#surprise me Texas by going blue

[steal-this-idea]

Oh man, I hope that's us too in November...

In France [July 7, 2024], a crowd reacts to election results showing a defeat for the hard-right political party that was expected to win big until the French people voted in greater numbers for leftists and centrists instead. This follows the complete rout suffered by the right-wing Conservative party in Great Britain just three days prior, on July 4th.

🇫🇷

[punkshort]

Palm Trees

Thank you @itsafullmoon for this prompt!

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: Sometimes love can be found unexpectedly in the aisle of Home Depot's Christmas displays.

Warnings: language, fluff, hurt/comfort, brief mentions of OC deaths, sexual tension, flirting

WC: 3.6K

dividers by @saradika-graphics

Joel smiled as he watched Sarah skip down the aisles of Home Depot, him trailing behind pushing an orange cart that already was half filled with way too many boxes of Christmas lights, two light up penguins, and an inflatable Santa.

Christmas was never this thing, but he tried to make it special for Sarah. Her mother had always been the one to go the whole nine yards for the holiday while Joel kicked back and watched his girls have a blast decorating the house. Every year they participated in the Christmas lights competition their small town just outside of Austin, Texas held, and every year they lost. But it never really mattered because they had so much fun putting everything together and brainstorming on Thanksgiving what they thought would give them a competitive edge.

When his wife passed away four years ago, they stopped participating in the competition. It never felt right, and neither of them wanted to do it. But that year on Thanksgiving, much to Joel's surprise, Sarah turned to him out of the blue and said, we should do a penguin slip and slide on the lawn this year.

Tommy and Maria fell silent, eyes darting between Joel and his daughter while they waited for his response. Once he collected himself, he said, what about Santa in a hot tub?

Thus, the idea was born: Christmas on the beach. They still had plenty of supplies from years before, but he let Sarah plan the whole thing. If she wanted new things to put on the lawn, he would gladly pay for them just to see that huge smile on her face when she looked at him over her shoulder as she skipped down the aisle.

Given their beach theme, one thing they definitely needed and didn't already own was a light up palm tree, one which Sarah scouted out online and informed Joel it was the only home improvement store that had them in stock. He wanted to tease her and remind her that of course palm trees weren't popular to keep on the shelf at Christmas time, but she was so excited he just shook his head and grabbed his keys.

"Alright, it's gotta be here, it says it's in aisle 17A," Sarah said when she slowed down, scanning the huge light-up displays. Joel sighed and looked around, gaze drifting over presents, reindeer and wreathes until he heard Sarah gasp softly. He slid to a stop and whipped his head in her direction. She was standing in the middle of the aisle, crestfallen, as she watched a young woman lift the very last palm tree into her cart.

"Oh, no," she whispered, and Joel's heart broke when he heard the despair in her voice. He couldn't stand to see Sarah that way after she had been so excited for Christmas for the first time since the loss of her mother, so he did something he never thought he would do. He abandoned the cart with Sarah, instructing her to stay right there, and hurried down the aisle towards you.

"Hey, uh, excuse me?"

You looked up in surprise, then glanced over your shoulder to make sure he was actually addressing you, before meeting his eye again.

"Yes?"

Joel came to a stop in front of your cart and lowered his voice.

"I have a favor to ask," he began. When he saw the defensive look on your face, he quickly shook his head. "Sorry, wait. See the little girl behind me? With the cart?"

Your eyes flicked over his shoulder quickly, spotting the curly haired pre-teen, then nodded.

"Well, it sounds ridiculous but she's got her heart set on that damn palm tree, and-" Joel looked at the shelf to confirm before giving you his attention again. "You got the last one. You think I can buy it from you?"

You blinked in surprise, your eyes slowly sliding between him and the boxed palm tree in your cart, then bit your lip.

"Well..."

"Please," he begged before pulling out his wallet. "Whatever you want. I don't wanna make you feel bad, but we lost my wife a few years back. Lightin' up the house for that damn competition was somethin' she always did with her mom. This is the first year she's been excited for it and I don't wanna let her down."

Your shoulders sagged in defeat and you turned to your cart.

"That's okay, you can take it. You don't need to pay me," you told him, stepping aside so he could grab the box. But Joel shook his head.

"No, please, lemme give you somethin' for it."

You smiled sadly and waved him off.

"I don't want your money. Make your daughter happy. It's hard for a girl to lose her mom. Just... take it."

You turned your back to him but he heard you sniffle softly behind your hand and he frowned.

"You alright?" he asked, hands slowly lowering when he sensed something was amiss

"Yeah, I'm fine," you assured him. You crossed your arms over the handle of your cart and leaned against it, like the weight of the world was forcing you down.

"No, you ain't. This palm tree mean somethin' to you?" he asked while pointing at the box.

"No, not really," you said with a shrug. But when Joel refused to accept that as an answer, you sighed and rolled your eyes. "I lost my mom, too. Last year. She lived in Florida and she loved Christmas and I saw the stupid tree so-"

You shook your head, letting your sentence fall unfinished in the air. Joel's heart sank and he looked back at Sarah, who was staring at him curiously.

"Sarah, c'mere," he called. She pushed the shopping cart down the aisle and you looked up, tilting your head to the side in confusion. "Sarah," he said with his arm outstretched towards you. "This is-"

He cut himself off and looked at you expectantly. You stood up straighter and told them both your name, which Joel repeated before looking back at his daughter.

"What'dya say we get a little help with the Christmas decorations this year?" he asked her. Then he swiveled back to you before adding, "I mean, if you wanna. We could really use it if you're free."

A slow smile stretched across your face and you gave him a quick nod before catching Sarah's eye. She grinned at you before saying, "Sounds great. He's pretty much useless, anyway." Sarah jutted her thumb in Joel's direction and you both laughed softly before you agreed.

"I mean, as long as it's not an imposition," you said quickly. Both Joel and Sarah quickly put your worries to rest.

"Not at all. We'd love the help," he assured you. Then Sarah playfully nudged his arm.

"Ask for her number, Dad."

You felt your cheeks warm and Joel awkwardly cleared his throat.

"Can I, uh, get your number? So we can set up a date? I mean, a time?"

"Yeah, of course," you giggled when he grew flustered at his slip-up. You took his phone and tapped in your name and number before handing it back to him.

"We're doing a Christmas on the beach theme for our house this year," Sarah told you excitedly, dragging your gaze off her father, who you finally allowed yourself to notice was extremely handsome.

"Oh, yeah? That sounds cool. You know, I used to live in Florida, so we literally had Christmas on the beach every year. We can put some sunglasses on Santa and beach umbrellas over the reindeer," you offered. Sarah's eyes lit up when she looked at her father.

"Dad, she's brilliant," Sarah said matter-of-factly. Joel chuckled while you tried to hide your excitement by shyly looking down at your own phone.

"Alright, well, thank you," Joel said before hoisting the box from your cart and dropping it into his. "And, uh," he glanced sideways at Sarah before saying softly, "anything else you wanna do to honor your mom, just lemme know. We'll do anythin' you want."

Even though Joel dropped his voice, Sarah still heard him. Her mouth twisted sadly as she looked away to offer you some privacy.

"Yeah, thanks," you replied with a small smile. You wrapped your fingers around the rail of your shopping cart and began to back away. "You better actually call me. 'Cause if you try to pull one over on me just to take my palm tree, I'll find you," you joked.

"Oh, I'll be callin' you, don't worry," he told you while trying to fight the stupid grin from stretching across his face. Right before you turned and waved, he shot you a wink that made your heart flutter, then you disappeared towards the cash registers.

"She's pretty."

Joel's neck practically snapped when he heard his daughter speak by his side.

"Oh. I-I ... it ain't like that. I felt bad that she-"

"Yeah, okay, Dad," Sarah said with a roll of her eyes. "C'mon. We need to find the extension cords before the store closes."

Joel let Sarah lead the way while silently trying to unravel her unexpectedly relaxed reaction to him possibly flirting with another woman. He ached for the comfort having a partner brought, but for years he stifled his own desires for fear of upsetting Sarah. She was his one and only priority, and he was fine with that.

But for the first time he began to wonder if it was possible to have both.

True to his word, Joel had called you a couple days later asking if you were free that Saturday to help decorate. It felt nice to have a distraction around the holidays. It kept you from wallowing and thinking too much about your mother, but as you were getting ready to leave, you decided you didn't want to forget about her entirely. You wanted to honor her memory in some way, so at the last minute you tugged on your ugly Christmas sweater, the same one you would wear every Christmas morning with your mom, then rushed out the door.

"Whoa! You came prepared!" Sarah exclaimed when she swung open the front door. You grinned and looked down at your sweater covered with garland that was hanging on by a thread and some horrifying looking Santa with a reindeer.

"My mom used to have a matching one, it was kind of our tradition on Christmas," you explained as you slipped off your boots.

"I love that. My mom used to have this vest with these, like, ornaments hanging off them. It was hideous but she legitimately thought it was cute," Sarah laughed over her shoulder as she led you into the kitchen, where Joel was hunched over the sink scrubbing dishes. While his back was still turned, you allowed yourself to quickly eye him up. He was wearing a red flannel with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and a dish towel tossed over his left shoulder. He looked so domestic and comfortable in that moment that it had your heart skipping a beat.

"Oh, hey," Joel said when he noticed you. "Sorry. Just cleanin' up. Lost track of time."

"No problem," you said, eyes still fixed on the way his broad shoulders moved underneath his shirt. Distracted, you went to lean against the kitchen counter and almost fell when you misjudged the distance, causing Sarah to stifle a giggle and turn away.

Once Joel dried his hands, he turned to face you properly. His eyes landed on your sweater and you could see the inner turmoil in his expression as he tried to figure out if it was worn as a joke or not, so you quickly put him out of his misery.

"It's just something dumb my mom and I wore on Christmas," you explained. His shoulders dropped and he smiled.

"Cute."

You pressed your lips together to keep yourself from smiling like a fool when you watched his face turn pink and his eyes widen.

"I mean, it's cute - the sweater's cute - not you."

Then Joel's face twisted and he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"That's not to say you ain't cute, it's just - well, I was tryin' to say -"

"Oh, my god, Dad! You're making it so much worse!" Sarah laughed before disappearing back the way you came. "I'll be in the garage getting all the stuff together!" she called. You heard the rustle from her coat right before the door squeaked open and shut, leaving the two of you all alone.

"Sorry," Joel finally said sheepishly. You giggled and waved him off.

"Don't be," you replied. Maybe it was the privacy that gave you a streak of sudden bravery because you then added, "I thought it was cute. It being you."

Before you could register the shocked look on his face, you swiveled around to follow Sarah's path towards the front door. "See you out there!" you sang before slipping back outside, grateful for the cool winter air to help soothe your warm cheeks.

You were surprised with how quickly you grew comfortable with Joel and Sarah. They had an easiness to their family that you craved and very much enjoyed experiencing, even if it was only for just one afternoon.

"Good thing you were free to help today. There's supposed to be a blizzard tonight," Sarah said when she climbed the steps of the porch, arms filled with an assortment of tangled Christmas lights. "We never would have been able to put all this stuff up with a ton of snow on the ground."

"When's the competition again?" you asked, plopping down and grabbing a string of lights to unravel.

"Christmas Eve," she said, "You're coming, right?"

Your mind stuttered a bit at the question. You hadn't been invited, but you wouldn't expect to be, either. A few days ago, both she and her father were complete strangers. It would have been weird to spend Christmas Eve with them. Right?

"Oh, no, that's a time for family," you insisted while focusing all of your attention on the pile of lights in your lap. Across the yard, you both heard Joel swear to himself when two reindeer toppled over. You looked up and smiled. It was incredibly adorable to watch him work so hard to make the yard perfect for his daughter.

"So you'll be with your family, then?" Sarah questioned with a hint of sadness to her voice. Your mouth opened and closed for a second as you tried to think of what to say until you sighed and shook your head.

"No, actually I'll be alone this year," you told her after deciding to go with the truth.

"Well, then, why can't you come over?" she asked. Before you could reply, she lifted her chin and shouted across the lawn for Joel.

Immediately you raised your hands, waving them back and forth while saying, "No, please, I don't want to be a bother. I meant you should be with your family," you said.

"No one should be alone on Christmas," Sarah told you softly just as Joel had walked up, lifting one boot to rest on the bottom step.

"You're gonna be alone on Christmas?" Joel asked with a concerned look so sweet, it made your knees weak.

"Yeah, I mean, it's not a big deal," you said while doing your best to avoid both their eyes. You suddenly felt overexposed and uncomfortable, so you picked up the lights again and got to work untangling them.

"You should stop by," Joel told you. "I mean, only if you wanna. No pressure or nothin', it's just gonna be us, my brother 'n his wife but... we'd love to have you."

"We can all wear ugly sweaters, just like you and your mom used to," Sarah said, the offer making your heart melt.

"Uh, thanks, but I don't know..." you trailed off, still fixing your gaze on the lights. "I'll think about it."

The rest of the afternoon flew by, fortunately without any more awkwardness. The sun had set almost an hour prior to the three of you hurrying towards the end of the driveway so you could take in the beautiful Christmas landscape you created in all its glory.

"This is our year, I can feel it," Sarah announced happily between you both. You looked down at her and grinned, her dark brown eyes sparkling as she stared at the beachy Christmas scene you had worked so hard to create.

"Better be, considerin' my electric bill's gonna be through the roof," Joel muttered, but when you lifted your eyes to look at him, you caught him smiling just as wide as Sarah.

"Well, my job here is done," you said, clapping your gloved hands together. "I should hit the road before that blizzard comes."

"It's not supposed to snow til, like, super early in the morning," Sarah protested. "Can't you stay for a little while longer?"

"We were gonna order a pizza and watch a movie, if you're interested," Joel added. "C'mon, it's the least we could do for all your help."

You hesitantly agreed and you told yourself it was only because you missed being part of a family and absolutely nothing to do with how handsome Joel looked under the glow from the Christmas lights.

What you didn't expect was for everyone to be so exhausted after spending the day working hard that the three of you would fall asleep halfway through the movie. It was close to four in the morning when you awoke with a jolt, your neck craned at an impossible angle against the back of Joel's couch. You winced and tenderly massaged the knot in your neck, then straightened up and looked around, wondering what disturbed you in the first place.

It was Joel, who was in the process of gently picking up Sarah from the spot next to you. He noticed you were awake and held one finger to his lips. You swallowed tightly and nodded, remaining still and quiet so as not to wake up Sarah, and watched him carefully walk down the hallway past the kitchen to tuck her into bed.

Once they were both gone, you were left with a glowing television screen and a dryness in your mouth that had you wandering into the dim kitchen for some water. You were halfway through your glass and about to peer out the window when you heard Joel's voice behind you softly say your name. You swiveled around to find him leaning against the kitchen counter, still clad in that red flannel but now adorned with messy bedhead hair that had your mind going down a dangerous path.

"God, sorry I fell asleep," you said, placing your empty glass in the sink. "I'll get going-"

Joel laughed quietly, cutting you off.

"Don't think you'll be goin' anywhere. Did you look outside?"

Your face fell and you hurried over to the window, peeling the curtain back just to find his entire driveway, your car included, covered in a thick blanket of snow.

"Still comin' down, too," he told you. "Ain't safe to drive. You can take my bed and I'll sleep on the couch."

"Oh, gosh, no - I'll sleep on the couch," you told him firmly. The corner of Joel's mouth twitched into a little smile before he pushed off the counter, taking a few steps towards you.

"You're stubborn, y'know that?"

"I do," you replied with a grin. But when he got close enough to pinch the material of your sweater between his fingers, your smile slipped from your face and your heart began to race.

"I like it," he finally said, his voice so soft it sent a shiver down your spine. "You, by the way. You and that stubborn streak. Not the sweater, this thing is ugly as hell."

You laughed and quickly clapped your hand over your mouth so as not to wake up Sarah. Joel grinned and moved a little closer, the scent from his laundry detergent and faded cologne invading your senses.

"You'll come by for Christmas, right?" he asked, letting his hand fall back to his side. He gazed down at you, those beautiful eyes scanning your face like he was looking for something.

"I don't want to impose on your family time," you told him, noting you sounded a little short of breath from the close proximity. He just frowned and the hand that was once touching your sweater came up to pinch your chin.

It felt as if time stood still when he leaned down to gingerly brush his lips over yours. Then he leaned back and searched your eyes, checking to make sure what he did was okay. Without hesitating, you stood up on your tiptoes and pressed your mouth against his, too eager to feel the warmth of his lips again to wait.

"How 'bout now?" Joel asked after he tore himself away. You opened your eyes and looked up at him curiously, then he smirked. "You still think it's an imposition?" he clarified. Your eyes lit up and you bit back a smile as you pretended to think about it.

"Hmm, I'm not sure," you teased, "I might need you to kiss me again before I can decide."

Joel chuckled then crashed his mouth against yours, taking your breath away. You could feel a heat behind that kiss, one that was filled with promise and excitement that had you feeling lightheaded and giddy.

"Well?" he panted when he pulled away a second time, but he kept your cheek cradled in his palm while he waited for your answer.

"You make a very compelling argument," you whispered, wrapping your arms around his middle. He grinned and leaned forward again for another kiss, but stopped inches away so he could ask, "That mean you'll be here for Christmas?"

