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penvisions · 1 year ago

Text

garnish {chapter 1}

Pairing: Chef! Joel Miller x Bartender! Reader

Summary: Summer is a time of fun and carefree days for those who are fortunate enough to not work within the food industry. You however have found yourself back in that world and so long were the days you could spend doing nothing. Along with the shift back to a world you once left behind is the figure of Joel Miller, who is as magnetizing as he is irritating that is now a part of your daily life.

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: smut piv smut, unprotected piv, dirty talk, joel miller's filthy mouth, kinda enemies to lovers?, degrading language, restaurant lingo, triggers associated with the food industry

A/N: this...this is a scary thing for me to share. this is so closely drawn from my life and the things i've experienced in my twenties (as far as the restaurant stuff goes, i was never fortunate enough to catch the eyes of someone as alluring as our dear joel). i'm fully aware that i don't need another WIP but this has been comsuming me lately and i wanted to share despite the trepidation. c'est la vie, no?

ao3 link || series masterlsit || main masterlist

“Fuck.” You moaned, the sound filling the cool air of the walk in, back arching as you tried to push back against the man who had sheathed the entirety of his hard length into you with one smooth, drawn out move so attuned to your body. His grip on your hips was bruising, the feeling of him gripping tight to your shoulder even more so, but he didn’t move.

He seemed frozen, head bowed down and forehead connected with the back of your head, hands gripping tight, chest heaving with each deep breath and brushing hot against your back. Murmured words falling from his plush lips too quiet for you to catch, but you were sure if he could safely do so, he would be praising you in that filthy way he was prone to do. His large thighs were pressed to the backs of your own and the feel of his chef pants was rough on the naked skin of your thighs where he had pushed up the skirt of the dress you had worn for your shift.

“Please, Joel, I need you to move.” You circled your hips, grinding back on the entire length of him and you could feel yourself clench. A guttural moan sounded from his lips, puffing out in a misty breath.

“What did I tell you about bein’ a good girl f’me?” The hard line of him twitched deep inside you and your knees wobbled. The hand on your waist curled around your middle to help keep you upright, lest they give out on you completely. He pulled out nearly all the way only to slam back in, it took everything in you not to scream from the pleasure as white sparked across your vision. Your teeth digging into the hands that were grasping desperately onto the edge of the metal storage shelf you were pressed up against. Trying to hide the sound in an effort to keep the secret that had become your personal life just that, something shared in moments of spiking passion and deep kisses between you and the man who enraptured you beyond anything you had experienced before.

Thoughts swirled and your mind took you back to the events that transpired to allow this type of pleasure to be something that you owned, that you took, that was given to you by the man whose hands were holding you so tightly and pounding into you so deliciously.

“I think a play on mint would be a good idea, for the paired cocktail. I could whip up a batch of simple syrup infused with it or order a case of crème de menthe. But I’ll mess around with it and get back with y’all in a few days before the order needs to be placed.” You jotted down what glasses you were thinking of, a choice between a martini glass, a coup, and a tall rocks class. You pushed your reading glasses back up your nose, the frames having slipped down the bridge as you scribbled half ideas down in your small notebook. “Chef, will the mash be sweet potato or more like the topping for the Shepard’s pie we did last fall? And the balsamic, will it be a glaze over the brussels or will they be cooked with it?”

Joel Miller’s eyes seemed to snap to you, he had offered his new rotation of dishes for the fall menu and promptly spaced out. He never seemed to pay attention to anything else in the higher up meetings for the restaurant you worked at. You had been here for a year now. Having been hired as a general bartender and then bumped up to manager around two months in. You had to do an order on the fly for the bar when it was revealed that the manager had made a faux one and pocketed the money for themselves. To say they had been fired would be an understatement. They were no longer allowed to work for any part of the company.

You don’t think you had ever met his eyes before and you were beginning to think that was a blessing in disguise. His eyes were such a warm, chocolate brown that lit up into an amber wonderland that you could find yourself getting lost in when they caught the light. It took you a moment to realize that he was answering your questions. This was the first instance of a menu change that you had the chance to ask questions. His gaze wandered over what he could see of you as you sat across the table from him, further down by the barback you had chosen to help out with keeping the tickets flowing well and running drinks when the servers were busy.

“Was thinkin’ of sweet potatoes, to compliment the lamb. It won’t be a traditional mint jelly, more of a yogurt based mint sauce topped before leaving the line.” He glanced down at the menu he had provided for the meeting. It was simple and to the point. Underneath one of the new dishes, the special due to the cost of sourcing the lamb was simple descriptors. Special: Lamb. Mash. Brussels. Mint. Balsamic.

“Sounds yummy, and the balsamic, chef?”

“Haven’t decided yet.” He grunted out, not sure what to think of you asking after the dish. Sure, he knew you needed to know the components properly for each dish of the special in order to pair it properly with a house made drink. But you were so…something he wasn’t used to seeing. You had a good balance of professional and personable, both on the clock and off. He noticed some of his cooks offering you tastes of stuff they were working on during prep hours and returned dishes that came back to the kitchen. The other servers often mentioned you helping them with rowdy or difficult tables, were more than willing to help them if they didn’t know questions asked after the drinks offered and wine selection.

More often than not, people from both the front of house and back of house would sit at the bar with you after their shifts. Idle chit chat and horror stories of the night told between laughs and knowing looks. Bonding in ways that could only happen as a result of working in such a space, of being able to handle working in such a space.

He shook his head, the thoughts of you disappearing with the movement and he shoved off from the table to slink back into the kitchen. He stopped at the threshold of the dining room, your gentle voice in his ears and he stifled a shiver at the thought of your lips close enough to whisper into them. What kind of things would you be brave enough to say in hushed tones just for him? Would you whisper filthy desires into his ears and cause heat to spark down his spine, or would you beg him for the things he wanted to say to you, the things he saw flash before his closed eyes when he would see how effortlessly you knocked out a line of tickets, or helped to expo his line during the times in which spacing out tables was only a wish.

“Gotcha. Thank you, chef.”

Despite his better judgement he turned to look back at you over his shoulder, just in time to see you smile softly at him before turning your focus back to the meeting. He almost hadn’t, unsure of where the sudden salacious nature of his thoughts had sprung up from. And his heartrate picked up as he crossed into his kitchen space.

The manager of the restaurant was pacing back and forth in front of the host stand, phone held tightly to her ear as she listened to the voice bleeding from the other line. It was summer, the season of call outs and no call no shows. As predictable as the looks of glee on servers and cooks faces alike as checks hit their accounts on a weekly basis, the tip out rate through the roof with the influx of tourists and lively people of the city. The manager prided herself in being able to provide a good base pay for everyone, ignoring the cheap cop out of matching the other establishments of the area and the country in general.

None of that $2.13/hour nonsense, she had smiled genuinely at you in your interview, the softness of her excitement allowing you to seriously consider the industry you had left a few years previously in favor of going back to school, of taking the monumental step of becoming a teachers assistant at your alma mater. But grad school was around the corner, something you needed in order to pursue your dreams.

But even that wasn’t a good enough allure to keep the younger members of society committed to their shifts, especially after a particularly busy week. The restaurant world wasn’t for everyone, and it was quick to humble people in ways that still took you off guard even after having been entrenched in it for a good chunk of your twenties.

With a long sigh, a worn-out thin smile, and the harsh placement of the phone back into the charging station atop the host stand, that’s how you found yourself in the kitchen you only drifted through previously.

“You know anythin’ about preppin’ food?” The calculating look aimed down at you as Joel stood beside you in front of a prep station was sharp, his arms crossed over his broad chest. The sleeves of his chef’s coat folded up to expose the thickness of his forearms.

“Of course, we prep the-“

“Not fruit. Food. Actual food.”

The fact that he cut you off mid reply made your jaw clench and you had to hold your tongue back from spewing a bad comment. You had never been treated like that at this job, in the entire year that you’ve been here. Everyone had always been polite and friendly and professional. Things you were in return, the kitchen even going so far as to offer you the rare dead plate or extras from staff meal you were always unable to snag any of due to your schedule. People would stay and hang out at the bar after their shifts ended, often bringing you treats on their off days to share as you frequently brought stuff for the front of house to have snacks and rounds of their favorite drinks to stay hydrated during busy hours. This often extended to the back of house as well, if you had the time and means to.

The divide seen so cleanly in other restaurants was something that you tried to eradicate here, not play into the ‘this versus them’ ideology that plagues too many establishments and allowed for more errors and unhappy customers.

That’s not to say there was the odd throwaway comment in the heat of dinner rush or particularly challenging event, but those were brushed under the table as they were harmless. But this, this animosity for someone willing to help out when it was desperately needed, was uncalled for and sparking annoyance in your chest.

You hadn’t really interacted with Joel directly. Just in passing and hardly for longer than a professional acknowledgment during staff meetings when a new dish would be rolling out and you needed to make a cocktail or wine pairing for it. To be honest, you hadn’t spoken to him out of the childish daydream of not wanting the image of the handsome man to be shattered in your mind’s eye. Guess you were right to worry about something being wrong with him to warrant him to spend what seemed like his entire life in the damn kitchen. He had a superiority complex, it seemed.

But for him to be rude and cut you off after already making it clear he didn’t want you in his kitchen?

Game, fucking, on.

“Oh, no,” You adjusted the fit of the black gloves around your right wrist before you carefully picked up the chef knife and tapped the tip of it on the cutting board. Joel’s eyes were heavy and judgmental as you did so, he probably disliked the way you had needed to get the feel of the knife before using it. But he stayed silent, the furrow of his brows and the turndown of his plush lips deepening as you quickly and efficiently broke down the chicken. Once you were done, you placed the knife along the edge of the cutting board beside the line made up of a pair of breasts, thighs, legs, wings, and the severed spine of the chicken. “I don’t think I’m any good with actual food, chef.”

The controlled expression you were holding didn’t break, even when one of Joel’s eyebrows seemed to rise without conscious thought as his sharp eyes danced from the cutting board atop the prep station to you standing at attention in front of it. The tick in his jaw was garnering your attention, an obvious show to what the man was really feeling at your little display. Despite his less than kind attitude toward you, you couldn’t help the flash of heat that flared up in your middle at the thought of sucking kisses into the cut of his jaw, right where it was showing is ire. The surrounding kitchen staff were all peering over toward your new station with wide eyes, unbelieving that you were deliberately feigning innocence in a cheeky manner toward the head chef.

He may be an asshole, he may be loud, he may be particular, and he may have high standards: but no one argued with him because of his skill set and how effortlessly he displayed it day in and day out.

“Now, I believe we prep a total of 56 for the night shift. After dissembling them, they get placed into a salt brine to allow the skin to brown and crisp easier when braised or pan roasted. With an extra 4 just in case of dishes going to the wrong table or mix ups with servers not paying attention to the available par, is that correct, chef?”

Your lips turned up in a small grin and you knocked your gaze up to catch the man’s eyes. There was a fire behind them, one you were sure he was about to unleash on you in front of the entire staff. He was known for his outbursts when really upset, whether it be from someone not listening to clear instructions or a count gone wrong and messing up the rotation of dishes that could be offered that shift. Instead, he gave you a curt nod and told you to complete the prep by time the doors were to open and walked briskly away.

You spent the rest of the evening prepping the necessary things for the dinner service. You could’ve just done what had been asked of you, but you peeked at the long list of things that needed to be done by the person who had bailed on their shift, on the job and decided that the bar would be okay on a weekday night without you.

You prepped the chickens for the evening and the chickens for tomorrow’s service so the kitchen wouldn’t be behind like it had nearly been today. You had diced in perfect cubes the pickled beets for the panzanella salad and the components for the egg salad to be combined. Portioned out the ingredients for the brine and brought them to a soft boil atop a hot plate for a new batch of pickles and prepared the cucumbers with a mandolin. Sliced and portioned out the bologna and pancetta used for sandwiches, and even sliced the other components like the provolone cheese, cucumbers, and tomatoes used on them as well.

You neatly organized and legibly dated everything before breaking down the station at the end of the night. Even taking everything out of the banes and running them through dish and drying them before placing them back in their respective locations underneath the hood. Going as far as to deep clean the cooler shelves down below, wiping them down and sanitizing the entire station before putting everything back according to FIFO etiquette and wrapping it all up for the night.

The next day, your schedule was updated with two hours of prep before your typical shifts for the bar.

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eff4freddie · 3 months ago

Text

Sittin'

Joel Miller x F!Babysitter Reader No outbreak Joel Miller AU - Words: 10k

Rating: Explicit, Minors DNI

You're working your way through medical school, supporting yourself by taking the occasional babysitting gig. One local single Dad needs someone to look after his 10 year old daughter Sarah on nights when he's late back from the jobsite. And it's all fine and good until your neglectful boyfriend decides to crash the party. Warnings: small age gap (Joel is 32, reader is in medical school), reader is babysitting Sarah as a side hustle to support her studies, Sarah is cute, reader has a shit boyfriend, Joel is trying really hard to resist, exhibitionism, thigh-riding, praise, dirty talk, thigh-humping, oral (f receiving), fingering, general defiling of a perfectly good granite countertop, Joel has opinions about how a woman should be treated as is not afraid to demonstrate them.

A/N: My attempts at writing PWP almost always end up like 10k lol. Whatever, I like a good slow burn. If you enjoy, comments and reblogs are always appreciated. Thank you - Freddie x

It was a hot night, the latest in a long line. You knew you were lucky getting to spend some of your evenings over at the Millers, simply because it meant you got to sit under Mr Miller’s air conditioner, the box wedged firm into the window in the living room, little droplets of water condensing and running down the pane of glass underneath it. You’d put a dishtowel down to protect the carpet.

You knew you were lucky, too, because once Sarah went off to bed you could spread your books over Mr Miller’s kitchen table, listening to the buzzing of the fridge as you tried to memorise the functions of the lobes in the brain. In class, your biomedicine professor had blown up balloons and handed out sharpies, inviting her students to draw the lobes in the right place, and yours had popped when you pressed too hard on the occipital lobe, and your lab partner had laughed and said that it was ironic, but you couldn’t figure it: the motor cortex would have been ironic, this was just startling.

You cracked your neck, rolling your shoulders and looking over to the clock on the wall. Nearly 10:30 PM. Mr Miller would be coming back soon.

Sarah was a good kid, and some nights she stayed up to ‘help’ you study, mostly by pointing to pictures in your textbooks and asking you to explain them to her. She’d hated the full-page coloured illustration of the eye, but had been fascinated by the heart, trailing her finger along the arteries, into the chambers, tracing the pathway in and out again. You’d make a cardiologist of her, yet.

Tonight, she’d only made it to twenty minutes past eight, her eyes growing heavy as she turned the pages of your book. This one didn’t have as many pictures, and you could sense her fatigue in the stuffy air.

‘What kind of doctor do you want to be?’ she’d asked, and you’d pulled your hair up off your neck to try and get some air on your skin. You weren’t sure how to explain it without sounding gruesome, without giving her nightmares. She was only 10.

‘When people have emergencies and they have to go to the hospital right away, they need to see a doctor to patch them back up again…’ you’d said, and she’d stared at you with a tiresome expression on her face.

‘I’m not a baby,’ she said, disapproving. You smiled at her.

‘Trauma surgeon,’ you replied. She nodded her head, deeming your answer satisfactory, and taking herself up the stairs to bed.

She was one of the easiest kids you’d ever babysat for, and over the years you’d racked up quite a roster. You’d started in high school, first saving up enough for the prom dress right in the storefront window, and then later keeping yourself fed during your undergrad. When you’d moved to Austin you’d rented a studio apartment in the back garden of a little old lady, a woman who had revealed herself to be an excellent cook if militant about her hydrangeas. You’d letterboxed the neighbourhood and picked up a few odd jobs but nothing lasting, until the evening you’d got a call from a very frantic Mr Miller, who was so beside himself he only asked how quick you could get there and didn’t even ask about your rates.

It turned out Mr Miller got caught up at the jobsite some nights, staying back later than he expected with his little brother to finish framing, or guttering, or wiring. He was running out of favours with his neighbours, he’d explained, and Sarah was still too little to feed herself. You hadn’t minded, his deep southern drawl doing something to you even over the phone, such that you found yourself cancelling plans just to go and sit on his couch that very evening, textbook over your knees.

Some nights with Sarah tucked up fast asleep you’d stand and stare at the pictures of the two of them, her holding up a soccer trophy nearly twice her size, him standing with his hand in his pocket, his other over the shoulders of a younger man you assumed was Tommy. If you were feeling particularly bold, or were procrastinating especially hard, you’d extend a finger and run them up and down the strings of Joel’s guitar, resting sentinel against the windowsill. You imagined his fingers pushing into the fretboard, the strings indenting the flesh.

It wasn’t even that he was handsome, although he definitely was. He was a young father, doing it almost entirely alone, and on any other man that would have made for grumpy, for overly tired, for entitled. On Mr Miller it made for kindness, for a nurturing type of strength, corded tight under his skin. For a single dad always thinking about his daughter, only ever wanting the best for her. For a man focussed on doing right for his family, small as it was.

You rolled your shoulders, the pre-frontal cortex just about beating you for the night. Just as you were wondering if the Millers kept any ice cream in the freezer, you heard the key in the front door. You listened as Joel followed the same routine, first toeing off his boots, letting out a little grunt as the second one hit the floor. You heard him huff as he stretched his back, rolling his hips in a little circle to try and get some stretch into them, before dropping his keys on the table and padding, surprisingly light on his socked feet, into the kitchen.

‘Hey, Sweetheart,’ he said, his pet name for you emerging on only the second time you’d sat for him and still, even after this many months, causing your stomach to do a little flipper.

‘Evening, Mr Miller,’ you said, and he tutted at you, moving over to the fridge and extracting a beer.

‘Told ya not to call me that,’ he muttered, but you could see the grin behind it. ‘How was my girl tonight?’

‘Perfect, as always,’ you said, smiling at him as he poured you a glass of sweet tea from the jug in the fridge without bothering to ask if you wanted any. You accepted it gratefully, suddenly noticing how dry your throat had become.

‘She’s a good kid,’ he said. He sat down, heavy, in the chair opposite you. The ceiling lamp buzzed above you both, and the light bounced off the fine sheen of sweat accumulating on his arms, on his cheeks. He glowed, even if it was under a layer of exhaustion.

‘You look tired, Mr Miller,’ you said, and he cocked a little grin.

‘You sayin’ I look like shit, Sweetheart?’ he asked.

‘No, never,’ you said, instantly regretting how quickly, how fervently, you had responded. He continued to grin at you, lopsided, the dimple on his right cheek popping out to greet you.

‘What is it tonight?’ he asked, and you held up your book to him. ‘The bio-mech-an-ics-of-thought: phys-ee-ol-o-gee of the brain,’ he intoned, before letting out a low whistle. ‘I don’t know how you do it,’ he said.

‘It’s interesting,’ you defended, unsure why. ‘So long as there are diagrams,’ you added.

‘So that’s where the magic happens?’ he asked, gesturing to the illustrated image of the brain in the centre of the page you had been working from.

‘This is where thought happens,’ you nodded. ‘Kind of like…where decisions are made.’

‘Must be a woman’s brain,’ Joel deadpanned, taking a swig of his beer. ‘Can guarantee men make their decisions someplace else.’

You caught a glimpse of something dark in his eyes as he glanced over you. You blushed, swearing it was just the heat, and furious with yourself. This wasn’t like you; you weren’t some shrinking violet type. You’d had boyfriends, you’d had fun in college. You had no idea what it was about Mr Miller that made you immediately go all giggly, all girly, but whatever it was you wished it would fuck off.

The two of you lapsed into a comfortable silence. You were used to this from him, the way his mind seemed to drift, the way he seemed content enough to let it. Gently, so as not to jolt him out of his thoughts, you closed your book, gathered your pens together. Everything tucked away in your bag you were surprised when you looked up to see he was watching you.

‘Apparently Sarah’s taken an interest in science,’ he said after a moment, his warm eyes watching yours for a second. You felt a tingle of pride in your chest.

‘Oh yeah?’ you asked.

‘Mmhmm, apparently after she pushed Simon Strzelecki off the monkey bars, she offered to patch him up again.’

You grinned before you were able to catch yourself.

‘That’s…very, umm…’ you trailed off and he huffed out a little laugh.

‘It’s very Sarah,’ he agreed.

‘M’sorry, Mr Miller…’ you started, but Joel stood up, waving you off.

