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mushgloomz · 19 days ago

Text

Modern Love

dbf!Joel Miller x f!Reader

• AN: icl this is one of my FAVOURITE joel miller fanfic themes, so ofc I had to write one into modern love as well. apologies for the abrupt cut off at the end, my tumblr crashed and I lost half of the shit I had been working on and i honestly couldn’t chill out enough to write it again lool; not proofread as always <3

• Warnings: alcohol, language, no outbreak au, single reference to groping, reader is afab with hair.

• Word Count: approx 4.2k

2: Heaven Knows I’m Miserable Now

Things had been weird since Joel’s birthday… really weird. You’d walked your father home, practically hauling him along for the short walk back to the house, all the while trying desperately to ignore the crushing sensation in your gut. Everything had felt off from the moment Joel had scarpered away from you after the kiss.

Living in the same neighbourhood became increasingly awkward with each passing day. You’d give a cautious wave over to him when you were on your way to work, only to be met with a flat expression and the cold shoulder. It felt awful.

At one point, you’d even gone over to see if he wanted to talk. He’d done no more than shake his head, mumbling ‘nothin’ to talk about’ before heading into his garage, leaving you stood clueless on the drive. He may as well have smacked you across the face.

It was a week after the party when you heard your dad talking to someone on the phone. Straining your ears to hear the one-sided conversation, you could tell who he was talking to – of course he was talking to Joel. There was a brief pause, and you heard your name mentioned, followed by a swift, “Oh, alright then’ from your father. It made your stomach tense all over again.

You let your feet carry you down the stairs, where your father was slouched on the sofa, aimlessly watching something on the television. “Hey, who were you talking to?”, you asked, a tinge of anxiety in your tone. A mumble reached your ears as your dad responded.

“Just Joel. He’s been a bit funny since his birthday, God knows why. Asked if he wanted you to babysit Sarah and he said he’d already booked someone.”

Bile rose in your throat involuntarily. He’d booked a sitter for Sarah. But… you’d always done it, free of charge, ever since your families had become acquainted. Not trusting your voice in that moment, you simply nodded before making yourself scarce and returning upstairs.

Even on the days that you worked, you had always made a point of letting Joel know that you were free in the evenings if he was ever working late. The soft duvet on your bed made its way around your shoulders as soon as you’d arrived in your room, and you sat, pondering on the situation until your hands stopped shaking. Had you really fucked things up that much?

A drawn-out breath left your mouth before you stood, reaching for your phone. This shouldn’t, no – couldn’t, become a hyper-fixation. Scrolling through messages with a newfound urgency, you typed out a message in your work group-chat; a call to the masses, if you will. You hit send, waiting for a response as people read the message you’d sent, hoping that someone would bite and agree to go out tonight.

Sounds good :)

I’m down! Where are we headed?

Time?

A sigh of relief replaced the deep breathing you’d taken on whilst waiting; working in an office with people your age was a blessing in this very moment. You shot over the name of a new-ish bar in town, not far from where you all worked. People ‘liked’ the message, and mission Get Over Yourself was in action.

Following a swift shower, you rummaged through your wardrobe. Whatever you ended up wearing, you knew it had to be hot; after all, the best way to get over someone was to get under someone, right? Your hands skimmed the different fabrics hanging in front of you before yanking out a dress. Low-cut in the chest? Check. Barely long enough to cover your ass? Check. Perfect.

After squeezing yourself into the skimpy little number, you shrugged on a denim jacket and made your way down the stairs. It was already late; you slipped on a pair of shoes and darted out the door, not wanting to miss the last dregs of sunlight as you started walking toward town. The evening breeze whipped around your hair as you walked, granting some relief from the humid air.

The walk was pleasant enough to put you into less of a sour mood as you arrived, already spotting a few of your colleagues chatting amongst themselves outside the bar. One of the women from your department waved you over with a cheery grin. Pulling a fake smile in return, you joined the huddle.

“Not like you to be out on the town – why the change of heart?”

