright fluorescent lights as he pulls back before thrusting inside me one again, fuck we look good like this. Joel looks down as well and whines at the sight.

“I’m not going to be able to look the guys in the face for days,” Joel grunts, his fingers playing with the bright orange mesh of the vest. The hard hat continues to thump against the wall with each of his deep thrusts. “Only going to be able to picture you wearing this shit.”

“Maybe that was the plan all along,” I whisper in the shell of his ear, letting my teeth just barely graze his skin. “Just giving you something to remember me by.”

He groans and untangles my legs from his waist in response. I whine as he lowers my feet to the ground and pulls out.

“What-“ He doesn’t bother answering or even giving me time to finish my question as he rips the hard hat from my head and turns me around.

Joel pins one arm behind my back as he pushes me against the wall. He kicks my legs apart, grabbing his cock and pushing back inside. I moan loudly as he starts a new, harsher, pace that is devastatingly good. My face presses into the wood paneling off the trailer as each thrust knocks the air out of my lungs.

“I’ll give you something to remember babygirl,” Joel growls in my ear.

He’s so much deeper at this angle. I can feel all of him, the tip of his cock pressing against my cervix with each thrust. I moan loudly as he thrusts faster. With my free hand I grab at the wood in front of me, my fingers pressing so hard I can feel the grains making indents in my skin.

For a moment I can almost forget this is the last time. I lose myself in the pleasure only Joel can give me. I’m floating, feeling every detail of this moment while being caught somewhere in a dream. The coil in my abdomen wraps itself tighter with each of Joel’s grunts.

I can tell he’s close too, his thrusts becoming sloppier and his moans getting louder. We both try to hold off as long as we can. Neither of us want it to end, not yet. I can’t let go of him yet, but I can’t hold on any longer. The coil snaps, and the second I tighten around him I feel him let go as well. His cock twitches inside me. He coats my insides with spurts of come as he growls and tightens his grip on me. The hands he has on my arm pushes me even further against the wall while I cry out for him, so hard I’m almost certain the whole trailer might come toppling over.

He slowly thrusts into me a couple of times as he comes down. When he stops moving he presses his lips against my shoulder where he pushed the vest away earlier. His length softens inside of me but he makes no move to pull out just yet.

He kisses my shoulder again and moves one hand around my body to draw circles on my clit. I hiss at the contact, completely spent from the several orgasms he has already gotten out of me but unable to pull away from the last touches I have left of him.

“I know darlin’, I know” Joel mutters against my shoulder as I whine. “I’m sorry but I’m not ready to let go of ya just yet.

I rest my forehead against the trailer wall and resign myself to his gentle strokes. Covered in the combined juices over our climaxes, his fingers glide easily against my bundle of nerves. Tears gather at the edges of my eyes, both from the overstimulation of it all and the realization that it's almost over.

“That’s it babygirl,” he whispers as my pussy clenches around his cock. “Be a good girl and give me one more.”

My tears slide down my cheeks as he works me over the edge, quiet moans escaping my body. He moans as well as he feels me pulse around him.

When my climax fades and I’m left catching my breath Joel finally slides out of me. I keep my forehead against the trailer wall, bringing a hand up to my face to wipe any evidence of tears away while he searches for our clothes.

When Joel returns he lifts one leg and then the other as he helps me back into my shorts. The remnants of him are already starting to slide down my thighs, but I don’t attempt to wipe it away.

When I turn to face him he already has his jeans and boxers back on, his belt unbuckled and hanging from the loops. Neither of us speak. I’m not sure what to say at this moment anyway. He keeps his eyes on my face as he hands me my shirt while I look away. I pull the safety vest off, handing it to him in exchange. We both finish dressing and stand in front of each other, a noticeable shift already swelling in the space between us now that the list has faded. Our costaron from the diner still rings true.

“We can sit and talk if you want,” Joel offers after a couple of minutes. I want to. I really want to.

“I probably shouldn’t.” I respond, avoiding his eyes.

Despite every cell of my being begging me to stay, I know I can’t. Each moment I spend avoiding the inevitable will only make it harder to walk away. Joel nods and turns his eyes to the ground.

“I’ll drive you home.” He mutters, grabbing his keys from the counter. He holds the door for me as I cross the trailer and grab my purse from the table where I left it when I got here.

Each moment of the drive is spent in a painful silence. He holds my hand in his on the seat between us, his grip tightening the closet we get to my house. When we finally pull into the driveway he reluctantly lets go. I take a deep breath as I leave the truck, not looking back at the man I’m leaving inside it.

I hear Joel call my name just before I open my front door. I turn to look at him, his mouth open and eyes wide. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was about to cry. He freezes at the next sentence, unable to say the words but I know what they are.

“You can say it,” I say softly, nodding my head and granting him permission.

“I love you.” He lets out, his voice cracking at the end. I bite my lip, fighting to keep the tears at bay.

“I’m sorry,” I murmur, turning my back and closing the door behind me.

This is an excerpt from my ongoing fic Always an Angel, Never a God. To read more visit a03.

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starkwlkr · 1 year ago

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Could you do fic for jealous!Toto Wolff with wife reader? The Merc garage has invited someone to the paddock and it's someone who the reader idolizes (male). Her whole attention goes to him and Toto's feel jealous because he's always away and can't spend time with her eyes when he's home. But she assured him that everything is fine. Add something else to it if you want to. Just something fluff and cute. Thanks!! :)(

divorce babe divorce | toto wolff

toto gonna be stressing through this whole fic

Before the 2023 F1 season ended, it had been announced that Keanu Reeves would take part in a documentary about Brawn GP formula one team. It was no secret that the actor had a big passion for motorsports so as a way to promote the upcoming documentary, Keanu was invited to COTA. Toto kept this information from you since he knew that younger you had a massive crush on Keanu, you told him many times when you watched one of Keanu’s movies. Teasing Toto that you would leave him for Keanu started off as a joke, but he was always overthinking.

Austin was hot. It was Texas after all, they had unpredictable weather every day, but race day just so happened to be sunny. You were seated in Toto’s chair in the Mercedes garage, scrolling on your phone when you heard Lewis call your name. You turned your head and saw him walking towards you with the man you had been crushing on when you were a teenager.

“This is Mrs. Wolff, y/n meet Keanu.” Lewis introduced you. He smiled wide, he also knew you were a Keanu fan.