‘Don’t be, Strzelecki’s a little shit’f the highest order,’ he said. ‘You gonna let me give ya a lift this time?’ he asked, and this time you shook your head at him.

‘No, I can walk it.’

‘Y’know I don’t like ya walkin’ around out there on yer’own,’ he grumbled, and you felt the insane urge to reach your hand out to rest on his bicep, to ease his evident discomfort.

‘I can handle it,’ you said, instead.

Something stole over his face for a moment, a sharpness in his eyes. For a moment you gazed up at him, the furrow in his brow deepening, the muscles in his jaw twitching as his eyes roamed over your face. Standing this close to him you were reminded how tall, how broad he really was. You dropped your eyes to his arms, crossed over his chest, and imagined him holding you with them, circling them around your back as you leant, safe, into his skin. You blinked yourself back to reality, worried for a second he could read your thoughts.

‘Know you can handle it,’ he said, his voice low, ‘just don’t like it, is all.’

You did this every time, this stand-off. You worried one night you would waver.

‘G’night, Mr Miller,’ you said, over dry lips. He nodded, once, at you, still evidently displeased something dark, something haunted, passing over his features before he brought them back into line.

He stood on the front porch, light still on, until you rounded his driveway and disappeared past the oak tree by the front lawn.

Mick was a guy from your Tuesday morning bio class, and you only realised he was your boyfriend when he introduced you to a few of his friends that way. You’d just gone with it, because it had seemed easier, and he was nice if a little full of himself at times. He was the son of the one the big ranching families, had been almost guaranteed a position at whatever college he chose on the day of his birth, hadn’t ever really considered that money was something you saved, something you worked for.

But he would never let you pay for dinner, and often he showed up to class holding a coffee just for you. You’d been on your own for a long time, had been self-sufficient well before you had any business to, and it was kind of nice to let yourself be cared for, if that’s what this was.

On nights when you had to work he would pout and complain, and you told yourself it was because he cared about you, because he wanted you around, even if some part of you knew he just didn’t like to be alone. Every once and while he would ask if he could come with you, ‘feel you up on the couch like it’s eighth grade’, and it made you feel exactly fourteen years old, like this was a summer job you had failed to grow out of. It didn’t help that he more than once referred to your sitting job as ‘cute’. His mother had stayed at home the moment she fell pregnant with Mick’s older brother, and as far as you could tell was yet to leave. You never asked about a future with Mick, terrified of what kind of picture he would paint.

On one such evening, after he’d been particularly insistent that you blow off your job and come and hang out with him and his friends, he’d starting blowing up your phone just as Mr Miller sat down beside you, weary-boned and sleepy-eyed, at his kitchen table.

You ignored the calls, tried to carry on reading even as Mr Miller arched his brow at your insistently vibrating device. You huffed, knowing at some point Mick would get bored.

‘You’re popular tonight?’ Joel prompted after a while, making you lose your place in the paragraph you’d read over at least ten times already.

You huffed out a sigh, reaching out and scrolling through the stream of notifications. He’d started texting, sometimes just sending a single emoji, sometimes entire paragraphs about how badly you were letting him down. You felt an ache bloom behind your right eye socket, and you reached up to your temple to try and massage it away.

‘It’s my boyfriend,’ you told him, and with your eyes still closed you didn’t see him scowl. ‘He wants me to come out to some bar with him and his drunk friends.’

Joel considered this for a long moment. When you opened your eyes they blurred under the sudden light, and you blinked away sleep to see him clearly again.

‘You should be out with your friends, it’s a Friday night…’ he said, almost looking guilty for a moment, and you rushed to reassure him.

‘No, no trust me…this is better. They’re boring when they’re drunk. And also when they’re sober.’

Joel smiled, straining just slightly, at this.

‘He a good man?’ he asked, and you scoffed a little.

‘He’s barely a man at all,’ you said, automatically. Later you’d reflect on this moment, feel it turn you inside out and scold your skin with the heat of your own shame. For now, though, you were too tired, and it was too hot in the kitchen, for you to catch it.

Joel caught it, though. He cleared his throat.

‘We met at college, and he’s…well, he’s kind of set up for life. He doesn’t have to worry about grades, or proving himself. He’s almost guaranteed his residency.’ You were aware you were starting to sound bitter, and maybe you were just a little. Something about Mr Miller, sitting at his kitchen table late in the evening with a beer, muscles wrapped in a plaid, his soft brown eyes watching you carefully, made you think he’d understand.

‘He doesn’t make you feel good enough for him?’ he asked, after a while.

You considered this, eventually shrugging your shoulders. ‘I don’t know if he makes me feel anything,’ you said, truthfully.

Joel leaned forward, elbows on the table, his chin resting in his hand as he watched you, gazed at your face.

‘What do you want him to make you feel?’ he asked.

‘Seen,’ you said, without hesitation.

‘Just seen?’ he asked. His voice was deathly quiet now, almost entirely gravel. His eyes were burning, sharp. You watched as they darkened, stealing your breath out from under you.

‘Desired,’ you almost whispered. He dropped a hand to the table, his fingertips only inches from yours, resting casual on your textbook.

‘What man’s out there runnin’ round this town not desirin’ you?’ he asked, almost as though he couldn’t believe it, and you felt scorching heat on your cheeks, rushing down your sternum, pooling heavy in your core.

You blinked, terrified to move in case you broke whatever spell had befallen him. He turned thoughtful, his eyes dropping to the woodgrain of the table.

‘Y’been working a lot here…can’t imagine hanging out with me and a ten-year-old girl is the same as bein’ out there, living your youth…’

You felt something heavy shift in your belly, something essential curdle and erode.

‘I like it here, Mr Miller,’ you said, all big eyes and almost quivering lower lip. Joel moved away, sitting up straight and peeling the label off his beer.

‘Pretty thing like you, shouldn’t be spendin’ all night waitin’ on us,’ he said, almost to himself. You shook your head again, but he was closing off on you, you could see it in the way his shoulders were folding, the way his mouth was tugging down at the corners.

Without even considering it, operating almost entirely on instinct, you reached your hand out to rest on his bicep. You watched as his eyes drifted close, a long exhale through his nose. He grimaced, almost like you were hurting him, until he lifted his hand and held yours fast to him, wrapping his paw around you.

‘I really love spending time with Sarah,’ you said, just over a whisper, as he stared hard at the table. You could sense he was avoiding your gaze, and you wanted to say something to draw him to you, wanted to give him a little nugget of truth that he could take into himself, hold deep and quiet in his depths. ‘I love spending time with you,’ you said.

He raised his eyes to yours. His hand was so warm over yours, your cheeks so pink in the sleepless heat of the late evening. You saw his eyes fall to your lips and you slipped your hand from under his, reaching up to trace the contours of his jaw with your fingertips.

‘Baby…’ he whispered, ‘I been’ resistin’ you so long, don’t know if I can…’ and you pushed a finger to his lips. You didn’t want him to break whatever spell you were both suddenly under. Didn’t want him to take this from you both, whatever it was turning out to be.

‘Don’t argue,’ you instructed, quietly. With brows saddled, he nodded his head.

And he didn’t argue. Not when you moved your finger from his lips and traced it down over the hollow of his neck, over to his pulse where it thundered under your tough.

Didn’t argue when you leant forward, pressing your nose to his, giving him time to pull away, to move from your lips.

Didn’t argue when you pressed them to his, a little soft and quiet thing, earning you a wanting gasp from him, a prize you would hold in the cavity of your chest so long as your heart stayed beating.

Later, when you had gathered yourselves, when he had gazed at you and you had felt the want in him mixing with the regret, with the necessity of the un-having corrupting the want to take and take and take, you had simply gathered your books, tucking them quiet and neat into the bag at your feet. He didn’t argue with you about driving you home that night, suddenly quiet in a way that set your teeth on edge, and you felt an ache in your belly you couldn’t account for when he closed the door. You waited behind the trunk of the tree at the end of his driveway, counting the minutes he left the light on for you after you’d slipped from view, giving up when you got past 15.

You were unsettled. Joel hadn’t called for two weeks, and you were starting to worry that you’d ruined things, your silly little kiss bubbling corrosive at the base of your spine. You couldn’t help going over the whole evening again and again in your head.

You should have told him you preferred spending the nights at his house, that the way it smelt like play-dough and sometimes sawdust, sometimes pine, was so unique to the both of them that you felt your nerves settle the moment you stepped over the threshold. That the house was warm and quiet, that you could spread out your books and something essential to you, that in this space with them you felt more yourself than anywhere else on the planet, even locked away in your little studio apartment, even just you and your reflection in the bathroom mirror.

You wanted to tell him Sarah was funny, and smart, and kind, and being around her made you nostalgic for the childhood you never had but ached for, that you felt all that time with her she was giving you something precious and absent, something simple and something sweet. That there were nights you weren’t sure who was sitting who.

You wanted to tell him you didn’t expect anything from him, that it didn’t matter to you if nothing ever happened, if he regretted letting you kiss him, if it had just been that it was too awkward in the moment to say no. Just that you wanted to keep sitting for him, just that if all you got was a casual conversation at the end of the evening and an argument about driving home that would be enough for you, because it would have to be, and so you could make it so.

You begged off seeing Mick for the second Friday night in a row, wanting to be available in case Joel called. You felt silly but you could use the cash. Your textbooks were $400 a piece, and next semester you were taking three classes. Just feeding yourself was enough to stop your studies in their tracks.

Two things happened in the span of ten minutes. A knock at your door stirred you from your lecture notes, and your phone rang. By the time you had it in your hand you were holding Mick back from your face, your palm to his chest, as you craned your neck away from him to speak.

‘M’sorry, Sweetheart, it’s just…I know, it’s a Friday…’

‘It’s fine, Mr Miller,’ you said, ignoring the way Mick was making smoochy faces over your shoulder. ‘I don’t have any plans.’

When you got off the phone Mick was pouting again, and you sighed.

‘I thought I was your plans?’ he said, and you shrugged at him.

‘It’s good money for easy work, babe,’ you said, the nickname sitting heavy on your tongue.

‘I can give you money,’ he said, pulling you towards him by your belt loops and nipping at your jaw. You cringed away from him.

‘That would make me your whore, right?’ you said, and he grinned at you, wiggling his eyebrows.

‘Never seemed to bother you before…’ he said, and you bristled against him.

‘The fuck does that mean?’

“Oh, fuck me, babe, make me yours…” he imitated, his voice high in a general approximation of yours. You blushed, furiously. ‘You think good girls beg like little whores?’ he asked, and you knew he was kidding around, knew that he wasn’t smart enough to do it without outright insulting you, knew that you’d put up with this shit before so there was no reason why he wouldn’t assume he couldn’t get away with it now. You knew the way he spoke to you was basically your fault, and you couldn’t yell at him now that the precedent had been set. You felt yourself crumple, landing with a thump on the edge of your bed.

‘I’ll tell you what,’ he was saying, grinning at you like he’d won his prize. ‘You put the kid to bed, and I’ll come by and keep you happy ‘til Dad gets home.’

You hated the idea, the thought of Mick in that space you’d almost come to think of sacred making your stomach churn.

‘No,’ you said, and you watched as he arched his eyebrows in surprise. ‘You can’t come in…’

‘Say no more,’ he said, grinning again, and for whatever reason, you didn’t.

He arrived, just after 9 PM, already drunk. You winced as he parked his car in the driveway, right in Mr Miller’s spot, worried for a moment he was going to swipe the mailbox when he took the angle too fast. He skidded to a stop mere inches from Mr Miller’s garage door and you exhaled, realising you were bracing for the sound of splintering wood. He ambled over to where you stood on the front porch, tugging at your shirt sleeves in the cool night air.

‘Babe!’ he called, and you shushed him almost instantly. He was carrying a sixpack of beers, three of them already gone. His breath reeked and you wrinkled up your nose when he slung his arm over the back of your neck and pulled you in for a sloppy kiss.

‘This feels like high school,’ he said, and giggled.

‘This is my job, y’know,’ you corrected him, but he wasn’t hearing you, backing you up against the side of the house. You thumped into the brick, wind temporarily knocked from your lungs before he was on you, slipping his entire tongue into your ear in a way that made your skin crawl.

‘Easy…’ you said, and he ignored you, his hand not holding the beers rising up to paw at your breast over your shirt.

‘Mmm…such a tasty little slut,’ he said, and you closed your eyes. ‘Little naughty baby-sitter.’

‘Keep your voice down,’ you stage-whispered, not sure how well your voices wouldn’t carry over the breeze in Mr Miller’s cul-de-sac. He leant down, resting the beers on the front porch so that he could grope you with both hands.

He groaned as he rubbed his cock at your clothed centre. You moved your face to the side, letting your eyes slide closed again.

You tried to think of a romantic movie. Tried to remember some of the fragments of the romance novels your mother had kept stowed under the bed and that you snuck into the den to read to your giggling friends. Tried to imagine a different man, a stranger’s hands on your chest, a stranger’s fingers pinching at your nipples. Tried to imagine what it would feel like if they found the sweet spot, if they sent electric shocks into your belly, into your cunt. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to push the sound of Mick’s heavy breathing out of your mind, focusing instead on rough and calloused fingers, the scruff of a beard teasing along your skin. Heavy accent and sweet pine, a groaned little ‘Sweetheart…’ as he slipped your shirt up over your shoulders.

‘The fuck’s going on here?’ you heard a gruff voice as your eyes sprang open, pushing Mick from you hard enough that he stumbled, backwards, landing on the grass.

‘Mr Miller!’ you exclaimed, shame burning bright on your cheeks as you righted your clothes. ‘M’so sorry, he just dropped by…’ you started but Joel was striding up his driveway, as you realised with a new flash of guilt he’d had to park on the street.

‘Hey, man…’ Mick was saying, his hands up in front of his face. ‘Just checkin’ in on my girl…’

You cringed, this particular pet name always feeling more like ownership when it came from him.

Joel looked up at you, his brows saddled. ‘You OK, Sweetheart?’ he asked you, and you realised for the first time he wasn’t angry but concerned, his fists balled up like he was ready to spring to your defence.

‘It’s Mick,’ you explained, glancing down at him as he tried to climb to his feet, getting as far as his knees and settling there for a second to plan his next move. ‘He…he wanted to…’

‘Yeah, I saw what he wanted to,’ Joel huffed out, reaching down to pull Mick upright by the back of his shirt. ‘Saw the way you were bracing away from it too,’ he said, looking directly into Mick’s grinning face.

‘What else you see, old man?’ he asked, and Joel dropped him back onto his knees.

‘You got your keys?’ he asked him, and waiting for the younger man to root around in his pockets.

‘Don’t steal my ride,’ he said, handing them over and not noticing when Joel slipped them into his pocket.

‘M’going inside, and I’m gonna call you a taxi, and you’re getting in. She can drive your car back to you tomorrow mornin’…if she doesn’t decide to drive it off a cliff,’ he said, abandoning Mick on the front lawn and coming towards you, grabbing your wrist gentle but firm in his hand and pulling you inside. ‘C’mon, darlin’,’ he said, and you followed, almost entirely on autopilot.

‘I’m so sorry, Mr Miller,’ you started but he waved you away, placing a call for the taxi while keeping you fixed in your spot with his glare. When he was done, he rolled his shoulders, sighing.

‘You sit,’ he said, striding into the kitchen and emerging moments later with two glasses of sweet tea. You realised, as you lifted your hands to take your glass from him, that you were shivering.

‘I didn’t know he was going to do that,’ you said, and Joel shook his head. You felt the waves of disappointment rolling off him and you worried for a moment you might cry.

‘He always touch ya like that?’ he asked, palming at the back of his neck.

‘Like what?’ you asked, your cheeks burning again.

‘All…clumsy and…disrespectful,’ he said, quiet. He stared at the floor between you while you perched on the edge of the couch.

‘Well…’ you started, but you weren’t sure how you wanted to finish that sentence. Sometimes he doesn’t even bother to touch me at all, you thought.

Joel scoffed, his jaw squeezed tight. ‘Guys like that are all the same, Sweetheart, just…selfish. Even in the bedroom. No lady should be touched like she’s a piece of meat.’

You considered, for one crazy moment, if Joel wasn’t so much disappointed in you as he was in Mick’s prowess. Suddenly you had to stifle a giggle.

‘What’s so funny?’ Joel asked you, surprised.

‘Just…I mean, they all go to such fancy schools, get all that college for basically free…’ you started, trailing off when you saw him starting to smile. ‘He can’t even boil an egg, and I don’t mean mine,’ you said, and he laughed then, free and loud, and the sound of it made a little fizzle of joy spark up your spine.

This was fun, you realised, shitting on your terrible boyfriend with the most handsome single Dad you’d ever laid your eyes on. This was really, really fun.

‘So, I take it he don’t make you breakfast in the mornin’,’ Joel joked, and you snorted. ‘What you eat for breakfast, anyway?’ he asked, turning to you now, his eyes crinkling at the corners. You swallowed. ‘No, wait,’ he said, ‘let me guess.’ He pretended to look you up and down, his brow arching as he considered. ‘You’re not a waffles kinda girl,’ he said, thoughtfully. You grinned and shook your head. You’d never liked the sponginess. ‘But you’re too fun for plain old oatmeal,’ he said, and you felt a blush crawling across your chest. ‘You’re a pancake princess,’ he decided, finally. ‘Am I right?’

You pretended to consider it for a second before nodding happily at him. ‘Maple syrup and berries,’ you agreed.

‘Maple syrup and berries,’ he said, grinning in his victory. He paused, something passing between you. Suddenly he shifted forward, his knees just barely brushing yours. You found yourself mirroring him, leaning in enough that you had to put your hand out to steady you, landing it on the cushion only inches from his thigh. You could feel his warm breath on your cheek when he whispered in your ear, ‘tart…but a little bit of sweet for m’sweetheart.’

You felt heat scorch its way up your chest, reduced to kindling beside him.

‘Bet he don’t kiss ya like ya should be,’ he said, and you thought for a second of Mick, grinning and drunk out of his mind on the front lawn. You wondered if the taxi had come for him yet, and had absolutely no interest in going out to check on him.

‘Mr Miller…’ you whispered, and he groaned, then, his eyes rolling back in his head.

‘Please, baby, when you call me that…’ he trailed off, eyes blown wide and you felt, then, the thundering in your chest. From this distance you could see his racing pulse in his neck, the same pace as yours.

‘Mr Miller…’ you said, again, staring now at his lips. You wanted to reach out and just take a little nibble.

And he was on you, grasping the back of your head and bringing it down to him, crashing his lips into yours as you gasped, swallowing the echo down into his throat. His tongue, scorching hot, exploring your mouth as he teased it open, the scruff of his beard tickling your cheeks.

‘Thought about you…’ you said, without even thinking, and Joel pulled back a second to appraise you; your swollen lips, your doe-eyes gazing up at him.

‘Say that again,’ he mumbled.

‘When he’d take me, I’d think about you,’ you said, and you watched as his eyes fell shut, taking the moment to glance down at his heaving chest, the aching bulge between his legs. ‘Thought about your hands on me, Mr Miller, about your mouth.’

‘Fuck, Sweetheart…’ he said, almost as if it pained him, before his eyes snapped back open to gaze at you.

‘Kiss me?’ you asked, sweet as you could for him while you tried with both hands to hang on to the moment, to stay here in it with him. You would need to remember this, every corner of the room, every detail. Would spend nights reconstructing his face in your mind, the way he was looking at you now, wanting and red-cheeked, dark eyes and a hot little huff as your words landed their blows on him.

‘Canna touch you, baby?’ he asked, and you were nodding, pulling him towards you as he slid his hands over your waist. Threading your hands through his hair he brought you over him, straddling him on the couch as he stared up at you, brows arching high, as if he couldn’t quite believe it was happening. You smiled at him, feeling like his prize, as you brought your hips down on him and watched his eyes ease shut, heard his breath stutter. He was big, you could feel it even as the seam of his jeans rubbed at your core. You could feel yourself aching for him, hot and pounding where you ground yourself down.

‘Fuck, Mr Miller…’ you gasped as you felt him push his cock up into you, his hands on your hips and pulling you down.

‘So beautiful, baby,’ he whispered, reaching up with one hand to cup your breast, squeezing the nipple between his fingers that, even through your shirt, shot lightning bolts to your cunt. You gasped, a high-pitched little sound you were sure you’d never made before, and he soaked it down into his skin, kept it held tight and precious in the core of him, to keep him warm on cold evenings.