The question was spoken with a playful lilt by the same coworker that had called you over - Steph. “Just fancied a switch up”, you shrugged, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. Steph raised an eyebrow - you’d worked together for several years now; she knew when you weren’t telling the truth after seeing it in so many meetings and conference calls over time. “I’ll tell you later, maybe”, rolled out of your mouth under the scrutiny of her brow.

Satisfied with your response, Steph walked toward the doors of the bar, holding them open as she beckoned yourself and the group inside the dimly lit space. Tepid air hit your face, and the thrum of a live band ricocheted in your ears as you entered. It was heaving with people inside.

You noticed a few men looking over at you; none that took your fancy, but if they were already ogling you, it was probably for the best anyway. Steph took your wrist and squeezed the pair of you through the mass of bodies hovering around the bar until her free hand reached the counter. She grinned, nodding to you as the bartender approached. “Double rum and coke, and two shots of tequila please”, you half-shouted, wanting to be heard over the hustle and bustle of the crowd.

“Shit, you’re really going for it ain’t ya?”

Steph stood looking at you, a little dumbstruck, before ordering the exact same. Her surprise wasn’t entirely unwarranted – you rarely went out to begin with, and adding tequila to the mix was a sure-fire way of indicating that something was up. “Just loading up in case the bar gets too busy later”, you chuckled. You received an eyeroll in response as the bartender set down the drinks and shots.