“H-Hi, oh god. Welcome! I heard Mercedes was going to have a guest i just wasn’t expecting. . . you.” You said nervously. “It’s definitely not a bad thing! Don’t take it like that!”

Keanu laughed. “Nice to meet you. Thank you for having me. This whole experience is incredible.”

Lewis excused himself when he noticed how relaxed you had gotten. He felt confident you could be on your own with Keanu so he left to get ready for the race.

When Toto entered the garage, he really wasn’t expecting to see another man make his wife laugh and smile.

How could she laugh at another man’s jokes? Was I not funny enough? Maybe I’m trying too hard or not enough? And she’s smiling! How could she sit there and laugh? thought Toto.

Before Toto could continue overthinking, you called for him.

“Keanu, this is my husband, Toto.”

Toto forced a smile. “I’m her husband.”

Keanu continued to be his genuine self and talked to Toto about Formula 1. The team principal only nodded and smiled, occasionally mumbling a yes or a no. You knew something was going on with Toto. Why was he being like that?

Keanu excused himself to go to the restroom before the race started. This was your opportunity to talk to your husband. While you sat in his chair, he stood beside you looking over paperwork.

“What was that about?” You nudged him.

“What?” He questioned, not looking up from his papers.

“You know what. I saw that forced smile. I know you, Torger. Have you forgotten that?” You asked.

Finally Toto put his attention on you. “Am I a good husband?”

“Toto, why are you asking me this?”

“I heard you laughing with him. You haven’t laughed like that in a while. And the way you were smiling, you looked so beautiful,” Toto admitted. “I haven’t been the best husband, I know. I’m always away and you’re always alone in our house.”

You took his hand in yours. “Toto, you are the greatest husband ever. Don’t ever think you’re not. I love you so so much. I loved you yesterday, I love you today, I will love you tomorrow and everyday.”

To Toto, It sounded like a sweet song hearing you say those words.

“I love you too.” He kissed your lips. “But, don’t get mad, but in another universe, would you ever date Keanu if you had the chance?” He curiously asked.

You looked at him with pure love in your eyes. “In every universe, I’d find my way to you.”

#formula 1 #f1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #f1 x you #toto wolff x reader #toto wolff #toto wolff imagine #toto wolff fanfic #toto wolff x wife!reader #f1 fic

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trinitygirlfailuresantos · 8 months ago

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cowboy take me away

j.seresin x reader

pictures not mine, credits to pinterest

1k words

summary: sort of inspired by “Cowboy Take Me Away” by The Chicks. (great song you should check it out!) what was supposed to be a celebratory night, turns into reader sitting alone at a bar in texas. that is until a blonde aviator, visiting home, notices her.

Warnings: fluff! reader has not great friends. talks about an ex boyfriend. Alcohol consumption. Jake Seresin being a charming man? She/her pronouns are used and reader is said to be shorter than jake! no use of y/n!

authors note: first fic!! lmk what you think!

Sitting alone in a bar in the middle of Austin, Texas was not how you thought your Saturday was going to go. You had recently graduated from University of Texas in Austin so you thought you would be out with your boyfriend and friends, celebrating the fact that you were finally going to go to the University of California San Diego to get your masters in Educational Studies. But you just broke up with your boyfriend due to his extreme lack of interest in your relationship. He literally shrugged when you told him it was over. On top of that your friends seemingly forgot that you had plans, go figure.

So now you were sitting in some bar, under the soft disco lighting, with cowboy hats everywhere, fiddling with the straw in your drink, wondering how it could all go sour so fast.

“Is this seat taken?” a strong voice with a southern drawl asked. You whipped your head so fast you thought you could see the looney tunes birds flying, but no, what you saw was a man with sandy blonde hair and eyes that could rival the trees in the Ozarks. “Oh! Um N-no. No, it’s not.” He took his seat with a devilish smirk and waved down the bartender to order another drink for himself. While doing so you missed the part where he ordered you another drink. You were too busy roaming your eyes from the black Stetson that sat on top of his head, to the shirt that said “US Navy” & “H_ngm_n” on the pocket, and finally to the steel-toed cowboy boots that sat on his feet.

You heard a cough, and that’s when you realized he had been talking to you and was a bit closer now. Get it together he just asked a simple question and you just got out of a relationship, you scolded yourself. “Sorry, sorry what did you say?”

The smirk on his face just grows a bit bigger while replying, “I was just asking why a pretty girl like you looks so defeated in the most lively bar in all of Austin?”

Great. He’s charming and astute apparently. Now you can either lie to this very handsome man, or you can become the stereotypical person who dumps everything at the bar. Saved by the bell, or bartender in this case, because he delivers the drinks to you both, making the smirk on this man’s face slide to a polite smile, and also giving you a sense of reprieve at this moment.

“I’m Jake by the way, sorry if the question was too intense for an introduction. Can’t help but be curious.” You give him your name and the smirk is back way too quickly. “Pretty name for a pretty girl,” he replied, his smirk turning to a kind smile. “Does that work on all of the girls?” you snap back quickly. He looks a bit taken aback by the question, but that doesn’t deter him one bit, “Wouldn’t know, did it work on you?”

Sighing you finally turn to face him fully, taking in his form once again. After the day you’ve had, you decide you’ll entertain him for a bit, “Ya know what cowboy, it might’ve but don’t let that get to your head. We don’t need that cowboy hat to fall off.” Jake takes you in for a minute and gives you a smile that might be the sweetest thing you’ve seen in a bit. “So you gonna tell me why you’re lookin’ all sad in the middle of this bar?” he asks you once again, and you finally decide you need to at least tell someone or you might cry. So with your head down and while fidgeting with your hands, you tell him, “I just got accepted into the master’s program I applied for and to celebrate I was gonna meet my boyfriend and friends here. As you can see neither are here. I broke up with him and my friends all forgot or something, who knows.” You finally take a breath and look back up to see him looking at you with the slightest hint of concern.

He shakes his head and laughs gently. “Well, I guess congratulations are in order for the graduate, and for getting rid of the boyfriend who didn’t appreciate the beauty in his life.” With a soft smile, he tips his beer towards you and you do the same.

He abruptly stands up and holds out his hand, a silent question for a dance. You take it with a quizzical look on your face, and he drags you to the middle of the dance floor; now that you’re there, you look around and see that this place has cleared out a bit since you first got here. He looks down at you with a bit of adoration and says “A congratulatory dance is a necessity.”