"Yeah," you breathed, "I'll be here for Christmas."

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[dicejpg]

I've got a sinking feeling - {Five Hargreeves x GN!Reader}

Synopsis: You are very flirty with Five, and he's tricked himself into believing he hates it. He tells you to stop. Then he learns the hard way how much he took you for granted when you meet someone else.

Note: Five requests would be very appreciated! Thank you to those who sent requests on my last one shot.

(Not Edited)

Warnings: Swearing

Word count: 1.5k

Extra Information: Viisi means Five in Finnish. Five and Y/n were partners in the commission. They look seventeen or eighteen instead of thirteen. This one-shot takes place on the last episode of season one, and the entirety of season two.

----

The Academy, Five's home, has just collapsed--courtesy of Vanya's new powers--and Five ordered his family to meet at Super Star Lanes bowling alley to come up with a new plan of action.

He grabs your wrist, blinking you with him. You're both in front of the bowling alley in a flash of blue.

Five takes a moment to pace around, not entering the building. The crisp, spring air bites at your earlobes as you hug your sides for warmth

"Hey, Viisi, can we go inside?" You look at him with a grimace and a pleading smile. He whips his head in your direction to glare at you, then strolls inside with a roll of his eyes. You follow in his stead.

The interior is heated, thankfully. Five informs the underpaid worker that his "parents" will be arriving shortly to pay for his bowling shoes. He takes a seat adjacent to Lane 6 and you sit next to him.

"So, how was the farewell with Delores? I know you two were close." You lean back in your seat, getting more comfortable while waiting for Five's siblings to arrive.

He does not look at you. His jaw ticks in annoyance, mistaking your genuine curiosity for mockery.

"Come onnn, I know you're stressed, but this is your sister. I'm sure she's reasonable enough not to end the world." You turn towards him, leaning your elbows on your thighs and admiring his pretty face.

"No, it's not that." He scoffs, looking at you with a sneer.

You notice that his tie is crooked so you reach out to fix it, like you often do. It's sort of your thing.

He smacks your hand away and you raise an eyebrow.

"You okay Viisi?" You rub your hand a little, surprised. Normally, he lets you fix his tie with no problem. Although, he would grumble about it a little.

"God- No. I'm not okay." He puts his hands in his hair, gripping it slightly with an exasperated expression. "And stop calling me that."

"What?" You breathe with a smile of disbelief. "What's going on? Did something happen- Did I do something?" You lean away from him a little to give him more space.

"Stop, just stop it with the touching and the nicknames. I'm sick of it!" He looks at you with cold eyes. This is very unusual of him.

You cock your head to the side, trying to understand. "Five, I thought- I thought that was our thing! Y'know, the friendly banter and-"

"I know you're desperate for some sort of relationship with me, but I'm here to tell you that it's not going to happen. We were only ever co-workers." He says through gritted teeth, avoiding your eyes. "I'm telling you to stop pursuing me." 'Pursuing' him?

Usually you would brush this sort of behavior off, ignore it. Tell yourself that it's only because he's stressed. He's always stressed! Thinking back, he was never all that nice to you. Even in your Commission days.

You'd tricked yourself into thinking that maybe he thought you were special, or that you were at least his friend. His confidant.

You look at him with eyes full of hurt, which Five has never seen from you. He almost feels something bubbling up his throat, but the feeling dissipates quickly. "Have I made myself clear?" He says evenly.

You only nod, turning away so he doesn't see the tears prick at your eyes.

Five's siblings come inside and you two don't speak to each other again.

A year and seven months later (for you, at least.)

1963, Dallas Texas:

Five anxiously pulls at his tie after narrowly escaping three armed Swedish men. He had just watched his siblings, along with you, blow up in yet another nuclear explosion. It's left him oddly shaken up about how he treated you back in 2019.

He's pacing down the alley-way between the Commerse and Knox when he notices a flash atop the roof. A large camera of some sort.

A brown haired man closes his window briskly. That's strange.

Five teleports inside, scaling up a flight of stairs with cat-like agility. When he knocks on a door, the one beside him answers, revealing a mouse-y looking man in his early thirties. He looks at him with big, expectant eyes.

"What do you want." His tone is dripping with suspicion.

"Hi, I'm selling encyclopedias for my youth group. I was curious if-" Five gets a door to the face. He huffs, blinking inside after him.

The man, Elliot, jumps, yelping in fear and pulling out a butter-knife from his drawer of kitchen utensils. "H-how did you do that?" He hesitates, astonished.

Five looks at him with amusement. "Don't really have time to explain."

Elliot runs a hand through his unkempt brown hair, gripping the butter-knife in a feeble attempt to protect himself. "You from the Pentagon? Huh?"

"Definitely not."

"CIA? FBI? KGB?"

Five eyes up the kitchen, noticing a coffee pot on the other side of the room. "Is that fresh?" He uses his powers again, blinking himself right in front of the coffee pot.

Elliot screams, whipping his head back and forth between the place Five just was and the place he appeared. "What..." He pants, eyes wide.

"Elliot? You okay?" Five hears a faraway voice from another room. A familiar voice. "Who's with you?" It asks.

You appear from around the corner, presumably from Elliot's bedroom, looking almost two years older.

Five furrows his eyebrows and so do you. He breathes out your name is what you almost register as relief. But, you know better then to think that.

"Oh, Five. You're back." You say casually, nodding and crossing your arms. Five sets the coffee down, unwillingly noticing how you didn't call him by his nickname.

"How long have you been here?" He walks towards you, looking at your slightly different features. You changed your hair, he observes. He says nothing about it.

"A year and a half, I believe." You tap your chin in thought. Elliot glances between you two with interest or surprise.

"You two know each-other?" He puts the butter-knife back onto the counter with a small clatter.

You nod, shrugging. "We were co-workers." You send Elliot a reassuring, genuine smile.

Co-workers. Five doesn't like how the word rolled off your tongue.

He licks his lips, looking away. "You live here?" He asks you, although it was a silly question considering its obvious answer.

You nod with tight lipped smile, approaching Elliot. You fix his hair with your fingers and flip the collar of his flannel back down. "Did he scare you? I told you he could be a bit much."

Elliot exhales a shaky laugh at your words and actions as Five begins to feel a hot, frothy feeling in the pit of his stomach. He changes the subject. "Are my siblings here too?"

Elliot answers for you, looking back towards the teen again. "The other six anomalys- The power surges." He begins to look excited at this new discovery. "They're your siblings?"

Five ticks his jaw, ignoring him. "So they're alive..." He begins to pace around. "I think I stranded them here. Now listen to me..."

"Elliot." You tell him his name.

"Whatever, alright? I got ten days to find them and save the world." He points to you and Elliot. "Now, I need your help to do that."

Elliot is just so happy to be involved, his three year long project finally achieving some major development. He scrambles to find a certain newspaper scrap from his desk drawer. "You know what? I, uh..." He fumbles with it, handing it to Five.

"I always thought that this, uh, mugshot looked like arrival number four."

"Diego." Five reads softly, then he twists around to face you. "You're coming with me." He states.

You hiss awkwardly through your teeth, avoiding his eyes. "Ohh, about that... Actually, Elliot and I were about to play Scrabble. It's Scrabble night."

Five narrows his eyes at you, barking your name. "The world is ending and you're just gonna play Scrabble with this homebody?"

Elliot looks at his dusty wooden floors with a look of dejection.

"Uh, yeah. That's exactly what I'm gonna do." You lean against the door-frame with a bored expression. "I thought you wanted me to stop following you around like a lost puppy."

Five feels strange. "You know what? I don't need this." He blinks away to search for Diego.

When Five returns from the strip club, after a failed attempt of recruiting both Luther and Diego, he decides to test something. His fingers reach for his tie, pulling at it and skewing it. Perfectly crooked.

You couldn't resist fixing his tie, he knew this.

So why didn't you? He finds himself uncharacteristically frustrated about your unresponsiveness.

As he demands that Elliot develop his Frankel Footage, his eyes trail to you occasionally, silently tempting you to straighten his tie.

Your eyes flicked to it once. However, you made no move to adjust it.

Five heaves a dramatic sigh, angrily fixes it, and leaves to look for Vanya.

He messed up before, he realizes. He feels like shit.

[mermaidgirl30]

✨Daddy’s Best Friend, Mr. Miller Masterlist✨

dbf! Joel Miller x fem! reader

A/N: Hey, guys! Super excited to kick off my first dbf! Joel series. It was originally going to be a one shot, but after some thought I wanted to write more. As always, comments and reblogs are appreciated. Always like to hear your thoughts ☺️ Joel is a menace in this one! Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!

Summary: After going out with your classmate from graduate school, Mr. Miller doesn’t take so kindly to your date when he sees you out and about with the college jock. Will the older, attractive man you’ve been pining after for years finally give you what you’ve been wanting for so long?

Pairing: dbf! Joel Miller x fem! reader

Rating: Explicit 18+ Only MDNI

Tags: Porn with Plot, dbf! Joel, fingering, oral, unprotected p in v, dirty talk, dom! Joel, (reader is 25, Joel is mid 40’s)

Part 1: Blurring the Lines

Part 2: Secret Glances and Wandering Hands

Part 3: October Surprises and Secrets Slurred

Part 4: Birthday Candles and Rock Concerts

Part 5: Let Me Take You There

Part 6: Hot Tubs and Calloused Fingers

Part 7: Can I Keep You?

On My Knees for You - Halloween one-shot that takes place after part 7

Recommended songs for series “Scary Love” and “Daddy Issues” and “A Little Death” by The Neighbourhood

Part 1 Word Count: 13.6k

The warm August air blows your long hair gently as you sit outside Moonlight Bar, letting the Austin city lights shine in the distance. The lighting is low as the dark blue luminescence of the bar surrounds the alcohol on the back shelf and various plants hang above the edges of the bar. The Goo Goo Dolls play softly across the outside speakers as people mingle together at various white wooden tables strewn across the manicured green lawn. It’s a busy night, one of the more popular bars in the area.

You’re sitting with William. One of the boys that’s in one of your law classes at the University of Texas. He wouldn’t leave you alone at school, so you figured you’d appease him and let him take you out on a date.

He isn’t bad looking. He has shaggy blonde hair and bright green eyes. He’s built like a body builder and has a jawline so sharp that it could cut someone. He’s nice and all, but he won’t stop talking about fucking football. You hate football, but you just smile and nod along to what he says. Occasionally rolling your eyes when he isn’t looking at you.

“Did you see the quarterback get slammed at the game last Saturday? Tim took him out hard! I thought he’d never get up!” he says starstruck as he shows you a picture from the game on his phone, slamming back another drink of vodka as he lowers it to the table.

“I already told you I didn’t watch the game,” you say, trying not to sound obnoxious.

“Oh, right. Well, you missed out. It was awesome!” he shouts as the group of people next to you look at William. You internally groan at the embarrassment that’s caked on your face. You need to get up for a few minutes. You’re bored and want to cut the talk on sports.

“I’ll be right back,” you utter as you get up from the barstool.

“Where are you going?” he asks with a hurt expression on his face.

“To the bathroom. I’ll be back in a few minutes, chill,” you say as you put a hand on his shoulder encouragingly and walk away. You roll your eyes at the action and start walking towards the back where the bathrooms are.

William really is a nice guy, he just isn’t the guy for you. You don’t have that much in common, and he’s way too into football. Granted, he did play as an undergrad, but you don’t really care. You want to talk about subjects other than sports, like maybe something you care about. He never makes an effort to ask you about yourself though. He just wants to talk about sports and his gym routine.

What a bore.

He’s a few years older than you. He’s twenty-eight, and you’re twenty-five. Soon to be twenty-six in a couple of months. You always had a thing for older guys. But lately you had your eyes set on someone else. Someone off limits to you which made you want him even more. But it would never happen. You needed to quit telling yourself it would. He’s too old for you, in his mid forties. Which only makes you that much more curious.

You aren’t watching where you’re going as you round the corner of a small crowd and run straight into someone who feels like a thick brick wall.

“I’m so sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going and…” You stop mid sentence as you see just who stands in front of you.

Joel Miller. Your dad’s hot best friend, the older man you can’t get out of your head.

“S’alright, sweetheart. Didn’t think I’d run into you here,” he says as he laughs, his smile making his honey brown eyes crinkle up at the corners, making you swoon and melt under his gaze.

God, he’s pretty.

“What are you doing here?” you ask with surprise in your voice.

“Havin’ a drink? It’s the weekend. Gotta relax somehow,” he says with another small smile as his Texas accent comes out thick and low. That melodic southern accent that could put you at ease on any given day.

“Oh, right.” You move a lock of hair behind your ear nervously and you swear he watches you a little too closely as his eyes trail to your neck, keeping his gaze there a little too long.

“You come with anyone tonight?” he asks as he looks around the crowded bar, bringing his focus back to you.

“Yeah. Came with a date tonight. Someone from one of my classes,” you say carefully.

His bottom lip twinges and his jaw clenches just enough for you to notice. His bicep flexes around his forest green plaid shirt as it’s rolled up to his elbows, exposing thick veins that spider all the way down his lower arms as they end in his massive hands. You gulp at the sight of him, of how seriously hot he is.

Was he jealous of William? Surely not…right?

“You be careful tonight. Don’t let him do anything you don’t want to,” he warns with a deep gruff in his voice, staring at you with serious, dark eyes.

“He’s not going to do anything. He’s nice. He’s-”

He cuts you off before you can finish. “Doesn’t matter if he’s nice. He’s a guy. He can change up on you like that.” He snaps his fingers, looking at you intently. “Jus’ be careful, okay?”

Why was he being like this? Protective. He wasn’t your dad. He didn’t need to keep an eye on you. You had it under control.

“I’ll be careful, but you really don’t have to tell me that. You sound just like my dad,” you say as you roll your eyes, annoyed.

“I ain’t your dad, sweetheart. Jus’ tryin’ to look after ya is all. Don’t want ya gettin’ hurt.”

Oh.

“Right. Okay…” you say quietly.

Joel skates his eyes down your body as he takes in the tight black tank top as your cleavage spills out a little too much, going over your short, light blue jean shorts as they barely graze your tan thighs, dragging his eyes down your long legs and ending at your clean, white Converse shoes as he slowly looks back up into your eyes.

You suddenly feel self conscious, like you need to cover up a little more. Not like he hasn’t seen you in short shorts and a tank top before. Hell, he saw you in a slinky bikini last summer at a pool party and the man couldn’t keep his eyes off you.

You wouldn’t lie though, you love when he notices you. When he flicks his eyes over you and lingers just a little too long, making you burn with heat from his intense stare. He’s the one you have wet dreams about, the older man you can’t quite shake from your fantasies. But he’s off limits. Because he’s your father’s best friend. And he would never dare touch his best friend’s daughter…right?

“Well, I’ll let ya get back to it. Don’t wanna keep ya from your date. I’ll be around here if ya need me. Just shoot me a text.”

You nod in reply and make your way over to the bathroom, turning to watch Joel disappear into the crowd somewhere. A sea of green getting lost in the abyss. You sigh and walk into the bathroom, trying to get a hold of yourself.

You had met Joel when you were just eighteen years old. He had just moved into the neighborhood, and your dad made quick friends with him. Pretty soon they were best friends. He was always coming to the house to hang out with your dad, always coming to pool parties or cookouts. He even taught you how to play guitar when you asked. And he was a good teacher, the way his hands slid across yours. Those rough, calloused fingers. You’d do anything to be able to feel those again on your skin.

You wondered how they’d feel on your thighs or even someplace else. Someplace sensitive…

You finish up in the bathroom and make your way back to William. Back to where you belong tonight. You need to stop thinking about Joel. He wasn't the one that was taking you out and never would be. Even if that’s something you want, so badly.

“Oh, you’re back. You missed this great conversation me and this guy had about Jake’s pass last week with the football. It was killer!” he shouts as you settle back into your barstool and get situated.

You roll your eyes and give him a polite smile. You’re so over the football talk. Couldn’t he give it a rest? You take a large drink from your red bull vodka and place it back on the bar top as you chase it down, letting it leave a slight burn in your throat.

When you look back up and turn your head slightly to the left, you almost fall off the barstool as you see Joel sitting across the bar, just on the opposite side. He’s drinking what looks to be a cold glass of whiskey on the rocks as the amber color swirls in the cup.

He takes another sip as he keeps his eyes fixed on you intently, letting his eyes roam up and down your body as a faint snarl edges the side of his mouth as he looks over at William.

Holy shit. He is jealous. You can see it in those dark brown eyes as they slightly narrow at the loud mouthed man that sits next to you as he rambles on about football.

He swirls the short straw around his drink as he eyes you again, this time his gaze relaxing into warmth as a gentle smile plays on his lips. You blush at the brooding man and bite your lip as you look down, unable to keep your focus on the intense dark eyes that are staring at you.

What’s his deal? He never dared tried to flirt with you before. Not like this. At least not around your dad. You always felt that invisible line get drawn at times though. Like last summer when you were in a tight, short dress, about to go out with some friends for the night. You felt his eyes burn through you as he stared at your thighs as he glazed over your toned, tanned body. You could feel it in the room how thick the tension was. But he didn’t dare cross that line. Not while he was in the presence of your father.