Once you’d pushed a few crumpled bills across the bar, you slung back both shots consecutively, face contorting as the alcohol burned down your throat. Even the wedge of lime you swiftly jammed into your mouth didn’t do much to alleviate the scorch. Steph followed suit, taking her shots like a champ. You both grabbed your drinks and wormed your way back to the rest of your coworkers.

~~~~~

Several drinks, a drunken slow dance with someone’s mother, and one heated argument with a man that had tried to cop a feel later – you were absolutely shitfaced. Steph and a random woman that you’d befriended had walked down the street with you and were listening intently as you vented about the whole Joel situation.

“He s-sounds like an asshole… don’t even waste your time.”

The incoherent babble from the random woman spurred something in Steph; snatching your phone from your hand whilst it was still unlocked. As you went to protest, she held up a hand before quickly typing something and locking the phone, handing it back to you. A groan left your lips as you unlocked the phone, swiping to check the last app she had been on… oh no. No, no, no.

yuor a dickhead joellllll lol

The words on your screen burned themselves into your retinas. This couldn’t have gotten any worse… until Joel started typing. You locked your phone and shoved it into your… wait, where was your jacket? Groaning loudly, you started to walk off in a strop in the direction of the bar; more alcohol would remedy this, or at least help you forget it until tomorrow, and you wanted that damn jacket back.

You saw your phone screen flash in your hand, and you gripped it tighter, trying to ignore the notification. You’d deal with the Joel situation eventually, but whilst inebriated? Not a fucking chance.

Somewhere along the way, you’d ended up taking a wrong turn. Squinting at the map on your phone, you ended up back at the bar half an hour later than anticipated. As you approached the door again, the bouncer simply blocked the entrance, shaking his head. “The fuck? Let me in, I need to get my jacket!”, you protested, words slurring together. As soon as you heard your voice out loud, the realisation dawned on you as to why you weren’t being allowed back in.

Grumbling profanities, you tried to focus your eyes on the screen of your phone, typing out a few messages to your dad.

drubk too much

at new bra in town

*bra

*bar

As you went to type another message, your phone screen went black. Fuck. Checking the map on your phone with your torch on had sapped the last of your battery; the pavement grew increasingly more inviting as you toyed with the reality of your current situation. With an exasperated huff, you sat yourself on the curb, elbows propped on your knees, and your head resting in your hands.

It wasn’t until the screech of tires and the slam of a vehicle door startled you that you realised you’d closed your eyes. As blurry as everything appeared to be around you, a figure approaching you came gradually into to focus. A firm hand around your elbow tugged at you, bringing you to your feet.

“Up, c’mon now. Hell were you thinkin’, gettin’ in a state like this?”

The once beloved grumble reached your ears… Joel. As you tilted your head to look up at him, everything wobbled and you swayed where you stood. A strong arm caught you, wrapping around your waist, holding you upright with a disgruntled sigh. “The… the hell a-are you doing here?”, you mumbled, hiccuping once as you started to speak. No response. A high-pitched whine rumbled in your throat, hand swatting weakly at the arm around your waist.

“You quit actin’ like a brat. Might think ‘m a dickhead, but ain’t nobody else savin’ your ass at 3 in the mornin’”

Feeling his grip tighten on your waist a little more, you let him lead you over to his truck across the street, defeated. There was a tense silence between the two of you before you stumbled over an apology about the text, trying to convey that you hadn’t sent it in the first place. Joel simply picked up his pace, and as you both approached the truck, he pulled open the passenger side door.

“Get in.”

The tone he took was stern but not as cold as you had expected. Your foot slipped as you climbed into the seat with all the grace of a newborn deer, and he caught you by your hips, grumbling under his breath as he pushed you up and onto the worn leather. No sooner had you sat, your head lulled back against the headrest, spinning.

“Christ, you’re a fuckin’ mess kid. C’mere, lemme buckle you in.”

As the frustrated whisper registered with you, Joel leaned over your lap, extending the seatbelt and clipping it in. He backed up, looking you over as if to ensure you weren’t going to slump out of the seat, before closing the door and heading to the driver’s side.

Slamming the door behind him, Joel quickly buckled his own belt and his hands found the steering wheel. He inhaled deeply with his eyes closed, fingers flexing, grounding himself before speaking again, this time in a much softer tone.

“Bottle of water next to ya. Drink.”

Your head, feeling as though it weighed three times more than before, swung forward. Closing one eye in a desperate bid to focus your vision, you grabbed at the water; half of it sloshing over your dress and bare legs as you clumsily tugged at the lid before bringing it to your lips. Joel sighed as you chugged back the remaining liquid from the bottle, taking it from your hands after you'd finished.

The truck growled as Joel turned the key, throwing a cautious glance your way before moving off and heading in the direction of your house. "H-how'd you know where I w-was?, you slurred, looking over to him with heavy lids. Despite how tense things had been since his birthday, you couldn't help but enjoy the fuzzy view of him that you had as he kept his eyes on the road and replied.

"Your old man called me, said you were drunk outta your mind. Asked if I could come get ya 'cause he'd had a drink too."

Humming in acknowledgement and blinking lethargically, you spoke again. "Hmm... thanks Joel" - you paused for a moment, drunken cogs whirring in your mind as you contemplated asking about the past week. The alcohol searing through your system ultimately made the decision for you. "I... I'm s-sorry if when we kissed-", you managed to stammer out before Joel cut you off.

"Don't. I made a mistake, crossed a line; 'm the one that should be apologisin'."

Joel's words were tender, a perfect juxtaposition to the way he white-knuckled the steering wheel as he spoke. Brows knitted together apologetically, he spoke again.

"Shouldn't have let myself drink so much... 'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable kid."

God, he sounded genuinely pained. Part of you wished that he wasn't having this conversation with you right now, knowing that any response you gave would be borderline incoherent. You swallowed hard. "Joel, I... I wasn't uncomfortable", you mumbled, trying your best to sound sober. A sharp inhale of breath followed suit from Joel, shaking his head ever so slightly as you rounded the corner onto your road.

"You're half my age sweetheart; it ain't right - you shouldn't be tryna spare my feelings right now."

Frustrated, you groaned a little. Why wasn't he taking you seriously? Before you could argue back, the truck came to a halt at the end of your driveway, and Joel exited the vehicle, walking around to assist you from the passenger seat. He extended a hand, palm turned up, for you to brace yourself on as you slid out of the door.

The same strong arm wrapped around your waist once again, guiding you as you walked in tandem up the path to your front door. Your hand found Joel's resting on your hip and you gave it a tentative squeeze. Words were beyond you now as the depths of your inebriation took their toll on your ability to speak. Joel's hand flexed under yours, barely noticeable, tightening his grip on your hip just a little more.

Once you'd knocked on the front door, Joel stood and waited with you until your father appeared, tired and disgruntled. He reached out for you, taking your hand as you wobbled through the threshold. With a thankful nod to Joel, he closed the door behind the pair of you and guided you up the stairs to your bed, muttering with frustration as he went.