He grabs your hips, while you wrap your arms around his neck, and it’s at this moment you realize that you would much rather be here, wrapped in this stranger’s arms, dancing to “Cowboy Take Me Away” than in the silence that your ex would’ve given. Looking at Jake with a smirk on your face, “The song is real fitting if you ask me, cowboy.” Your fingers are playing with the soft hair at the bottom of his head, and for a second it’s like a cat reacting to someone scratching their head. You’d be shocked if he didn’t start purring.

“Is it? I hadn’t noticed,” he replies with a soft chuckle. Looking into each other’s eyes, you stand on your toes, and you both lean in… but of course, nothing would go as planned. His cowboy hat hits you right in the forehead.

You pull back from each other and both break out into a fit of giggles. Jake looks at you with a soft smile, tips his cowboy hat back, and leans in again. This time your lips meet in a delicate kiss, his lips are soft and you can smell a hint of cologne on him. Warmth fills your cheeks, the kiss lasting only a matter of seconds, but it's just enough time for everything around you to disappear. When the kiss is over, your foreheads meet and you both continue swaying under the reflected disco lighting. Maybe tonight is way better than you originally planned.

#jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman fic #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman imagine #hangman x reader #top gun maverick #top gun hangman #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x y/n #hangman imagine

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flawssy-227 · 5 months ago

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The Beginning | a Joel x Babysitter fic

pairing: joel miller x babysitter!reader

wc: 2.6k

summary: how you start babysitting for Joel and Sarah.

warnings: no smut, still 18+ pls!, no outbreak!au, Sarah lives!au, small unspecified age gap, longing, small feelings developing, mostly written in a couple of hours and poorly edited lol, moldboard was hastily created by me to reflect ~vibes~, not physical characteristics

a/n: s/o @saradika-graphics for the dividers. still dusting off the cobwebs, but thank you to everyone who read part 1 and left feedback. I think I will keep writing for this pair–– less of a 'series' and more so vignettes of their lives. feel free to lmk what you would like to see next. and let me know what you think :)

You rolled your neck slowly, trying to release the tension that had been building up the last few hours. You had been working at a bookstore in downtown Austin all summer, trying to get acclimated to your new city before you start your grad program and to help earn a little cash as a cushion–you knew you were about to be way too busy with long readings and lengthy essays to work the inconvenient shifts here.

It should’ve been an easy gig, working at an independent bookstore. You really thought you would enjoy it when you got the call saying you’d been hired. The hours were nice and the environment was warm, earthy and classic Texan. It got slightly busy on the weekends and in the evenings, and there was a small coffee bar that attracted teens and students alike. It would be totally fine if it weren’t for your dick of a manager, Todd.

He was in the middle of lecturing you about cleaning the espresso machine and labeling the milk, just for you to remind him that it wasn’t even your job, and that Erica, his assistant manager still hadn’t trained you on the bar, insisting that despite your previous restaurant experience, that operating the espresso machine was a little out of your wheelhouse. You tried to resist the overwhelming urge to roll your eyes at his droning when you saw a little girl with gorgeous curly hair walk into the bookstore alone.

You tracked her movements as she maneuvered around the store comfortably and found the history section, tactfully looking over titles before her eyes brightened in recognition as she reached for a hardcover that was comically large for her small hands.

Todd was still yapping in your ear, asking if you understood what he was saying, prompting you to let out a halfhearted yup and a silent wish he would leave you alone. You looked at him, offering a half hearted customer service smile, one that probably got you the job in the first place before mumbling something about restocking some returns.

You made your way over to the little girl who was now sitting in the reading nook in the back of the store, golden Austin sunlight highlighting her face.

“Hey,” you offered, making her look up. You notice how she cautiously tracked your face, glancing down at your employee lanyard before she relaxed the slightest bit. “What’re you reading?”

She lifted up the cover so you could see. “Hidden Figures.” She stayed silent after that, curiously waiting to see if you would speak more.

“That’s a good book,” you responded. “Ever seen the movie?”

My dad says I gotta read the book before I watch the movie,” she replied, eyes rolling the slightest bit, making you both giggle.

“Oh,” you laugh, “your dad is one of those?”

She nods eagerly, guards lowering a bit. “Used to not be,” the girl shrugs. “I got put into the gifted program for school this year though. Think he’s pushing me.”

Gifted made sense. What kid her age was comfortable enough walking into bookstores on their own to grab non-fiction history novels and talking to strangers? You sure weren’t that way.

“Where’s your dad anyway?” you finally ask. The store was surprisingly empty for a Saturday afternoon but you weren’t too keen on leaving a girl her age to fend for herself.

The little girl was just about to open her mouth before a man who appeared to be in his 30s stood before you both. You could see his chest moving up and down, like he had run into the bookstore and was trying to get his breathing under control. He looked upset and irritated and it immediately put you on edge.

“Sarah,” he hissed, completely ignoring you and looking at the girl you were chatting with. You assumed this was her dad.

“You can’t keep doing this,” he scoffed at her. “I told you we could walk in here when I finished up my errands. Stop bein’ so damn impatient.”

Sarah was completely unperturbed by his tone, essentially disregarding it. It was honestly comical how bothered he was and how little she seemed to care. “Sorry, dad,” she offered, a brilliant smile on her face, one you were sure got her out of trouble more often than not. “Just came to grab the book.” She flipped over to the cover, just like she did with you moments earlier. “Made a friend.”

At Sarah’s gesture towards you, her dad focused his attention on you for the first time since walking into the store. You offered a shy smile and stood up from the nook before you offered him your hand and introduced yourself.

“Joel,” he said back, eyeing you in the same suspicious way Sarah had when you first greeted her.

Some genetics, you thought to yourself of the similarity, but you tried not to let his intensity get to you. He was gorgeous, broad shoulders stretching indecently across a threadbare grey t-shirt and big hands tucked coolly in a perfectly worn pair of Levi’s. His brown eyes were intense on you, making you avert your gaze as you felt heat creep across your cheeks. Dammit, he was attractive.

“I was just keeping an eye on her,” you offered, not getting a response in return. “I should, uh, get back to work,” you respond after a minute, the stare and silence from Joel just a bit much to handle. “Enjoy the book,” you say to Sarah, before walking away and trying to remember what the hell you were supposed to be doing.

“C’mon hon, VIP section right here!”