Joel’s a good guy. He’d never do anything to disrespect or hurt you. He’s kind and caring, always willing to help you out when you need it. Like with your projects or guitar. Or that time when he picked you up when your car got stuck in the snow and drove you all the way back home in the middle of an ice storm.

He’s special. One of a kind. You just don’t understand why he’s still single when he’s drop dead gorgeous. And his curls.

God, his curls. The way his thick, tousled hair curls at the edges as grey streaks line his dark hair. And his beard. That thick, scruffy salt and pepper beard that you want to graze your fingers across in a flirtatious manner. Thinking of how good his lips might feel on yours. How soft and velvety they must be…

You snap out of it as William tries talking to you again. You avert your eyes from Joel and put your attention on the guy that sits next to you.

“Did you finish the paper yet from Mr. Lawrence’s class yet?” he asks as he takes a sip of his vodka drink.

“Oh, yeah. I’ve been done for a few days now. Wanted to knock it out before more work got piled on,” you reply nonchalantly.

“Cool. I still got a ways to go. But anyways, you wanna go to the football game next weekend? Our team’s playing here. Thought you’d want to maybe go with me?” he asks with raised eyebrows and green eyes that search yours, hoping for a yes to come from your lips.

That was a hard pass. “Sorry, I already have plans that day,” you lie, trying to sound apologetic to soothe his hopefulness.

“That’s fine. There will be other games.”

You roll your eyes as you internally groan. You’re bored and you don’t want to be sitting here with him anymore. You need someone that isn’t boring. Someone that’s older, much older. Someone with pretty brown eyes and thick arms covered in plaid…

You look up from your long, thick lashes and meet Joel’s stare again as it sears through your skull. His gaze is so intense that it stirs something low in your stomach that feels a lot like heat.

This was bad. Really bad.

You squeeze your legs shut and put out the growing fire, dropping your gaze again so you won’t be tempted to be pulled back into the flames.

William puts a hand on your thigh and leans into you as you catch a whiff of his strong vodka drink on his breath. Joel looks like he could break the glass right under his fingertips the way he’s holding the cup.

Oh, he’s mad. But why? It’s not like he was supposed to take you out. He’s your fucking father’s best friend for God’s sake. You need to get out of the sick delusion that Joel actually likes you more than his best friend’s daughter. He’s only trying to be nice, protective. He’s only looking out for you because that’s what he should be doing, for your dad.

But then why is he looking at you like that? Like he wants to eat you alive and wants to snap the neck of your god awful date.

“You okay if I do this?” William asks as he rakes his teeth over your neck roughly. Nothing is sexy about it. It hurts and his teeth are sharp, and his breath smells horrible. He puts his hand back on your thigh and squeezes as his nails dig into your skin in an extremely uncomfortable way. You wince at his actions.

“William, no. We’re in public. I don’t think-”

Before you can finish your sentence, Joel’s on him in a second, pulling him away from your body as he yanks him out of his seat. Your breath catches at the way Joel is seething and breathing hard as he glares at William with daggers in his dark eyes.

“Don’t think she wants ya doin’ that,” he snarls as venom shoots from his tongue.

“Who the fuck are you to touch me and pull me from my woman?” he yells at Joel as his nostrils flare and his green eyes turn to tiny slits.

“She ain’t your woman,” Joel scoffs, clearly annoyed at the younger, less mature male.

“Oh, and who are you? You her keeper or something?” he asks angrily.

“Somethin’ like that,” he replies, his voice clipped.

Your eyes widen at the statement. Was he marking his territory? He had to be. Or maybe he was just being protective, helping out his best friend to keep his daughter safe. Maybe it didn’t mean anything.

Or maybe it did. You can’t tell one way or the other. Your mind’s a blur.

William rolls his eyes and looks over at you. “You want to get out of here? Come on, I’ll-”

You stop him before he can finish that sentence. “No.”

He goes livid as his green eyes turn to murky swamp water. “No? Are you fucking serious?” he asks with shocked words.

“The lady said no,” Joel states firmly as he steps in front of you, blocking William’s view.

“Baby, come on. Let’s go,” William demands, holding out his hand for you to take.

“I’m not yours…” you reply quietly.

“Fine! You can walk home then, bitch,” he says with clenched teeth and a hard line across his forehead.

“Watch how you fuckin’ talk to her,” Joel growls as he pushes William up against the bar table, making the rest of his vodka spill as it lands in a heap on the floor along with the mixed in broken glass.

“You really want to go there? Because I’ll tear you apart,” William yells.

“Go on then. Try.” Joel bares his teeth and flexes his hand into a tight fist.

You can’t let them fight. You won’t let Joel get hurt, even if he can take on William. What would your dad say?

You quickly intercept and step in between them. You put your hands on Joel’s broad chest and try to push him back. “Joel, stop. He’s not worth it.”

Joel clenches his jaw and stares hard at William, about to put a fist in his face. You put your hand over his tight fist and beg him to stop. “Please.”

Joel’s fist relaxes as he looks down at you, his brown eyes softening just the slightest as he focuses on you. Butterflies were swimming through your stomach at the heat that was between the two of you. You had never been this close to Joel. You were only inches from his mouth, so close that you could reach out and brush your lips over his. So very close…

William rips you away from your thoughts as you hear him grab his keys and turn sharply your way. “Have it your way. Enjoy the old man’s company. I’m out of here.” He storms away from the bar in a hurry, leaving you and Joel alone. Together.

You suddenly realize you’re still leaning against his chest, your hand still planted firmly on his. You drop your hand and back away from his space as you rake a hand through your soft curls.

“Thanks for that. You didn’t have to,” you say nervously, your voice cracking at the thank you.

“Save it, darlin’. I could already tell you weren’t havin’ a good time, and then he put his hands all over you. Greedy bastard.” He bares his teeth as he clenches his jaw.

Greedy bastard? Well, goddamn. He does like you. He had to. Otherwise he wouldn’t be talking to you like this. Right?

“Oh uhh, yeah…” You don’t really know what to say to that. And the way he’s flaring his nostrils is making you have heart palpitations. He had never looked that mad before. At least not over you.

“You want a drink? It’s on me,” he says as he tilts his head toward the bar.

“Yeah, sure,” you reply, trying not to act like you’re flipping circles inside.

“C’mon then.” He walks you to the bar and pulls out a barstool for you as you sit down. He takes a seat next to you, gently brushing his thigh against yours as he gets into place. You can’t help but gasp a little at the touch. It feels electric.

The young, red head bartender comes over and asks for your drink orders. “Hi, guys. What’ll it be tonight?”

Joel looks over at you and raises an eyebrow, looking you over slowly as if he’s trying to figure it out. It makes chills run down your spine. “Let me guess. Malibu sunset?”

He never gets it wrong. He knows your drink of choice like the back of his own hand. It was that slight attention he always gave you that did it for you. He was always listening, always so attentive when you spoke. He knew you so well it was almost scary. No other man had paid that much attention to you, nonetheless listened to you ramble about your likes and dislikes. But Joel always did.

“You remembered?” you ask with a faint smile.

“‘Course, darlin’. How could I forget?”

You slightly blush and place your arms on the bar top as you lean on it, trying to calm yourself down. He orders his usual whiskey on the rocks, his drink of choice. A scent that you can sometimes smell on his breath when he’s sitting close to you like now. Something you want to taste on his tongue. But that’s only a daydream. That would never happen. Right?

“So, how’s school going this semester?” he asks as he turns towards you, placing one of his arms on the bar top as his plaid shirt squeezes around his flexed bicep, making you uncomfortably hot just looking at his massive arms.

“It’s going well. I mean, it’s hard. Really hard, but I’m managing. I can’t tell you how many papers I’ve had to write already, but I seem to be doing something right because I have straight A’s,” you beam.

“Straight A’s huh? You always were a sharp thing.” He’s looking at you with those deep honey eyes, gently smiling as he admires you. A sight that makes you weak at the knees as you stare at his perfect dimples.

And those eyes. God, those pretty brown eyes. You want to drown in them. Let them grab hold of you as they drag you deeper and deeper until you suffocate under the weight of them.

“Actually, I’m at the top of my class,” you brag, nonchalantly.

Joel lets out a low whistle as he leans back in awe, giving you a once over. “‘Course you are, darlin’. Such a smart girl…” he whispers low and deep, making you bite your lower lip slowly.

There it was. That tension in the air. The way he’s looking at you makes you feel like you’re the only girl in the room. That deep smolder that puts dangerous daydreams in your mind. Hot, sticky daydreams…

The bartender breaks the tension as he sets the drinks down in front of you and walks back off without so much as a “let me know if you need anything else” line. He just walks away and helps some loud couple on the other side of the bar.

You swirl the straw around your yellow, pineapple drink and take a sip, letting the tropical taste run down your throat. It’s sweet and delicious, just how you like it.

Joel picks up his whiskey glass and takes a generous gulp. You watch as the rim of the glass kisses his lips, how he takes his tongue and runs it over the bottom of his lips, how he holds the glass tightly as the amber liquid clinks against the ice. You never wanted to be a glass as bad as you did now.

You bite your lip slowly as he puts the glass down and wipes his bottom lip with his thumb as he slowly grazes it over his lip. It’s slow, seductive, the hottest thing you had ever seen. You want to know just how soft those lips are, how good he tastes, how his calloused fingers would feel on your skin…

You shake your head and free the dirty thoughts from your mind. He’s your father’s best friend! This couldn’t happen. Ever. But fuck did you want it to. You never wanted anything as bad as this in your whole entire life. He was just so…perfect.

Last summer when your family had a party at the lake house, your friends all whispered how hot Joel was in his tight grey t-shirt and swim trunks. They’d say how built he was, how he must be great in bed, and they had called him the hottest dilf they’d ever seen. Of course they were right, but you were jealous of them. Because you wanted to be the only one that had eyes for him. You wanted him. Period. Even if he was strictly off limits.

He sits the glass down on the smooth bar top and turns back around, putting his full attention on you. “You uhhh, been seein’ anyone besides that handsy asshole lately?” he asks with darker eyes, a hint of anger on the tip of his tongue as his eyebrows furrow together.

There it was. That jealousy swirling off his tongue. Or overprotectiveness. Or possibly both. You couldn’t tell which it was.

“No, not really. Haven’t been dating much lately,” you say quietly.

“How come?” He’s curious. His eyebrows raise and he focuses intently on you, leaning in just a tad bit closer so he can hear you over the noisy crowd.

“Guess I just haven’t been interested in anyone,” you shrug, blowing it off like it isn’t a big deal, but apparently it is to him.

“Oh, but I’m sure guys are always askin’ ya out. A pretty thing like you, surely. Bet all their eyes are on ya.”

A pretty thing like you? The man just called you pretty. You swear you see stars in your eyes. The room feels dizzy as you take another drink, trying to calm your racing thoughts.

“I mean, not really,” you shake your head disagreeing.

“I don’t really believe that, you’re gorgeous. They’re missin’ out on a great girl. Just give it time. You’ll find someone worth your while.” He takes another sip of whiskey and looks at you from the corner of his eye, keeping those brown eyes only on you.

A great girl? Gorgeous?! You can’t help but feel a little disappointed when he says that you’ll find someone worth your while. You don’t want to find just someone, you want him and only him. That’s what you really want. But you need to stop mixing reality with fantasy. Joel would never let that happen. He wouldn’t disrespect your father like that or would he? You hoped he would.

“Have you finished my guitar yet?” you ask all of a sudden excited to see it. Joel was customizing your acoustic guitar and carving sunflowers into the wood. You’d asked him if he could do it because his woodwork was exceptional and you only wanted your guitar in the best hands. He said yes automatically, giving it no thought.

“I am. Just want to polish it up and then she’s all yours,” he says proudly, his smile crinkling up the edges of his mouth, exposing his adorable dimples that you love.

“Can I come see it?” you ask, almost begging with your eyes.

“Tonight?” he asks, hesitating just a bit with his voice.

“I mean, unless you have other plans,” you say, shrugging your shoulders slightly. He looks at you with a serious gaze in his eyes, and you notice his hand on his thigh slowly flex like he’s in deep thought.

Why was he hesitating? He had never hesitated around you before. But also, you’d never really been alone with him before. He’d occasionally picked you up a couple times or you’d be alone with him in the room for a few minutes at your house while your dad was grabbing something, but not in his house. Not alone, just the two of you.

He finally speaks as he runs a hand through his tousled curls, watching as they fall back into place perfectly. “No, don’t have any other plans. So, yeah. You’re welcome to come see it. I’ll have you try it out, see how you like it.”

“Maybe you can give me another lesson? It’s been awhile. You’re a great guitar teacher, best I ever had,” you smile at him, just on the edge of being flirtatious and drawing that thin line that you were about to cross.

“That so, darlin’?” he smirks, giving you butterflies in the pit of your stomach.

“Mhm,” you hum, taking another sip of your fruity drink.

“Well, glad to hear it. And we’ll see,” he says in a low voice.

He finishes up his whiskey and waits patiently for you to finish off your drink. As soon as you’re done, he pays for the drinks as the bartender takes up the tab.

“You ready to get out of here?” he asks as he stands up, pulling out his barstool.

“More than ready,” you respond as you get up and pull your denim shorts down. Joel’s eyes wander down to your tan thighs, and you swear you see that smoldering stare burning in his eyes return as he takes in the sight of your long legs. His gaze stays a few seconds too long as he quickly looks back up into your eyes, trying to play it off as he runs a hand through his thick curls slowly.

A low heat starts in your core, and you have to squeeze your legs together to ease the tension that was there. You’re already wet from seeing how your long legs affected him.

Fuck. You wanted him. Bad.

“Alright, c’mon then. Truck’s this way.” He leads you out of the busy bar as you wind your way through the crowd of people. He puts his hand on the small of your back, and you almost jolt at the action. He’d never done that before. But it feels…good. And you want his hand to continue to stay there, burning all the way down to your skin.

When you get out to the white Chevy, he unlocks the doors and then you climb into the front passenger seat. It’s nice and clean in here and smells like him. That woodsy pine smell that you love just lingering in the air. It makes you a little dizzy.

After he buckles his seatbelt, he puts the key in the ignition and then the truck rumbles lightly, the engine roaring to life. Ghost plays softly on the radio as the volume is turned low. You played Joel one of their songs a while ago and then he got hooked on them. You had to applaud yourself for getting him into your taste of music. Maybe one of these days he’d take you to their concert.

“I see you’re still listening to Ghost?” you ask with raised brows as you look over at him, laughing. He’s holding the steering wheel tight as he drives down the busy city streets, paying close attention to where he’s going.

“‘Course. Can’t believe you got me into them,” he says as he shakes his head, a gentle smile lifting the corners of his mouth.

“Well, you can’t deny they’re good. I mean, come on. Tobias is a musical genius,” you go on, getting lost in the song that’s playing on the speakers.

“No, you’re right. He’s good. Wouldn’t mind seein’ them if they ever decided to come to Austin,” he replies as he turns a corner, rotating the steering wheel sharp as his large hands grip around the leather. You watch the way his knuckles grasp the steering wheel strongly, wishing you could feel those hands on your body instead.

“Would you take me?” you ask quietly, blurring the lines of a boundary you shouldn’t cross.

His jaw slightly flexes as he flicks his eyes over to you. “If you’d wanna go, I’d take ya.” He looks back at the road before you respond.

“Really?” you ask shocked, not expecting that answer.

“Mhm. Might be fun,” he hums.

You sit back in your seat and smile out your passenger side window triumphantly as you watch the glow of the evening city lights pass by in a blur. This was nice. Having a little alone time with Joel. You didn’t think it’d go anywhere, but you were still glad you were here. With him.

Ghost’s song “Spillways” comes on next, and your eyes go wide as you jolt forward, reaching for the volume so you can turn it up. “I love this song!” you say excitedly.

You guess Joel had the same idea because he ends up reaching for the volume too. Your hand connects with his as he brushes against the top of yours. You gasp at the contact of his rough hand and quickly pull it away.

When Joel drops his hand, it connects with a plastic water bottle in the cup holder and sends it over the edge, tumbling down your way. He quickly reaches out to catch it, but he misses as it goes spiraling to the floorboard. Instead, his hand lands right on top of your thigh as his calloused fingers connect with your smooth skin.

Your eyes go wide as you hold in a breath. His hand feels so good. Both rough and soft at the same time, somehow the two intermingling with each other. His fingers gently curl against the edge of your thigh, lingering there a few seconds too long until he quickly grabs his hand away, bringing it back to the steering wheel hurriedly like his hand is on fire.

“Shit. Sorry ‘bout that. Didn’t mean to, well. Put my hand on ya,” he says hurriedly, apologizing in a quick breath.

“It’s okay…” you say slowly, still catching your breath from what just happened.

He lets out a drawn sigh as he takes his right hand and runs it through his tousled curls, looking like he’s in pain or fighting off something deep in his mind. He slowly brings his hand back down and barely grazes the steering wheel. He slowly flexes and extends his hand, the same hand he touched you with. It’s like he just pulled his hand from boiling water, like your thigh ignited something in him. Something hot and tempting…

He brings his hand up and rakes it through his scruff, his eyes in deep thought as his eyebrows furrow together. That touch to your thigh definitely affected him. You can clearly see that. You want to test the waters and bring his hand back down to your burning thigh. Let him trail his fingers up and down your inner thigh as they tease you, as they send slick down your center…

He sighs again before speaking. “Maybe I should just take ya home,” he says undecidedly, his voice right on the edge of shakiness.