You felt yourself shivering, even as his warm fingertips dropped to lift the hem of your tee and trace their way back up to your tits along the skin. His enormous hands almost completely captured it, and you felt small, then, and shy, but when you looked down into his warm, brown eyes you saw only safety there, only naked desire for your pleasure.

You let your hips roll, that building ache in your core. You’d only ever felt this alone, had never had another person bring it out of you, and you felt the sharp edges of it as you felt a shard of panic slice through your gut. No one had ever done this for you, before. You weren’t sure if your body would allow it, weren’t sure if you could let go enough to fall.

‘Hey…’ Joel said beneath you, his eyes roaming your face. ‘Relax, Sweetheart,’ he whispered, reaching his hand from your hip to your jaw, pulling you down to rest your forehead on his. ‘Just you n’me, baby,’ he whispered as you rocked on top of him. ‘You can take what you need,’ he promised. ‘I got you.’

‘Joel!’ you gasped, the shiver in your body now ratcheting up your spine, your thighs burning as you rolled your hips on his lap, his cock still tucked away in his jeans. ‘I don’t know if I…’

‘Sssh…’ he cooed, raising a thumb to your lips and slipping it between your teeth. You sucked instinctually, swirling your tongue over the tip and letting your eyes drift closed. ‘Just feel it, baby,’ he said, ‘don’t force it. Let it grow.’

Never in your life had you felt like this. You took his thumb between your teeth as you ground, the spark of fear in your belly engulfed by the roar of your desire. You could feel your hips stuttering, could hear yourself starting to pant.

‘Good girl…’ Joel encouraged, slipping his thumb from your mouth now and smearing it across your lips. ‘Right here for ya, baby,’ he said. ‘Wantchya to feel so good.’

You cried out, smacking your hand over your mouth to stifle your cries. He was going to kill you, and you would let him again and again, let him bring you back to life just to kill you this way all over again. You had no idea bodies were made to feel this good.

‘Oh!’ you gasped, all the warning you could muster as he grabbed your hips with both hands, slamming his bulge up into you as he pulled you down, the seam of his jeans rubbing hard into your clit. ‘Yes!’ you whispered, your body shuddering as you felt yourself crest, the pleasure roaring from your cunt to your chest, exploding out of your skin as you rolled, roiled, boiled on top of Mr Miller.

‘Jesus, there she is…’ he whispered, and you opened your eyes to gaze down at him, your breath still coming in gasps as he watched you, awe and desire on his face. ‘There she is,’ he said again, like a prayer, a benediction.

You woke slowly, the dappled light streaming in through the oak tree beside Joel’s window. It took you a moment to orient yourself, to remember that you were in his bed because he’d considered it too late for you to take yourself home, even if you had Mick’s car. Because the pleasure he’d wrung out of you on his couch had left you boneless, because the idea of ripping yourself from his smell, from his heat, was unthinkable in that moment.

You stretched, noting that the other side of the bed remained made, that he had spent the night on the couch. You remembered that you had wanted to ask him to stay, that the words had formed on your lips, and that in that moment you saw the regret on his face, the longing to tuck himself in beside you and pull you into his chest, let the weight of the night take him and you with him, but that he wouldn’t allow it, that he was holding back. You weren’t sure why, but you assumed out of decency, out of respect. Out of some vague employee-boss professionalism you would both cling to in an attempt to paper over the grasping maw of desire opening up between you.

You had wanted him, and you had denied him, allowed him to deny you. You rolled to your back in a frustrated huff, surrounded by the scent of him, of his cologne and the scent of his skin imbued in the sheets beneath you.

After a while you heard noises in the kitchen and you left your cocoon, pulling your clothes on and padding down the stairs constructing a cover story for Sarah as to why you were still there. When you rounded the corner, though, you saw only Joel –in a pair of sweatpants and nothing else, standing at the stove.

‘Hey, Sweetheart,’ he said casually, as if you hadn’t come on his lap less than twelve hours before, ‘Sarah’s headed off to soccer practice, so you and me’ll have to take care of all these.’

He gestured over his shoulder to the kitchen table, where a stack of cooling pancakes stood proud. You felt a shiver of shock run though you at the sight of them, turning to Joel with the curl of tears tickling the back of your eyes. ‘No berries, sorry darlin’,’ he said, without looking up. ‘But we got enough syrup to make it up to ya, I hope.’

You weren’t sure anyone had ever done anything like this for you. You wanted to sob, wanted to walk over to the table and pick up the pancakes in your fists and mash them into your skin, wanted to drown them in syrup and eat until your belly distended, wanted to force feed them into Joel. Instead, you stepped forward, your arms opening all of their own accord, wrapping yourself around his back like a Koala. He huffed out a surprised laugh, growing serious when he turned you in his arms to face him, seeing the gathering tears at your waterline.

‘Hey, what’s this?’ he asked, and you grinned, watery, up at him.

‘No-one has ever…’ you started, catching your words before they spilled too much of the truth. Understanding passed over Joel’s face.

‘Oh, my sweet girl…’ he said, and you glowed for a minute, the words reaching down into your chest and igniting something long extinguished.

He leaned down towards you, pressed his nose to yours, his forehead resting gently on yours. You inhaled him, his scent and the sweet smell of the pancakes on the stove, tried to imprint the memory deep in your DNA.

‘What the fuck is this?’ an angry voice sounded from behind you, and you snapped away from Joel, taking several steps back. Mick, still in his same clothes from the night before, stood furious in Joel’s kitchen.

‘The fuck, you let yourself in?’ Joel asked, matching Mick’s anger with his own. ‘This is a private residence, man.’

‘That’s my girlfriend, man,’ Mick spat, his face twisting into an ugly mask you weren’t sure you’d ever noticed on him before. ‘The fuck you doing feeling her up? You stealin’ my car and my girl?’

‘Mick…’ you started but he was ignoring you, advancing on Joel. You stepped towards him, hands up to placate, but Joel was suddenly beside you, tucking you behind him and shielding you with his broad chest.

‘Back up, buddy,’ Joel said, a whispered warning.

‘Me, back up?’ Mick seethed, about to go on before Joel interrupted him.

‘Yeah, you back up. You need to sit your arse down and learn yourself somethin’,’ he said, advancing on Mick so that the younger man took several steps backwards, heading towards the kitchen table. You wondered if anyone had ever actually stood up to him, if usually his wealth was enough to make people cower. He backed into a kitchen chair, slamming down into it with a thud as he stared up at Joel, the older man red faced and pointing a finger at his chest. ‘You think that little display last night was any way to treat a woman?’ he grit out. You watched as Mick shook his head no. ‘You think she enjoyed that, being pawed at in the dark like a fuckin’ street walker?’ he asked.

‘She looked pretty whorish a few seconds ago,’ Mick responded, petulant and stupid. You could see by the way Joel braced his shoulders, his back expanding in resplendent fury, that Mick had made the wrong fucking choice.

‘Ya little shit,’ Joel said, stepping back from Mick and towards you. He held his arm to you, beckoning you into his chest and you went to him, tucking yourself against his side.

‘You have a woman like this, you fuckin’ cherish her,’ Joel muttered, tracing his fingertips along your side and making you shiver. ‘Look at these pretty little tits,’ he said, moving to cup them as you blushed, tucking your face into his neck. You heard Mick’s sharp intake of breath, mirroring your own as Joel rolled your nipples through your shirt. ‘The way you were grabbin’ at ‘em last night, you think that felt good? You make her groan like this?’ he asked, applying just the right amount of pressure on the sensitive nubs, eliciting a moan from you, unbidden.

‘Listen, man, this is…’ Mick started but Joel cut him off with just a look, stern and disapproving, before his face shifted back to adoration when he turned to you.

‘Let’s show him, baby?’ he asked, his brows saddled high. You knew you were safe with him, that at any moment you could call it off, but you wanted this. You wanted Mick to see what Joel could do to you, the sounds you could make. Wanted him to feel small and insignificant in the presence of a real man, of real pleasure. Wanting him to see what money couldn’t buy.

You nodded your head at Joel and watched as the grin bloomed over his face. ‘M’good girl,’ he said, quiet enough that only you could hear it, and you felt the bolt of want shoot down into your core. Your cunt already aching, already dripping for him.

‘Show me where,’ he said, stepping back as you surveyed the space. You nodded towards the kitchen island, the bench just above your hip height. Joel nodded, lifting you up easily to perch on the edge, your body facing Mick as he sat, frozen, at the table in front of you.

‘Slip these off, baby,’ Joel said, tugging at your sweatpants and you lifted your hips as he slipped them, your panties along with them, out from underneath you. The granite countertop cold on the top of your thighs you revelled in the sensation of it, the hard, cold surface so different to Joel’s hot body as he hovered at your side.

‘Show him,’ he said, tapping you on the knee. You spread your legs, hooking one thigh over the edge of the counter and the other widening out to your side, your cunt unfolding before the two men in front of you. You watched as Mick’s face turned pink, sweat appearing on his brow. You turned to look at Joel, the hunger in his eyes as he devoured every inch of your skin. He reached over, running his fingertips over the inside of your thigh, moving closer to you, leaning over your body to whisper into your ear.

‘You’re dripping onto my countertop, baby,’ he said, and you could hear the glee in it, the wanting.

‘For you, Joel,’ you clarified. ‘Not him.’

‘Nah, never for him, I reckon,’ Joel agreed, his fingers slipping further towards your slit. You felt totally exposed and wanton, whorish, as Mick had put it, and your cunt was pulsing, aching from the desire of it. You felt like a priceless piece of art admired in a big city museum, like a stripper opening up her legs for hoards of braying men, like a girlfriend letting her disappointing boyfriend know in no uncertain terms he would no longer neglect her. You felt power coursing through your veins and into your cunt, your slick pooling on the top of your thighs as the most beautiful man you had ever seen stood beside you and teased the pleasure from every nerve.

‘Fuck…’ you whimpered as Joel’s fingers landed light and dexterous on your clit, the little bundle of nerves sending the pleasure roaring through your core and into your chest. You bucked your hips, nearly slipping from the countertop, Joel coming forward again to brace you against his chest.

‘God, look how much she wants it,’ Joel said over your head to Mick. ‘Bet you’ve never made her jump like that.’ You opened your eyes, not even having realised they’d closed, to watch Mick swallow hard and heavy. You beamed back at Joel, letting the pride in his face radiate warmth down upon you.

‘So good f’me, so good t’me,’ he said, spreading your lips apart with his fingers and pushing a fingertip inside. You gasped, shock on your face at the intensity of the need for him burning where he touched.

‘Please…’ you whimpered, just wanting more and just wanting him to never stop, just wanting him to reach inside you, to wring the pleasure out of you, to make you come so hard you forgot your own name.

‘Sshh…’ he cooed to you, ‘your boyfriend needs to concentrate so he can learn.’

You emitted a squeal of frustration, bucking your hips on his hand to try and draw him in, earning you only a chuckle from Joel.

‘Ok baby, m’sorry. Just like teasin’ ya,’ he grinned at you, before sliding two fat, rough fingers hard into your cunt.

For a second you lost touch with reality, your head flying back to the ceiling as sensations strong enough to take your breath roared from your cunt. The stretch was delicious, the heel of Joel’s hand rubbing hard at your clit as his fingers reached deep inside you, opening you up for him, your slick gathering in his palm.

‘Look how wet she gets,’ Joel noted, over his shoulder to Mick. ‘Such a shiny little cunt when she’s drippin’ like this. You ever work her up like this?’

You heard Mick grunt, a pleading note of displeasure, and you sighed as Joel started pumping, stoking the fire in your cunt that threatened to eviscerate you and everyone within the vicinity.

‘Joel!’ you gasped, rolling your hips again, trying to shove him deeper into your greedy little cunt as it grasped at him.

‘Could lick ‘er up, whatchyu reckon?’ Joel asked, already getting down on his knees as you groaned, certain now he was going to send you into the stratosphere. ‘Can I, baby?’ he asked, and you nodded, frantic, unable to form words.

‘Bet she tastes sweet,’ Joel said to Mick, who was inching closer in his chair, peering over Joel’s shoulder as your cunt swallowed his thick fingers. ‘Like watermelon on a hot summer day. You ever taste her, Mick?’ he asked. You watched as the shame bloomed over Mick’s face. Joel scoffed. ‘Course not, ya fuckin piss weak little prick,’ he spat before turning, diving in to lick a fat stripe at your folds, settling in to lap at your clit as his fingers worked you.

You screamed, sucking in huge lung-fulls of breath just to let them keen out of you, your hips slamming shut on Joel’s head as he sucked at you, every nerve ending screaming now as you felt the blooming heat of release.

‘Oh, he’s gonna make me…’ you said to Mick over Joel’s shoulder, watching you with owlish eyes.

‘Don’t talk to him,’ Joel admonished you, pulling your focus down to him as he perched between your legs, ‘you talk to me,’ he said.

‘Sorry, Mr Miller,’ you said, watching as his eyes rolled shut, a shiver passing over his shoulders.

‘Be the death of me…’ he muttered, returning his attentions to your pulsing cunt. You gripped his hair, rolling your hips on his face and rocking into him, chasing the release now gathering at the base of your spine.

‘Jesus…oh, fuck…’ you cried, trying desperately to warn him, your eyes slamming shut only to open in shock as he found new ways to wring the pleasure from you.

Joel worked you up, his tongue never fatiguing, setting up the perfect rhythm to hold you just on the edge. You could feel your sweat pooling on your skin, the heat in your cunt spreading down your legs, the pull of the knot in your belly.

To your utter dismay Joel stopped, lifting his face to address Mick at his shoulder. ‘You ever make her squirm like this?’ he asked, and you cried for him, then, scrabbling to grip his shoulders, his chin, to push him back to your desperate cunt. He laughed, nipping at your fingertips as they passed by. ‘Look at her graspin’ for me. You seein’ this? This is what real pleasure looks like.’

You cracked open an eye, the room spinning around you as you fought to regain control of your limbs. You saw the look of shame embedded deep into Mick’s face now, the sight of it somehow intensifying your pleasure, the building pressure in your cunt.

‘Fuck me,’ you gasped, turning your attention back to Joel, his eyebrows shooting up. ‘Show him how to fuck,’ you groaned, pushing off the countertop and spinning up onto your toes, laying chest down on the granite now hot to the touch from your writhing body on top of it. You spread your legs a little, knowing that your puffy little cunt lips would be revealed to them both, and you heard them both groan, Joel’s chesty moan full of grit, Mick’s high pitched and brimming with regret.

‘Don’t do this, man…’ he pleaded, and you heard Joel’s little scoff.

‘That’s the thing, buddy, the lady always gets what she wants.’

You felt him come to stand behind you, heard the rustle of his sweats as he pulled his cock over the waistband. It took everything in you not to turn and admire it, knowing in that moment you would have plenty of opportunity.

‘Fuck, she’s got me weepin’,’ Joel said, and you heard the unmistakable sound of skin on skin as he wrapped his hand around himself and tugged. ‘Got me harder than a railroad spike, this little cunt…’ he muttered. You whined, swivelling your hips to try and entice him, begging him to move faster as the walls of your cunt fluttered for him. You heard him sigh, a happy little sound. ‘Ok, baby, I’m here,’ he said, running a hand up your spine to hold you gentle and firm at the back of your neck, the head of his cock nudging at your cunt. ‘Gotta be gentle with my sweet little pussy,’ he said to you, leaning over you to place a chaste kiss in the cup of your shoulder blade.

‘Please, let him see it stretch me,’ you said, and you felt Joel shudder, notching himself at your entrance.

‘Keep talkin’ like that and I’ll chain him up in the basement, make him watch me fuck you every day,’ he muttered, pushing gently at first, the tip enough to make you gasp.

He was big, you realised. All of this time working you up he’d been leading to his moment, preparing to tease you open. ‘Oh, shit…’ you gasped as he pushed.

‘You ok, baby?’ he asked, pausing until you nodded, frantic, hands gripping at the edge of the counter for purchase as you pushed back into him, sliding in a few extra inches, as Joel moaned.

You were dimly aware that Mick was moving, coming to stand in front of you, a look of sorrow and unabashed heat on his face.

‘Please, can I?’ he asked, rubbing himself through his pants and you swatted him away.

‘No, fuck you,’ you said, emboldened by Joel’s desire for you, by his cock currently splitting your folds. ‘You never get this pussy again,’ you hissed at him, and you felt a bloom of pride at the look of hurt crossing his face just as Joel cheered from behind you.

‘That’s my beautiful girl!’ he gasped, bringing a finger to your clit and rubbing tight circles into it, making you gasp as you let your head fall, resting on the countertop. ‘So good f’me.’

The burn in your cunt from the way he stretched you abated, the pleasure Joel was giving you from your clit causing more slick to gather, your cunt grasping him again, your walls fluttering as you felt the ache turn to sweet pleasure, to a blooming rapture.

You lost touch with the ground, Joel’s harsh thrusts pushing you further up the counter, completely at his mercy as your legs hung useless beneath you, hands braced against the granite to give him purchase. In this moment, spread out on his cock, your cunt open and dripping for him, the pleasure ripping the words from your brain, gasps racking your throat, you felt completely under Joel’s spell, his touch, his heat. Mind-numb, thoroughly fucked out, gripped in this moment between the build up and the threshold of release.

‘Oh, you’re gonna make me…’ you warned but Joel had you, was there already with you.

‘I know, baby, I know,’ he grunted between thrusts. ‘Can feel it, can feel that sweet little cunt grippin’ me.’

You cried out, nodding your head furiously, entirely at his mercy now. ‘Yes, yes…Joel, it’s gonna…’

‘Let it go, baby,’ he moaned, and you felt none of the panic, none of the terror at your impending release, wrapped up safe in Joel’s body, in his groans of rapture, in the pull of the knot as it threatened to snap entirely.

‘Watch me make her come,’ he spat out over your head, and you were only dimly aware of what he was saying as your release sped towards you.

You writhed, your breath stolen from you by the roar of the wildfire across your chest. The push of your orgasm slipping you under, crashing your body into the shore, rolling and quaking underneath it as indescribable lust coursed through your veins.

‘Oh, fuck, there she goes,’ Joel spluttered, his hips stuttering as he started to deepen his thrusts. ‘Gonna fill up ya girl,’ he grit out, his final movements sloppy and desperate as he approached the edge.

‘Do it, baby,’ you whimpered beneath him, words finally able to escape the cage of your throat. ‘Need you.’

He did, then, his come exploding into you and washing you clean, cleansing you of Mick, of all your disappointments, of all your fears. You looked back over your shoulder at him as he crested, his eyebrows saddled and his eyes trained on you, a look of reverence and hunger, of sweet shock, as though he couldn’t believe how good it felt either, as if everything for him was also slotting into place, as if he knew in this moment he would never let anyone separate you, would never let anyone take you from his side, that in his moment you were his just as much as he was yours, that this was a forging of something solid and essential, something vital and something precious, something that was just for you.

You didn’t remember Mick leaving. Didn’t care to say goodbye.

Joel had peeled you off the counter and carried you upstairs, drawn you a bath and lowered you gently into the water, sat beside you and washed your body as you lulled in and out of a light sleep.

Drying you off he wrapped you up in his clothes, swamping you in cotton and his scent, before promising to make you a fresh batch of pancakes. You hadn’t let him, whimpering when he tried to leave your side, pulling him down beside you on the bed and wrapping his arms around you.

Later you would figure out lunch, and then Sarah, and then the rest of your lives. For now, you had each other, and cool sheets, and the light patter of rain as a welcome cool breeze blew new life over the garden beneath Joel’s window.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal fic #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller one shot #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic

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honeyedmiller · 7 months ago

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A Burning Desire part four

firefighter!joel miller x f!reader

series masterlist | main masterlist

rating: 18+, minors dni

warnings: joel miller au, reader's family members finally get names in this, a whole lotta tooth-rotting fluff, sexual innuendos, sexual tension, your (fictional) brothers are a pain in the ass, reader has a nickname given by the brothers, smut (unprotected piv, f!oral receiving, fingering, body praise, quick handjob), no use of y/n.

word count: 9.2k (i'm so sorry)

a/n: sorry it took forever. life has been so hectic after graduating. thank you for sticking around <3

synopsis: you and joel take a road trip to san antonio for your sister’s wedding, and with feelings at an all-time high, you find it nearly impossible to resist each other.

“So what time are you and Joel leaving tomorrow?” Your sister asks on the other end of the line.

Tomorrow was the rehearsal dinner for her wedding, and you had to drive out to San Antonio. Joel promised you countless times that he was more than happy to accompany you to the wedding, even though you warned him countless times about your family.