You had let your roommate, Avery, convince you to go drinking with her tonight. You’d been in Austin for a couple of months but you hadn’t gone out too much. Instead, you were focused on your annoying little bookstore gig and working through the massive reading list you were assigned before you started your first semester. Plus, outside of Avery, you didn’t really know anyone in Texas.

You looked at what she had just referred to as the ‘VIP section’ and scoffed. She wasn’t too specific when she invited you out tonight, but looking at Avery and her trendy gold jewelry, slinky outfit and YSL purse, you thought you might be going somewhere a little bit nicer than the sticky dive bar you were currently in.

You scoffed and swiped the crumbs from the cracked leather booth before you slipped in. “Some VIP,” you mumbled.

Avery quirked a smile at you. “What was that? Austin’s latest transplant isn’t a fan of what we have to offer?”

You rolled your eyes at her goading. Despite not hanging out much, you did really enjoy living with Avery. You had been randomly placed together via some roommate matching app and you were surprised at how it had worked out so far. She was clean and respectful. She was out a lot, but never really brought the party home. As far as you knew, she was Texan, born and raised, but this girl was bougie. She did barre classes in the mornings and wore designer pieces to work. You just could not understand why the hell she dragged you to this dive bar.

“No,” you scoff. “Just wondering if this is the place you’re always raving about.”

She hummed quietly, like she had a secret she couldn’t wait to spill, before a cute server came by to grab your drink orders. You finally took a look around the dive, disregarding the kitschy and chaotic decor that has probably been here since before you were born, noticing the patrons. Mostly men, a mix of what appeared to be the most attractive male models cosplaying as blue collar workers and others who looked like they were just in an episode of Yellowstone. It was kind of insane, you’d never seen this many attractive men in one place before. You got it now.

Avery is almost giddy as she watches you take in all the guests. “See anything you like?”

You both laugh. “Okay,” you sigh. “I might understand why you like this place so much.”

“Not only is everyone here so fucking hot,” she giggled. “But the drinks are sickeningly cheap.”

You and Avery were having too good of a time, laughing and tipsy enough before you made your way to the pool table, convinced you wouldn’t embarrass yourselves. A few guys had checked the two of you out, another anonymously even bought you a round of drinks, but no one actually came up to either of you to speak. It was mildly disappointing but you suppose that’s what the apps are for.

Avery was focused on lining up her next shot when someone put two quarters on the table. “I got next,” he smirked.

He fit in exactly with the other patrons of the bar. Tall, dark and handsome. He actually looked a lot like the dad you met at the bookstore the other day. Just leaner, with longer hair and–

“Here’s your beer, Tommy.”

Your breath hitched at the sight. There he was. The dad from the bookstore. Joel. He looked the same, just a little more flushed, like he had spent all day in the sun. He finally looked at you and froze before quirking a small smile in your direction.

Next to you, Avery squealed and embraced the man who had just claimed the pool table.

“Tommy!” she exclaimed, letting herself be picked up and spun around. “Missed you,” she said as she nuzzled herself into his neck. You focused your attention on the two of them, trying to convince yourself you didn’t feel the heat of Joel’s stare.

How the hell did Avery know these guys? You were looking at her quizzically, trying to remember if she ever mentioned a boyfriend to you, just as he set her down. Avery reached for you without fully releasing her hold on the man.

“Babe, this is my friend Tommy and his brother, Joel.”

You shook Tommy’s hand and then did the same to Joel. “Nice to meet you,” you said, giving each other a knowing look.

After a round of pool where you and Avery quickly lost against Tommy and Joel, the two of them offered to grab another round for everyone before they disappeared for a while, leaving you and Joel tucked into the same cracked booth where you started the night.

It wasn’t uncomfortable, being left to sit next to Joel while Avery and Tommy did whatever it was they were doing while they should’ve been grabbing your drinks. He had been funny during pool, a little different than the concerned and irritated dad you met over the weekend. You couldn’t help but notice how relaxed he looked when he smiled. Beautiful, really.

Trying not to stare too long, you broke the silence. “So,” you offered, “how long do you think they’ll be?”

Joel chuckled dryly, rubbing a hand down his face and glancing to the bar. “Well,” he took a sip of his beer, “I wouldn’t hold my breath waitin’ for those two to come back. ‘Specially since they ain’t nowhere near the bar.” He smiled at you, and dammit if it didn’t make your heart beat a little bit faster. “You’ve known Avery for long?”

You shook your head, taking a small sip of your drink just to give yourself a distraction. “No, I just moved in with her like two months ago. Actually moved to Austin two months ago. Brand new.” You smile shyly at his appraising gaze.

“Well if there’s anyone to be a part of the welcoming committee, it’s probably Avery. Swear that girl knows everyone and everything in this town.”

You laugh at that. “Yeah, I’m kinda getting that sense.” You took another sip of your drink. You were happy you didn’t have to work the opening shift tomorrow with how strong and cheap these cocktails were. “Maybe she can help me find a different job.”

“Really?” Joel asked. “Not likin’ the bookstore?”

You shook your head no, offering him a half hearted explanation about your manager being a bit of a prick and the hours not coinciding with the school schedule you just got. “But it’ll be fine. I just have to be patient and wait for something that’s a better fit.”

Joel nodded, trying not to be obvious as he watched the way your lips pursed around the little black cocktail straws, or how you let out a happy sigh at the sweet taste of the mixer. He thought back to how Sarah kept mentioning how nice you were when they left the bookstore Saturday, asking him why he wasn’t nicer to you, why he had been so stand offish, and then promptly adding that he should’ve asked for your number, much to his chagrin. She had been really wanting him to start dating again. He had to give it to his daughter, you were really pretty, gorgeous even, and definitely sweet. Smart too, if you were going to graduate school at UT. Sarah had a better understanding of his type than he did. But he didn’t have time to date, not right now. He and Tommy finally started their own contracting business, and between liability insurance and taxes and 1099s and the customer service aspect of it all, he had been swamped and a little overwhelmed, if he was being honest. He could use some help, personally and professionally. He only came out for a drink tonight with his brother because Sarah was sleeping over at a friend's house.

He paused for a moment and thought about how he was going to need a little more assistance with Sarah at the start of the school year. He knew some of the other parents at her school had nanny’s who did the pickups and drop offs that were at incredibly inconvenient times to anyone who actually had a job. He had been reliant on his mom and some of the parents of Sarah’s friends to help him pick up the slack for far too long. He decided not to think too hard and just ask. He needed help with Sarah. You liked Sarah. Sarah liked you. That’s all this was. Definitely no other reason he was even considering this.