Back home? Without going to his house first? No, no, you wouldn’t let that happen. This was your chance. Your one chance to test just where this would go. And you would not go back home without at least trying your luck.

“No,” you say a little too loud, a little too demanding.

“No?” he asks, one eyebrow raised in question at the harsh words that came out of your mouth.

“I mean…I just really want to see my guitar. Please?” you beg with a pleading voice, batting your eyelashes with the most innocent expression you can muster up.

Joel does a double take at you with his hand over his mouth, deciding if he should take you home or not, and then he nods in agreement. “Alright, alright. You can come see it,” he sighs.

Yes! You were screaming in silent victory at the win. You had him eating out of the palm of your hand. You just had to play it cool and not get pushy. If he wanted to make a move, then he’d be the one to do it. You wouldn’t push him. The next steps were all on him.

He was driving with one hand now as he leaned on the driver’s side window with his elbow, his hand gently resting under his jaw. He seemed to be lost in thought about something, his eyes pierced with attention on the road. And then it was silent except for the faint hum of the stereo. An uncomfortable silence you’d rather not sit in, so you decide to start up a conversation.

“So, how’s work going?” you ask, hoping it’ll break him of whatever intense trance he’s under.

“Busy, like usual. Got a few clients in this week, so my employees have been busy with those new projects. Have to say that I’ve been a little overwhelmed lately. Been workin’ late a lot. I feel bad cause a lot of the time I come home, Sarah’s already asleep. So I’ve been missin’ time with her. But I just hired a few more employees, so I’m hopin’ I’ll finally work some normal hours and not a ton of overtime like I have been.” He huffs out in annoyance, his forehead creasing into wrinkles as he rakes a hand over his mouth.

Poor Joel. He looks so frustrated, tired even. You slowly reach a hand out and sit it on his shoulder to show your understanding. “Hey, I’m sure Sarah understands. And I’m sorry you’ve been overworked. Hopefully things lighten up and you can get more time at home. I’m sure you’re exhausted. Especially with taking on side projects with my guitar. If I would’ve known, I wouldn’t have asked you,” you say in an apologetic voice, slowly bringing your hand back down to rest in your lap.

“No, it’s okay. I wanted to do that for ya. It’s no problem. I enjoyed working on it. And thank you, for the kind words. You always know just what to say to calm me down.” He looks over at you and gives you a small smile, nodding his head in a thank you.

“Oh, okay. And I try,” you say as you swallow.

You watch him turn on Waterlake Drive as he pulls into your neighborhood. Except you aren’t going home. Not yet anyways. You’re going to his house.

You pass your street and drive four blocks down as you turn on the dimly lit road. Houses aren’t right next to each other as each house has a big yard and their own privacy. Joel turns into his wide driveway and stops the truck, putting it into park.

Joel’s house is a big two story house that has a wraparound porch on the outside with blue shutters on the arched windows. There are two wooden rocking chairs that sit on the porch, and the yard is covered in towering oak trees. It’s a really pretty house, one that’s too big for only two people, but he fills up the space with all his projects that are lying around just waiting for him to finish.

You get out of the truck and slam the white door shut as you hear the beeping noise of Joel locking the truck. He takes out his keys and places the golden house key in the lock as he turns and opens the door.

“C’mon in,” he says as he opens the door for you, waiting for you to pass through.

You step through and make your way down the polished dark, wooden floors. Pictures of Joel and Sarah hang all along the staircase as you pass right by, heading for the living room.

The living room’s done up in tall white walls with pictures of Lake Texoma and wildlife sprawled across the side walls. A huge 70-inch flat screen sits mounted on the middle of the wall and a big cream colored couch sits in the middle of the room with a couple of leather recliners sitting a few feet apart from each other. A small, wooden side table with a luminous lamp sits next to the couch as it shines light throughout the room. And a tall, glass cabinet sits in the corner of the room that’s full of old Rock and Roll albums that both Joel and Sarah collect. It’s really homey, peaceful. You liked coming over here, even though you have only been a couple of times.

“Where’s Sarah at?” you ask, looking around the quiet house.

“She ain’t here. She’s at a friend’s for the weekend,” he responds as he walks back in from the open kitchen.

Oh. So you were all alone with him. In his house.

Fuck.

“Well, have a seat and I’ll go grab your guitar,” Joel says as he exits the room.

You take a seat in the middle of the couch and try to relax, but you’re still flustered from Joel putting his hand on your thigh. It was probably just an accident. You were probably just blowing it all out of proportion, so you needed to calm the hell down. But you’re all alone with him, and that makes heat build in the pit of your stomach.

After a couple of minutes in silence, Joel comes back into the room with your guitar in his hands. He has it flipped to where you can’t see the front of it, keeping it a surprise for you.

“Alright, here it is. Why don’t you take a look.” He flips it around to where you can see it, and you gasp at how stunning it is.

The solid, light spruce guitar looks as if it’s shining. The strings are completely redone, and the narrow neck and body look like they have been resanded to perfection. But what catches your eye the most is the gorgeous, carved etchings in the acoustic guitar that makes patterns of sunflowers all over the bottom half of the guitar. Gold, pink, and orange fill in the flowers and a single hand painted purple butterfly sits at the top, along with a few sparkly swirls around the edges that are all sorts of bright colors.

You walk over to him and place your hand on the guitar, gently running your hand over the smooth etchings of the designs he had made for you.

Holy shit. It was incredible, the most beautiful guitar you had ever seen in your entire life.

Your mouth is agape and your eyes are wide as you take in the beauty that sits in his hands, just waiting for you to play. “Joel…I don’t even know what to say. It’s beautiful. How did you…” You’re completely speechless. You don’t know what to say.

“You like it?” he asks with a hopeful smile, his brown eyes trained on you.

“Like it? I love it!” you shout in glee.

“Good, that’s good. Glad ya do.” He says as he runs a hand through his tousled curls as one stray curl falls over his face.

God, what you would give to run your hands through those smooth curls. You could get lost in them for hours.

“Here, why don’t ya try it out?” he asks as he hands the guitar to you. You gently take the smooth guitar in your hands and walk over to the couch as you sit in the middle, right on the edge. You strum the cords as it’s perfectly tuned. Joel must’ve tuned it for you. That man was so thoughtful, you just couldn’t get enough of him.

“You remember that song I taught you?” he asks as he comes around the couch and stands a few feet away, looking at you as if he’s waiting on something.

“You mean that Nirvana song?” you ask, not exactly recalling the entire song.

“Yeah. Something In the Way. You remember it?” he asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Umm, I think so. It’s been awhile since I played,” you reply honestly.

“Well, go on and try it. I can help ya if you get lost.”

“Right. Okay. Let me see if I remember,” you say as your voice trails off. You get your hands in position and take a deep breath as you line your fingers up just right. You start the song off slow, trying to recall all the notes to play.

You start off strong as you remember the beginning. Joel’s nodding his head in the corner as he watches you, keeping an eye on your fingers as you play. The more he watches you, the more you get nervous. You start to fumble your fingers and mess up the cords as the wrong tune comes out. You’re getting frustrated with yourself that you’re letting your dad’s best friend get you this flustered. It wasn’t fair. What was wrong with you?

“Shit,” you say with a frustrated sigh as you mess up the cords again. You scrunch your brows together and curse under your breath.

“Hey, it’s okay. You just messed up the bridge of the song. Let me show you.” He comes to sit on the couch beside you, so close that his thigh connects with yours as his muscles hug his jeans to him.

He places his left hand on yours as he positions your fingers exactly where they need to be. You bite your lip as his calloused fingers connect with yours, his thick fingers gently guiding you through the bridge. You can’t focus with him this close. He smells like whiskey and pines, a woodsy scent that’s clinging itself to you, making you dizzy from the smell.

You mess up again as you lose focus, only thinking of how good he smells and how delicious he’d taste. You’re starving for him. A hungry lioness that wants to devour her prey. And that prey is Joel.

Your right hand forgets to strum, and you mess up the entire song.

Christ. Get a hold of yourself!

“Sorry, I haven’t practiced in a few weeks. I thought I’d at least remember the entire song. It wasn’t that long ago that I was playing it,” you sigh disheartened.

“You’re doin’ fine, sweetheart. You want me to refresh ya on the song?” he says with deep brown eyes staring you down in question.

“If you wouldn’t mind,” you reply with a more upbeat tone.

“C’mere then.” He scoots his body to the back of the couch and spreads his legs as he grabs your waist and pulls you to him, sitting you down right in between his legs, right against his broad chest. His arms circle you as his hands come down on top of yours, covering them with his calloused fingers burning into yours as he positions them on the strings.

You gasp at the position you’re in. Joel had never taught you like this. Being this close, practically in his lap.

Fuck.

“You wanna go over to C and play these cords together.” He takes your fingers and strums them along the neck of the guitar, guiding your right hand to play some different notes. He takes you through the entire song slowly as he guides your fingers through every note.

“Alright, that’s good. There ya go. A little slower, right there. Good,” he murmurs as his deep breath rumbles from his chest, sending vibrations through your back.

His instructions were always so clear, so crisp as he languidly guides you with his rough hands. He was an excellent teacher, the best you’d ever had. Always so careful, so pristine, so diligent, so attentive…

His hot breath is blowing down your neck as he leans over your shoulder, his lips so painstakingly close to your skin that he could lean over and drag his lips over your neck. He scoots his hips up as he comes closer to you, so close that your back is crushed against his broad chest and his biceps are caging you in as you hold the guitar. His thighs are right up against yours as they gently squeeze your legs, making your breathing pick up at how close he is now.

He’s practically suffocating you with his tight abs and woodsy scent, letting the whiskey get you drunk from his breath breathing down your neck. It’s almost insufferable at how worked up you’re getting over him. You’re agitated, sexually frustrated at how fucking much you want to jump in his lap and pull his lips down to yours. Let him get you drunk off his whiskey taste as his tongue explores your mouth thoroughly.

He dismantles his hands from yours and coaxes you to keep going with a gentle, steady voice. “Now, you try by yourself. See if you can play it back to me.” He lets his hands fall to the sides of the couch as he stays in place, your body tucked into his tightly.

“You want me to play it myself?” you ask with hesitation in your voice.

“Mhm. Go on now. Play it for me,” he repeats.

You take a deep breath and get your hands in place, focusing on the cords. You slowly start playing the Nirvana song as the guitar strums to life. You’re getting the hang of it, finally remembering the right cords to play.

As you get further in the song, Joel sits up straighter and leans forward, his hands moving to his jeans and his lips almost brushing your neck. You keep playing, trying not to get distracted by the handsome man that sits behind you.

You’re closing in on the end of the song, just about a minute more left and then Joel interrupts your concentration. “That’s really good, darlin’. Nice and steady. You’re a fast learner. Think I could teach ya harder, more complicated songs in no time,” he replies with a low voice, making you break your train of focus.

“Oh yeah? Like what?” you ask quietly as you continue strumming along lightly, barely picking at the cords.

“Metallica, Bullet for My Valentine, Ghost, all those bands you like,” he lulls as he presses further into you, his lips dangerously close to your skin. You can feel his breath hit your collarbone. That hot, sweltering breath that you want to bask in, burn in.

“I’d like that,” you purr.

“Yeah?” he asks, digging one of his hands into the material of his jeans like he was trying to control himself.

“Yeah,” you reply, still faintly playing the guitar.

Without warning, he lifts his left hand and moves your long, beachy curls out of the way, sweeping them over your left shoulder so he has access to your neck.

He gently slides his nose up the right side of your neck, stopping right before he gets to your earlobe as he breathes in deep. “You smell like citrus and vanilla,” he groans in a deep voice as he moves his right hand to your thigh, resting it gently on the top of it.

Your eyes go wide as his fingers trail up your leg, slowly inching their way to your inner thigh as his fingers flex, running his nails up and down in steady strides, his hand ending just at the cutoff of the denim material, so close that he could lift the edges and dive his hand into darker, wetter regions.

His calloused fingers slowly flex and extend as he gently runs his fingers over your skin, making you want to come absolutely undone right there on the couch. His lips graze your skin as they trail down your neck, barely skimming the surface as you feel just how soft his lips really are. They feel magnetic as he teases you with his lips, not yet fully giving in.

You’re still playing the song, just a few seconds left before it’s over. “Doin’ so good, darlin’. Such a good little guitar player,” he purrs as his lips make contact with your skin, his mouth gently brushing up the side of your neck as you feel him sink down into you, hitting that sensitive spot that drives you crazy.

Fuck.

A wave of slick pools at your center as you squeeze your legs together, a breathless moan getting stuck in your throat. You stop playing, not able to concentrate any longer. Not when his mouth is on your neck and his fingers are pressed against your inner thigh.

“Joel,” you press, your voice coming out as clipped and desperate.

His fingers trail up to the waistband of your jean shorts as he dances his fingers up and down the denim, teasing you like he knows what he’s doing because he does know. He knows damn well what it’s doing to you. He’s working you up nice and slow. Starting that low burn in your stomach as it spreads to your center, down your thighs.

“You tell me to stop and I’ll stop,” he says in a deep, husky voice as he kisss your neck again, his fingers slowly unbuttoning the top button on your jean shorts.

Suddenly the room is too hot, the tension too thick in the air. Your breath is coming in and out like you’re about to hyperventilate and your skin is scorching at his touch. You feel your spine tingling as he grazes his lips against your jawline, his fingers slowly unzipping your shorts, getting ready to take them off.

“Don’t stop, please,” you beg as you move your hips up, slowly setting the guitar to the side as you put your hands on his knees, holding on for dear life.

“Don’t want me to stop? Want me to keep goin’? Want me to show you how else I can use my fingers?” he asks seductively, his voice low as you listen to that melodic tone.

“Yes, please. Show me,” you plead as you bite your lip in anticipation.

“Alright, I’ll show ya. Just ‘cause you asked nicely,” he says as he unzips the zipper all the way and pushes the shorts down your legs, letting them drop to the floor as he trails his fingers up and down your inner thighs, letting you squirm against him as you can’t stand the anticipation any longer.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do this. How long I’ve had my eyes on you, you pretty thing,” he groans as he ghosts his hand over your center, lightly tugging at your waistband as he slowly lifts the pink lace up, sticking his thumb inside as it trails across the top, not quite yet to your dripping center where you need him the most.

“And those legs. God, those long, tan legs. So soft, so perfect,” he purrs as he trails his left hand up your thigh, letting his finger gently slide down your clothed center as it causes a hiss to come from your mouth.

“You want this?” he asks as he sinks his right hand lower, finding your slick folds as he barely puts pressure on them.

“Oh, fuck. Yes,” you groan out as you try to spread your legs further apart, your center desperate for some relief.

“Mmmm, thought so,” he murmurs, a thick, heavy breath coming from his throat.

He puts more pressure on your center and spreads your folds as he circles you slowly. You can hear the sloshing and sticky noises from your wetness and it’s making you so much more turned on, making you feral for his touch.

“Goddamn, you’re wet, darlin’. All this for me?” he asks with a smirk as he uses his other hand to slowly slide your ruined underwear to the floor, leaving you completely bare on the bottom.

He takes a good look at you as he spreads your legs over his thighs and opens you wider, exposing your dripping cunt that’s at complete mercy to Joel’s hands.

“Fuck, you’re pretty, baby,” he growls as he runs his hands up further and catches your clit as he puts more pressure into it. Circling nice and slow, building up that arousal and heat that threatens to make you come undone in just a matter of time.

“Oh, God,” you moan as you grip his thighs and dig your fingers into his jeans as you lean your back into him, his lips skimming down your jaw as he works at your clit meticulously. Feeding your arousal that’s pooling all around you as another wave of slick washes down your thighs.

“That’s it, darlin’. Gonna show ya exactly how a man should get a woman off. Want you to scream my name by the time I have you comin’. Gonna show you just how good your daddy’s best friend can finger fuck you,” he growls, a low guttural sound coming from deep in his throat. It’s primal and territorial. He’s claiming what’s his. And it’s you. And it’s hot as hell.

You let out a breathy moan as he plunges two fingers into your dripping cunt as he works hard and fast at sliding his fingers in and out of you. Up and down, back and forth as the sounds of slick and wet fingers connect, causing you to buck up your hips at the building sensation. You’re already so close and you can’t take much more. It’s too much. He’s too much.

He presss a hand down on your hips and clicks his tongue, locking you in with his grip so you’re unable to move. “You stay in place, sweetheart. I’m not lettin’ you get away just yet. You’re so close, I can feel it. The way you’re arching your back and tightening your pretty cunt around my fingers. You’re almost there, and I’m gonna make you come hard, understand?” he asks in a low, raspy voice as you feel his bulging erection growing in his jeans as you push back against it.

“Yes. Please, Joel,” you beg as you lay your head against his shoulder, looking up at the now blown out black pits of his eyes as he stares down at you with a devilish smirk on his face.

“Please what?” he smiles down, his smirk playing across the side of his mouth, making him look handsome as hell.

“Make me come,” you whisper out of breath.

“That’s all you had to say, sweetheart.”