“Probably around ten. He’s spending the night tonight so we can just get ready and leave in the morning.” You’re folding the last of your clothes to pack, phone tucked between your shoulder and ear as you mentally double check that you have everything you need in your suitcase.

“Okay, good. Mom’s kind of upset that she hasn’t met this ‘mystery man’ as she calls it. She’s been dying to know all the details.”

You roll your eyes and sigh, already knowing this weekend was going to be absolutely exhausting dealing with everyone.

“She’ll literally meet him tomorrow. I kept our relationship at bay because of how she gets. Not to mention Andrew and Cole, and god knows what they’ll say to Joel tomorrow.”

Your sister laughs, “That’s true. Can’t imagine they won’t harass him about treating you right. I’ll make sure to keep them in check.”

“Em, you know they will. They hovered when Christian and I broke up.”

“I know. But Joel’s a good man. The whole family will love him.”

“I really hope you’re right.”

“Always am. Call it big sister’s intuition.”

“Funny.” You scoff with a smile, closing your suitcase.

“I know. Hey, Josh and I have to talk to the wedding planner about a few last minute details. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” She says.

“See you tomorrow, Em. Love you.”

“Love you too!”

The line goes dead and you sigh, tossing your phone onto your bed. You were trying to mentally prepare yourself for the hellfire you were going to receive after keeping Joel a secret for awhile. You looked at your bedside table and the alarm clock on top of it, red numbers blinking at you to remind you you still had a few more hours until Joel would be coming over.

Nerves settled in about him meeting your family, but nobody could resist Joel and his Southern charm. You couldn’t help but fantasize that your whole family loved him, welcoming him in with open arms. God, you hope that was the case.

You killed time by cooking some dinner and watching some more of The Bachelor, feeding into the drama of the show. You were so invested that you almost didn’t hear the knock on your door.

The feeling of giddiness took over your body as you opened the door, revealing your boyfriend. He had a small smile on his face, but his eyes were tired.

“Hey baby,” You say, stepping to the side for him, “C’mon in. I made us some dinner. Figured you could eat after your shift.”

Joel groans in appreciation. “Thank you darlin’.” He sets his bag down and closes your door, locking it before wrapping his arms around you. He buried his face into your neck, breathing in your scent for a minute.

You could sense something was wrong, but you didn’t want to push him about it. Maybe a little shove wouldn’t hurt, though.

You run your fingers through his soft curls before turning your head to the side to kiss his neck, separating yourself from him for a brief moment.

“You okay?” Worry was evident in your voice, and he couldn’t help but melt at the concern written all over your face as you took his in between your hands.

He nodded, but you weren’t convinced. You could see it in his eyes, sensing that he was holding something back.

“You can talk to me, you know. If you’d like. I don’t want to push you if you’re not ready, though.” You take his hand and lead him to the couch, coaxing him to sit down. You climbed behind him, sitting down to slot your thighs on either side of his.

You start to rub his back, slowly putting pressure on any knots that you’d found. You kiss him between his shoulder blades, silence consuming the both of you for a good few minutes before you hear his faint whisper.

“Rough shift. Had a call that didn’t go so well. Kinda shook up the whole firehouse.”

“Oh, baby, I’m so sorry.” You wrap your arms around his torso, resting your cheek on his back. His hands cover yours and swipe his thumbs over you.

You hear him sniffle and your head shoots up, attempting to turn his head toward you. He resists at first, but eventually melts into your soft touch and turns his face toward yours as you slightly lean over his broad frame.

“It’s okay, Joel. You never have to hide how you’re feeling from me. If you need to cry about it, that’s fine. I’ll never think you’re less of a man for showing your emotions.”

He offers you a small smile before leaning in to kiss your forehead, softly knocking his against yours as he sighs.

“I’ve been so used to suppressin’ rough calls for years. Nobody to turn to except my coworkers n’ Tommy, and even then it’s not somethin’ we all collectively talk about. My ex,” He huffs an angry laugh at the mention of her, “Sarah’s mom. She– she always told me that cryin’ about how tough my job can be sometimes isn’t somethin’ a real man does. No man should cry over a job. So I just pretended. I pretended that the job didn’t affect me anymore, that I was fine every time I came home. I pretended to be okay when in reality I jus’ wanted to fuckin’ scream and cry.” He turns his head to the side again as more tears silently cascade down his beautiful face.

“Hey, look at me,” Your voice is soft, as if you’re trying not to scare an already frightened animal. “I can promise you that you never have to pretend with me.” You wipe his tears with your thumb, kissing his cheek softly as you continue to gently rub his back.

“Y’don’t know how much that means to me, darlin’. It’s not easy carryin’ the weight of this job on my shoulders alone. I don’t want to burden you with any of it–”

“Hey, none of that alright? You’re not burdening me. I can’t even imagine the terrible things you’ve seen and endured while on the job. I swear to you that I’m here to listen. Or just be a shoulder to lay on. We don’t even need to talk if you don’t want to, but just know that option is always there.”

He turns his head to kiss your temple, squeezing his eyes shut before leaning his head back onto your shoulder.

The “L” word rolled around in your mind for a split second. A month and a half ago, it would’ve scared you. But now, being here with Joel, it just seemed so normal and comfortable. He may have felt the same too, you think. Maybe it was too early to tell.

You wish it was a morning where you and Joel could laze around and relax. Waking up beside him gave you a sense of comfort you hadn’t experienced in so long. You secretly study his face as he sleeps: tan skin glowing from the morning sunlight, eyelashes fanned over his cheeks, messy curls resting haphazardly over his forehead, and plump lips parted as he emits soft snores.

He’s so handsome.

You couldn’t help but bring your hand out to trace his face with your fingertips, leaning forward to gently kiss his cheek.

His eyebrows scrunch together as he slowly begins to wake from his slumber, hands shooting up to rub over his face. His eyes find yours when he drops his hands from his face, a grin curling onto his lips.

“Mornin’ baby.” His voice was deep and raspy, still full of sleep. It made something stir deep down inside of you.

“Morning, handsome.” You kiss the tip of his nose before sitting up to get out of bed, but Joel pulls you back by your wrist and maneuvers you so you’re laying on top of him.

You laugh as he wraps his arms around you securely, making sure you can’t move an inch or wiggle away.

“We gotta get up and get going, Joel.”

He groans loudly, the sound vibrating his whole body and yours. “Five more minutes.” His muffled voice says from underneath you.

“Uh uh, cowboy. C’mon, I’ll make you a thermos of coffee.” You tap his stomach twice before he releases you to stand on your feet. You make your way into the kitchen, fighting the urge to look back at Joel, because you knew you’d give him more than five minutes if you did.

You start up the coffee pot and lean against the counter, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. Joel emerges in the kitchen shortly after, leaning against the wall as he admires you in your sleepy state.

“What?” You ask, cocking an eyebrow up at him.

“Nothin’ baby.” He smiles before coming into the kitchen, lifting you up on the counter and slotting himself between your legs.

“Mmmhm.” You say, putting your hands on his warm chest. You feel his heartbeat beneath your fingertips and notice it’s slightly elevated, which you can’t help but smile at.

Joel leans in to you and kisses your neck, and you can’t help but loll your head to the side to give him better access. His lips graze over your pulse point and you instinctively grip onto his biceps, trying your hardest to suppress a moan.

“Joel—”

“Hm? What is it, pretty girl?”

“If you keep doing that, we’re never—fuck— never gonna leave in time.” He pokes his tongue out and drags it down your jugular, kissing the base of your neck before lightly nibbling on your soft flesh.

“Doin’ what, baby?” He teases, smirking against you.

“You know what, cowboy,” And before he could retort, the coffee maker beeps to indicate Joel’s coffee was done. “Saved by the bell.” You mumble, gently separating yourself from Joel. His honey brown gaze bores into yours as he chuckles at your flustered state before sliding his phone out of his pocket.

He types in the address to the hotel the wedding party was staying at. Joel meticulously calculates the stops you may need to make along the way before looking at you again.

“Should take us about an hour and a half to get there. Two hours if there’s heavy traffic.”

“It’s not too late to back out, you know.”

“‘N why would I do that, darlin’?”

“To save yourself from the chaos that the weekend will bring. I can tell my family you had to work instead. Nobody can get mad at a firefighter for working.”

Joel tosses his head back as he gutturally laughs, shoulders shaking. The whole thing was a little ridiculous, but you know how your family is, and you were ultimately just looking out for him.

His gaze meets yours, a glint of adoration in his eyes as he leans forward. You can’t help the stupid grin that curls onto your lips as he gently nudges your body closer to his, finally slotting his lips with yours.

You’ll never get tired of those butterflies that rumble rambunctiously in your tummy every time you kiss him.

He leans back a little, and with his irresistible charm, winks at you before he huffs another small laugh. “Wouldn’t dream of it, baby.”

You hop off the counter and pat his abdomen adoringly before flashing him a grin. “Well then, cowboy, let's get to it.”

The drive wasn’t as bad as you’d thought it would be, pulling up to the hotel around one in the afternoon. Joel unloads your luggage from the bed of his truck and you wrap your arm around his bicep, walking toward the lobby after he locks up. It was a fancy hotel located right next to the Riverwalk with a huge ballroom for the reception. You had to hand it to your sister and Josh; this place was absolutely beautiful.

You walked up to the reception desk with Joel in tow, and the spunky brunette smiled as you approached her.

“Hi, we’re here for the Martinez wedding.”

“First name?” The receptionist asks, typing something into her computer. You give her your first name and she pulls two keys out of a cardholder, handing it over to you.

“Ah, sister of the bride! How exciting. You two will be on the seventh floor, third room on the right after you get out of the elevator. Enjoy your stay.”

“Thank you so much.” You say, taking the card keys from her before you step away from the desk. You and Joel were heading towards the elevator when you heard a familiar voice call your name, and you turned around to see your brothers.

Panic overtook your body for a few seconds, glancing at Joel who gave you a small smile. How was he always so calm?

“Thought you could sneak past us without saying hi?” Cole says with a shit-eating grin, eyeing Joel as he comes up to you to give you a hug.

“You ain’t slick, Shadow.” Andrew says, hugging you after Cole.

“God, Andy, seriously? That nickname?”

”What, you afraid we’re gonna embarrass you in front of your boyfriend that you’ve been hiding from us?” Cole jerks his head toward Joel, who shifts on his weight as he lets go of his suitcase.

“Shut up, Cole,” You roll your eyes, huffing a laugh. “Joel, these are my idiot brothers Andrew and Cole. Andy, Cole, this is my boyfriend Joel.” You introduce them, and Joel puts on his best smile before extending his hand.

“Nice to meet you both.” He says, and it’s comical how both of your brothers try to come off as intimidating toward Joel. Joel keeps a calm demeanor anyhow; his steady, charming smile never wavering.

“Uh huh. Nice to meet you too. Hey, let us buy you a drink, yeah?” Andrew says, jerking his head toward the bar located at the far end of the lobby. Joel glances at you as you give him a tight-lipped smile, wrapping your hand around his bicep once more. You turn back to your brothers before sighing.

“Let us put our bags up in our room first before I let you harass him. Jesus.” You half-joke, and Cole claps Joel on the shoulder.

“What makes you think we’re gonna harass him, Shadow? We’re just looking out for ya.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of. Now please let go of his shoulder.” You roll your eyes and tug on Joel’s arm gently, coaxing him to follow you to the elevators.

“Fine. See you down here in a few.”

You wave your brothers off before getting into the elevator, hitting the seventh floor button.

“Jesus, Joel, I’m so sorry. Thought we’d get a chance to fucking breathe before my brothers started literally harassing you.”

He laughs and shakes his head, giving your temple a kiss. “Ain’t nothin’ to worry about, baby. They’re just bein’ protective. I get it.”

“Just… take anything they might say with a grain of salt.”

He chuckles and nods as the elevator dings and the door opens to the seventh floor. You stop in front of your room and open the door, gasping at how beautiful it is. The king bed in the middle looks absolutely heavenly, and your mind can’t help the image flashing in your mind of you and Joel getting tangled in those very sheets. Heat rushes to your face at the thought, and you walk over to the window to distract yourself. The gleaming summer sun reflects on the calm waters below at the Riverwalk, giving it a mesmerizing gleam.

Joel wraps his arms around your waist from behind and kisses your shoulder. “Beautiful,” He murmurs, but unbeknownst to you, he wasn’t talking about the water below.

“We should go back down so my brothers don’t give you more shit than you’re probably going to get.” You grimace at the thought of what they’re going to say to him.

Joel chuckles and playfully shakes you before loosening his grasp on your midsection.

“Just promise me you won’t run for the hills if they get to be too much. I’ll put them in their place.” You offer, and Joel kisses your forehead.

“I’d only run if you were right by my side, baby.”

Joel didn’t know what to expect from your brothers. He could feel the nerves buzzing off of you as you both made your way back to the elevator to go down to the lobby again, and he wanted nothing more than to ease your erratic nerves.

He knew from the very beginning that he’d be in the long haul of things with you, so he knew facing your family at some point was going to happen. Absolutely nothing your brothers say or do will make him ‘run for the hills’, as you’d put it.

Joel thought the look you tossed his way when the elevator doors opened to the lobby was adorable. He could tell that you wanted this to go well, and who was he to let you down?

Joel gave your hand a squeeze as you both made your way up to your brothers again.

“Joel, how ‘bout that drink.” Andrew says, head jerking toward the bar on the opposite end of the lobby.

“Sure.” He says, trying to keep his cool. He wondered briefly if this was the slight fear you might’ve felt when you met Sarah.

“I’m gonna go find mom and Em.” You say, giving Joel a kiss on the cheek. He watches you walk out before your brothers tug him along to the bar area, ordering a round of Lone Star.

“So I’m a real cut-to-the-chase type guy,” Andrew starts, settling into the barstool next to Joel. Joel nods and sits up straight before taking a swig of his beer to ease his nerves. “I’m sure you’re aware of our sister’s past relationship. Who’s to say you won’t hurt her like that asshole did?”

Joel was taken aback at Andrew’s bluntness, but his expression never wavered or gave anything away. “I know what it’s like to be hurt in a way that ya can’t ever forget about. The mother of my child left when my baby girl was only a year old. Said she couldn’t handle bein’ a parent n’ left me to fend for myself. Bein’ hurt like that,” Joel shakes his head and looks down, “It ain’t right. I would never want anyone to feel the way I felt when she walked out the door. I know your sister’s situation is a bit different, but my feelings toward it are all the same. I like your sister a whole lot n’ the last thing on God’s green Earth I’d ever wanna do is hurt ‘er.”

Andrew nods, weighing Joel’s answer in his head. Joel was telling the truth. He’d never want to hurt you. You deserve to be happy, and he knows you can do that completely on your own, but he loves to be the reason behind it. He loves seeing you smile knowing he’s the reason it’s there in the first place.

“What do you do for work?” Cole changed the subject, and Joel shifts his gaze to the younger brother.

“I’m a firefighter for the city of Austin.”

“I’ll be damned. Shadow always said she loved a man in uniform,” Cole teased, and the three men chuckled in unison.

“How come y’all call her Shadow? She’s never told me anythin’ about that story.” Joel says, and the brothers can’t help but smile at the opportunity to tease their little sister.

“She was afraid of her shadow when she was younger, maybe around like two or three years old. We’d always tease her about it and the nickname just stuck.”

“‘S actually really funny.” Joel said, thinking about how he’d be able to tease you later on with the newfound information.

“So how did you meet our sister? She hasn’t told us a damn thing about you.” Cole grimaces, taking a sip of his beer.

“I met her at a local coffee shop near her apartment. She actually made the first move,” Joel recalls, and he can’t help but smile at the memory. “She paid for my coffee.”

“That’s pretty out of character for her. She’s usually pretty shy.” Andrew said.

“Believe me, I was surprised. She was so sweet… after I caught her checkin’ me out. I was in uniform.” Joel laughs, and the brothers join in with him.

“Told ya she loves a man in uniform.” Cole nudges Joel.

“You said you’re a firefighter,” Andrew repeats aloud, wheels turning in his head. “Shit, the accident,” He says, looking at Joel. Joel nods, not quite sure where he was going with this.

“Wasn’t pretty. Got the call and I saw her car—”

“Wait, so you were on the scene? You’re telling me you’re the one who got our sister out of her car?” Andrew was bewildered, blinking rapidly in complete disbelief.

Joel furrowed his brows and looked down at his knotted hands, reliving that moment in his head.

“Yeah. I’d only known her for hours at that point, but all I knew was that I needed to get her out of there. Scared the hell outta me.”

“Unbelievable. Can’t believe she left out that huge detail,” Cole chuckles and shakes his head, but looks up at Joel in all seriousness. “Thank you for saving her.”

Joel gives them both a soft smile. “I’d save her all over again in a heartbeat.”

“You’re a damn hero, man. To our sister and to Austin.”

Joel never knew how to accept compliments that well, let alone the hero compliments. He just saw it as doing his job and getting to help those in need.

“Well, cheers to you. We can both tell you’re an honest man and anyone who’s willing to literally—and figuratively, I guess—save our sister is a man who has our utmost respect.” Andrew says, holding his beer bottle up in the air.

Cole raised his bottle and Joel followed suit, an echo of ‘cheers’ being thrown around. Joel’s nerves dissolved like cotton candy in water, relief flooding through his bones that your brothers approved of him. He knew meeting your dad was going to be an even bigger deal, so he was holding onto hope that it would go just as well.

“So when am I meeting this Joel of yours?” Your mom says, perching her glasses on the bridge of her nose as she took a sip of her margarita. You found her and Emily poolside as they sipped their drinks while talking about last minute wedding details.

“He’s at the bar in the lobby getting harassed by Andy and Cole.” You roll your eyes, and Emily laughs.

“He’s a good man. I’m sure they’re all buddy-buddy now. Men are simple when it comes to meeting new people.” Emily waves her hand dismissively, easing your nerves a little.

“Where’s dad?” You ask, looking between Emily and your mom.

Your mom scoffs, “He’s upstairs taking a nap. Told him he wouldn’t be tired tonight but he seemed to think otherwise.”

“He’s probably overwhelmed with all the wedding stuff.” You offer with a shrug, and your mom huffs.

“He isn’t the one planning the damn thing.”

“There you guys are!” Cole calls out to you three, Andrew and Joel in tow. Your eyes lock on Joel’s gaze and you’re relieved to see he made it out of the interrogation unscathed.

He makes his way over to you, leaning down to give you a chaste kiss.

“So you must be Joel.” Your mom says, eyes alight at the exchange you and Joel had.

“I am. It’s so great to meet you, Mrs.—”

Your mom waves her hand to dismiss his formalities. “Oh, none of that. Just call me Alexandria. It’s nice to finally meet the man who’s been making my youngest daughter so happy.” She grins up at him, and it was easy to clock the blush that spreads over his tan cheeks.

“I can argue that she makes me the happiest I’ve ever been.” He looks down at you and shoots you a wink, and you can’t help but roll your eyes playfully.

“Touché, Miller.” You say, warmth filling your body as he wraps his arm around your waist.

Everyone got into chatting about the rehearsal dinner and the bar of choice afterwards, scampering off to their respective rooms.

It only took a couple of hours for everyone to get ready and head down to the lobby, being shuffled into the courtyard by hotel staff. Sage green and cream decorations adorned the spacious place with rows of chairs neatly lined up for the big day tomorrow. The gazebo at the end of the walkway was strewn with fairy lights that gave a soft glow that added to to romantic ambience.

For a split second, you couldn’t help but let your mind wander to what your future wedding would look like… with Joel. You may have been presumptuous in thinking such a thing, but you truly felt deep down that this was the man you were meant to marry.

The wedding coordinator lined all of the bridesmaids and groomsmen up, and you took your respectable place next to Karina who was your sister’s best friend and maid of honor.

After two full run-throughs of the ceremony and placement adjustments, the wedding coordinator took everyone to the ballroom where the reception was being held.

It wasn’t long before everyone finished their dinners, polite conversation being held as the night went on.

“So you’re the Joel everyone’s been buzzing about.” Your dad says, and you give him a stern look to say go easy on him. Not that Joel couldn’t handle himself, but because your dad could get a little out of hand at times.

“Yes sir, that’s me.” He says, grabbing your hand underneath the table to give it a squeeze.

“I hear you’re a firefighter. Good man.” Your dad nods in approval, and proceeds to ask Joel about some calls he’s gotten in the past. Everyone at the table was listening intently to him, curious as to what life as a firefighter is really like.