~~~~~

The sun beamed gloriously through your curtains when you woke up. It made you want to hiss, to curl up under your duvet and block the world out as you nursed your self-inflicted hangover. You couldn't even remember the last time you had felt so rough. Every blink sounded like sheet metal being shook directly next to your ears.

Sketchy memories of the evening's antics slowly rolled in; blurs of conversations, the fact that your jacket was still unaccounted for. Joel collecting you. If only you could remember a single element of the chat you'd had on the way home. You laid there, racking your aching brain for as long as you could muster, before rolling over and swatting for your phone amongst the pillows.

Bless your dad - he must've put your phone on charge after getting you settled in bed. Copious amounts of notifications filled your phone screen; photos sent into the work chat, missed calls from Steph, a random number asking 'Who's number is this?'. Just the usual stuff.

Fingers found themselves hovering over your messages with Joel, his only response to Steph’s insult last night being a simple question mark. A grimace crept onto your face as you reflected on the state that he probably found you in, as if it wasn’t awkward enough as it was. With a sigh, your thumbs danced over the keyboard of your phone and hit send.

Hi Joel. Thank you for last night - sorry.

You locked your phone and tucked it under your pillow before submitting to the pounding in your head, closing your eyes once more and eventually drifting off into a fitful state of sleep.

Bonus Content: Joel’s POV (Golden Brown)

It couldn’t have been later than 2am when Joel’s phone vibrated against the oak bedside table to his left. Who the fuck was messaging him at this time? Thumb and index finger pressed against his eyes, rubbing away sleep, he used his free hand to reach over and grab his phone, nearly knocking off one of the several coffee mugs that had accumulated there throughout the week.

Your name stared back blankly at him, a near unintelligible message beneath it. He felt his heart skip a beat, followed swiftly by a tenseness in his stomach as he processed the words. A dickhead? Joel knew all too well that he was one, but needing to mention it before the sun broke from the horizon line was a little unnecessary. He shot back a single question mark; brain still in the throes of a sleep-induced stupor.

Sleeping was no longer on the cards. You were out somewhere, drunk to the point of belligerency, and it made his stomach turn. He contemplated calling you for a moment but thought better of it; what right did he have after the way he'd been acting for the past week? Pushing himself into an upright position, he sat with his back against the wooden headboard, waiting to hear back from you.

He must've dozed off; his phone buzzed angrily in his hand, startling him into consciousness once again. Without thinking, he raised the phone to his ear, not checking the caller ID. Taken aback by the sound of your father's voice, he cleared his throat with a small cough.

"Everythin' good?"

It didn't take long for your father to start reeling off his blatant frustration at the texts he had received from you. Joel sat and listened intently - he had to know that you were safe. All the moisture in his mouth disappeared as your father furthered his explanation of your evening; not seeming the slightest bit surprised that none of his calls were going through to you anymore.

"... I'm sorry to ask Joel, but could you swing by the bar and drag her ass home for me please? If she kicks up a fuss just give me a ring - I'll have to walk to go and meet her."

Your father had barely finished his sentence before Joel was out of his bed, haphazardly shrugging on the denim shirt he had been wearing during the day, putting the phone on speaker and letting it lay amongst the sheets.

"New bar in town, right? I'll be there, call if you hear anythin' from her in the meantime."