He takes his thumb and presses down on the most sensitive spot of your clit as his index and middle fingers work at your insides, pumping in and out as the wet, sloshing noises get louder.

Your legs start to shake as he circles and circles your clit, rubbing faster and harder as your breathing picks up and a hot, burning sensation is right at the edge of spilling over. The room gets heavier and thicker as the gasping moans and heat intertwine together, making a muggy room of desire and seduction.

Your legs are shaking so much that Joel has to hook your right leg under his as his left hand holds your other one down. He’s going to make you ride out this orgasm whether you can handle it or not. The sensation is overbearing as you feel your walls start to spasm as they squeeze around his thick fingers that pump in and out of you.

“Joel, I can’t…I’m so…I’m almost…” you moan in quick, shaky breaths. Barely able to hang on any longer.

“C’mon, baby. Let go. That’s it. Want you to be a good girl and come on my fingers. Come on, almost there,” he coaxes as he speeds up his fingers and plunges deep into the spongy spot of your walls, pressing firmly on your clit in just the right spot.

You feel your insides clench up one more time around his fingers as white, hot heat fills your entire body and then your walls go slack as you feel yourself release hot liquid all over his fingers. You let your eyes roll back as you moan his name loud as the liquid continues to drip down your center and covers the inside of your thighs.

“There ya go. Such a good girl,” he purrs, his eyes bleeding into yours as you struggle to keep your eyes open.

It’s like you’re hypnotized, in a daze the way your body feels like it’s floating as Joel works you through your intense orgasm, his fingers slowly fucking up inside you as he makes sure he gets every drop of slick inside you that he can.

He takes his other arm and gently runs it up and down your thigh, easing you from your orgasm as you slowly come back to earth. He gently uncurls his fingers from inside you and brings them up to his mouth, lapping up the slick on his fingers as your eyes go wide at the provocative action. He gently runs his other hand down your arm in a comforting way and then slowly unlatches your legs from his grip.

“That was incredible…” you express with blown out pupils, your heart racing a thousand miles per hour as you sink all your weight into his chest.

Joel laughs as he pulls you into his lap and caresses your cheek, slowly pushing a strand of hair behind your ear in an affectionate way. He was being so careful with you, so gentle. You felt so safe and secure in his strong arms. It was nothing like you’d felt before with a man. Joel was one of a kind.

“Glad I could make ya feel good,” he laughs as a gentle smile curls up at his lips, his dark eyes hovering over you as his lips are just inches from yours. You want to taste them, see how good they feel on yours.

“I didn’t think…I didn’t know you were into me,” you answer quietly as you stare up at him, waiting for a reply.

He furrows his eyebrows and flexes his jaw before he speaks. “Sweetheart, I’ve liked you for quite some time now. Just didn’t know how to go about it with your dad being my best friend and all.” He sighs and lets his head drop back against the couch as he takes you with him. He rakes a hand through his messy curls and looks back up at you with another sigh. “Your father would kill me if he knew I just finger fucked his daughter.”

“He doesn’t have to know. It’s our own little secret,” you snicker as you lean your head on his chest. “Joel, I’ve liked you a long time. A very long time. I just thought you were off limits.” You shrug as you relax back into him as his arms pull you in and keep you warm.

“I mean technically I should be off limits, but…” He trails off and doesn’t finish his sentence as his eyes are in a far away place.

“But what?” You shake him out of his trance as he comes back down to reality.

“But…I can’t leave you alone now. Not after this,” he gestures to the mess on the couch that you made. “As far as I’m concerned, you’re mine now. And I don’t intend on sharing,” he growls as his dark eyes penetrate your gaze, sinking deep into you, awakening something that had been dormant till you met him.

Mine? Oh. You liked the sound of that. A lot. And it was possessive, dominant, making you hungry for more of him, needing more of him.

“Then don’t,” you breathe out in a quiet voice, your eyes intently locked on his.

He looks into your eyes with those desperate, needy honey eyes of his and then looks down at your lips, repeating the sequence a couple more times before he cups your chin and brings you in close. He presses his lips to yours as his large hands cup your face. It’s slow, romantic, everything you hoped it would be.

The kiss deepens as you part your lips and invite him in. He slides his tongue in your mouth and collides into yours as he slowly swirls and massages your tongue with his. His lips are so soft and large, feeling like they’re made just for you. And his taste.

God, he tastes so good. You can taste the hint of hazelnut coffee, a drop of whiskey, and maybe a taste of honey as his tongue invades your mouth in all the right places.

You moan into his mouth as he kisses you deeper, faster, more desperate as he grabs the back of your hair and pulls at just the right pressure. It feels good. Like he’s being dominant with you but also soft, the perfect combination.

You push your body up as you straddle his lap, feeling that tight bulge in his pants as you start to unbuckle his leather belt, desperate to get your hands on him. He puts a strong hand around your wrist and stops you before you can go any further.

“And what do ya think you’re doin’?” he asks as he lifts an eyebrow, a small smile hiding behind his serious gaze.

“I just wanted to make you feel good too,” you confess, giving him the best smirk you can muster up.

“Is that so?” he asks with a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

“Mhm,” you hum, using your free hand to push his broad chest back into the soft couch.

“Hmmm. Alright then, darlin’. Show me.” He lets go of your wrist and lets you pull the belt loose from his dark jeans. You slowly unzip the zipper but before you can pull down his pants, he stops you again as he cups your chin and lifts your head to look into his eyes.

“On your knees,” he growls dominantly as his eyes turn from soft brown to dark black pits as his pupils expand.

“Yes, Mr. Miller,” you reply automatically without thinking as you drop to the soft rug, getting on your knees as you place your hands on his muscular thighs.

“Just Joel, darlin’,” he reminds you. “Now, be a good girl and show me how good you can suck this cock.”

He stares down at you with seductive eyes and a large smirk painted across his face. He looks so goddamn pretty. And the way his plaid sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, exposing thick veins that cover his arms is making you even more turned on.

You waste no time and pull down his jeans and then his black briefs, freeing his erection from the combines of his pants. It plants firmly against his stomach, and you gasp at just how large he is.

Holy shit. He’s massive.

You gulp and scoot up to the edge of the couch as you bring your hand around his thick width. You start sliding your hand up and down his large length, watching as the veins in his cock wrap around him, feeling the coarse, wiry hair that blankets around the base of him, transfixed on just how big he is.

You bring your head down and slowly lick the tip as you let your tongue swirl around all his sensitive spots, still using your hand to slide up and down him as precum bubbles over the edge. You savour the taste of him as you let the salty flavor run down your throat all hot and sticky like. You lick the tip again, this time looking at him seductively under your long eyelashes as you let your hand work up and down his largeness.

“Fuck,” he moans under his breath as you stare up at him, his black pupils blown out as he watches you devour him inch by inch.

You test your limits and take him further into your mouth, going down as far as you can until you gag on him, slowly coming back up for air before you go back down again.

“You look so fuckin’ pretty sucking my cock, darlin’,” he groans as a grabs the back of your hair as you go down on him again, this time taking him deeper, going past your limits. You choke on him as you feel your throat constrict around his length, feeling just how thick he is as the salty taste runs down your throat like warm cider.

He fists your hair and works you up and down him as you gag and choke on his delicious cock. Your eyes water as you feel saliva pool in your mouth and run down your chin as he takes you as far as you can go, speeding up his actions as he fucks your mouth over and over again. Up and down, deeper and deeper. Driving you fucking crazy.

“That’s a good fucking girl,” he growls, sending a wave of slick between your legs as you continue deep throating him.

He loves every second of it, and you love it just as much as he does. You love feeling his cock slide in and out of your mouth, love tasting him, love the way his eyebrows furrow together and the deep, breathless moans he makes from his throat as you make him come to life. And you love how possessive he gets with it. It’s so fucking hot. You revel in making him yours, making him want you, making him feel like he’s the most special man in the world, because he is. He’s so special, and now he’s yours. All yours.

He deep throats you one more time as he hits the back of your throat, making you audibly gag around him as your throat closes up around him, squeezing him as your saliva encases his thick cock.

“Goddamn!” he moans loudly as he pulls out of your throat as the saliva sticks to the end of his hard cock, running a trail of glistening saliva from his tip to your chin as you wipe the tears from your eyes. You miss one as it runs down your face.

Joel leans forward and catches it, wiping it away with his thumb as he cleans the saliva from your chin, making sure you don’t have a spot left on your face.

“You didn’t come,” you say quietly, unsure of why he stopped you.

He bites his bottom lip before answering you back. “I know, darlin’. That’s ’cause I’m not done with you yet.” His eyes turn into deep black pits again as he yanks you up from the floor and straddles you across his lap, the tip of his cock just inches from your weeping entrance as you’re soaked with arousal.

“Want you to ride me, sweetheart. Now get on top of me,” he instructs. He lifts your hips as he moves the tip of his cock to your drenched entrance, just barely slipping in, waiting for you to go down.

“Lower for me,” he demands, his voice raspy and deep. You slowly lower yourself down on him as he presses up deeper into you, expanding your walls right to the point of pain. You wince but keep your face controlled as you start to ride him nice and slow, feeling just how thick he is as you squeeze him, starting to move faster as you go up and down, up and down. Feeling every single flutter that your walls make as his large length caves inside you.

You groan and press your forehead against his as you straddle and ride him, digging your thighs into his sides as he grabs the back of your ass and squeezes, sending slick running down your center. The room starts to grow too hot, the stickiness and humidity mixing in with your fully aroused state. You can feel your hair stick to your face as the sweat shimmers across your forehead. You speed up the intensity, feeling every single detail of his cock as he rams up inside you time and time again. Making you nearly drown in your own slick.

“Fuck,” you groan as you continue riding him, building up that sweet orgasm that’s about to be set free. The sticky, slick noise from him sliding in and out of you is too much. He’s too much, too sexy, too fucking good for you. You need a release, you need to come. This was too much. “Joellllll,” you moan as you draw out the last syllable of his name, begging for him to make you come.

“That’s it, darlin’. Taking me so fucking good like the good girl you are. You’re almost there. I can feel it,” he says seductively, making you bite your lip at how sexy his bedroom voice is. It’s low, deep, provocative. A noise that could make you come just at the sound of. He’s electric.

“Want some assistance, darlin’?” he asks with low, drawn out words. Setting your insides on fire.

“Mhmm,” you hum out, trying your best to keep yourself in one piece.

He grabs the back of your hair and pulls you to his mouth as he devours you, biting your lower lip and shoving his tongue inside your mouth as he twirls around yours, setting your taste buds on fire. Drowning in his coffee and whiskey taste, wanting to drink him down until you can’t taste anything except him. Only him.

He takes control and places his hands on your hips as he bucks up inside you, thrusting deeper and deeper until he’s bottoming out, hitting you so deep that you swear you start seeing stars.

You place your hands around his neck and hold tight, your fingers wrapping around the curls that reach the back of his head as you claw at him, running your nails through his scalp. He moans at the sensation and continues plunging into you with his massiveness taking over you entirely, feeling every vibration through your body as you’re on cloud nine. You’re almost there, almost…

“You on birth control?” he asks with gritted teeth, a low growl leaving his throat as he thrusts inside you, sinking his nails into your sides.

“Mhm,” you choke out a moan, barely able to answer.

“Mmmm that’s good. Real good. Gonna spill all inside ya then. Is that what you want, darlin’? Want my cum inside that pretty pussy?” he asks with a gritted, clipped tone that’s full of arousal.

“Yes, please. Fuck,” you moan as he places his thumb on the throbbing bud of your clit, pressing just enough to pull that building orgasm out of you as you clench around his thick cock and feel white, hot heat slide over you.

You throw your head back and moan his name, feeling yourself unclench from him as you spill all down his long length. You feel your fingertips go tingly, the sensation making its way all the way down to your toes as they curl, feeling your heart speed up as the palpitations set in. It’s the most intense orgasm you ever had in your entire life, and you know then that you will never be able to get Joel out of your head. You’re hooked like a shot of espresso. Needing to consume it every day to be able to function properly. He’s like a drug. Nightshade. Deadly but intoxicating, a taste you can’t resist. A taste you crave, want, desire.

“Fuck, sweetheart. Your face is so fucking pretty when you cum, when you’re saying my name,” he growls as he emphasizes the my. Making it sound like you belonged to him now. And fuck you want that more than anything.

He thrusts inside you faster, harder as he knits his eyebrows together, getting caught in deep concentration as his breaths become ragged, unhinged. “You’re so tight, feels so good inside ya. You’re squeezing me so hard. Goddamn, you pretty thing,” he groans as he digs his fingers into your hips, pounding once, twice, three more times before he holds you down on his thighs and rolls his eyes up to look into yours with those black pits staring up at you hungrily.

He opens his mouth and moans as he spills his cum inside you. You feel the sticky, hot mess coat your walls as he thrusts once more, getting his fill of you entirely. Your breathing is rough and winded as you chase down your high from the intense fucking.

He keeps you there, staying inside you for just a few minutes as you both collect your breath and just stare at each other, taking in each other’s ecstasy and heat as the tension doesn’t disperse from the room. It stays like a hot, summer day with the humidity intensifying. It’s like you’re in the middle of a rainforest. It’s so hot, so suffocating, so muggy. And you can see that you’re caught in the middle of a hard spot. Alone with the stalking panther that wants to eat you alive. And that panther is Joel. He catches you, and now you’re all his for the taking. A complete menace at best.

He finally slides out of you as you feel his seed start to drip from you as it drops against his thighs, mixing in with the sweat and lust from each other. He falls to his back on the couch and brings you with him as he pulls you into his arms and brings your legs over his as he gently drags his fingers up and down them, soothing you from the hot cardio you had just taken part in.

“Fuck,” he says in a deep voice as he kisses the top of your head and brings his hand under your chin, lifting it so he can look into your eyes. “You’re so fucking pretty, baby. And your eyes. They’re so beautiful, they’re practically sparkling for me right now, just like diamonds.” Your breath catches as he gazes over you, admiring your beauty and charm as he caresses your cheek affectionately.

Oh, God. You’re in trouble. You’re falling hard and fast for your dad’s best friend. What a mess.

“Joel,” you say with admiration as you rake your fingers through his salt and pepper scruff, acquiring a slight groan from deep in his throat from the light touch. “I like you. A lot,” you breathe as you hold back tears from streaming over. You don’t want this to be over. It couldn’t be. You wouldn’t let it be.

“Oh, darlin’. You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this. To have you, to hold you, to feel just how soft your skin really was. Been holdin’ back a long time. But something snapped in me tonight. When I saw you with that guy. I wanted to wring his fucking neck,” he spits as his eyes go cold. You gasp at the intensity of him. Of his words. He really does like you. This is real, it’s all real. And you just can’t believe it.

You run your hand down his broad chest as he pulls you closer, and you lean into him as your head rests on his chest, feeling every ragged breath go in and out as his chest rises and falls in waves.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to leave you alone now, darlin’. Not after this,” he says, holding you tight as he strokes your cheek, pulling back another strand of hair behind your ear softly.

“Then don’t,” you breathe, hope filling your gut as you cling to his bulky, tight arms.

He lets out a soft chuckle as he plays with your soft curls, running his hand through your hair gently as it sends a wave of warmth and serotonin over you, completely calming you of any anxiety. “I don’t intend to, darlin’. You’re all mine,” he coos.

Mine. There it was again. You were his and it felt so right.

“Joel?”

“Hmm?” he hums as the vibrations in his chest reverberate around you like a thunderstorm but calming you entirely.

“Can I stay with you tonight?” you ask in a quiet, meek voice.

“‘Course, sweetheart. I wasn’t planning on takin’ ya home. Not after this. You’re stayin’ with me.” He cups your chin and slowly brings his lips down on yours as you drink him in nice and slow, fully embracing the taste of him that was now a part of you.

When you finally break apart, you look up at him with a worried look on your face, your anxiety returning in full force like a galloping horse about to collide with another.

“What is it, sweetheart?” he asks with furrowed eyebrows and soft brown eyes that are searching your face, trying to find what was wrong.

“My dad….what if he somehow finds out that we…what if…”

He puts his thumb on your lips and hushes you, a gentle soothing sound coming from his mouth. “We can worry about that another day. He ain’t gonna find out,” he reassures you.

The unsettled feeling dwells in the pit of your stomach, and the worried expression doesn’t leave your face as you continue looking at him. A tear threatening to pool at the corner of your eye, but you hold it in. Not wanting to worry Joel with your anxious thoughts.

“Hey, you trust me?” he asks as he looks deep in your eyes, his brown eyes honing in like a hawk.

“Yes, of course,” you nod.

He takes your hand in his as he clasps his thick fingers around yours. “Then believe me when I say this will work out. I’m not lettin’ ya go, darlin’. I’m gonna make sure your daddy doesn’t find out. He ain’t gonna suspect a thing.”

You nod up at him, slowly pulling yourself back together. “Okay,” you agree.

“Alright. Now, let’s go get you cleaned up in the shower and get ya to bed. You must be exhausted,” he says as he pulls you up from the couch, picking you up bridal style and carrying you up the stairs to his bathroom.

After the warm shower, you get right in his bed with him. Wrapped up in his strong arms with one of his large plaid shirts hugging your body as you breathe in his pine and woodsy scent, enveloping yourself entirely in him as you memorize exactly what he smells like. Wanting to remember this moment as the best night of your life.