Your gaze roams to your mom, who’s already looking between you and Joel with a sparkle in her eye you’d never seen before. She gives you a wink and sips her wine, turning her attention back to Joel.

It seems his Southern charm and calm demeanor had won every single one of your family members over, and relief floods through your body at that. That’s all you wanted, and you couldn’t have been happier to see it become a reality.

After dinner, Josh and Emily told everyone that they weren’t having a ‘traditional’ bachelor and bachelorette party. Instead, they wanted to go to a bar together and have a few drinks with everyone as one last celebration before they both say I do.

It wasn’t surprising to you. Your sister had always been the homebody type and Josh was right there with her. You thought it was romantic in a sense, knowing that they really didn’t need anything big or to spend time apart before their big day.

The bar was a few buildings down from the hotel, with a huge dance floor in the middle and patrons singing along to the mix of music that was playing as they drank.

Your dad ordered a round of shots for everybody, making a toast to Josh and Emily.

“To the bride and groom to be.” Your dad says, and everyone clinks their glasses together before throwing back their liquor.

You shudder at the taste, setting the cup down onto the sticky bartop.

“May I have this dance?” Joel asks you, holding his hand out for you to take. You grin and grab his hand, grip steady as he leads you out to the dance floor.

You steadily sway to the song as you lean your head on Joel’s shoulder, letting him guide you to the beat. You glance up to see your family members have joined you both on the dance floor, and you smile in content as you squeeze Joel’s hand. He kisses your head before separating you, spinning you around so your back is against his front.

He rocks you slowly, resting his chin on your shoulder before kissing your cheek.

“‘M real happy you let me tag along this weekend, sweetheart.” Joel says, and you turn your head toward him and quirk an eyebrow.

“Yeah? And why’s that?”

“‘S nice to get out of Austin every once in a while. Your family is real invitin’, too.”

“Before or after they interrogated you?” You ask with a smirk, and he laughs before spinning you again so you’re face-to-face.

“Mostly after.” He confesses with a softness to his voice. You study his features unashamedly, the soft smile he has on his lips making your heart skip a beat as he looks at you with half-lidded eyes.

There’s a certainty behind them that you can’t exactly pinpoint, but it made your whole body feel warm and fuzzy inside and you honest to god never wanted to forget the feeling. Joel is the only man who’s made you feel things you’ve never felt. He’s the only man who’s ever kept you on your toes yet has this overwhelming sense of comfort to him that just makes you want to give it all to him.

And by the way he was looking back at you, you’d bet his thoughts are similar to yours.

“You two are so in love it makes me sick.” Andrew sidles up beside you, nudging you in your ribs.

Your eyes go wide and you look at your brother in panic, pleading him to shut the fuck up before you kill him with your bare hands.

“Fuck off, Andy.” You roll your eyes, trying to play it cool. You didn’t deny the painfully obvious fact, though. You didn’t want to deny it.

Was it fast? Yes. But you couldn’t help how you felt. You were tired of running from something that was great for you. You were tired of running from solidity and peace and patience and love, all of which Joel gave you without having to say a single word.

And then you realized—Joel never denied it either. He didn’t deny it when your brother’s loud mouth said that sacred word. He didn’t deny it when you looked at him again, that familiar look in his eyes returning as he just smiled at you, seemingly content in every possible way.

Before you could say anything, Cole comes up to you while waving a crisp twenty dollar bill in your face.

“Betcha one Jackson that you can’t ride that bull over there and stay on for more than a minute.” He’s got a mischievous glint in his eyes, and you’d take any opportunity to prove your brother wrong.

“Oh, I will. After this song though,” You grin at Joel as Boot Scootin’ Boogie plays over the speakers. “C’mon cowboy, I wanna show off my new moves.”

Joel easily obliges as he takes you deeper onto the dance floor. You’re slotted in a mix of a sweaty and drunken crowd, too far gone to care if they’re too off-beat or embarrassing themselves.

You follow Joel’s lead and you two easily end up in sync with one another, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Somewhere between the spin in the chorus and the two-step move he’d taught you, you catch your family members staring at the two of you. Your mom whispers something to your sister, and you hope to god she didn’t change her opinion of him or something after seeing you two dancing like this.

Emily knows you better than the back of her fucking hand, though, and she instantly reassures you with a smile and thumbs up before panic settles into your bones.

Although it seems everyone in your immediate family approves of Joel, it would devastate you if they changed their minds about him for whatever reason. He wasn’t your ex. They at least knew that much. As much as you loved them, they were overbearing sometimes when it came to protecting you after what’d happened with Christian. You didn’t need that to drive a wedge between you and Joel, no matter how much of a forewarning you give him.

The song ends and reality trickles back around you, as Joel spins you into him, giving you a chaste kiss. Your eyes flutter open after you pull away in the slightest, and there it is — that look — unwavering, and clear as day in his eyes.

“Go show ‘em how you ride it.” He remarks, shooting you a wink. Your face heats at his obvious innuendo, and he can’t help the sly smirk that grows on his lips.

Without another word, he releases you from his grasp and urges you toward your brother, still waving the twenty in his hand around like a flag.

You roll your eyes at him and climb up onto the mechanical bull, the DJ timing you into when the machine will start to move.

It was slow at first, and you easily found a rhythm to keep steady on its back. It started to jerk around and spin faster, and your thighs burned as you clenched onto the sides for dear life. You wanted to give a little show though, so you placed your hands behind your back and looked up at your brother with a wicked grin.

His face deflated as he knew he’d been beaten. Your eyes flicker to Joel and you want to laugh at his expression—it seemed to be a cross between lust, admiration and astonishment.

Oh, cowboy. You have no idea what you’re in for.

The DJ announces your victory and the patrons of the bar cheer you on as you hop off of the bull. You walk up to Cole and snatch the twenty bucks from his hand before leaning into Joel, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Wanna go back to the hotel room? I’m beat.” You ask Joel, and he nods. You say goodnight to your family and other members of the wedding party before you both head back in a comfortable silence.

Exhaustion settles in your bones as you fall into step side-by-side, and Joel pulls you into him as you walk into the lobby of the hotel. You make your way onto the elevators and Joel presses the button of your floor, looking at you with a softness in his eyes as he settles his hand on your shoulder.

“Thank you again for doing this whole wedding fiasco with me.” You say, voice full of exhaustion. He shoots you a soft smile and pulls you in, wrapping his arms around you securely. You mirror his actions as you look at him, an adoring gaze sparkling in his eyes. He leans in and kisses your forehead, giving your body a small squeeze.

“Of course, darlin’.”

You went to bed that night with Joel’s arm wrapped around you and a mind of racing thoughts, all consumed by that feeling again—the terrifying, wonderful feeling that kept playing in your mind as if it was the most obvious conclusion you’ve ever come to.

The next morning was a blur. You got up early, trying not to disturb Joel because he looked so peaceful in his sleep. It was chaos amongst the bridal party with everyone getting ready and your sister revealing her final look to the girls. Tears sprang in your eyes as you saw her with the biggest smile on her face, unwavering as she twirled around in her dress that fit like a glove.

“Emi, you look so beautiful. Josh is going to lose it when he sees you.” You say, sniffling as she gives you a tight hug.

“I love you sis. Thank you for being a part of my big day.” She says, rubbing your back before pulling apart from you. You grin at her and blow her a kiss, turning when you feel your mom slightly nudge you.

“Speaking of losing it, Joel’s gonna be head over heels seeing you in this dress,” Your mom says, “Wonder what he’ll be like when it’s your guys’ wedding and he sees you in a bridal gown.”

“Mom,” You stop her, but you can’t help the way your heart stutters at the thought of marriage with him. “Please don’t.”

Way too fucking soon. Right?

Your mom throws her hands up in defense, giving you a knowing look.

“That man is in love with you, baby. He looks at you like you’re the sun, moon and stars.”

That feeling tugged at you once again. You began to internally panic, but luckily the bridal party got called to an area in the hotel to take pictures. You needed a distraction, because knowing you and your mind, you’d unintentionally start self-sabotaging your relationship with Joel.

Fuck, your ex really did a number on you.

The day seemed to run by in a blur. Watching your sister say ‘I do’ to the love of her life made you glance over at Joel in the crowd, and to your surprise, his focus was already on you.

There was this undeniably soft look in his eyes that said a million words without him having to utter a single one. He winks at you with a small smile and you mirror his grin, heading back down the aisle after Emily and Josh made their way down.

A few hours later it was well into the reception, and Joel offered you his hand so you could slow dance with each other.

“You know this thing drives me crazy, right?” You say, tapping the brim of his Stetson. He looked at you with a smirk, raising his eyebrows.

“Really? Couldn’t tell.” Sarcasm dripped from his voice and you rolled your eyes as you huffed a laugh. He was wearing an emerald green button down with black slacks and black shoes, and his black cowboy hat tied the whole look together. He’d been getting stares all night by various family members and friends from both sides of the parties.

You thought jealousy would’ve brewed its way into you, sinking her claws into your flesh—but it was the complete opposite. Pride blooms in your chest as you slow dance with this handsome man—your handsome man.

“You look absolutely breathtakin’ tonight though, baby.” Joel whispers in your ear as you lean your head on his shoulder, taking in his addicting scent.

You smile against him and bring your arm up over his other shoulder, gently wrapping your fingers around the base of his neck. Your index finger twirls the curls peeking out of the bottom of his hat absentmindedly, swaying with him with total ease.

“I can say the same for you.” You murmur, and he squeezes your waist softly.

“Yeah?”

You lift your head off of his shoulder to meet his gaze, light and playful. A glint of mischief flashes in his eyes and you bite your lip in anticipation, the bubbling arousal having never left you since the previous night.

You nod, hesitating for a second to find the right words. You knew you wanted to take the next step with him and finally go all the way without being interrupted. That is, if he’d have you.

“I’d love to show you.” You whisper as the song ends. An upbeat tune plays immediately after, everyone crowding on the dance floor. It was the perfect time to make an escape.

He links his fingers with yours, leaning forward to kiss you. You can’t help but smile as his lips press to yours, and you can’t help yourself—you take the hat off of his head mid-kiss, plopping it onto yours. He separates himself from you with a soft smile and a daring glint in his gaze.

He tsked at you teasingly, adjusting the hat to sit straight onto your head.

“What was that about the ‘Cowboy Hat Rule’ again?” You feign innocence, and he can’t help but laugh at your antics, ultimately deciding to play along.

“How ‘bout I show you rather than tell you?” He says, and that’s all you need to gently tug him away from the crowd and toward the lobby. You make your way to the elevators, nerves buzzing through your veins at the prospect of what’s to happen.

After what feels like forever, the elevator doors finally open and you both step inside. The doors close after Joel hits the seventh floor button, and the tension radiating off of both of you in such a confined space was nearly unbearable.

Joel takes his hat off of your head and gently pushes you against the elevator wall, crowding you with his broad body. Your heart is beating a million miles a minute as you stare at him, gaze never wavering.

You open your mouth to say something, but Joel crashes his lips to yours in fervor. You moan into the kiss as you tangle your hands through his curls, tugging on the base of them.

His free hand finds your hip and squeezes, rutting his hips into yours. You can feel his bulge through his slacks, and you can’t help but whimper into the intense kiss as one hand travels down his back.

Before you can touch him any further, the elevator dings and he separates from you, locking eyes with an elderly couple.

The woman has a knowing smile on her face and sighs, “Oh, to be young and in love.” Joel takes your hand and leads you out of the elevator and to your shared room, fumbling with the key. It almost calms you in a way to know you aren’t the only one filled with nerves, anxious about finally being able to have this time to yourselves.

Joel tossed the keycard onto the side table when he finally got it open, putting his hand on your lower back to guide you into the room. The soft glow of the lamp illuminates his handsome features as he stares at you admirably, tossing his Stetson onto a chair next to the bed without looking.

Joel steps closer to you, grabbing your hips gently before leaving a trail of kisses from your forehead, nose, cheek, and finally, your lips. The kiss was softer this time—full of emotion, saying a thousand words with one simple gesture.

His hands skate up your back and to the zipper of your dress, parting his lips from yours as he looks into your eyes.

“Can I?” His voice is soft but hopeful, and you instantly nod. He drags the zipper down your back with ease, slowly removing the straps from your shoulders. The dress pools to your feet below you, and you’re left in a lacy nude and black bra with black panties. Joel’s eyes rake over your body hungrily, hands twitching at his sides.

“You’re so beautiful, baby.”

You can’t help but feel shy for a second, but Joel wasn’t having any of that. He grips your chin between his thumb and forefinger, kissing your lips a few times before he nods his head to the bed.

“On the bed, baby. Spread your legs for me.” His deep, commanding tone sent a shiver down your spine. You didn’t know what to expect, but it definitely wasn’t this.

You do as you’re told, settling your head onto the plush pillows as you let your legs fall open. Joel moves to untuck his green shirt. He unbuttons the shirt slowly, never breaking eye contact with you. You bite your lip teasingly as you watch him undress, and his thick, tan torso comes into sight.

“Fuck, you’re so sexy, you know that?” You say, but it nearly sounds like a whine. Joel flashes you a smirk before climbing onto the bed, slotting himself between your legs. Your arms grip his shoulders before grabbing the green material, sliding it off of his arms completely before tossing it onto the floor for him. You kiss his shoulder and neck, hands moving up to tangle themselves in his curls once again.

He ruts his hips into you, and the pressure of his bulge catches perfectly onto your aching clit. You moan his name softly, moving one hand down to gently palm him through his slacks.

“Can’t believe we finally get to do this without any interruptions.” Joel chuckles, moving down to kiss your neck.

“Let’s not hold our breaths.” You say teasingly, fingers moving to unbutton and unzip his slacks. He allows it, not stopping you from eagerly undressing the rest of him.

He separates himself from you, sliding the slacks down his legs before moving down the bed, kissing your body as he goes. His tongue traces lines down your thighs, dangerously close to your aching core, before he kisses your skin. He continues the assault of kisses until his mouth is hovering over the only thing that separates your most intimate part from him and his line of sight. He kisses the lace fabric once, then pokes his tongue out to drag the strong muscle from your entrance to your clit.

You can’t hold back your moans anymore. You need him so bad.

Your body was nearly shaking from the buzz of anticipation coursing through your veins, aching to have his hands and mouth all over you.

He finally hooks his fingers into the side of your panties, tapping your hips twice to silently instruct you to lift them. You comply once more, and Joel drags the lace material down your legs.

He comes back up to you, kissing your lips once before settling his face between your legs again.

You feel so exposed and almost embarrassed, but the carnal need for this man outweighs the shyness a thousand times over.

“So perfect, baby. So goddamn perfect. ‘N all mine.” He says, looking up at you before separating your glistening folds with his middle and forefinger. You gasp and whine his name as he just stares at you, mesmerized by the way you squirm under his touch.

You try to beg and plead him to do anything, but the words won’t come out.

He seems to have decided he’s teased you enough, because the next thing you know, his tongue licks a long stripe up from your entrance, through your folds, and up to your clit. Your moans only spur him on as he solely focuses on you, eating your pussy like a starved man.

Nobody has ever turned you on the way Joel Miller has, and you cannot for the life of you believe this man is yours. He’s yours, and he’s here, very present and very meticulous when it comes to pleasing you with that beautiful mouth of his.

Joel moves his tongue down and prods into your entrance, fucking you with the muscle. Your back arches off of the mattress and he has to use both of his hands to hold your hips down, locking his fingers down into your flesh.

“Fuck, Joel—” You squeak out as his tongue moves up to your clit, circling it a few times before sucking it into his mouth gently. The pressure is just right, and your brain is getting fuzzy—you knew you weren’t going to last much longer.

Joel takes one of his hands away from your stomach before separating his mouth from you, coating his digits in your slick. He sends a wicked smirk your way before going down again, and this time, his middle and ring finger enter you.

It stings so good, mainly because you haven’t had this in a long time. He pumps his fingers in and out of you at an expert pace, curling them up to hit that sweet spongy spot.

You immediately crumble. Your hips are writhing wildly beneath his half-soaked face as you cry out his name over and over again. You’re gushing all over his fingers, desperately gripping onto the soft comforter beneath you as you ride out your intense orgasm.

“Atta girl,” Joel breathes, mesmerized by the way you clench around nothing after he removes his fingers from you. “Taste so fuckin’ good, darlin’.”

He moves up to kiss you, and you can immediately taste your slick arousal on his lips and tongue. You hum into the kiss as you palm him through his boxers, tugging on the band as you separate from him. He knocks his forehead against yours gently before sliding the material down his legs, now completely bare for you.

His hand moves to the clasp of your bra and unhooks it easily, breasts spilling out as he tosses the material on the floor with the rest of the clothes.

He looks down at you with a soft smile, and you can’t help but mirror his actions. It’s pure bliss and you selfishly never want this to end. His hand travels down your body and in between your legs, swirling the tip of his middle finger through your arousal. You gasp at the featherlight touch, clenching around nothing as he never breaks eye contact with you.

You decide to return the favor, licking your hand before skimming your fingers over his torso before looking down to see them slide through the dark hairs that appear below his navel. You take in the sight of his cock; it’s girthy and the perfect length. You just know it’ll feel divine. You thumb the pre-come leaking from his tip, popping your finger into your mouth.

You moan at the slightly salty taste, moving your hand back down to finally grip him with care. He feels heavy in your palm, warm and pulsating and fucking desperate for you to start rythmically moving your hand. You twist your wrist and start to pump him, and a guttural groan rumbles from the confines of his chest.

“Fuck, baby—yeah, just like that. So good.” He groans softly, brows furrowing as he leans down to kiss you.

And you spend the next few minutes like that—making out with Joel while he teases your swollen clit, fingers briefly delving into your entrance before moving back out, and your hand slowly twisting up and down his silky flesh.

Something about this was so sweet to you, albeit the act being promiscuous. You were taking your time with each other, savoring every moment you have now. God knows when you’ll be able to do this in peace again once you get back to Austin.

Joel’s body tenses for a second before he pushes your hand away, chuckling in defeat.

“Don’t wanna come yet, sweetheart.”

You nod in understanding and he slips his fingers away from your dripping heat, bringing them up to your mouth. You eagerly suck on his fingers, staring up at him in a way to say I want you. I’m ready to have you—if you’ll have me.

Joel climbs on top of you once more, kissing your forehead. He nudges his nose against yours before looking at you again.

“Wait, I didn’t bring any protection.” His shoulders deflate at the realization, and you can’t help but softly laugh.

“I have an IUD, Joel. Only if you’re comfortable with going through with this, I’m right there with you.” You reassure him.

He looks concerned for a second, hesitating as if his mind is running a million miles a minute.

“You sure about this, baby?” He asks, cupping your cheek in his hand before kissing your nose. You nod with no hesitation.

“Absolutely sure, Joel. I’m yours.” You whisper, and he can’t help the grin that spreads across his face before he leans down to kiss you. He swipes the head of his cock through your folds, stopping at your entrance.

He separates his lips from yours once more, “Tell me to stop if it’s too much, okay?” He says, and you nod. He hums in content, pushing himself into you slowly.

You gasp at the stinging feeling, fingertips digging into the back of his shoulders.

“There you go baby, that's it. Doin’ so well, pretty girl.” He praises, kissing your lips repeatedly as he reaches the hilt.

The feeling is cosmic. The stretch is absolutely delicious. You whisper his name to him, threading your fingers through his hair once more in desperation as your meek voice finally found its way aloud.

“Move, Joel. Please.”

And he does. He starts off slow, rocking his hips into yours. The slide of his velvety length in and out of you is otherworldly.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he held onto the back of your neck, picking up his pace. He leans down to capture one of your breasts in his mouth, swirling his tongue expertly around your pert nipple as he continues rocking his hips into yours.

Your moans are increasingly louder, not exactly giving a fuck who can hear you anymore. Your mind was solely consumed about the man ravishing your body in such a way that had you seeing stars.

The weight of his body on yours, his soft groans, the heavy feeling of his cock, his scent, his curls—everything about him was all-consuming, and you loved it.

“So pretty, baby. Feel so fuckin’ good. All mine.” Joel babbles, dropping his forehead onto your shoulder. You try to grind your hips in sync with his expert thrusts, creating an almost unbearably pleasurable friction.

Your hands fly to his back and you scratch down his skin, head flying back onto the pillows as you arch your back into him.

“Joel, fuck, I’m so close.” You cry, eyes squeezing shut as the familiar flame burns bright within your core.