“You know, Sarah really enjoyed talking to you.”

“Really?” you ask, smiling at the memory of his daughter from your brief encounter. “She was really sweet. Smart too.”

“Yeah, listen, I could use some help with her starting in a few weeks.”

“Oh yeah?” you questioned. “What? You want me to babysit?”

He smiled bashfully at you. “Honestly? Yeah. She liked you, a whole lot, and I could use the help a few nights a week,” he shrugged, taking another pull of his beer.

Would you ever consider, uh, babysitting?” The worst you could do is say no, he figured.

Your face turned in surprise. You were intrigued at the idea of seeing Joel again, but this wasn’t exactly the context you had in mind.

“Babysitting might not be the right word for it. Maybe, more like a nanny,” he added. “Only if it works with your school schedule,” he said finally, trying to read your expression as you thought about his offer.

You couldn’t help but feel a bit disappointed that he didn’t ask you out for dinner or at least a coffee. Babysitting. You could use the money though, and something a little more flexible than the bookstore. And hanging out with Sarah while you did your readings for school didn’t sound too bad. Why the hell not?

You smiled up at Joel, brown eyes peering into yours. “You know, me and Sarah will probably gang up on you, join forces and take over your house.”

Joel grinned at the idea, flashes of you in his house, acting like you owned the place with Sarah smiling next to you filling his head. “I won’t mind darlin’. I won’t mind at all.”

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller au #joel tlou #tlou fic #joel miller fanfiction #fic: Joel miller x babysitter #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedrostories #joel miller x you #joel miller

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poge-life · 1 year ago

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heyyy. can u do a drew starkey imagine where both him and the reader are members of the obx cast and they are at the pougelandia event and they are in a secret relationship but they are constantly doing cute stuff throughout the event but the reader gets a bit tipsy a bit tipsy and outs their secret by accidentally kissing him on stage and the whole crowd reacts and screams. also sorry if this really long.

Ugh, I absolutely loved this one!

This was probably the best event you had ever been to. Jonas had decided to do a big ‘Poguelandia’ event to kick off season 3 and there were hundreds of people here. You absolutely loved how much support the show got and how happy this event made people. Maddy and you had pregamed before you left, as always.

You guys had been dating for a year and it was the best year of your life. You guys had immediately kicked it off when you met and then one thing led to another and you started dating. You both decided to keep it a secret from the public, just knowing how cruel the media could be and would try and twist you guys apart. Obviously, your friends knew; considering it would be hard to hide it from the people you were always with.

You guys had shown up separately; you arriving with the girls and Drew arriving with the guys. And boy, were you having a hard time keeping your hands to yourself. His hair had grown out again and he opted out of styling it, leaving it messy. He was wearing his green jacket with a white Tee underneath, pairing it with black jeans and his black converse. Going for a more casual look, you had a black cropped button up tucked into a black skirt with white flowers on it and slit up the side. You paired it with platform docs and gold jewelry.

Everyone had been split into different groups for all the stuff going on; you were with Carlacia and Maddy while Drew was with Austin. Carlacia had mistakenly left you and Maddy unsupervised at the bar and to no one’s surprise, you both got tipsy. It was no ones fault but her own. She had been told when she joined the cast to never let you and Maddy be alone at any kind of bar or else you’ll drink them out under the table.

Once the performance’s started, you guys all made your way up to the platform, to get away from the crowd and have some time with your friends. You stood in front of Drew with Chase on one side you and JD on the other. You all were just having a good time with each other and you couldn’t have thought of a better group of people to be friends with.

You leaned back against Drew, looking up at him as he looked down at you. He chuckled at your appearance; cheeks all red and rosy but he couldn’t tell if it was from being in the sun all day. Or, it might be the fact that you’re wearing all black in 70 degree weather.

“Having fun?” He asked, letting out a laugh as you had a dopey grin on your face as you nodded, “The best fun. I haven’t been this relaxed in a long time.”

“Good,” He smiled, placing a hand on your waist, thumb brushing the skin exposed between your skirt and shirt. Goosebumps showed up at the feeling of his cold ring against your skin that had been warm all day but it was comforting and very much needed. It probably wasn’t the best idea to be drinking in the heat but you didn’t care. This day was about you and your friends and you were going to enjoy it.

“What?” Drew asked, once he realized you were still staring at him. You shrugged, turning around to lean on the bar, “Can’t I just appreciate how good looking my boyfriend is?”

“Uck. You guys are gross.” Chase mumbled, brushing past you two as JD followed after him.

A/N

Please feel free to let me know if you guys want me to continue this fic!!

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sunrizef1 · 1 year ago

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Masterlist 🌟

⭐️- Smau

💫- Character is readers ex in the fic

Formula 1 🏎️

Charles Leclerc

Silence ⭐️

What happens in Vegas ⭐️

Jackie and Wilson

Speechless

The Way

August ⭐

September ⭐

Lando Norris

White hearts ⭐️

imgonnagetyouback⭐️

Monaco Green⭐️

Please Please Please ⭐

Pushing it Down and Praying ⭐

manchild! ⭐️

Daniel Ricciardo

Austin Orange ⭐️

City Boy ⭐️

Logan Sargeant

Switch Up

Girl Back Home

The Alchemy

Baby Blue

big reputation pt2 pt3 ⭐️

So High School ⭐️

Always

Back in Japan

Gold Medal Baby ⭐

Bed Chem ⭐

The Truth in Pretending ⭐️

Lewis Hamilton

Silence 💫⭐️

Try Again pt.2💫⭐️

Snowman

Distracted ⭐️

Hits Different ⭐️

Hearts, Intertwined

manchild! ⭐️

Glorious Thorn (Soon)

Max Verstappen

What happens in Vegas ⭐️💫

Proper Scouser ⭐

Guilty as sin?