You fall asleep shortly as you listen to the faint sound of his breathing as you lay against his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around you. And that night you only dream of brown eyes, broad arms, thick fingers, and wet, sticky sensations. But one thing still clings to the back of your mind as you dream of Joel. Just one thing that you can’t quite shake as it interrupts your sweet, wet dreams of Joel. And that one thing is your dad.

Fuck. You just had mind blowing sex with your daddy’s best friend.

Tags: @janaispunk @studioghibelli @cinnamongorll @callmecath1 @joelalorian @dugiioh @ladamari68 @amyispxnk @pedrostories @tuquoquebrute

Part 2

[adrienneleclerc]

Birthday Surprise

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Latina! Reader

Summary: Charles spends his 27th birthday on a flight to Austin, Texas, and without his girlfriend

Warning: the usual, you know the drill

Charles woke up early in the morning so he could be able to catch his 7am flight to Austin for the Grand Prix. When he woke up, he frowned when he saw that Y/N wasn’t beside him. Logically, he knew that Y/N was visiting her friend in the states, but it still hurt him to not see her on his birthday. She wasn’t even awake yet, New York being 6 hours behind and all, but he still text her to let her know that he was going to Texas and that he hopes she’ll watch the race. He made himself a quick breakfast, showered, and got dressed with a few minutes to spare. He had his luggage and carry-on ready when he got the text notification that the driver was downstairs to take him to the airport.

Once at the airport, he spotted Carlos on his phone. But when Carlos lifted his head, he put the phone down and gave charles a hug and a hair tug.

“Happy birthday, Cabrón. You’re 27 now, isn’t that crazy?” Carlos asked.

“Definitely crazy, i think im starting to get wrinkles.” Charles replied laughing.

“That’s because you let yourself burn! I don’t know how Y/N isn’t behind you all the time to remind you to put on your sunscreen.” Carlos said.

“I think she just gave up. How long is the flight, you think?” Charles asked?

“It’s about 12 hours, gentlemen. You might as well get comfy on the jet, let’s get you two sorted while we wait for your trainers and photographers.” A flight attendant said before leading them to the tarmac where a jet from Ferrari’s partner was.

Once on the jet, they waited until Joris and Andrea made it, then waited for Carlos’s (does he have a “team” like Charles? Let’s pretend he does), and Charles was viewing his notifications from social media and text messages from friends, but not a single one from Y/N. Logically, he knows she’s not awake, but it’s still sad. Once everyone was one the jet, it took off and Charles tried to get some sleep on the plane.

Charles felt himself being shaken awake.

“Mate, wake up, the flight landed.” Joris said. Charles rubbed his eyes.

“Really?” He asked.

“Yeah, man, Let’s go, im starving.” Joris said. Charles nodded and unlocked his phone to still see no notification from Y/N. “Dude, I know it’s your birthday but we really need to get going if we’re going to make the hotel check in on time.”

“I’m coming, just relax, man.” Charles said and Joris nodded before leaving the jet. Charles gathered his things and thanked the pilot before leaving. As he was entering the airport, he saw a sign that made him do a double take. The sign said “Happy Birthday, Muñeco” in light blue letters, only person who called him ‘Muñeco’ was.. “Y/N?” Charles asked.

The sign was lowered and it revealed the face of his beautiful girlfriend, Charles was now smiling ear to ear, laughing because he couldn’t believe his eyes. Charles dropped his backpack on the floor as he saw Y/N give the sign to someone next to her and she ran to give him a hug and he lifted her off the ground, twirling her, and then kissing her.

“I Can’t believe you’re here, how are you here? I thought you were visiting a friend in the states.” Charles said, putting her on the ground but still having his hands on her waist, not wanting to let her go. He’s clingy, okay?

“Yeah, my friend Mariana lives in Texas.” Y/N said, pointing to the girl holding the sign and she waved, charles waved back. “How was your flight, muñeco?”

“It was so long and boring. I slept the whole way here.” Charles said.

“That’s good that you slept on your flight. Are you up to spend the day with me? I mean, it is your birthday after all, you should decide what you want to do.” Y/N said. Charles’s hands left her waist to go to her cheeks.

“There is nothing I want more than to spend the day with you.” Charles said, giving her another long and lingering kiss. “What did you want to do?”

“First, Let’s get out of this airport. Will Joris mind if you come with Mariana and I?” Y/N asked, walking to where Mariana was.

“I’ll text him on the car.” Charles said, picking up his backpack and grabbing his suitcase to follow Y/N.

“Mariana, what’s the most Texas thing to do here?” Y/N asked, once next to Mariana.

“Well almost everyone goes to a barbecue joint, but you have to go to the food truck parks.” Mariana said, waiting for Charles to catch up before they left the airport.

“There are park just for food trucks?” Charles asked.

“Yeah! It a place where all the food trucks are and sometimes there’s love music. There are so many different food trucks, Y/N likes the crepe one. There’s one at a park not too far from here, I’m thinking you might want something to eat after a long flight.” Mariana said.

“That sounds nice, let’s go.” Charles said. Once they make it to Mariana’s car, Charles puts his stuff in the back and sits in the back, he insists that Y/N should still ride shotgun since she is here to visit her friend, of course. Y/N told Charles what She’s been up to for the past few days until they made it to the park.

As Mariana said, there were lots of food trucks. There was a Mexican food truck, Vietnamese food, ramen, crepes, barbecue, they had everything. Charles decided to sit at a table while Y/N and Mariana got the food, 10 minutes later, Y/N came back with a tray and so did Mariana.

“Okay, muñeco, i know you Don’t like spicy, BUT, i brought birria ramen and of course ice water if you can’t handle the spiciness.” Y/N said. Charles looks at the bowl in front of him.

“It looks Good.” He said.

“Oh it’s the best.” Mariana said before taking a bite of her burger. Charles tried the birria ramen, it was good, but then as he ate more he felt the spiciness and drank a lot of water.

“Do you like It?” Y/N asked.

“It’s really Good.” Charles said as he fanned his tongue.

“We’ll get ice cream after, okay, bebé.” Y/N said, kissing his nose.

“Y’all are so cute it’s nauseating.” Mariana said, making a face.

“Don’t be like that, It’s his birthday.” Y/N said, as she began eating her own bowl of birria ramen.

“Yeah, It’s my birthday.” Charles said.

“I just met you, man, I think I’m allowed to tease. Anyway, are we going to be here all day?” Mariana asked. Charles checked his phone.

“Fuck, we can’t, I think after eating, I have to check in at my hotel, I’ll give you the address.” Charles said, Mariana nodded but Y/N looked sad. “Hey, I promise after I check in, I’ll spend the rest of the day with you, okay? There’s no person I would rather spend my birthday with than you.” Charles kissed her sweetly.

“Okay. Let’s hurry before Joris and Andrea send a search party for you.” Y/N said, charles laughing at her joke. After throwing away their trash and getting in Mariana’s car, charles was thinking about how he couldn’t have asked for a better surprise, this might be his favorite birthday yet.

The End

Hope y’all liked it! I thought it was cute.

[hauntedhowlett-writes]

title: my tears ricochet | part i

pairing: husband's best friend!joel miller x female reader

rating: chapter - t; full work - explicit (18+ MDNI)

word count: 7k

summary: after moving from new york to texas with your fiance, you expect to jump right into wedding planning with his help. when he claims to be too busy, he suggests asking his best friend, joel miller, to help you instead.

you weren't supposed to fall in love with him.

author's note: this story is a three part fic inspired by the song "my tears ricochet" by taylor swift. this first part is reader's POV, part two will be joel's POV, and the third part will be dual POV. if you enjoy, please consider reblogging or commenting!

chapter tags: modern au, infidelity, emotional abuse, the fiance is shitty, no use of y/n, single POV (reader), wedding dress shopping and other wedding planning activities, angst, arguing, alcohol consumption/mention, kissing, no smut. please let me know if i've missed any!

major work tags: modern au, infidelity, explicit sexual content, character death

You stare out at the manicured yard, watching as guests move about the grounds and waiters in black uniforms carry trays of food and drinks through the crowd. Your boyfriend -- wait, no, fiancé -- Alex laughs boisterously with your father, a hand on his back in easy familiarity. You know you should be down there with him given that this is your engagement party, but you were starting to feel overwhelmed by the constant smiling and greeting strangers and showing off your shiny new engagement ring that you needed a break.

The door opens and a man you don't recognize steps into the room, pale blue dress shirt stretched tight across his broad chest and a pair of wrinkled dress pants. He runs a hand through his messy dark curls.

"Sorry, I didn't think anyone would be in here," he says. As he looks you over, his brown eyes go wide with surprise. "Shit, you're the bride!"

You smile at him. "That's me," you reply. You hold a hand out towards him as you give him your name, his rough palm sliding against yours as he grips it firmly.

"I'm Joel Miller," he tells you. You know the name well, being that he's your fiancé's best friend. "Didn't mean to make our first time meetin' so awkward."

"No, no, it's not your fault. I've just been feeling a little overwhelmed with all the," you wave your hand towards the window, "festivities. It's great to finally meet you."

"I don't blame ya. They can get pretty stuffy down there. Congrats, by the way."

"Thank you." He lets go of your hand. "So, why are you hiding?"

He laughs, deep and full bellied. "Alex's mom doesn't like me much. I'm sure she was hopin' that we would stop bein' friends when he went to school on the other side of the country, but I’m like a stubborn tick."

"How could she not like you, Alex told me that the two of you have been best friends since kindergarten!"

"There may have been a few mishaps in high school," he says. "You ever tried eggin' your principal's house?"

"Can't say that I have," you reply.

"Well, it doesn't end well if you get caught." He looks out the window with a smile on his face. "We got arrested. Alex's dad had to bail us out. Probably had to throw some hush money around so that it wouldn't show up on his record when he applied to school."

"He's never told me that!" You say, laughing hard enough around the words that your stomach hurts.

The door opens and this time, Alex himself steps into the room. His serious expression morphs into a smile when he sees you and Joel.

"There you are," he says, crossing the room to kiss your cheek. He greets Joel with a hug, patting his back roughly. "What are you two doing in here?"

"I just needed a minute alone," you tell him.

"And I crashed her minute alone. Told her about the time we got arrested in high school," Joel adds. Alex's jaw tenses, his smile tight as his eyes flick to you, like he's worried about your reaction. "She laughed. It's all good."

"Right. Well, I came to find you because its time for the toast and dinner," Alex says. "Let's get back down to our guests."

A hand at the small of your back urges you towards the door before you can reply.

"Alex, are you listening to me?" You ask. Your fiancé looks up from his phone.

"I'm sorry, baby, I was finishing an e-mail," he says. He sets his phone down on the table, dark screen facing up, and gives you his full attention. "What were you saying?"

"I wanted to schedule the cake tasting. Do you have any free time this week?"

He grimaces. "I don't think I do, sweetheart. Your dad's got my schedule pretty packed."

"I can just ask him to--"

"No," he says sternly. "You know I have to make a good impression with the rest of the firm."

"But--"

"Babe, no. I can't do this week. Why don't you ask my mom? Or Joel?"

While your future mother-in-law is kind enough, you don't have much patience for the way she tries to take control of your wedding planning. Joel, however, might be a good idea. He knows Alex well enough to be a stand in for a decision like cake and icing flavors.

"Could you give me Joel's number?"

Alex smiles, seemingly pleased that he's off the hook as he takes his phone in hand and sends you his best friend's phone number.

You meet Joel at the bakery that week. To your surprise he's there before you, dressed in worn jeans and a t-shirt and he smiles brightly at you as you approach.

"Hey," he says. "Ready to eat some cake?"

"I think this will be my favorite part of planning this whole wedding," you reply. He laughs as he pulls the door open for you to step inside, following in behind you.

"Welcome to Buttercup Bakery! Can I help y'all with anything?" A young woman with a name tag reading BEVERLY asks from behind the counter, pink and white apron tied around her waist.

"I have a cake tasting appointment," you reply, giving her your name for the reservation.

"Excellent! If you want to go ahead and take a seat anywhere you'd like, I'll bring out the tasting options and we'll get you squared away in no time!"

She disappears through swinging doors as you and Joel take a seat at a pink acrylic table with matching chairs. He looks around the shop with interest.

"What made you pick this place?" He asks.

"Had the best reviews," you say with a shrug. His brow furrows.

"Alex didn't suggest it? He helpin' you at all with this weddin'?"

He says it with a laugh, but the question makes you dig your fingernails into your palm. "He's just really busy with work. I've been doing a lot of the planning."

“What about your uh, what are they called? Bridesmaids?”

“They’re all back in New York. It’s just me.”

“I thought your parents were here, too? Isn’t Alex workin’ with your dad now?”

“It’s just my dad, he’s back in New York. His partner opened a firm in Austin and Alex is working with that office. He’s hoping to make partner soon, too.”

Joel nods, eyes scanning your face but you keep your expression as neutral as possible. The swinging doors open and Beverly returns with a marble tray, bites of cake artfully arranged on the surface. She sets it on the table between you and Joel.

“Okay! These are our six most popular flavor combinations for you to start with and if there’s something more custom you have in mind, we can totally make that happen,” she says. “Starting at the top, we have classic vanilla with vanilla buttercream, chocolate cake with chocolate ganache and chocolate buttercream, our signature champagne cake with strawberry buttercream, lemon cake with lavender buttercream, caramel cake with caramel mocha buttercream, and white chocolate cake with raspberry jam and white chocolate raspberry buttercream.”

Joel grins at you. “This might be the best thing anyone has ever asked me to help with.”

“I’ll leave you guys to it,” Beverly says with a wink, walking back to the counter.

“I don’t know which to start with,” you say, eyes scanning the selections.

“That chocolate one is callin’ my name,” Joel replies, spearing one of the chocolate cake bites with a fork and taking a bite. He hums appreciatively. “Oh yeah, that one is a winner.”

You choose the vanilla to start, taking a bite of the moist cake with buttercream that tastes strongly of vanilla bean with a hint of cinnamon. The simplicity makes it good, but overall the flavor doesn't stand out to you. Joel continues to take bites seemingly at random while you opt to go around the tray in the order that Beverly introduced the flavors.

"Any of them stickin' out to you?" Joel asks when you've reached the half-way point.

"They're all delicious," you reply. "I think Alex would probably like the vanilla best, though."

"I didn't ask what Alex would like, I asked if there were any that you liked." He spears the remaining piece of white chocolate raspberry with his fork and holds it up to you. "Here, try this one next."

You eye the fork dubiously. "I don't think--"

Joel slips the bite of cake into your mouth despite your interrupted disagreement, smiling at you triumphantly. You chew the bite begrudgingly.

"I think that one and the chocolate one are my favorite," Joel says as you swallow.

Beverly returns at that moment, a notepad in hand as she pulls up a third chair to the tiny bistro table.

“So? What are your thoughts?”

“I think I’m going to get the vanilla,” you tell her. Joel’s jaw ticks, almost like he’s upset you’ve chosen the flavor that you said Alex would like. “But, could I get alternating tiers of the white chocolate raspberry, too?”

Joel’s lips quirk up in a small smile and you try to ignore the way it makes your stomach flip.

Joel: Have you picked flowers yet?

Not yet.

Joel: I know a place. You busy today?

You stare the at the message in surprise. You weren’t expecting to hear from Joel again, but his name on your screen has you fighting back a smile.

I’m not busy. When did you want to go?

Joel: They open at noon. Here’s the address.

“Baby, have you seen my blue tie?” Alex calls from upstairs. You drop your phone to the counter like you’ve been caught doing something wrong.

“Which one?” You reply, pressing a hand to your chest.

“The plaid one!”

“Should be in your tie drawer!”

“It’s not here!”

You pinch your nose, making your way to the stairs to join him in your shared bedroom. He’s standing in front of his tie drawer, hands on his hips as he stares at the contents. You peek over his shoulder and reach into the back, pulling out the neatly folded blue and green patterned tie.

He takes it from your hand. “That one should be towards the front. Can you remember that next time you put away dry cleaning?”

“Sure.” You bite your lip to hold back the sigh that threatens to spill. “You want me to tie it for you?”

“No, thanks, I need it to be perfect. Big meeting,” he says, his lips tilted in a smile that feels condescending. He leans into you, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Love you.”

“Love you, too,” you murmur, watching his back as he enters the bathroom and shuts the door behind him.

Joel is waiting outside of a dark green storefront when you arrive at the address he’d sent you. He smiles when he sees you, a true one that makes the corners of his eyes crinkle slightly, and it gives you this strange feeling of emptiness because you can’t remember the last time Alex smiled at you like that.

When you’re close enough, he pulls you into a hug that envelops you in strong arms and the scent of woods at nightfall with a hint of citrus. Your eyes flutter shut as you hug him back and breathe him in.

He releases you and immediately you feel a chill in losing his warmth despite the oppressive Texas heat. You look at the shop as he steps back, taking in the gorgeous floral arrangements in the window and cursive script painted on the glass that says PETAL TO THE METAL.

Joel opens the door to the shop, a brass bell ringing to announce your entrance. A man at the counter in the center of the store looks up and grins at you both.

“Joel! Nice to see you,” the man says. You watch as they shake hands with familiarity, the man behind the counter smiling kindly. “You must be the bride. I’m Frank.”