“Me too, baby, fuck—where–where do you want me?” He asks, chest heaving as his thrusts become impossibly faster.

“In me, Joel. Please.” Your plea is breathy and desperate, and you feel yourself teetering over the edge, devastating euphoria ripping through your body as your cunt convulses around his cock.

You bury your face into his shoulder, crying out his name.

“Fuck, sweet girl, I—”

His spend is warm as he comes, buried in you as he groans your name breathlessly. He slumps down onto you, wrapping his arm around your waist as he rolls over on his side, taking you with him. He slips out of you slowly and you both groan at the loss of contact.

You nuzzle into him as he kisses your forehead repeatedly, running his hand up and down your spine as you both come down from the high.

“Fuck, that was—” You pause, and Joel chuckles.

“Yeah, it really was.” He agrees, tipping your jaw up so he can kiss you chastely.

Your eyes were heavy now, tracing his hairline down to his jaw and to his lips. He kisses your fingers as exhaustion consumes you both. He throws the comforter over your bodies and he gives you one last kiss.

“Goodnight, sweet girl,” And if you weren’t in such a comatose-like state, you would’ve heard him softly whisper the words “I love you.”

And if you would’ve heard those words, you would’ve said them right back. It might’ve scared the hell out of you, but you could no longer deny the fact—

You were, in fact, in love with Joel Miller, too.

taglist: @ilovepedro ; @nostalxgic ; @endlessthxxghts ; @punkshort ; @pamasaur ; @clawdee ; @pascalpvnk ; @bensonispunk ; @merz-8 ; @darkblue-tennesseee ; @typewriter83 ; @lizzie-cakes ; @sawymredfox ; @keylimebeag ; @nandan11 ; @pedropascalsbbg ; @pimosworld ; @yxtkiwiyxt ; @anoverwhelmingdin ; @kikaaauu ; @buckyispunk ; @untamedheart81 ; @picketniffler ; @fluffygoffpanda ; @paleidiot ; @survivingandenduring ; @party-hearses

divider by @saradika-graphics

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfic #pedro pascal imagines #firefighter!joel #fic: a burning desire #tlou au #joel miller au #joel miller fluff #joel miller x you

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deantfwinchester · 1 year ago

Text

Late Nights

Pairing: No-Outbreak!AU, back on my Joel x Teacher!Reader shit (though her work hardly plays a role in this), established relationship

Summary: Getting home late is an unfortunately common occurrence in Joel’s line of work. When you both have busy days, it can be hard to find time to share, but you make do.

Warnings: extreme fluff, just utterly fucking saccharine at this point, is fluff without plot a tag?

——————

It’s Wednesday night. Joel’s night to cook dinner.

You get home earlier every day, no question. But since you like to take most every night during the summer months, he insisted on a 60/40 split during the school year. Sundays, Mondays and Wednesdays are his. You had Tuesdays and Thursdays. Friday & Saturday are mainly for pizza, take out, or date-nights.

When he’d grill on Sunday afternoons, you liked to try and help him with prep, but he’d just pour you a glass of wine or mix you a drink and try to usher you out of the kitchen. You’d always sit and talk with him while he worked anyway. Sarah too, when she wasn’t working on homework or out with friends. It’s one of his favorite parts of the week.

On the nights he’d come home late, though, he always worried about leaving you to it. He was meant to be home cooking for the three of you while you relaxed, tried to let the stress of the school day roll off your back. He loved giving you that time.

This particular night, when six o’clock rolled around and he realized he still had a good hour or more on the site, he knew he needed to let you know he wouldn’t be timely with his return. Didn’t want you to worry.

You’re on the couch, grading. By this time of night, Joel’s normally taken the work from your hands and pulled your attention toward anything else. Noticing the room darkening, you wonder where he is, just as your phone dings:

Wednesday, October 7, 6:03 PM:

Sorry baby, gonna be later than I hoped tonight. Y’all don’t wait on me, okay?

Supposed to be my night too, dammit. I apologize, sweetheart.

You’d told him till you were blue in the face he didn’t need to apologize to you when he was the one having to work until long after dark. It never took.

You responded quickly, knowing his phone would be back in his pocket and forgotten again soon when his attention turned again to the work and his team.

Wednesday, October 7, 6:04 PM: (Outgoing)

Dont worry about it, sweetie. i promise i can handle dinner, just don’t work too hard and get home when you can ❤️

And take a break and drink some water, will ya? if that bottle ain’t empty yet, you haven’t had enough! see you soon, love.

He’d be dead on his feet when he walked through the door, that much you knew. And he’d have no business rifling around in the kitchen for something random he’d throw together, not substantial enough by far for a day of working like he’d been. You hopped up and started to the kitchen, determined to make a hearty meal for you and Sarah to share now, and to ensure Joel had a real meal when he finally made it home for the night.

————

A couple of hours had passed by the time Joel finally walked through the door. You’re back on the couch, this time reading a book while the lights from the tv danced softly in the dimly lit room, with a bare haze of sound playing at low volume.

It was nearly 8:30 when you heard the key turning in the door. Sarah had retired to her room for the night after dinner. She’d tried to help you clean the dishes, but you’d ushered her off to relax after spending most of the afternoon doing homework.

Joel trudges wearily through the door, shoulders slouched and eyes heavy-lidded when he thinks you can’t see him. The second he lays eyes on you, though, his posture straightens and his expression brightens, eyes opening a bit more as he lifts into a smile. Your expression mirrors his, and you sit up, closing your book and rising to meet him halfway. You practically speak over each other in greeting:

“Hi darlin’, how was your day?” he says.

“Hey honey, how’d it go today?” you ask.

You laugh a bit when you realize you’re asking the same question on top of each other, and he pulls you close, arms resting heavily around your waist. You drape yours around his neck as he leans down to kiss you. When you pull away to look at his face, you see past the tired smile he wears to the exhaustion etched in his face, settled in his drooping eyes.

You move one hand up, fiddling gently with the strands of hair at the back of his head. You smile and put light pressure on the base of his neck with your other hand, moving his head down to rest on your shoulder. He catches on instantly, and settles comfortably where you direct him. He nuzzles into the nape of your neck and you feel his eyes close against your collarbone, his warm fatigued breaths rhythmically grazing your chest.

You continue playing with his hair with one hand, while the other remains resting on the back of his neck. You turn your head to place a soft kiss to his temple and, after a moment of restful silence, quietly speak:

“You’re tired, huh? I missed you today.”

“Missed you too, baby,” he murmurs against your neck, tightening his grip around your waist, and snuggling closer.

“You gotta be hungry. Got a plate waitin’ for ya in the fridge. Want me to warm it up?” you ask him, moving your hand down his neck to rub gently against his back. He breathes deeply in contentment at your comforting touch.

“No, I’m never leaving this spot. I live here now,” he says, and you feel the rumble of his voice against your chest. You chuckle lightly and speed up your ministrations, applying a bit more pressure as you discover the tightness of the muscles in his back.

“Mhm. And when was the last time you ate? Or drank anything for that matter?” you ask knowingly.

“Uhhhh, i guess it was, arou-“ he cuts himself off with a yawn, “around lunch time? Maybe one? Did finish that bottle like you asked, though,” and he smacks his lips lazily, somehow nuzzling further into your shoulder.

“Good, thank you. But lunch was seven hours ago now, so you need to eat something. Wanna start there? Or shower first?” you ask, chuckling a bit.

He raises his head a bit and squints at you, frowning playfully. “You sayin’ I smell, darlin’?” he mumbles, laughing into your shoulder.

You giggle in response before elaborating: “I’m saying you’re sweaty and would feel better if you rinsed the day off before crawling into bed.”

He sighs and rasps into your neck, “you changed the sheets didn’t you?” you feel a smile form against your chest.

“Sure did. So it’s food, shower, and bedtime. You can pick the order. Which first? Want me to grab your dinner?” you ask.

He sighs deeper this time, “What’s that thing about objects in motion and objects at rest or somethin’? Gonna keep doing whatever they already got goin’ on?”

You rumble a little laugh in return before responding. “I see. C’mon Newton, let’s keep ya moving. Go hop in the shower while I get your dinner ready.” You say, patting his cheek as he raises his head with a little groan.

You catch his eyes with your own and let your hand rest on his cheek. You move a thumb beneath his chin and pull him to you, giving him one last peck before ushering him down the hall. You pull his plate from the fridge and get to work on reheating his meal.

——————

He emerges less than ten minutes later smelling fresh and dressed in a clean t-shirt and a pair of plaid pajama pants, padding into the kitchen just as you’re filling a glass of water to place next to his warmed plate. He rubs a fist into one eye, yawning again, and plops into a chair at the kitchen table.

You approach behind him, placing the glass on the table with one hand and rubbing his shoulder with the other. He lifts a hand to grab yours and squeeze as he takes a sip. His eyes reach up to meet your own.

“Thank you. You didn’t have to do this, sweetheart. It was my night anyway, and now you’ve cooked and even put the damn plate in front of me,” he huffs.

“You don’t need to thank me, love” you respond, leaning down to kiss him again before taking the seat next to him with the glass of wine you’d poured to sip while you sat with him. You reach for his left hand where it rests on the table, and gently squeeze. He wraps his fingers around yours before you can retreat. Your fingers remain intertwined for the duration of the meal.

The two of you discussed the highlights of your respective days - roses and thorns, both too sleepy to bother with buds. When Joel finishes, you grab his plate to wash, but he takes it from you.

“No way are you washing my dishes too, honey. You’ve done enough already tonight,” he tries to insist. You’re not having it.

“Will you just let me take care of you, dummy? You’re bone tired, I can see it in those beautiful brown eyes. Here. How about this?” you rinse the plate and utensils, shove them quickly in the dishwasher, close it emphatically, and raise your empty hands.

He rolls his eyes, but relents with an exasperated sigh. “Whatever you say, darlin’,” he responds smiling, a bit bashful from the care and compliment.

“Good. Now c’mon, bedtime.” you say, taking his hand in yours once again and leading him to the bedroom.

“Whatever you want, baby” he grins, raising his eyebrows suggestively. You can’t help bellow a hearty laugh at that one.

“Jesus, like you could keep your eyes open, Miller,” you respond, as you pull the covers back and lead him onto the bed next to you. You settle back against the headboard and open your arms up, beckoning him into your lap. He shuffles closer and leans into your embrace.

“It was-“ he pauses, only to finish through a yawn “- worth a shot.” You chuckle quietly as he rests his head in your lap, eyes instantly slipping closed.

You turn on the tv, keeping the volume low. It’s only a little after 9, so still early for you to fall asleep. You would read, but you’d rather turn off the light, hoping the dimness in the room helps him get some good rest.

You lay one hand on his back and the other in his hair, both softly rubbing in comforting circles, and you feel him melt further into you. A familiar warmth fills your chest at the sight of him there, resting peacefully in your lap. You lean down and press one last kiss to his head before whispering to him.

“Good night, sweetheart.”

“G’night, darlin’” he rumbles, muffled into your lap. You smile, one hand still on his back as the other reaches up, flicking off the lamp, before returning it to his hair. Your fingers gently massage his scalp, and within minutes, you hear his soft snores.

#call the fucking dentist bby #ur gonna get cavities fr #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fluff #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel tlou #joel the last of us #joel x reader #tlou fanfiction #tlou hbo

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visionsofyouandme · 16 days ago

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Alleviate

𝚜𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚜: Joel comes home from work, stressed after a long day. You offer some relief.

𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 2.6k

𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: No Outbreak!AU. Joel Miller x afab!reader. Domesticity. Joel is stressed and therefore a little needy. Swearing. Age gap or not (you decide!). Reader has hair that can be pulled. SMUT (18+ MNDI). Dry humping. Sub!Joel. Oral (m!receiving). Unprotected p in v. Creampie. Not proofread (oops).

𝙰/𝙽: Here's a little something for this Sunday. Delays for Heartlines and cowboy!Joel are imminent- got some personal stuff going on. But, I'm going to do my best to get them up and running here soon! Hope you enjoy this lil one shot of helpin' our man Joel out... Enjoy!

Joel slammed the car door and sighed heavily, rubbing a hand over his face as he walked up the steps to home.

Well, your home.

He had gone to his own, yes, to shower and clean up. But, he felt a longing that had been in him since yesterday, and it had finally materialized once the day had faded to night.

Joel had been seeing you for quite some time now. Tommy had told Joel that he was inviting a “pretty young woman” to the Super Bowl party last year. Ever since, he’s had a hard time driving you from his mind.

It had started off innocent enough- he would help with things that constantly seemed to break- the air conditioner, the washer and dryer, other appliances. He had come around enough that he stayed for a drink or two afterwards. And then he would stay the night.

Then one night after far too many drinks for either of your preferences, you kissed him.

Ever since, it’s never been the same.

So, he found himself dragging himself to your house despite a long day. Not everyday, of course, as you weren’t his wife or anything- but enough that you stopped being surprised when he showed up. And eventually gave him a key to let himself in.

He took said key and did just that- opening your door and pushing inside, hand splayed against the door. He took a few careful steps in, seeing as it was late at night and he didn’t want to wake you. He would probably crawl into bed with you after raiding your kitchen, and call it a night.

When he rounded to the kitchen, he stopped. You stood by the stove, wearing nothing but underwear and one of his buttoned flannels, holding a spatula. You turned to him, and he saw a surprised expression flash across your face that quickly changed to happiness.

“Evening.” You said, and he nodded, his eyes still lingering on your bare legs. He walked to the kitchen table not too far away, and pulled a chair out, sitting down. You took off the food from the burner, having finished cooking the eggs at just the right time.

“Rough day?” You questioned when he said nothing, and looked back at him. His eyes finally flicked back to your own, and he shrugged. Smirking, you walk over to him. Pushing your hands through his graying hair, you tilt his head up to meet your gaze.

“You know, if you can’t tell me what's wrong, I can’t help.” You chided him, and he breathed softly, leaning his head down and into your midsection. Your eyebrows knitted, but you pressed a hand to his hair, the other hand on his shoulder.

“‘M just tired. Fuckin’ customers and their shit. Y’know?” He said, his voice a mumble, but you caught it anyway. You nodded, looking down and pressed a kiss to his hair.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered. He lifted his head, his brown eyes normally hard were now soft, the line between his eyebrows gone.

“Tell me about your day.” He said, his hand moving to touch your thigh, wrapping around the back of it gently. If Joel was anything, he was a gentle lover. He liked being in control, but respected your boundaries, and only went as hard as you instructed. You were the deciding factor on how hard or soft it would be, and you liked it that way.

So, you took the moment and slid into his lap, straddling his hips. Your toes brushed the ground, and you raised your eyebrows.

“Well, it’s Saturday. Woke up, watered the plants, took a shower…” you recounted, and began to run your hands through his hair, and he closed his eyes, leaning his head back slightly. You grin as you could see the hard exterior melt away even more, and you massaged his scalp gently. His hands found their way to your waist, where he held you with increasing pressure as you touched him.

“… made lunch, read some of my book. Caught up on a few episodes of…” you continued, your voice soft and even. You tested something as you ran your hands through his hair, and tugged on his locks.

He didn’t speak, but he did stiffen, and his head moved straight as he looked down at you. You regarded him with an even expression, but secretly wondered if he wasn’t in the mood tonight.

His grip on your waist loosened, and he leaned back in his seat. You feigned a resigned look, but he then pulled you close to his chest rather abruptly. He pressed his hand to the small of your back, and you could feel his cock press through the fabric of his jeans. You let out a soft sigh, and began to move your hips just slightly against his.

Your panties offered little barrier between your core and the seam of his jeans. And that thrilled you.

“Jesus,” he muttered, your name coming shortly after. You couldn’t help but smirk, your hands finding his hair again and you continued to move your hips into his. His breath came out in a hiss, and he held fast to your waist, bringing you down more onto his clothed member.

“You alright?” You questioned, though it comes out like a taunt. He looked down at you, and you saw a darkness within them that you had seen on a handful of occasions. You tilted your head to the side as if to ask the question again, and he took your chin in his hand with a bit of force.

“More than alright.” He said, his voice low. He then pulled you towards him and kissed you with fervor. So much so that you began to lean back from the pressure, but he caught you by wrapping his arm around your waist. He began to lift his hips against yours, and you let out a soft whine.

“God-“ you began, but he kept his lips locked with yours, and it quite literally took your breath away. He licked at your bottom lip, asking for entrance. When you didn’t respond to his liking, he slid his tongue between your lips anyway.

Your hands rested on the nape of his neck, hands threading through whatever hair you could find there. You felt a hand wander from your waist, down to your ass, and he gave it a firm squeeze, eliciting a gasp from your lips.

He continued to buck his hips up to yours, and you swore you could feel a wetness pooling between your legs. You weren’t sure if it was from you or Joel’s precum.

“Sweetheart,” he panted against your lips, pulling away to look at you with lust blown eyes. “I’m gonna need you. Now.”

You were floored. He never really was this… forward. Normally he gave some subtle hints, or let you take the lead on things. But this time? It was very, very apparent that he was not playing patient tonight.

“But, the food-”

His face told you, “fuck the food.”

So, you could only nod, trying to hide the light smile as he picked you up by your waist. You wrapped your legs around him securely, beginning to pepper kisses on his neck.. Joel’s hand tightened around your waist, the other hand moving to your thigh.

He walked into your bedroom and pretty much threw you onto the bed. You bounced lightly, and looked up at him as he began to undo the buttons of the flannel you wore. You watched him in amusement for second, until his face turned pained, desperate. You put your hands over his, and his eyes moved up to yours. You raised your eyebrows,

“Let me take care of you,” you said quietly, and he shook his head minutely, and your grip tightened. You raised your eyebrows, daring him to try to turn you away again. His hands eventually fell from the buttons and you stood up, putting your hands on his waist and turning him around, pushing him to sit on the bed. He watched you with half-lidded eyes, and you could see his shoulders drop just a bit. You ran your hands down his chest gently, and then slowly sunk to his knees. His hands immediately flew to the edges of the bed, gripping it tightly. You made slow work of opening his belt buckle, then sliding the zipper down. You could feel how hard he already was under your hands, and when you pulled him from the confines of his jeans, it stood at attention eagerly.

You glanced up at him, and took him in hand, giving him a few pumps of preparation. He sucked in a breath, and you wiggled an eyebrow up at him.

“You’re supposed to be relaxing. Lay back.” you said, and he shook his head,

“No. Wanna see you-” he said, but it contorted into a groan as you swiped your tongue over his tip, then up and down the shaft. He shuddered, and you gave another experimental lick over his head, lapping up the precum.

“Suit yourself.” you said with a teasing grin before taking him into your mouth. You took him bit by bit, hearing him breathe above you, going from pained to pleasured. You took him down to the base, his coarse hairs almost rubbing your nose. You began to move your head up and down, allowing the saliva to coat his cock, making it easier to suck.

“Jesus. Fuck-” he began, and you groped for his hand and placed it overtop of your head, urging him to hold you. He took the command, and threaded his fingers through your hair gently, but it tightened at a particular harsh suck, your cheeks hollowing out.

There we go.

You could hear him trying to hold back the groans, the soft pants that began to come from his lips. But, you alternated between sucking and licking, enjoying your time with him, drawing it out. You could feel him tensing beneath you, cock pulsing, and how he was struggling to hold back. His hand on your hair gripped tighter, and he then pulled you off of him with a force you never expected of him. You looked up at him, gasping for breath out of shock and exertion, and he pulled you to your feet.

“Please- Please, let me-” he began, and you bent down to kiss him hotly, and he lapped up the salty taste of his precum from your lips and mouth. You did your best to rid yourself of your underwear, breaking away to slide them down your legs as Joel lifted his hips to rid himself of his jeans and boxers.

You looked at him, and could see the most pitiful expression on his face. Submissive, begging, pleading. He had been like this before, but never this extreme. You somewhat liked it, having this much control over his pleasure.

But, you couldn’t deny him. Not when he looked at you like that.

He was about to move you to the bed when you took his shoulders and climbed into his lap for the second time that evening. You took his cock in hand, and positioned it underneath your weeping pussy. You could hear him sputter, give some kind of protest, but when you sunk onto his cock with ease, that shut him up pretty quick.

“I’m supposed to take care of you, remember?” you whispered, taking his face in your hands, only to see his eyes screwed shut tightly. He gave the slightest nod, and you let him adjust to the newfound sensation of the warmth and silkiness of your insides gripping him.