The words huffed out of his mouth in a moderately frantic tone as he shimmied on his grease-stained work jeans, stabbing at his phone with a single finger until the call hung up. Socks didn't even make it to his feet before steel-capped boots were shoved on. Joel pressed his head to Sarah's door, greeted by the soft, peaceful sound of restful breathing before he quickly headed out of the front door.

As he sat behind the wheel of his truck, typing a message out to his sleeping daughter in case she should wake, his leg bounced with trepidation as if it were willing his thumbs to hurry up. The text was sent and, without any further hesitation, Joel was flying down the quiet neighbourhood into town.

The ten minute drive felt arduous; every red light taunting him with its crimson glow as he rapped his fingers against the steering wheel, impatient. Would you still be there when he arrived? Or would he be left to hunt you down, wild goose chase-style? Would you be safe? A flash of green reached Joel's eyes and he was off once again, making the last turn onto the street housing the bar.

Joel's eyes darted rapidly over the faces of those lingering outside, the hazy smog of cigarette smoke billowing above them cast in an amber glow from the neon signage above the bar. That's when he saw you - half-asleep on the curbside, head lulled into your palms, your shoes sat in a neat pair beside you as your bare feet clung to the asphalt below them.

His foot hit the brakes, hard. He could see your bare arms and legs trembling ever so slightly, exposed to the crisp evening air; his gut wrenched at the thought of you being sat there a second longer, and his legs propelled him toward you with an unmatched urgency. Your eyes fluttered open as he approached, squinting at him as he leant down and grabbed your elbow to hoist you to your feet.

Christ, you were drunk. Really drunk. He could smell the booze emanating from you, equally as strong as the perfume that lingered on your skin. Your knees buckled as you attempted to right yourself under his grip - he curled his arm around your waist, pressing his side flush to yours with a grunt as he bore your weight for you. The usual melodic lilt of your voice was tainted with an alcohol-adjacent sloppiness as you mumbled something imperceptible to him.

Out of no where, you started to flap your hand at his arm, batting at his grasp around your waist. It was such a feeble attempt that he almost felt bad for snapping at you as he squeezed you closer to him, beginning the trudge back to the truck. You felt cold to the touch under his palm despite the few beads of perspiration on your forehead; the urge to glide his thumb against your waist as you walked only just being stilled.

As you both approached the passenger side door, a nauseating urge to not let go of you overwhelmed Joel. You were soft to the touch; so small in stature compared to his own breadth. Your hair, despite how frazzled it had become over the course of your evening, smelt so much like you, untouched by the scent of liquor. Shaking the thought from his mind, he reached out his free hand and swung open the door to the vehicle, grumbling at you to get in.

Relinquished from his grasp, you took a clumsy step up into the truck, your footing immediately lost as the second foot left the ground. Instinctually, Joel's hands flew forward to catch you, holding you up by your hips. The tiny dress you had worn had ridden up so high that it teetered just below the curve of your ass, making his cheeks warm and his mouth pool. Fuck, what he wouldn't do to have this view under different circumstances. With a shift of his biceps to help, you finally climbed the rest of the way into his truck, body limp as you rolled your head back against the plush upholstery.

The previous thoughts in his mind shifted to that of protection as he saw just how drunk you really were, already halfway to being unconscious. How much did you drink to get like this? He'd seen you drunk before; cheeks flushed, a flirtatious joke here and there that would linger in his mind for weeks after - this was a different level.

You made no protest as he leaned over your lap, chest grazing your bare thighs, buckling you in. He gave you a once over before making his way to his side of the truck - walking around the back so you couldn't see him run a hand through his hair, trying to get a fucking grip. It was like his body couldn't come to an agreement with his brain; a battle of morals raging on inside him as he eventually took his seat behind the wheel once more.

Another steeling of nerves ensued after he caught a glimpse of you in his periphery; chest rising and falling, lips parted just so. He felt like a criminal, like a pervert, for being so close to you whilst you looked like that. Maybe he was, he thought, fingers flexing over the steering wheel - why else would someone have such an interest in a girl half their age?

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