You give Joel a look of surprise before introducing yourself and shaking Frank’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you. Do you two know each other?”

“Joel’s an old friend of ours.”

“Ours?”

A back door bangs open, someone emerging with their arms so full of potted plants you can’t see their face. A deep voice let’s out a series of curses.

“This is my partner, Bill,” Frank says. “He’s not much of a people person. Great with plants, though.”

“A little help would be nice,” Bill grunts. Frank rolls his eyes but leaves the counter to take a couple pots from Bill’s hands, revealing a man with long brown hair and a grizzled expression hidden amongst a thick beard. Frank leans in and kisses his cheek.

“You need only ask,” Frank says. Bill’s cheeks turn pink beneath his thick facial hair. Despite the annoyed expression on his face, his eyes are soft as he watches Frank. “Let me grab you the event portfolio and we can talk about your wedding. Have a look around.”

As Frank leaves and Bill busies himself arranging the new plants, you and Joel wander the shop and take in aisles and shelves of different flowers with little gold name cards in their pots or on their buckets.

“So,” Joel says, “How are you liking Austin?”

“It’s…hot,” you reply. “Really, really hot.”

“That’s the south for ya, sweetheart.”

Your face grows hot at the endearment and how it seemed to just roll off his tongue. “Have you lived in Austin your whole life?”

“Texas born n’ bred,” he says proudly, puffing his chest out.

“You never wanted to live anywhere else?”

“I’ve always thought Wyoming sounded nice. A farm that I built, some sheep, no neighbors for miles,” he says wistfully. “Maybe someday.”

“Building a farm, huh? You good with your hands, Joel?”

He blinks at you. “Y-yeah. I mean, I’m a contractor. I gotta be.”

“That’s impressive,” you tell him, biting your lip to hold back your laughter at his flustered response.

Frank approaches, lifting a heavy book in his hands. “You ready to pick some flowers?”

Joel holds the door open for you as the two of you leave the flower shop an hour later. He waves goodbye to Bill and Frank with a promise to visit them for dinner soon before following you down the sidewalk.

“You wanna get lunch?” Joel offers. “My treat.”

You pull your phone from your pocket to check your messages and finding none from Alex, you think to yourself, why not?

“Sure,” you agree.

That's how you find yourself sitting on a bench in the park with Joel Miller, your husband's best friend, talking to him about everything and nothing as you eat street tacos from a food truck nearby. He makes you laugh so hard you choke on birria, the sauce dripping down your chin. He reaches out, wiping the mess with a brown napkin while he smiles so bright it puts the sun to shame.

Later that night, while you're in bed, you can't help but think today was the best day you've had in a long time.

And you're not sure what that means.

You begin texting Joel regularly. You ask him for his opinion on things that Alex can’t be bothered with — the suit colors for the groomsmen (navy blue), the invitation stationary (the linen finish), and favors (miniature bottles of hot sauce - Joel assures you this will be a hit with the Texas crowd). In between those conversations, he sends you pictures from his construction sites or asks you how your day has been and whether you had gotten the chance to check out that show he recommended.

When you tell Alex about the wedding decisions you've made, leaving out the extent of Joel's help, he hums and nods at the appropriate intervals, feigning attentiveness while his thumb moves rapidly across his phone screen. It should bother you, you think, that your future husband is so uninvolved with planning his own wedding, but then your own phone lights up with Joel’s name and a goofy photo he sent from a construction site, his hard hat askew on his head and his eyes crossed, and your annoyance with Alex fades into background noise.

There’s one last item on your checklist that you’re more nervous to ask Joel for help with than the others — dress shopping. You could probably fly back to New York and be with your friends for the momentous occasion but you’re certain that Alex wouldn’t appreciate your absence for something he considers so frivolous.

Not that you say anything when he’s gone for his golfing trips.

You’re staring at Joel’s contact screen, working up the nerve to call him and ask him if he’d be willing to come dress shopping with you, when it lights up with an incoming call, his name at the top of the screen like just your thoughts summoned him. You answer on the third ring.

“Hey, I was just about to call you,” you tell him.

“So that’s why my ears were itchin’,” he laughs. “You need somethin’?”

You take a steadying breath. “I just have one more thing I need help with and then you won’t have to deal with me.”

“I don’t mind helpin’ you, sweetheart.” You stomach flutters at the nickname and he clears his throat to fill the loaded silence that follows his words. “Now, tell me what you need.”

“Could you come dress shopping with me?”

“That all? Just tell me where and when,” he says. You breathe a sigh of relief, giving him the details of the appointment you made at a local boutique. He promises to meet you there this weekend before hanging up.

The word sweetheart in Joel’s deep voice echoes through your mind for the rest of the day.

Joel looks hilariously out of place on the pristine white couch located in the middle of the dress boutique, a dainty glass of champagne held in his large hand. You sit beside him, your legs touching as you watch the sales associate flit around the store, pulling hangers of dresses from the racks.

“That’s a lot of dresses,” Joel comments, taking a sip of champagne.

“You not up for the challenge?” You tease. He laughs, the corners of his eyes crinkling with his wide smile.

“Trust me, I’m up for the challenge. We’re goin’ to find you the best damn weddin’ dress Texas has ever seen,” he promises.

“Alright, I’ve got some gorgeous choices here for you,” the associate announces, holding up a handful of ivory hangers draped in all types of fabric from satin to chiffon. “You wanna follow me and we’ll get started?”

You follow her to the fitting room and she sets the hangers on a rack, fanning out the dresses so that you can get a better look. There’s five of them in a variety of styles, including an impressive ball gown boasting layers of tulle that trails to the floor.

“I’ll try that one first,” you tell her, pointing to ball gown.

“What’s your fiancé’s name?” She asks as you undress, taking the gown from the hanger and arranging it on the floor for you to step into it.

“Alex,” you reply. She drags the bodice up and instructs you to hold it to your chest while she laces up the corset back.

“I think it’s sweet that you’ve brought him with you.”

“Oh, no. That’s Joel, he’s my husband’s best friend.”

“Really?” She asks, the strings tightening around your waist. “The way you two look at each other, I would have bet money he was the one marrying you." You're about to ask what she means when she finishes tying off the bodice and says, "Wow, this dress is stunning on you."

Her comment retreats to the back of your mind as you look at yourself in the mirror. The strapless white gown hugs your chest and waist, flaring out into a layered skirt with lace appliques. There's beading on the sweetheart neckline that trails down the bodice in intricate patterns that catch the light of the fitting room. The dress is stunning.

Marnie leads you back out to the showroom, helping you step up onto a raised platform in front of a trifold mirror that shows you your reflection from multiple angles. You twist and turn, taking in all the details of it before finally facing Joel.

"Damn," Joel says. "That sure is one hell of a dress."

"It's...a lot." You twist your hips from side to side, the heavy skirt swishing across the floor. "I feel like a cupcake and I don't know if I'll be able to dance in it."

"You wanna test it out?"

He's standing before you can respond, reaching a hand into yours to guide you down from the pedestal. When you're on the floor, he wraps an arm around your low back, pulling you close while swaying side to side.

The world around you goes a little blurry and the only thing in perfect clarity is Joel. The feel of his hand in yours, the weight of his arm at the small of your back, the clean smell of soap and citrus, everything is just....Joel.

"How's it feel?" He asks, voice low. You tilt your head back to look up at his face.

"Huh?"

"The dress...dancin'...how's it feel?"

The question drags you back to reality, where you're currently dancing around a bridal salon with a man who isn't your fiance. You pull away from him, returning to the pedestal as the bridal associate joins the two of you again.

"Uh...I don't think this is the dress for me. Can we try the next one?"

You try on two other dresses in quick succession, neither of them leaving a lasting impression. It's the fourth dress that really gives you pause as you look at yourself in the fitting room mirror.

"Honey," the associate says, adjusting the off-the-shoulder sleeves of the dress, "This dress was made for you."

The scooped neckline highlights the lines and curves of your neck and shoulders, the corset bodice hugging your curves in satin folds. The skirt fans out from the waist, similar to the silhouette of the ball gown without all the additional weight and fabric and a thigh high slit allows for some extra movement.

She leads you back out into the showroom and helps you once more onto the pedestal. You grin at your reflection as she fixes the skirt into place.

"Well?" You ask, catching Joel's eye in the mirror. His mouth is set in a serious line, brows pinched together and his arms crossed over his chest. You own smile falters. "You don't like it? What's with the look?"

He shakes his head, his serious expression morphing into a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "You look..." His voice trails off and he clears his throat. "Alex is a lucky son of a bitch."

You laugh, lifting the skirt so that you can step off the pedestal. Joel's eyes drop, his gaze fixing on the skirt as you walk towards him.

"You think so?" You ask quietly, stepping in close.

"Yeah, sweetheart," he murmurs. A single finger runs down your arm, goosebumps erupting over your skin in its wake. "I know so."

With the wedding plans finalized, your attention returns to your work as a web design consultant. Your client portfolio starts to build once more, keeping you busy in the months leading up to your big day. Alex remains focused on his work at the firm, working long days and longer nights that have him arriving home well after you've gone to bed, the two of you just ships passing in the dark. You would feel lonely, you think, if not for Joel.

The two of you still message each other frequently, though you don't see him again until a month before the wedding, when Alex invites him over for dinner one Saturday night.

The doorbell rings just as you put the chicken in the oven and you wipe your hands before going to answer it, your heart racing. Joel's sweet smile greets you when you open the door and seeing him across the threshold has the tension in your shoulders easing the slightest bit.

He steps across the threshold, strong arms wrapping around your waist in a tight hug. Footsteps on the stairs have him releasing you far sooner than you would have liked.

"Joel, my man! Glad you could make it," Alex says as he reaches the first floor. "Honey, is the table set?"

"No, not yet," you reply.

"You need any help?" Joel asks. You open your mouth to respond, but Alex jumps in to say, "No, she's got this. Let me give you the tour."

You watch as Alex leads Joel upstairs, commanding his friend's attention. You swallow down the anger that rises in your throat at your fiancé's dismissal and return to the kitchen, gathering the place settings and arranging the table to his liking.

"It's a nice place," Joel says as the two men enter the living room, which opens to the kitchen and dining areas.

"All that work finally paying off," Alex comments. You roll your eyes, fighting the urge to mention that you were the one who fronted the down payment for Alex's choice of home in Texas. The oven beeps and you pull out the chicken parmesan that had been baking.

"Smells good," Joel comments. You look up, catching his eye. A wordless understanding passes between you, a quiet appreciation that makes your blood run hot.

You plate the food while your fiancé uncorks a bottle of wine and pours it into the wine glasses at each place setting. Alex settles in at head of the table and Joel takes the seat to the left, leaving you with the seat to Alex's right, across from Joel.

The three of you make small talk between bites of dinner and sips of wine. Alex asks Joel about the contracting work he's been doing, Joel asks him about his work at the new office and how he's settling in, being back in his home state. It's halfway through dinner that Joel looks to you and asks, "Are you excited for the wedding next month?"

"Of course," you reply, fingers tangling in the cloth napkin resting across your lap. "Planning it was a labor of love."

"Right, thanks for helping her with the cake, man," Alex chimes in.

Joel chuckles. "Helped with a lot more than just the cake."

"What do you mean?" Alex asks, glancing between the two of you.

"Well, I helped get the flowers, the cake, pickin' out the stationary. Dress shoppin'," Joel clarifies. Your stomach drops as Alex's jaw grows tense, his brow pinched as he nods and pastes on a forced smile.

"Wow, I didn't realize you'd been so involved," Alex says. He removes the napkin from his lap, setting it on the table. "Would you excuse us for a second?"

Alex stands, looking down at you expectantly. You smile at him and Joel in turn, but the expression feels hollow and you taste bile in the back of your throat. As soon as you're on your feet, Alex has a strong hand wrapped around your wrist, urging you along behind him as he makes his way towards the stairs.

Once he's reached your shared bedroom, he turns to you, eyes filled with rage. “What the fuck is that about?”

“What do you mean?” You ask. He laughs, the sound devoid of any humor.

“He helped you pick out your dress?” Alex paces the length of the bedroom like a caged animal and for the first time in your relationship with him, a frisson of fear courses through your veins. “You can’t possibly be that fucking stupid?”

“Excuse me?” You snap. “You told me to ask him for his help!”

“With the cake!” Alex shouts. “Not the entire goddamn wedding! Do you have any idea how that makes me feel?”

“You weren’t exactly offering much help, Alex!”

His eyes narrow. “I thought you would be perfectly capable of planning shit on your own, but I guess that was giving you too much credit.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask. “Why are you being such a fucking asshole right now?”

“Because you’re my fiancé, not Joel’s!” He steps in close, towering above you as he hisses, “Did you fuck him?”

“No!” You shout.

His eyes search yours and whatever he finds seems to extinguish his anger, his coiled muscles loosening. He grips your shoulders, pressing his forehead to yours.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “Why don’t you head back downstairs and I’ll stay up here for a minute to cool off, okay?”

The sudden switch leaves your head spinning but you manage to nod. Alex kisses your forehead and you take that as your cue to leave, escaping the confines of your room. In the hall, you grip the banister of the loft that overlooks the living room and take the first real breath in what feels like ages, your eyes squeezed shut as you try to calm your racing heart.

You return to the kitchen and Joel’s head snaps up when you enter. He rises from his seat at the table, rushing to your side.

“Are you okay?” He asks, low voice filled with concern, his brows pinched with worry. “What the fuck was that?”

“Just a misunderstanding,” you murmur, pushing past him.

“That’s bullshit,” he hisses. “Is he always like that?”

“Like what?” You sigh.

“An asshole. Yellin’ and threatenin’ you.” His fists are clenched at his sides. “He ever hit you?”

“What? No, of course not.” You take a deep breath, beating back the wave of tears pressing at the corners of your eyes. “He’s just got a lot going on with the move and work and the wedding.”

Joel is quiet, watching you with keen brown eyes that you, for once, wish weren’t focused on you. He steps close, voice low as he says, “Be honest with me, sweetheart.”

“I’m fine, Joel,” you tell him. The lie claws at your throat and sends your stomach into a tailspin. “I promise.”

Footsteps echo on the stairs and you step away from Joel, busying yourself with loading the dishwasher, clearing the counters, anything to keep your hands occupied and stop their shaking. Alex enters the kitchen with a sharp smile.

“Hey, man, sorry about that,” he says, clapping Joel on the shoulder. “I think we’re ready to call it a night. Ain’t that right, honey?”

You force yourself to keep your eyes on Alex as you smile and say, “Yeah, baby.”

“Let me walk you out, Joel,” Alex says. “Honey, say bye.”

“Goodbye, Joel.”

Joel: Hey

Joel: You having a good week?

Joel: Been a while. You doing okay?

Joel: You’ve been quiet

Joel: I need to know you’re okay.

Joel: Just let me know

Joel: Please

“Just two more days until you’re my wife,” Alex says, pressing a kiss to your lips. He smiles at you and you mirror the expression as best you can.

“I can't wait,” you reply.

"I gotta get going," Alex says. He presses a kiss to your cheek as he passes where you're sitting at the bar. "Love you."

"Love you," you repeat, out of reflex more than affection.

The front door slams shut and quiet settles over the house. All you want to do is crawl back into bed and pull the covers over your head in the hopes that it protects you from the way time continues to creep forward despite your uncertainties. Maybe, if you lay there long enough, time will move on without your involvement.

Your thoughts are interrupted by a heavy knock at the door. You’re not sure who it could be — your dad is scheduled to fly into town in the late afternoon and your friends arrive early tomorrow morning and you’re fairly certain you don’t have any deliveries scheduled. Sliding from the bar stool, you leave the kitchen to answer the door.

Joel stands on the other side of the threshold, haloed by the morning sun. For a brief moment, you wonder if you’re dreaming.

“What are you doing here?” You finally ask.

“Can I come in?” He replies, running a hand through his already messy hair. “I need to talk to you.”

You step aside and allow him to enter the hallway, shutting the door behind him. You avoid his gaze as you return to the living room with him following behind you. The silence that settles between the two of you makes you want to crawl out of your skin.

"Why haven't you been talkin' to me?" Joel asks. He takes a step closer, brown eyes searching yours for an answer you try to keep hidden.

"I've been busy," you say.

"Cut the bullshit," he snaps, surprising you. "Is it because of what happened at dinner?"

"No," you reply. Joel must sense the brief hesitation, hear the weakness in your voice. His eyes go soft, full of pity, and you can't fucking stand it. "Don't look at me like that."

"Look, I've known Alex a long time, and all those years weren't exactly peachy," he says cryptically. "I love him like a brother but even family ain't without faults.” He steps in close, his hands cradling your face in a delicate grip. “Tell me this is what you want," he demands. "Tell me that you're happy with Alex. Tell me that there's nothin' here between us."

The words are there, right on the tip of your tongue, but nothing can bring them to life. Your heart beats a frantic rhythm against your ribcage, the rush of blood in your ears the only thing you can hear. He leans closer, eyes dropping to your lips and you know what's about to happen next but you can't bear the thought of stopping him as he closes the scant distance between your mouths.