He said your name softly, barely a full breath, and you began to move your hips. His hand flew to your lower back, and brought you closer to him. He leaned his forehead on your shoulder, bucking his hips into yours as you took over most of the work. You swayed your hips back and forth, up and down, the wet squelching sounds filling the room. But, Joel’s groans and soft curses seemed to drown it out.

“So… fucking… good…” he groaned, and you kissed at his temple gently, a hand on his shoulder for more leverage as the other held onto his hair. He nosed his way down the flannel to the open portion of it, pushing it out of the way to begin to lap at your breast. When he took a nipple in his mouth, you gasped, your grip tightening in his hair. He groaned in response to the subtle movement of praise.

You began to move with a little more force, feeling your own peak come on. You weren’t hellbent on coming, wanting to take care of Joel first. But, his hand pressed at your lower back, then grabbed your ass roughly, his hips meeting yours with deeper thrusts.

“Come on, sweetheart, let me feel you,” he panted, and lifted his head to look at you. Eyes blown, lips swollen, hair disheveled, he looked like an image of lust.

And he was all yours.

The hairs of his base touched your clit just so, and you came down with a particularly hard movement, then another, then a third. He kissed at your neck, and you gave your first whimper of the evening as he began to suck lightly, knowing that it drove you insane.

You clenched around him, seeing stars, and exhaled a breath so deeply that you didn’t know you were holding. You felt him shudder underneath you, and he began to lift you off of him, knowing he was aching to come, but you held fast.

“In-Inside, inside, Joel,” you panted, sounding exactly like the desperate command you intended. You heard him curse a string of “fucks” softly, and then a groan that shook his chest as he came, his spend pumping into you in quick, long bursts. You continued your best to keep up the movement to prolong it, but your thighs were burning, and you were still reeling from your own orgasm.

He eventually still, his head pressed to your chest, his breathing trying to even out. You knew your heart was beating fast, and sweat collected on your brow. But, you just wanted to stay like this, wrapped up in his embrace, knowing you helped him in the best way you could.

When he lifted his head, you tilted his head up to you, and you smiled gently.

“Feel better?” you said, and he smiled just the slightest. He was still reeling from his high, so you gave him the benefit of the doubt and pressed a kiss to his lips. He gathered his bearings and kissed you back, and you slid off of his softening cock, both of you hissing at the loss of contact. You rose on shaky legs, his spend dripping down your inner thighs. You began to turn to the bathroom, and he pulled you towards him again. He took your cheek in his palm and brought you down to kiss you deeply, your breath swept away in his mouth.

You pulled away, looking down at him and ran a hand through his hair, ruffling it gently with a teasing smile.

“Yeah, I think you’ll make it through another day, Mr. Miller.” you giggled, and he stood up, pulling his shirt over his head before undoing the last couple of buttons on the flannel, backing you up to the bathroom.

“All thanks to you,” he said, and you shrugged with a prideful smile.

“I try my best,” you said, pausing at the threshold and leaned up to kiss his lips. You pulled away just a bit, and tilted your head up to meet his eyes, wrapping your arms around his middle. “Do you wanna join me-?”

“Way ahead of you, sweetheart.”

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miler fanfiction #joel miller x ofc #visionsfics #joel miller one shot #joel miller smut

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docterzerocare · 1 month ago

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So ive been cooking up an epic the musical/life series au in my head for a bit and i want to share some of the thoughts - warning for epic spoilers n such

It started with imagining joel as odysseus (and naturally lizzie as penelope) and then i got the idea of him almost traveling through the different seasons of the life series but theyre all melting and blending together, and mayhaps the winners all have key rolls (i havent figured all of them out yet)

Going of this, grian is eurylochus and jimmy is polites - some bad boys crumbs but also polites death being jims canary curse (before it was broken) and eurylochus' mutiny could be visualized in a certain cactus ring

Another point for eury grian is i have scar as circe (charisma 100 fr) and hes the only one who didnt get lured (i hear a faint scar put your clothes back on in the distance)

More on scar, i picture circes island as a mix of magic mountain (with joel and scars connection with it), trader scars (being the front circe pulls to lure the crew in and adds to the winners being key characters with motifs of their season), and the jellie panda reserve (either as the nymphs he has to protect or turns men into pandas or maybe a mix of both) - i imagine in joel and scars confrontation here they look like the wizards (even tho they started as bad boy joel and secret life scar)

Next i matched up athena with gem because of the 2 fast 2 furious alliance and also yknow geminislay, listen i just had a vision of joel at his wits end stuck on calypsos island calling out to gem ok

I dont really have the other winners matched up concretely but i have seen someone pair scott with posideon which is funny and also works with his connection to water (and joels vendetta against him lmao) and i can see a connection with the vibes of posideon wanting revenge for his son and widow scott but idk still, posideon could also be martyn cause it thematically matches with the season he won in? - I also have pearl as potentially scylla, if nothing else because the visuals would slap, ive also thought about her as ares cause the parallels of gem being a more calculated warrior and (5am) pearl being more chaos and emotion also slaps

Speaking of ares i also had a really funny idea of tango being ares and skizz being aphrodite, mixing the heart foundation with tangos iconic rage (i probably wont go this route but lol imagine) - ive also pictured impulse as hephestus because of the line "trust is not given its forged" just gives me all the impulse (and that goddamn clock) thoughts frfr

Anyway this is getting long so ill leave it here, id love to here yalls thoughts and match ups btw

#life series #life series au #joel smallishbeans #grian #goodtimeswithscar #im not tagging everyone lol #i think those 3 have the biggest mentions

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atinylittlepain · 2 years ago

Note

I am obsessed with the Dad!Joel Unexpected universe, please continue writing, it’s so good. Maybe a first word fic 🥹 and first steps! Love it all!

anonnnnnnn, first of all, i am SO sorry for how long it has taken me to answer this request. i swear, this sweet little blurb has been sitting in my docs for like two weeks and it just hasn't felt like the right time for it. but it's a thursday night and i think we could all use some dad!joel in our lives :)

High Expectations

dad!joel miller x f!reader

joel miller masterlist

Baby miller has yet to say her first word, and Joel and Ellie are still fighting over their bet. Who's gonna win?

warnings | 18+ uh, literally none, luv. this is pure grade-A fluff

a/n | this bad boy belongs to the Unexpected Expectings AU and I highly recommend giving those pieces a read too

.......................................

“She say anything today?” “Ellie.”

“What? I gotta stay in the know. The stakes are kinda high here.” She shakes her head at the girl, turning back to Maria to take a squirming Libby off her hands. Maria chuckles.

“Sorry, kid. No words on my watch. Though she’s becoming quite the escape artist now that she’s walking.” She furrows her brow at that as she hoists Libby a bit further up her hip.

“She wasn’t any trouble, was she? I know she’s becoming harder to catch. Took off on Joel upstairs yesterday, he had to grab her before she tried to go down the stairs on her own.” Ellie snorts, making faces at Libby over her shoulder while Maria shakes her head.

“No, she’s never any trouble, you know that. Though she’s certainly a pistol, gotta wonder where she gets it from.” They share a knowing smile before saying goodbye, her and Ellie trudging through the snow back across the way to their own house, Libby tucked into her side.

Maria has been a godsend since she started picking up patrol shifts again, something Joel balked at initially. It was only a few days a week and she had been insistent that she needed to start getting out of the house again after their girl’s first birthday two months ago. Maria had willingly fit her own schedule around hers, watching Libby while she was on shift, and in turn, she had been watching her boy while Maria was working.

When they get home, Ellie helps unbutton Libby from her makeshift winter coat that their neighbor had stitched together from an old snowsuit, continuously murmuring as she works.

“Libs, you gotta help me out here. There’s a record player on the line, for crying out loud. Tell you what, if you say my name first, I’ll let you listen to records whenever you want.” She fixes Ellie with an unamused look as she takes Libby from her.

“That’s generous of you, kid, considering you and Joel have turned her into a gambling chip.” Ellie just shrugs.

“It’s not gambling if I know I’m gonna win. No way Libs says Joel’s name first. I’ve been training her.”

“Well, that’s cheating if I ever heard it.” They both turn around to see Joel standing in the doorway to the kitchen with his hands on his hips. He clearly just got home from his own shift, jacket still on, snow melting in his silvery hair. She shuffles over to him with a scoff and he immediately dips to press kisses to their girl’s cheeks.

“Joel, you’re one to talk. I’ve heard you up in the nursery a few times now, trying to get Libby to say your–” he cuts her off with a hard, smacking kiss that Ellie dramatically gags at before breezing past them both into the kitchen.

“I’m starving. What’s for dinner?” She shares a look with Joel at Ellie’s question, and they nearly answer simultaneously.

“Leftovers.”

…

Before the end of the world, she barely knew how to cook. She was a college student, for christ’s sake, and the closest she got to cooking was nuking instant oatmeal in the microwave in her dorm. Then, all those years in the QZ and on the road, it had just been about getting in whatever calories she could scrounge together. Things are different now in Jackson, and she’s had to learn fast how to get food on the table. Joel is helpful, but often hopeless, and Ellie would eat expired beefaroni for breakfast, lunch, and dinner if left to her own devices. Winter, like right now, is easy. She’ll just throw a bunch of vegetables and meat into a pot until something resembling soup comes together, enough to feed all of them for the week along with a loaf or two of bread she trades for with one of their neighbors.

It’s just such a meal that they sit down to tonight, all of them tearing off hunks of bread to soak up broth and fill their stomachs as they murmur about their days. Baby food has been a whole other ball game, but she’s gotten the hang of it, currently spooning mashed carrots and applesauce into her girl’s mouth as Joel and Ellie continue to gripe about their bet.

“Kid, what do you even want the record player for? Last I checked, you don’t have any records.” Ellie huffs, speaking around a mouthful of bread.

“That’s not true! I’ve been looking for them on patrol and have a little stash going too. You just won’t acknowledge it ‘cause it’s not that country shit you like.” Joel grumbles.

“Language. And my taste in music is just fine. I don’t need any of that crappy pop jangling you like.”

“Uh, it’s not pop. The album sleeves say it’s alternative.” Joel huffs at that, mumbling a “lord help me” under his breath as they continue bickering. She, however, is trying to listen to Libby’s babbling through the nonstop din of their squabbling, because she swears that she hears something that will settle this damn bet, once and for all.

“Will you two shut up for a minute?” Her sudden outburst sends Joel and Ellie into a stuttering stop, Libby continuing to babble. She grins when, sure enough, her girl says exactly what she thought she heard.

“M-mama– mama.” She swears both Joel’s and Ellie’s jaws drop on the ground while she laughs, picking Libby up out of her highchair and smattering kisses on her cheeks. Her girl dissolving into giggles in her lap, she finally fixes Joel and Ellie with the smuggest look she can work up.

“Does this mean I get the record player?”

#joel miller fluff #joel miller au #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller blurb #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #tlou fanfiction #tlou #the last of us

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softstarlite · 1 year ago

Text

Here are some fics that I really love!! <3

(I add more when I remember others or read new ones)

I also invite you to check my masterlist and read my stuff <3

Divider by @saradika-graphics and banner by me

Narcos

Javier Peña

Learning to live by @wheresarizona (series)

Javier Peña x f!reader

The crush by @the-ginger-hedge-witch (series)

Javier Peña x OFC!Isabel

Deja vú by @ilovepedro (series)

Javier Peña x f!reader

Old habits die hard by @liltangerineart (series)

Javier Peña x latina f!reader

Take the weight off his shoulders by @thetriumphantpanda (series)

dbf!Javier Peña x f!reader

Late night texts by @undercoverpena (series)

Javier Peña x f!reader

Jealous of your love by @chloeangelic (one-shot)

Javier Peña x f!reader

Anytime by @undercoverpena (one-shot)

Javier Peña x f!reader

The Bubble

Dieter Bravo

Sweet Creature by @wildemaven (series)

Dieter Bravo x f!reader

I'll never fall in love again by @oonajaeadira (series)

Dieter Bravo x f!reader

Cherry by @sp00kymulderr (series)

Dieter Bravo x f!reader x f!OC

Triple Frontier

Benny Miller

Wild Love by @wildemaven (series)

Benny Miller x single mom!reader

Frankie Morales

Learning curves by @ezrasbirdie (series)

Frankie Morales x plus size f!reader

Hate me by @theewokingdead (one shot)

Frankie Morales x f!reader

Breaking free by @theewokingdead (one-shot)

Frankie Morales x plus size f!reader

Hungry by @criticallyacclaimedstranger (one-shot)

Frankie Morales x reader

Catalyst by @ezrasbirdie (series)

Frankie Morales x f!reader x Joel Miller

The book of love by @undercoverpena

Frankie Morales x f!reader (Bookshop AU)

Santiago Garcia

If you wanna be wild by @romanarose (series)

Santi Garcia x f!reader x Javier Peña

All triple frontier boys

Awakening by @romanarose (series) triple

Frontier boys x f!reader

The Last of Us

Joel Miller

To the rescue by @romanarose (one-shot)

Pre-Outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader

Love me back by @chloeangelic (series)

Joel Miller x f!reader

Rendezvous by @chloeangelic (series)

dbf!Joel Miller x f!reader

Belong to me by @chloeangelic (series)

Line cook!Joel Miller x waitress reader

Reflection of the moon by @chloeangelic (series)

Joel Miller x f!reader

(I just really love how Chloe writes Joel)

I know it when I see it by @bageldaddy (series)

pornstar!joel miller x f!reader

Lacy by @toxic-seduction (one-shot)

Joel Miller x f!reader

I wanna show you off by @joelscurls (one-shot)

Joel Miller x f!reader

Breakout by @the-ginger-hedge-witch (series)

Boxer!Joel Miller x f!reader

Strawberry wine by @pedrito-friskito (series)

Joel Miller x f!OC

Your summer dream by @swiftispunk (series)

dbf!Joel Miller x f!reader

Dog Days by @pimosworld

Tommy Miller

Joel Miller x f!reader

Sweet Child O'Mine by @bageldaddy (series)

Joel Miller x f!reader

Wrong place, right time by @proxima-writes (one-shot)

Tommy Miller x waitressf!reader

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chloeangelic · 1 year ago

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New line cook Joel tomorrow???

if one person dares me to do it ill post ch 4

#line cook joel au

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gobaaby-blog-blog · 1 year ago

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Smut that lives in my head - rent free. (Can someone teach me how to add unlimited links?)

(updated 10th Feb 2024)

The kitchen scene is haunting me. @atticrissfinch

I'm actually gonna use some lines in my real life 😁@javiscigarette

The premise? You want Joel to fuck a baby into you and he's read up about it to make sure it takes straight away? Hello, breeding kink. @chloeangelic

From the first scene, I was a goner. Fucking the hate out of each other is so hot. And the 3some scenes had me dreaming about it all night 🤣@lavendertales

The season two scenes, Jesus Christ, so hot. @swiftispunk

The cockpit scene after Doll tries to sacrifice herself again🥵😍 but also MASKED MAN? Hello. @justagalwhowrites

This is only series I re-read, and the greenhouse scene where reader and Tommy lock eyes, omg. @hier--soir

Curiosity, hate, being so similar, and the first kitchen scene 🥵@morning-star-joy

Idiots in love who waited 10 years to be together. Sugar's first time? Breeding kink? I'm in. @chiriwritesstuff

The bathroom scene when Joel comes back to her house 🥵 but basically any scene in this @chloeangelic

I think I see a pattern of office sex kink. CEO!Joel and commitment phobe PA.

https://macfrog.tumblr.com/post/724848521701982208/sex-on-fire-masterlist

#joel miller x reader #javi pena x reader #din djarin #pedrostories #fanfic

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joelalorian · 1 year ago

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Tides of Desire - Chapter Five: Red Sky in Morning

Pairing: Yacht Captain!Joel Miller x f!reader

Series Summary: TLOU no outbreak AU. Joel Miller is a luxury yacht captain running charters in the Caribbean. You join the crew as a deckhand and unexpectedly complicate Joel's peaceful existence. Basically the TLOU bunch on a Below Deck yacht.

Series warnings: 18+ MDNI, adventure, alcohol, injuries, fluff, angst, smut (eventual), slowish burn. Reader is a badass. Smallish age gap (reader is 32 or so, Joel is 40). Additional warnings will be posted with each chapter as needed. No use of y/n.

AN: Any knowledge I have about yachts comes solely from watching Below Deck. I have zero sea legs and could not possibly work on a yacht. Same goes for medical treatment. Take it all with a grain of salt ;) Feedback is always appreciated, but never demanded. Hope you enjoy!

Series masterlist

Chapter Five: Red Sky in Morning

Hunched over the weather radar on the bridge, Joel pinched the bridge of his nose beneath his dark rimmed glasses. A line of storms would be moving through the area later and it was already choppy in the marina. It wasn’t looking good for getting out on the open water for the first day of charter and that always made it harder on the interior crew – they would be responsible for keeping the guests entertained without being able to use the water toys.

With a heavy sigh, Joel turned away from the radar. There was nothing he could do about the weather. He was beginning to feel equally hopeless about the status of whatever this was with you. Things did not go how he hoped the other night and you stuck to your word in keeping a distance from him. That wasn’t what he wanted, at all, but he didn’t know how to get you to understand.

Romantic feelings were confusing and made him feel incredibly vulnerable, which he hated. That’s why he tended to avoid them.

“Hey, Dad,” Sarah chirped as she entered the bridge, peering at the weather radar. “It’s not looking good for today, huh?”

“No, baby girl, it doesn’t,” Joel replied, eyes softening at the sight of his daughter. She always brightened his day, and he loved working with her. “It’ll be up to your crew to keep them entertained until at least tomorrow. Hopefully the weather will clear up by then.”

Sarah nodded confidently, her left hand pulling a small spiral notepad from her pocket. “About that, I’ve come up with a couple ideas of what we could do with the guests today. The primary’s a renowned food critic, right? I was thinking Tess could host a cooking class with Talia as her sous chef since she has some culinary talent. The guests could pair up and create a Caribbean-style dish for their dinner. In the meantime, we could do a blind tasting where the guests have to guess exotic flavors and whatnot. What do you think?”

Feeling his chest swell with pride, Joel’s lips twitched into a broad smile. “That sounds great, honey. You think Tess will be into it?”

Beaming back at him, Sarah snapped her notepad shut. “Already checked, Tess is onboard. Said she’d love the challenge of doing something different for once.”

He laughed, no doubt she would. “Good. Thank you for taking the initiative here. I’m really proud of you, Sar. I think the guests will love it.” Joel pulled her in for a tight hug, the warmth of the embrace relieving some of the stress he’d been feeling. “The guests should be arriving soon. Go finish getting ready.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The primary guest was a quirky woman in her fifties named Donna, with short, dark hair going naturally gray and laugh lines ringing her bright green eyes. She wore chunky purple glasses with a chain attached like an old librarian. She was boisterous and friendly with a deep laugh, the kind of woman who made friends everywhere she went. Donna was accompanied by her husband of thirty years, a mild-mannered man named Doug who appeared to be her exact opposite in all ways, and two other couples who had been long-time friends of theirs.

From the moment they stepped onto the yacht, the guests were unbothered by the weather and took it in stride when Joel informed them the yacht would remain in the marina until the next day.

“The crew has some fun activities planned to keep you entertained, though,” he finished, hand stretched out to direct their attention toward Sarah.

“If you’ll follow me, I’ll give you a tour and show you to your rooms.” Sarah led them from the aft deck, explaining the layout of the yacht as she went.

Joel held Tommy back for a moment as you, Connor, and Ellie brought the luggage onboard once the guests were out of sight.

“Make sure your team is ready to assist interior with whatever they need, ok?”

“Of course, brother. We have their backs. Whoever isn’t tasked with helping inside will work on equipment maintenance in the lazarette,” Tommy explained. It was the perfect time to check the oil in the jet skis and tender along with any other fluid top-offs or changes on the equipment.

Joel patted his brother’s back with a solemn nod, his eyes tracking you as he turned to head for the bridge. You were looking down with a large piece of luggage in your arms and didn’t notice him. Jaw tensed, he ascended to the bridge deck with you occupying too much space in his mind.

“That’s the last of the luggage on, Tommy,” you called before heading for the guest cabins. Once the luggage was placed in the correct rooms, you headed toward the stern. Tommy reviewed his plan with you before the guests arrived, so you made your way to the lazarette beneath the aft deck.

“Hey Brit!” Tommy greeted you like he hadn’t seen you in a while when you stopped at his side in front of one of the jet skis. He’d recently taken to calling you Brit, instead of England, and it seemed to be catching on with the rest of the crew. “It’s short for British, get it?” he said the first time he used it. You heard that new nickname more than your real name now and it amused you.