Birthday Blues

Milk and Sugar

15 Minutes ⭐️

The Way

Carlos Sainz

Heart Eyes ⭐️

Oscar Piastri

Speak for yourself

Lost in Japan

Pushing it Down and Praying ⭐💫

George Russell

Water⭐

Football ⚽️

Jude Bellingham

All the boys pt.2 ⭐️

Camera Man and Mystery Girl ⭐

Trent Alexander-Arnold

You’ll walk alone ⭐️

Mason Mount

Coming soon…

Kylian Mbappe

Baby baby ⭐️

Here We Go ⭐

Requests are open! If you think I might write for someone but they’re not in the list, ask! I might just not have remembered them to be honest 🖤

I don’t write smut, just not comfortable 🙅‍♀️

💙

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covetyou · 7 months ago

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digital

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader rating: Explicit (18+ only!) warnings: sex toys (like the wevibe jive or lovense lush/vulse), masturbation, phone sex, fluff, mild angst and serious yearning, novelty hats, Joel doesn't forget the balls, reader has a mom (inc. vague mentions of other family), no use of y/n word count: 4k summary: You're exhausted. The special kind. The kind that only comes with visiting your family for Thanksgiving. Still, the exhaustion can't keep that yearning ache at bay, the ache you've been fending off all day. So, in the dark of the night, you reach out to Joel in the only way you can.

A/N: we're ignoring that this is well over 2 weeks later than I planned. we're not ignoring that this is the penultimate fic in this accidental series. the final installment will be coming to you all sometime in the coming weeks, and I hope you can join me in seeing off these two lovebirds right where it all began. see you soon 💛

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It's late when you fall into bed, sinking into the shape of yourself indented into a mattress you'd long left behind.

You're exhausted. The special kind. The kind that only comes with visiting your family for Thanksgiving.

It was stupid to have expected anything else really. Between the travelling, over indulgence, and endless socializing and catching up with family, there wasn't a chance you'd be anything other than bone tired and irritable. Wasn't that how these things always went?

In fact, from the moment you'd been welcomed by your mom with open arms and an it's good to have you home, you'd been annoyed. You couldn't even quite put your finger on why until Joel had sent his first message that morning; a picture of him and Sarah in matching holiday t-shirts, wearing matching squinting eyed grins, with a message that read wish you were here, and you wished you were too.

It wasn't until the fifth welcome home that day that you realized home hadn't been this place in a long time. Home, instead, was a million miles away, in Austin, Texas.

Home was sat on his couch, sharing a bag of chips with his daughter.

Home was chatting shit with his brother, cracking open a cold one on the patio.

Home was probably curled up in bed, holding a pillow close to himself to fill the empty space left by you.

Home was Joel Miller.

And home wasn't here.

At dinner, you'd made a decent effort to fill the Joel shaped void in your chest with mashed potatoes and stuffing, eating until your stomach ached so much that any other part of you couldn't possibly ache for any other reason. By the time dessert rolled around, the longing was back, clawing at you and pulling you toward a family that could be yours, if only you'd let it, until you filled that aching void again with too much pie and wine.

It was back now, that ache. Softer and gentler now that you were alone. More creeping than clawing as it worked its way back up your spine, latching at your throat with a squeeze rather than the bruising grip from earlier in the day.

It was that very same ache - that longing - that made you send maybe the most pathetic text you'd ever sent in your life.

you up?

He shouldn't be, you don't think. If it's late here it's even later there. He has a kid. Responsibilities you have been reminded over and over by "well meaning" family members that you don't have. At any rate, he had better things to do than to keep you company in the middle of the night, when the longing got too much to bear alone. Because you are alone, in this house filled with people - people you love - and you think that maybe you've never been more alone than now because, suddenly, alone feels a lot like lonely and -

The shrill ring of your phone stops your spiralling thoughts and, in a panic, you slap at the screen just to shut it up, rolling over until the brightness of it blinds you, and then you hear him.

His familiar drawl is softer than usual. He sounds tired, but content, almost like you can hear the smile in his voice and the crinkle in his eyes.

"Was hopin' I'd hear from you."

Your brain has stuttered to a stop. You're not breathing, not blinking, barely moving where you lie on your front, propped on your elbows, staring down at the too-bright screen of your phone where Joel stares back. It's just a picture - one you'd taken some weeks ago as you sat next to him on his couch and had looked at every day since. It was a good picture. He looked beautiful - soft and comfortable in his own home, looking right at you. Fuck, do you miss him.

"Hello? Y'ain't fallen asleep on me that quick, have you?"

You blink, shake yourself, and curse under your breath, catching Joel's raspy laugh as you fumble with your phone and smack it to the side of your head much harder than you meant to.

"Fuck, fuck, ow, yes, sorry. Hello," you garble, before taking a deep breath. "Hello. Hi."

"Hey there, darlin'," he says back, that smile so evident on his voice you're grinning right back at him in the dark. "You okay? Doze off for a little there?"

"Sorry it's - it's just your voice. Sounds better than I remember," you laugh softly. "Wasn't expecting it."

"Only been a couple days," he teases, and the familiar, comfortable ease of being with Joel blankets you. From what feels like so very far away he's managed to crawl back into your chest and illuminate the dark, empty cavern inside of it in a matter of moments. You never stood a chance.

"I know," you sigh as you roll over and flick on a bedside lamp to keep the creeping dark at bay. "I've missed you. Today was... not fun."

"Wanna talk about it?"

"Not really."

By this point you knew him well enough to know he was running his tongue across his teeth, nodding in that gentle, understanding way he did whenever you'd complain about work, or how you'd kicked the kitchen cabinet by accident yet again. For as much as he'd barrelled into your life, he was always so very gentle with the parts you gave, and even gentler with the parts that you weren't yet ready for him to see. Fuck, do you love him.

He hums then, in just the way you'd expect, and you listen to the delicate sounds of each others breaths for a beat before he breaks the silence.

"Wanna tell me what that surprise you were teasin' me was instead?"

Shit. You'd forgotten about that. Sort of.

This morning you'd almost pulled it out, plan set to tease Joel with it all day. One look at the thing in your hand, and the idea of your cunt pulsing away while you tried to have a conversation with your mother turned you off from that idea entirely.

Now, it sat back in your bag, tucked away and hidden in the closet, away from the prying eyes of your family, and almost forgotten entirely by you.

"It can wait," you say hastily, flapping a hand in the air as if there was any chance he could see you.

"Now hold on a sec. You were teasin' me with that all week. Told me I couldn't have it at home, it was best to show me from all the way over there. Now, I don't know what you're plannin', but you got two days to show me what mischief you been makin', sweetheart, or all that fuss before was for nothin'."