“Hello Tommy,” you chuckled. “Where do you want to start?”

“Let’s check the oil first and see if anything needs to be topped off. We shouldn’t need to change it yet, but we will if we must,” Tommy explained. “It’s just going to be me and you. Ellie and Connor will be assisting the interior with anything they need.”

Perfectly content with that arrangement, you picked up the necessary tools to open one of the jet skis. You enjoyed the maintenance work even with the inherent messiness. You always wound up with oil under your fingernails no matter how careful you were, but you’d become a pro at washing it off after all the years spent helping your grandfather.

Pulling out his phone, Tommy played music while you set about your tasks. The pair of you worked well together, talking and teasing, singing off key to 90s rock the whole time. It was effortless, being yourself with Tommy, and you wondered why you couldn’t be falling for him instead of his brother. Tommy didn’t seem to have the same strict rules for himself that Joel did, and it would have been so much easier to be with him.

Unfortunately, the heart wanted what the heart wanted, and yours wanted a grumpy pain in the ass who made things more difficult than they needed to be.

Shaking yourself, you pushed away thoughts of Joel. You wasted enough time thinking about him, it was time to focus on something, anything else for a while. Steering clear of him physically was easier than you thought the past day and a half, but the emotional and mental distancing was proving far more difficult. The dreams that plagued you at night didn’t help, your subconscious incessantly teasing you with images of a life that you can’t have with Joel.

Picking up on your mood, Tommy did his best to distract you from your thoughts. You had no doubt that he already knew what happened and why you were down, knowing that Sarah or Tess, maybe even Joel himself, spoke to Tommy about it.

“’Kay, Brit. Let’s play a game,” he said while you were gathering the drip pan and some rags. The oil in one of the jet skis needed to be changed after all. It was time to get messy. “Chocolate or vanilla?”

“What kind of game is this?” you asked, perplexed.

“Just pick the one you prefer. It’s not that difficult.” Tommy laughed.

“Er, ok. Chocolate.”

Satisfied, Tommy continued with his unusual little game. “Coffee or tea?”

“Tea, obviously.” Your eyes rolled so hard it made you dizzy.

“Dogs or cats?”

“I like both.”

“You can only pick one, Brit. Them’s the rules.”

“Fine. Dogs.”

The game continued for some time, Tommy’s broad grin growing the more you got into it. It was a great distraction, and you were eternally grateful to him for it. The afternoon passed as the pair of you continued to work and chat until Sarah’s call came over the radio asking for additional help setting up for the cooking class.

“The primary requested that some of the crew participate too. They want to make it a contest to see who makes the best dish,” Sarah explained when the two of you joined her after washing up. “I’ve already assigned pairs.”

Sarah’s expression was a perfect mix of determination and guilt as she looked down at the clipboard in her hands. She was up to something, and you would bet this week’s tip on what it was.

“Tommy, I paired you with Ellie,” she began, turning to you with a thin, hopeful smile and upturned brows. “Brit, you’ll be with my Dad.”

“Sarah,” Tommy warned on your behalf before you could respond. He spent hours working hard to lighten your mood and didn’t want the effort to go to waste. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea right now, for obvious reasons.”

“It was the captain’s request, Uncle Tommy. Not much I could do,” Sarah explained with a shrug. Turning to you, she grabbed your hand in a soft grip. “I’m sorry. I think he’s trying to make things right between you two. Give him this chance?”

Just when you finally stop overthinking about him, he manages to reel you back in. Resigned to your fate, you nodded with a grimace. There wasn’t much you could do about it anyway.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Due to the rain, a series of small cooking stations with a larger table at the front, where Tess and Talia would do the demonstrating, were setup in the main salon. Fairy lights were strung along the walls and ceiling, bringing a starry night effect inside the boat to make up for the weather outside. The yacht was slightly bobbing in the water due to the wind.

“Welcome to Cooking with Tess and Talia!” Tess greeted as the guests, Emmy, Connor, Ellie, Joel, and Tommy settled in their stations. You were the last to arrive, leaving Joel concerned that you really didn’t want to work with him. Despite it only being a couple of days, he was desperate to make things right, to have you speaking to him again. He couldn’t let himself be with you yet, but he didn’t want to be without you either.

Yes, he was keenly aware of the emotional roller coaster he created and how affected you were by it, but he could do nothing to stop it.

“Thanks for agreeing to be my partner,” Joel murmured once you were at his side, lips quirking up in a lopsided smile. He let all his feelings and things he could not say shine through his eyes, hoping you could see it when he gazed at you.

“I couldn’t very well deny a request from the captain, could I?” you returned, tone dull to hide your nerves and the lingering hurt feelings.

Joel sighed wearily. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe he needed to just leave you be. The pair of you did your best to focus on the instructions Tess gave, though the distraction of being so close physically yet so distant emotionally was difficult to manage.

“We are going to make pernil, a classic Puerto Rican dish using roast pork shoulder. We will start with the marinade for the pork shoulder. While the pork is marinading and roasting in the oven, we will make the rice and desert. In all, this will take a few hours, then we will have a tasting to judge whose turned out best. Ready?”

Tess spoke through the steps, laying out the ingredients for the marinade as Talia demonstrated the process. Within the first few steps, Ellie and Tommy were already laughing and knocking things off their table as they jostled for who would get to add the ingredients first. Cooking was clearly not their strength, but at least they were having fun. Donna, the primary, and her husband concentrated with intense focus on their preparations, talking each other through the steps as they measured out the spices for the marinade. It was clear that they spent a lot of time working together in the kitchen. The other guests appeared to be having fun, chatting quietly, and laughing when they messed something up.

Joel spoke to you in soft murmurs as the pair of you worked together. Cooking was not your jam he could tell, but Joel was well versed, influenced by so many years of friendship with Tess and being a single parent wanting to do right by Sarah. He handled the ingredients and utensils with quiet confidence. You took direction well, passing him the items as requested, holding the bowl steady as he mixed the marinade, and finally brushing the liquid over the pork shoulder.

As the only ones not participating, Sammy and Sarah gathered the pork shoulders to bring to the galley to continue marinading before going in the oven in an hour. They returned with fresh adult beverages for the guests and waters for the crew as Tess segued into the next steps of preparing the dish, instructing everyone in chopping onions and peppers to go into the yellow rice. Each station was equipped with a rice cooker rented from the provisions company.

“This is actually kind of fun,” you admitted out of nowhere as Joel guided you in how to properly chop the vegetables, his large, warm hand covering your own on the knife. His heart swelled at that admission. Maybe there was hope after all.

“It’s a great activity to do together,” Joel replied, voice rough with repressed feelings. Oh how he wanted you to know that he would love to do this with you in his kitchen back in Austin someday, but it was not the time to share those types of thoughts.

Over the next hour, Tommy and Ellie spilled all of their rice on the floor, knocking them completely out of the little competition. Their hysterical laughter left the rest of the competitors with little doubt that they were sad about that fact. Joel’s deep brown eyes watched you smile broadly at their hijinks, his own lips quirking up at the sight.

“I hope you two know you’re on cleaning duty after this!” Joel called to them, a hint of teasing in his tone.

You loosened up after that, chatting a little more with Joel about the food you were both preparing and anything else that came to mind. You both studiously avoided the topic of your feelings for each other. Joel was just happy that you were having fun and speaking to him. He hoped it lasted beyond this activity.

“Have you ever had flan before?” Joel asked as the dessert preparations began.

“No, I’m not a huge dessert person. I’ve heard it’s good though,” you replied.

“It really is. I’ve made it before at home.”

“So, you are a big dessert guy then? Making homemade desserts in the off-season?”

Joel smiled with a nod. “Guilty. I enjoy cooking, have ever since Sarah came along and gave me a reason to learn how to do it well.” He loved sharing this with you, both the cooking and the details about each other.

By the time the pernil was ready to eat, everyone was giddy with hunger. Conversation and teasing were boisterous as everyone moved between the stations to taste the dishes, noting the subtle (and sometimes not so subtle) differences between them all. A vote was taken, and Tess announced the winner once everyone had eaten their fill.

“It was really close, but it looks like Donna and Doug are the winners! Joel and Brit were a close second, but that just means they were the first losers,” Tess teased while the guests cheered.

As the guests moved to the seating area in the main salon, the crew dispersed to start cleanup duties.

“Nice work, Cap,” you said, flashing Joel a small smile as you scurried away, headed to the galley with a pile of dirty dishes in your arms. After spending the past few hours so close to Joel, the yearning for him was overwhelming and you needed some time away from him, and everyone else. Dish duty in the galley would be perfect for that.

“Hey, wait! I, uh, was hoping we could…” And, once again, you were gone before he could finish a sentence. It was a habit of yours that he was beginning to seriously dislike.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was early, possibly pre-sunrise though it was hard to tell down on the crew deck, when Sarah ducked into your cabin and plopped her overly perky self on your bunk. “Morning sunshine!”

“Too loud. Take your noise and be gone, you witch!” you grumbled, burying your head beneath the covers.

The bunk above you creaked and Tess’ head peered over the edge, her long locks hanging down in waves. “Aww, come on, Brit. Let the girl have her fun.”

“I know what she’s trying to do, Tess and I want no part of it.” Your voice was muffled by the blanket, taking the edge off your tone.

“Oh, don’t be like that!” Sarah whined. “My dad seemed so happy last night. He loves to cook and it’s clear he enjoyed showing off his skills for you.”

“He’s obviously very good at it,” you admitted reluctantly, fingertips edging the blanket down a bit.

“Don’t I know it.” Sarah’s dark eyes, the ones that reminded you so much of her father’s, narrowed mischievously. “You know, you two were the actual winners last night.”

Brows furrowed; you pulled the blanket down to fully expose your face and stared at Sarah. “What are you talking about? Donna and Doug were the winners.”

“She’s right, Brit. Joel told me before the event to skew the results to make sure one of the guests won,” Tess admitted. “The primaries were actually second place.”

Hmmm, that certainly sounded like Joel. He was too humble.

“See, I told you he was worth the effort. You need to give him a chance.” Sarah’s voice was pleading, smile hopeful.

Sighing, you sat up and placed a hand on hers where it rested on your bed. “Sar, there’s no point when he won’t give me a chance. I’m not the problem here.”

“He’ll come around; I promise,” Sarah insisted. Tess nodded in agreement and the two women stared at you with insane smiles.

“Your eternal optimism is disturbing.” Falling back against your pillow, you pulled the blanket back over your head. “Don’t you two have work to do? I’m on late shift today, so I need a few more hours of sleep.”

Slipping in your earbuds, you tried your best to ignore thoughts of Joel as you drifted off to sleep once again. The weather had calmed overnight, and the yacht was already anchored at sea when you awoke a few hours later. After a quick breakfast, you arrived on deck to start your shift. The rest of the deck crew was already busy unloading the water toys and you jumped in to assist.

“Mornin’, sleeping beauty,” Tommy greeted you with a charming smile. “Can you help us put the jet skis in the water? Ellie’s on the davit controls today.”

“Hey Tommy,” you bumped his shoulder as you passed, smiling brightly in return. “Of course.”

Connor was already by the davit, connecting the lines to ready the first jet ski. You checked the connections and patted him on the back. Pulling one of the support lines tight, Tommy gave a thumbs up and both you and Connor grabbed the remaining lines, pulling them taut.

“Ok, El! Take it away, slow!” Tommy called.

Ellie’s brow pinched in concentration, fingers working the controls to first lift the jet ski off the deck, then extend it over the rail and lower it towards the water. She had been practicing lately, working on controlling the davit with finesse rather than jerky movements and too much speed. The last thing Ellie wanted was to be responsible for damaging the yacht or any of its equipment, so she wanted to be proficient at using the davit.

Eyes darting between the jet ski and Ellie, strong grip keeping your line tight, you were impressed with the smoothness of movement from Ellie’s handling of the davit. The only jostling was from the wind rather than the davit itself. The first jet ski went down without issue and Connor jumped into the water to drive the jet ski to the swim platform and tie it off.

“Connor man, stay down there. The next one is coming in a minute,” Tommy called out. “No sense coming back up here with how smooth that one went.”

The three of you repeated the process with the second jet ski while Connor waited on the swim platform. It was a little less steady this time, but the jet ski landed smoothly on the water, bobbing along with the ripples. Once again, Connor jumped into the water to disconnect the davit lines. Before he could release the rear line, the wake of a passing boat jostled the jet ski. Connor didn’t see it coming and it threw off his balance, his right arm extending instinctively to steady himself against the yacht’s hull.

His wet hand gave way against the slick surface as another wave lifted the jet ski and Connor toppled off the machine. It happened so fast, you and Tommy watching from the deck, when the waves hit. You were already jumping over the rail, plummeting into the water when Connor’s head bounced off the hull.

The tender was already in the water, having been the first thing the deck team offloaded before you joined them on deck, and Tommy sprinted down to the swim platform to jump into the small boat as Ellie frantically called for help over the radio. When you surfaced, you were grateful you landed nearby and Connor was wearing a lifejacket as he bobbed face down in the turquoise water, the slamming of his head against the yacht having knocked him out cold. You reached him in seconds, turning him over so his face was no longer submerged. He wasn’t breathing.

The tender appeared at your side, Tommy reaching over to pull you both aboard. He shouted up to Ellie to get in the water and secure the jet ski while you started CPR, and he steered the tender back to the swim platform where Joel was waiting. By your estimate, Connor was face down in the water for no more than 30 seconds, if that, and his breathing resumed after a dozen chest compressions. However, he remained unconscious, and you checked Connor over, noting a gash on his forehead and a broken left forearm. Flattening your palm over the gash, you attempted to stem the flow of blood.

Sarah appeared on the swim platform and assisted her dad in tying off the tender while Tommy helped you delicately bring Connor onto the yacht. “Help is on the way, should be here in a few minutes,” Joel declared. “Is he breathing?”

You nodded, breathless from the adrenaline rush, and placed the clean rag Sammy rushed to hand you to Connor’s forehead. “He’s still unconscious and has a broken arm,” Tommy spoke for you, his comforting hand clutching your shoulder.

“Shit,” Joel swore, his voice immediately drowned by the sound of a siren as a rescue boat approached.

You stumbled back, sliding down to sit on the platform as the rescue team took over. You were soaked, hands covered in Connor’s blood, a chill wracking your body as the last dregs of adrenaline dispersed. You watched, wide-eyed, as Connor was transported to the rescue vessel. Once the vessel departed, Joel rushed over to you, bending down to meet your gaze.

“Are you okay?” He spoke your name softly, his hands running over your head, shoulders, and arms, checking for any injuries. Joel’s touch left a trail of searing heat on your skin. The shivering was uncontrollable, and you stuttered out a positive response indicating you were ok. “Thank fuck,” he breathed, pulling you into an uncharacteristic hug, his body warm and strong against yours. You clutched to him like a lifeline as he led you inside and down to the crew deck. Once in your cabin, he turned the shower on and let the water heat up.

“Can you manage by yourself? Or do you want me to get Sarah or Tess?”

“I-I can manage, just need to warm up.” Slipping into the bathroom, the door closing with a soft click, you shed your wet clothes and climbed into the shower, steam rising around you. The immediate relief from the warmth of the water left you groaning.

“I’m going to send Sarah down to keep an eye on you. She’ll call me if you need anything. I have to get back to the guests,” Joel called through the door, hesitation in his voice like he didn’t want to leave you.

“Ok. Thank you, Joel,” you called back, grateful for him in that moment.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once Joel was certain that you were going to be alright, his heart rate finally settled. Checking in with the guests to let them know what happened was easier than he anticipated – they were understandably concerned about the crew, specifically Connor’s condition, having witnessed at least part of the incident. Donna insisted that they were content to lounge on the sundeck and relax in the hot tub for the day to let the crew settle their nerves after the traumatic events.

On his way to the bridge, Joel also checked in with Tommy and the rest of the crew to make sure they were ok. Emmy was the most concerned, having grown close to the young man over the past few weeks. Talia comforted her as Joel reiterated the importance of safety awareness and let them all have an extended break while the guests relaxed.

“Join me on the bridge?” he looked to Tommy as he turned to exit the main salon. The brothers walked in silence until they were on the bridge where they were quickly joined by Frank. “So, we’re down a man on the deck crew. Early report on Connor is that he won’t be returning with that broken arm. I’ll reach out to the staffing agency to get a new deckhand.”

Tommy nodded. “In the meantime, we’ll work with a three-person crew.” It wouldn’t be the first time, nor the last. He always made it work.

“I’m happy to lend a hand where needed, Tommy,” Frank added. “It’d be good to get my hands dirty again.”

“Well, that’s settled then. I need to make a couple calls. Keep an eye on the crew?” Frank and Tommy assured Joel they had everything under control and left the bridge as Joel called the agency.

“Hi Marcia, it’s Captain Joel on Radiance. Listen, I need a deckhand asap.” Pausing to listen to her response, he added, “Any experience level is fine at this point.” Marcia assured him she’d be back in touch within an hour and ended the call.

Feeling like things were back under his control again, Joel settled into the captain’s chair with a heavy sigh. What a fucking day. Between yesterday’s bad weather and the events of today, this charter seemed doomed from the start, but at least the guests were laid back. The vibration of his phone drew Joel from his maudlin thoughts to find a text from Sarah.

Brit is all set. She’s resting for a bit and will be back on deck in an hour. She’s such a bad ass!

The grin that spread across his lips was involuntary at the mere mention of you and how highly his daughter thought of you.

Thanks baby girl. You doing okay?

I’m fine, Dad. You okay?

It’s been a day already, but I’m good.

Love you.

Love you too baby girl.

The phone was still in his hand when it rang moments later. “Marcia, what’s the good word?” Joel stood from the chair, nervous energy making him need to move around. “That was quick work! He can start tomorrow, great! That’s one less thing to worry about.”

After discussing a few more details, Joel thanked Marcia for her help. They’d have a new deckhand onboard tomorrow morning. Perfect.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were holed up on the bridge on overnight anchor watch, gaze hovering over the weather radar to keep an eye on the wind speed. The wind picked up again as the evening went on and Joel was concerned the anchor would drag, so you were dedicated to anchor watch as you were already scheduled for the late shift.

After the day’s events, you were content to sit on the quiet bridge while everyone else slept. Normally, you would bring a book or your earbuds and listen to some music to keep yourself entertained during the quiet hours, but tonight the silence was soothing. The night sky was clear, the sparkle of a thousand stars shining down around a half-moon making you feel like you could be anywhere in the world.

Only one thought attempted to distract you – Joel’s presence in the captain’s quarters right behind the bridge. He was in there, deep asleep, dreaming God knows what and all you could think about was what it would be like being in there with him.

The way he cared for you earlier, held you after Connor’s rescue, made you forget about your plan to steer clear of him for a while. It was a losing battle when he was right there.

Perhaps you should just resign yourself to pining over the man and leave it at that. No other potential solutions were working anyway.

At four o’clock in the morning, you heard the creak of a door followed by the heavy padding of bare feet on the floor. Turning your head to the side, Joel emerged from around the corner and your heart melted to a puddle at the sight of his bedhead. Despite being forty years old, he looked like a grumpy little boy with the sleepy frown marring his face, hair askew, pouty lips drawn in a wide yawn.

You couldn’t stop yourself beaming at him, now knowing what he looked like when first waking up. It was endearing as all hell.

Squinted eyes met yours in the darkness and the bridge brightened just from the smile in his gaze. Joel was just as happy to see you as you were to see him. This mutual pining thing was no joke.

“G’morning,” he mumbled, sliding in beside you at the small table along the wall behind the captain’s chair. “Everythin’ going good?”

“Mmhmm,” you hummed, basking in the press of his sleepy warmth against your right side. “Just peachy.”

“Hmm, good.” Joel tilted his head back against the wall, still half asleep and you wondered why he was even up.

“What are you doing up so early?”

His head lolled toward you, dark eyes shining in the low light emanating from the helm. “I could hear you thinking out here and just wanted to be near you… make sure you were ok.”

Your breath hitched as you stared at him, searching his eyes for confirmation of what you just heard. It was another crest on this never-ending roller coaster with Joel Miller. “I’m ok. Just lots to think about, you know?”

“I do,” his head bobbed. “I figured we could think about it together.”

TBC

#joel miller #joel x reader #joel x female reader #yacht captain!joel miller #tlou #the last of us #pedro pascal #fanfic

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