You don't answer, instead eyeing the closet and weighing up your chances of waking anyone in the house if you did show Joel the little surprise you'd been planning on giving him for weeks.

"Think I can make a few guesses, don't you?"

"You could try," you scoff, knowing Joel's eyebrows are making a valiant attempt to meet his hairline right now.

"Try?" he asks, all too innocently. "Just tell me somethin', then. You doin' that thing where you touch yourself without even realizin' it?"

Your hand stops just at it's about to make another loop across your chest and down the softness of your stomach. "No."

He tuts down the line, and you can see the tick of his head behind your eyes, pinched shut as if he'd just caught you in the act in person.

"And you're gonna tell me your little surprise got nothin' to do with that."

That happened to be the way you always found yourself touching yourself in some way whenever you spoke to Joel, from whatever distance you found yourself from him. Not always in a sexy way either, though more often than not it was. Sometimes it was just soothing, you supposed. Listening to him talk while your hands played idly on your skin calmed you better than just about anything else, and here you were, soothing yourself with his voice from across the miles, your hands tracing the patterns you wished his could. It was nice - a connection to him even through the distance that wasn't just audible, but physical too.

Which was the exact point of your little surprise - a way to be with Joel without actually being with Joel.

"It might."

Joel's stubborn silence is about all you need to know the man isn't about to back down and let you off the hook any time soon. "Fine, but you've got to give me a second to grab it."

You huff in faux annoyance and haul your ass out of bed, tired bones creaking, but the weariness you'd felt all day slowly fading away as excitement creeps in to replace it.

"Can hear you movin' around."

You're glad for it. You hope he can hear every single thing - the soft click of the closet door, the thud of pillows propped up on the bed you spent years of your life sleeping in, the creak of springs as you settle yourself back into the unfamiliar sheets covering it, how you pull up your shirt just so and rest the surprise you'd stashed away across the miles right between your bare breasts. You hope he hears you fumble and tap at your phone as you take picture after picture, until you get one just right, and scramble to hit send.

It's a hope that's realized when you hear his breath hitch and the words get lost in his throat.

"Well," he says with a cough. "Don't quite know what the surprise for me is. Never hid those beauties from me before though, so I'm gonna have to say it's the pretty thing between 'em. Think I can guess where it goes. You gonna let me listen in?"

"Maybe," you say just as you hit send on another message to Joel. "Was kinda hoping you'd give me a hand though."

"What -"

He sounds muffled, but you can hear him mumbling to himself as his thick fingers tap away at his phone screen. And then, exactly as you hoped, the toy sitting on your chest rumbles to life and you could almost cry at the feeling. You grasp it in your fist, just as the other motor hums into action and starts gently thrusting against your palm. For a moment, the intensity gets so much your skin starts to tingle, until it dies down and then finally rumbles to a stop.

"This what I think it is? You really get this so I can play with you like this?" he asks, voice laced in disbelief.

"Yeah," you say, the toy in your hand purring into action again.

"You ain't put it in yet, have you?"

"Not yet," you murmur. "But I can feel you."

"Yeah?" he says, and a moment later the vibrations strengthen and weaken against your hand, like a wave coming in strong before pulling back out to sea. "Y'feel that?"

"Mhm."

The toy buzzes to life and quickly shuts off over and over, short stacatto bursts of vibrations tickling your hand, and you laugh at the silliness of it. "Joel. That's not gonna get anyone off. You're just gonna break it."

"What? It ain't nice like that?" he jokes.

"Feeling you is always nice."

"Know what'd be even nicer?" he asks. "Takin' off them panties and lettin' me really put this thing to use. Feel me where you really need it. Know you gotta be wet down there - your brain don't shut off like that when I'm talking to you if you ain't."

Your panties are flung across the room barely a moment later, your fingers skating gently along the edges of them before you yanked them down your legs. You are wet, panties soaked through in the middle, cunt sensitive and ready for a cock that isn't coming. Despite the obvious emptiness, and even more painfully obvious lack of Joel in the room, you know you're about to come quicker than you have in some time. You can barely swipe your own fingers through your slick folds, gathering your own wetness to smear it over the toy, without holding back a moan.

"That's it. Can hear you. Think we oughta start off nice 'n' gentle, huh?"

The air hitches in your lungs as the toy thrums to life. You guide the gentle buzz down your front, leaving a slick trail of your own wetness over the softness of your belly, before teasing down and down, between your legs and across already twitching thighs.

You circle your cunt with it, teasing with its vibrating tip, eyes pinched shut while Joel keeps it soft and steady for you as you slip it across slick coated skin and up to your clit.

"That good?"

He sounds so soft, almost breathless. You hope he's touching himself too, but you don't have the words to ask. If you open your mouth you're going to let out the moan you're so desperately holding back, your bottom lip sore with it, and the idea of anyone waking up, of ruining this for you now when it's just begun, is enough to keep your lips sealed tight.

"Mhm."

"S'good. Think you're playin' with that clit now, huh?"

You nod. Stupidly. Yet somehow he knows. He always knows. And the toy buzzes harder, intensity sliding up so gently as you were swirling it around yourself you almost didn't notice until the vibrations dancing past your clit forced the moan out of you, face turned into the pillow to stifle it.

"Gotta keep quiet," he says then. "Y'aint alone over there, darlin'. But I ain't with you to put that mouth to use either."

You groan again. You can't control it. It comes out low and strong, the phone you were grasping so tightly left forgotten against the pillow by your ear so you can clutch the plush pillow to your face instead, biting it.

"Too good," you say around a mouthful of pillow. "I need to put it in, Joel, it's gonna make me come too fast - shit - just knowing - knowing you're there, doing that and I - fuck..."

"Put it in. Slip it in that wet little hole for me. You feel that? Feel me in there?"

It's easy, sliding it into you. It's only small - you certainly have bigger - but so very powerful. Not the motor, no, but the way it, and Joel's control over it, have you a sopping mess already.

"I feel you," you say, Joel turning sliding on the other setting - the thrust you felt in your palm minutes ago - setting the toy wiggling and buzzing inside you. "Fuck, I feel you."

You dig your nails into your thighs, letting them bite into the soft, sensitive flesh to pull you back, to pull you down from whatever high you were going toward. It's too much and it's not enough all at once. You want him - need him - desperately, but he's so damn far away and somehow that makes this all the sweeter and all the more bitter, all in one.

"Wish I could be fuckin' you for real, feel you twitchin' on my cock. You twitchin'?" he asks, that breathlessness back in his voice again, and you just know he's joining you. You can see his hand gripped tight around his cock, his head slick and ruddy, squeezing more than stroking, holding back just like you were desperately trying to.

"Don't want to yet. Want this to last - ah - won't have you for days."

"Look at you," he mutters, the vibrations inside you kicking up a notch. "Can't go a few days without me."

And you never want to again.

"Touch that clit for me. Wish I could do it for you. Know how much y'need it."

At his guidance, your grip on your thighs releases. You stroke one quivering hand across your mound. You're so tense. From the day, sure, but from holding back too. All damn day you've held back. Held back looking at your phone in front of anyone. Held back saying Joel's name, mentioning the man who had you so distracted even from so far away. Held back talking about his amazing daughter, and the little family you'd accidentally and gladly fallen into. Held back telling everyone about the life you'd carved for yourself a million miles away from here, so different from the one you left behind. Held back, held back, held back.

Even now you're holding back, but fuck, are you ready to fly.

"Need to see you," you beg, a little too loudly, but you can't bring yourself to care. The combination of him working away in your cunt and your fingers stroking against your swollen clit are too much. You need to see him. "Please. I'm close. I'm -"

There's a shuffle and then the screen illuminates against your face just as the pulsing throb in your cunt gets stronger. You fumble, grabbing it just before it slips beneath your shoulder, and squint against the brightness, eyes adjusting until you see the beautiful face of Joel.

He's smiling. Face as flushed as you imagine yours is.

"Fuck -" you gasp. He looks better than you remember. Even at this terrible angle, the extreme close up of his face. He's shirtless. You can see his bare, tanned collarbones, the slope of his traps into his shoulders. "Fuck."

"You really that close?" you watch him say, your eyes fixated on the way his mouth moves around each word. So fixated, you barely notice him pull back the camera, or shift it upwards, until his full head is in view.

Including the turkey hat perched on top of it.

You almost stop swiping your fingers across your clit.

Almost.

"You asshole," you moan, as Joel's face lights up. He frowns then too, a look of concentration flicking over his face, tukey legs flapping by his ears, until you feel the damned thing rumbling inside you thrust wilder, wiggling against that very spot usually reserved for Joel's fingers. "Fu-uck. You - you just put that hat on. I heard you."

"This old thing?" he says with wobble of his head that sends the turkey flopping from side to side.

"Take it off. I'm close Joel, I-"

He shrugs. You watch him fucking shrug as you speed up the movement of your fingers, teasing yourself as he teases you in every sense of the word and, somehow, it does nothing but get you wetter, sends your legs quivering and your brain desperately trying to hold on for a little bit longer. "Don't think it's enough to stop you. Never had a problem comin' before. Think you can come no matter what I'm wearin'."

"Fuck," you say again, because it's true. And he smirks, because he knows it is too.

"You can do it. Keep rubbin' that thing for me, can tell you're so fuckin' close."

"Are you hard? Please. I need to know, I can't, I'm - I -"

"Where the fuck do you think my other hand is, huh? You wanna see 'im? Know you said you missed me but I bet you're really fuckin' missin' him right now, ain't you?"

"Please."

You're loud. You know you are. Even as you beg, you know it's too loud, and you know these walls are too damn thin for this. The only thing saving your ass right now is holiday exhaustion and too much pie.

When Joel flips his camera, you damn near come immediately. He's cupping his balls, massaging them while his solid cock desperately leaks. He's holding himself back for you - fuck, you love him - he's waited for you all this time, hoping to hear from you, thinking of you as he played with himself alone, so far away from you and your helping hands.

"Oh my god, I swear, I swear I've never wanted it more. I need it."

"I believe you," he breathes, jerking his cock in his massive hand. "You're gonna get it, darlin'. Second you're back here, gonna bend you over your kitchen counter and fuck you right there. Keep makin' them pretty noises for me now. That's it. Need more fuckin' hands..."

"I'm gonna, I'm gonna -"

And you do. Joel makes one last flick across his phone screen, the intensity rumbling in you reaching a peak, your fingers rub, rub, rubbing at your clit as you watch his heavy cock throb in his hand, and you come, clenching and fluttering around the unrelenting toy as you swear and moan right down the phoneline.

Joel isn't far behind. Even fucked out and exhausted, you somehow keep your eyes open, keep the toy lodged in you, buzzing away, pulling aftershocks out of you as you watch Joel work his cock until he's spilling all over his fist and thigh with a shakey groan.

"Shit."

You yank the toy from you when it becomes too much to bear, leaving it wet and rumbling on the sheets. Joel cleans up - a softly murmurred be right back, leaving you face down on his bed as you become a boneless sack filled with too much pie and longing in your own bed, so very far from his.

"You made me come in a turkey hat," you say sleepily when his face reappears on your phone screen, that very same hat still pulled tight on his head. You can see his own exhaustion now, each line and shadow on his face exacerbated by the late hour and low light.

"Think we both know you came with me wearin' weirder before. You like the weird."

"You like the weird."

"I love the weird."

He yawns. His massive hand covering his mouth, eyes closing in on themselves, rolling his head - and that stupid turkey hat - on his neck, and he's maybe never looked better. Silly, sleepy, content. Yours.

"I love you."

You don't know why you say it, exactly. You suppose you think it so loud it just slipped out. Fuck knows you'd toyed with it enough. Started saying how much you love his laugh or love his hair in the morning. Text him it. You love him. It should be easy. But it wasn't, even if he said it to you a thousand times over, a thousand different ways, without the many miles between you.

Joel doesn't hesitate, not even for a second. "Come say that to my face."

"I will," you say. "I promise, I will."

There's four days between you, and as many phonecalls. As many I love you's too. Practice makes perfect, they say. And you have a promise to keep.

You say another I love you to your mother when she pulls you in for one last hug, and you mean that just as much, even though that's never been easy either. Practice makes perfect.

She pulls away, pushing you toward something else, when you load your bags into the car, welcome home turned to safe journey home. From where home was to where home is. You know she sees it too.

Soft smiles, a kiss to your head. Whispers of I'm so happy for you, I can't wait to meet him, and you're off, away, longing for where love is.

She sees it too.

When you land in Austin that evening, you drive past the door with the lock that started it all, the key sat forgotten at the bottom of your bag. One knock is all it takes, and he's there.

"I love you."

next part

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