For the briefest moment, you allow yourself the chance to just feel. No thoughts, no panic, no worry. Just Joel's warm lips moving against yours, the trace of his palm from you cheek to behind your head, pulling you closer even though you're already tightly pressed to him. It's slow and deep, like he's trying to convince you down to your marrow that this is where you're supposed to be.

But it's not.

You push him away and he doesn't fight you, but the look he gives you damn near shatters your resolve. His eyes are dark, jaw tense, hands flexing at his sides like he's fighting the urge to reach out and pull you back, damn the consequences. Your eyes and throat burn with the effort of holding back the tears that threaten to spill.

"You need to leave," you whisper. "You can't do this, we can't do this. I'm getting married in two days, Joel!"

He runs a hand through his hair, pulling on the strands in frustration. "You think I don't know that? You think I don't lay awake at night thinkin' what a fuckin' asshole I am for fallin' in love with my best friend's fiancé?!" He shouts.

"This isn't love, Joel--"

"Don't," he snaps. "Don't you lie to me. I know it, you know it, hell, the fuckin' lady at the dress shop knew it!" He takes a deep breath. "I'm showin' you my whole hand here and you won't even lay down a goddamn card!"

"There is no card!" You shout.

"You kissed me back!" He counters.

You stare at each other for a long moment, like two scared, wounded animals. Eventually, one of you has to back down, retreat, lick their wounds until they've healed in a messy pattern of scar tissue that will serve as a painful reminder of what could have been.

Joel sighs, another pass of his hand through his hair as he says, "You know what? Fine." He turns to leave, the line of his shoulder lower, his head low.

A glutton for punishment, you call out, "Joel?"

"Yeah?" He asks, weary. Bone tired. You feel it, too.

"Will you still be there tomorrow?" You ask, unsure of which answer would be worse.

Another sigh. "Yeah. I'll be there."

The door slams shut behind him.

Your rehearsal dinner is torture.

This should be one of the happiest events of your life but all your energy is being directed at avoiding Joel like the plague. He moves through the crowd comfortably, having known many people in attendance for most of his life, and you feel like an unmoored boat, hoping a wave doesn't crash over you.

Alex sits beside you, drinking from a glass of whiskey as he talks to one of his uncles that has been praising him for landing the opportunity to work with such a prestigious law firm right after college. A dizzying rotation of people approach you through the night - friends who chatter excitedly about the big day tomorrow, aunts who ask when you think you'll have children, uncles who tell you that they're proud of you for landing such a successful, promising young man. It's those last comments that have you hiding a frown in your champagne glass.

It drags on forever, this constant stream of polite conversation and forced smiles. When you finally return to the hotel that you're staying at for the night, you start to feel like you can breathe again. You have a suite separate from Alex's for getting ready early in the morning and he walks you to your room, hand on your low back, a smile on his face.

"I'll see you in the morning," he says, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. "My almost wife."

The sentiment has bile rising in your throat and as he turns to leave you're blurting the words, "I can't do this."

"Sweetheart, you're just nervous," he says, voice surprisingly calm. He squeezes your shoulders. "You just need to sleep it off and everything will be fine in the morning."

"No," you tell him, shaking your head. "No, it won't be fine."

His smile drops, like a mask has just been removed. "Where is this coming from? Everything was fine at the rehearsal."

"Everything was not fine at the rehearsal!"

Alex takes the room key from your hands, unlocked the door and ushering you inside. He flicks on the light to the sitting area and takes a seat on the couch.

"What's going on with you?" He asks, exasperation dripping from his words. "What do you mean the rehearsal wasn't fine? Did you not like the food or something?"

You stare at him incredulously. "The problem wasn't the food, Alex! The problem is us!"

"There's no problem with us," he says. "Unless there's something you want to tell me?"

"What do you mean?" You ask.

He stands, coming close. "Is this about Joel?"

"No!" You snap, perhaps too quickly. "This isn't about Joel."

"Then what is it? Because as far as I know, we're a perfectly happy couple."

"Perfectly happy? Alex, you didn't even help me plan this wedding. Not a single minute of it."

"Not this again," he groans. "Sweetheart, let it go. I'm sorry, okay? Is that what you need to hear?"

Your jaw aches with how hard your teeth grind together as he dismisses you so easily. A deep breath in through your nose and out through your mouth steadies you enough to say, "I'm not marrying you."

"Baby, please," Alex says. For the first time, he sounds panicked. "Don't make any rash decisions, alright? Whatever this is, we can work through it. If I lose you, I lose everything."

Maybe he's right. Maybe the stress of the last few months has just caught up to you.

"Okay," you whisper. He breathes a sigh of relief and presses another kiss to your temple.

"I love you," he says. "Everything will be okay after tomorrow. You'll see."

You don't say anything back, and he doesn't wait around for a response. He leaves your suite, the click of the door shutting loud in the late night silence. You stand there for who knows how long, wondering if he's right. Would everything be alright after tomorrow? Could you sweep those lingering feelings for Joel to the side in favor of the life you'd been building for the last few years?

You know what the safe choice is, but is it the right choice?

It's the morning of your wedding day and you've been poked and prodded with makeup brushes and your hair has been perfectly styled for the occasion. Flashbulbs have been going off on the cameras that are documenting your special day, capturing moments like your bridesmaids helping you into your dress and your dad's first look, a handkerchief clutched in his hand as he smiled at you.

For the first time in hours, you're alone in your suite. The makeup artist and hair stylists have packed up and taken their leave and your friends are downstairs, waiting for the limousine. You told them you would be just a minute longer.

A soft knock at your door has you realizing that you may have taken too long and you shout an apology as you rush to answer it. But it's not one of your friends on the other side like you had expected.

It's Joel.

Your mouth goes dry at the sight of him. His hair is styled, curls smoothed and slicked back into submission. His white shirt is a stark contrast to his navy blue tuxedo, matching bow tie tight around his neck. His boutonnière is slightly crooked where it sits pinned to his jacket lapel. He looks you up and down with a small smile.

"You look beautiful," he says. He reaches for your hand, fingers tangling with yours. Never quite folding together, but never quite letting go, either.

"Thank you," you whisper.

"Are you ready?" He asks. You wonder if he knows, if Alex told him or if he can just see it on your face.

"Yes."

It's a lie, one you've been repeating since your alarm went off this morning after a night of tossing and turning. His smile falters, but doesn't drop.

"Good, that's....good," he says. His hand leaves yours, and you feel like you've had an entire unspoken conversation that's left you both defeated. "Lets go get you married."

Joel Miller masterlist

All masterlists

divider graphic by @saradika-graphics.

[hellishjoel]

off to the races

6.3k / dbf!joel x f!reader

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

pt. 1 pt. 2 pt. 3 pt. 4

series summary: You and your parents rent a lakeside cabin, Joel and Sarah Miller are your neighbors. You’re all grown up, and you’ll do anything to prove to Joel you’re a woman now. 

warnings/information: MA 18+ (minors DNI), NO OUTBREAK, neighbor!joel, age gap (reader is in their early 20’s while Joel is in his 40’s), alcohol consumption, slight daddy issues lol, cursing, use of pet names, dominant!joel, maybe a lil brat tamer!joel, oral sex (m receiving), a lil praise kink, a lil degradation kink, facial, etc. you know ;)

A/N: needed to get cool slutty daddy out of my system. He’s just a Lana coded man!! I plan on turning this into a series, I hope it get's some love! let me know what you think by sending me an ask!

Your desperate eyes met his, trying to gauge what he thought. You hated how you looked like you wanted him so bad. He was your neighbor, your friend’s dad, but you wanted him to be something for you too.  “I don’t know what the hell you think you’re doin-”  His words made your chest go tight and your eyes filled with pure horror. What have you done?! “But you need to be the one to walk away, because I don’t think I can.”

Summers in Danbury were what you looked forward to all year long when you were younger. You would love the long drive to the lakeside cabin, swimming in the dazzling blue water all day, and catching fireflies at night before ending it with roasting s'mores over the campfire. 

Now, all Danbury reminded you of were your parents stripping your feeling of independence as soon as you stepped in their embrace and the lack of cell service. 

It wasn’t all that bad, though. Who were you to complain about an all-expense paid vacation on the water? Your parents were fine, you just graduated from university, everything was just.. good. It almost made you a little bored, thinking about the impending summer. 

The warm sun’s kiss on your skin was a welcomed greeting after spending the past 9 months away at school out of state, your eyes twinkling below your sunglasses as you stepped out of the car. It was good to be back in Texas.

“Look, there she is!” Your dad cooed as he was eager to point out the sign that sat beside the entrance of the cabin that read ‘Life is Better at the Cabin’. Cheesy. It wasn’t your choice of decor since it was just a rental property, but still. You also despised the ‘The Secret Ingredient is Always Love’ sign in the kitchen. 

You plopped your bags down at the end of your bed, the one just down the hall from your parents, quick to plug in your phone charger though it made little difference with your lack of a strong signal. 

You turned your head to the window, seeing an old, beaten pickup truck turn onto gravel, a small smile peaking on your lips. 

“Hey, look who it is!” Your dad cheered eagerly from the living room, appearing to also be gazing out the window at the sight coming down the road and pulling into the house next to yours. 

The truck in question belonged to Joel Miller and his daughter, Sarah. Sarah had been your close friend each and every summer since you were little. You two were attached at the hip once your family started vacationing here, despite her being a fair five years younger. You two got along nonetheless. 

You stepped outside to greet them, as your mother and father were already out doing, your face lighting up as Sarah made a b-line to your embrace. “Oh my god! Look at you!” She praised, her eyes lighting up at your appearance. 

You two didn’t get the chance to spend the past few summers together due to business with school or internships on your part, so her surprise in seeing you a few years grown up was warranted. 

“Look at me? Look at you!” You said through punched lungs as she hugged you so tight you were losing your breath. 

If you thought Sarah’s tight hug was bad, you weren’t prepared to see what was waiting on the other side of the pickup truck. 

Your lips parted at the sight of Joel Miller. He was sort of… handsome. Was that wrong to think that? I mean, he was so much older than you, someone’s dad, Sarah’s dad. You tried not to let your eyes linger for too long but his voice pitched into the conversation and you had been caught. 

“Hey, Skids.” Ugh. That dreaded nickname you had yet to wear off. “Haven’t seen you these past few summers. Happy to be done with school?” Joel’s southern drawl was a shock to your system after being up in the Midwest for school. 

He was tall and rugged, so unkempt. His hair was tousled everywhere and his beard was growing with salt and pepper stippling through the landscape of his jawline. He looked hot, the faint glisten and stain of sweat marking the collar of his shirt and at the sides of his biceps. 

You blinked a few times before a graceful smile fluttered on your lips.

“Hi, Mr. Miller.” You gently cooed. What? If he could call you by that horrid nickname he had given you when you were barely ten, you could call him by his surname. Your eyes caught his own shift, his jaw twitching at his name being called like that. It was just his name after all, right? 

“Joel.” He corrected with a raised eyebrow, your eyes finally dragging themselves away from his handsome character as they turned to your parents, who were obsessing over Sarah. She was about to go into her senior year of high school, so of course, they had all of the basic questions to ask her. Are you taking any advanced classes? Are you still on the swim team? Do you know where you want to go to college?

You tried to look interested, but you could still feel Joel’s gravitating stare in your direction. 

You were just imagining things, right? He was looking one foot over, to Sarah and your family. Except he wasn’t. You know because you snuck a casual glance over to him, and he was still on you. His gaze alone made a shiver travel up your spine. 

While Sarah and your parents were nestled in their own world of conversation, you take a few subtle steps away and join him by his truck. It still felt warm, the engine relaxing after a good drive in the Texas heat. 

“You need a new truck. She looks like she’s on her deathbed.” You point out, the one corner of his mouth tugging up as he kept his eye on Sarah and your folks with his arms crossed in front of his broad chest. 

“She’s just fine.” He retorts nonchalantly. You hated that about him. You could never figure out what he was thinking, unpredictable but not exactly chaotic. 

“She?” You asked with raised eyebrows. “I always knew you had a special woman in your life. Didn’t know she was so old, though.” You egged him on, your favorite pastime in the summers; Grinding the gears of an old man who had a bigger attitude than you most days. 

“You still have quite the mouth on you. Glad to see that hasn’t changed.” Joel said sarcastically as he pushed himself off the front of the truck with his hip, his head nodding off to the side in a silent way of telling you to follow him. You watched as he pulled down the tailgate, rust screeching until it stopped with a generous thump. 

“Supposed to be Sarah helping me with this, but since she’s busy being Miss Danbury, you can help me.” He said as he pointed to some firewood and other bigger pieces of wood in varying sizes. 

“What do you plan on doing with all this wood anyway? I think the Amazon is looking for it.” You huffed but climbed up into the back of the truck bed without him asking you to. His protective hand instinctively guided your hip for stability, and you felt a rush of air pump through your lungs. “Thanks.” You murmur before you start reaching for stacks you could handle. 

“Sarah wanted to throw y'all a bonfire with it being your first day back for the summer or what have you.” Before you could stop yourself, you were already cooing at him as you jumped down from the tailgate, watching as Joel gave a tight face of annoyance. Don’t do that, you’re gonna get yourself hurt. 

It took Joel all of two seconds to grab two of the larger cut pieces, throwing each of them onto his shoulders. You couldn’t help but stare at his biceps that cradled the wood, the tan skin and muscles popping out of the dark green t-shirt he wore. Focus, focus, focus, focus, focusfocusfocus. 

“And the bigger pieces? What are those for?” You asked out of sheer curiosity now once he threw them down in the back of his lawn, the sight of your parents and Sarah long gone. 

He shrugged and shook his head, his hands on his hips as a layer of sweat started to build up around his hairline. “Just carvin’ projects. The rest can be used for scrap lumber around the lake properties.” His head finally turned to look at you, his eyes raking you up and down for a moment before nodding to your lake house rental. “Doin’ property maintenance over the summer on the houses ‘round here.”

“So if we need maintenance, we call you now?” You asked with a dubious face, to which he nodded. 

This man never stopped. It made sense, you supposed. You reflected on the summers in the past, knowing Joel to manage his own contracting business and picking up odd jobs around town. You remember one summer, he redid the flooring of an old bakery in town and then built custom shelves for the loaves of bread and bagels. Another summer, he repaved people’s driveways with blacktop. He was a laborer, a blue-collar man through and through. 

“That’s right, Skids.” The nickname made you scowl at him again, but you wouldn’t mind seeing Joel Miller laid under your kitchen sink or repairing the window in your bedroom so it could finally let in some fresh air. Frankly, you just wouldn’t mind seeing Joel Miller. 

After Joel reclaimed his daughter from your parents with a snarky yet subtle, Thanks for all your help, kiddo to Sarah, he said goodbye to you and your family as everyone parted ways back to their own homes. 

-

You were tired from the drive, but you didn’t lack attendance to the bonfire Sarah was putting together specifically for you in a welcome back to Danbury! sort of celebration. She invited the other nearby neighbors, so by the time you finally joined, it was packed with people sitting around the fire. People who lived on the lake loved a good party, anything with beer to keep them occupied. 

It was a lot of talking and bottles clinking, marshmallows on sticks, and a crackling fire blazing at the center of everyone. You weren’t one for beer but Sarah insisted on feeding you bottle after bottle. 

She liked sharing secrets with you, away from her dad. She considered you someone she could tell anything to. And you felt the same way. So not more than half an hour later, you two were giggling and sitting on the tailgate of Joel’s old pickup truck when you saw him start to saunter over.  You saw him coming first, snatching Sarah’s bottle out of her hand and taking a sharp inhale as you hid away your own. Sarah’s secret, right? 

“Dad,” she playfully whined when he came over to bust their little party. 

He was silent for a moment before he looked at the dwindling flames. “Fire’s gettin’ low.” He pointed out, looking between the two of you.

His face was lit up in a mix of gold hue from the fire and silver from the moon. His face had this intensity, a bucked-out jawline, cheekbone, and nose. It was like he was carved from stone. 

Sarah was silent, not wanting to leave behind her friends at the bonfire to shuffle over more wood. You softly nodded as you took a swig of her beer bottle in your hand before setting it down once you hopped off the truck bed. 

“I can help.” You offered. Joel looked down at you hesitantly, sneaking a glance to where your parents sat around the growing circle of people.

“Yeah.. yeah, ‘lright.” Joel said as the two of you walked off to the dividing line on his property, the wood you had dropped carelessly earlier in the day now in a neat stack. You certainly weren’t drunk, but slamming Sarah’s beer along with the other ones she ushered you before was now messing with your head, the edges of your vision a little fuzzy, especially in the dark since the glow of the bonfire was at such a distance. 

Before you knew it, you were stacking the wood into your arms, too much maybe. Joel called out your name in a warning tone. 

“No, I got it! See?” You tried to reason with a cocky smile as he shook his head. 

“You don’t like to listen.” He gruffly said as he started picking up the smaller pieces as they fell out of your arms. 

You couldn’t help the playful scoff that left your lips, still insistent on stacking more in your arms, going as far as tucking some in your elbows but all they did was drop at your feet once you went to reach for more. 

“Stop bein’ so damn difficult.” He piped up again as he snagged your wrist, halting your movements. 

“Yeah? I thought you liked difficult women.” Your words were fast like a whip, your eyes challenging his own as the two of you shared unnecessarily long eye contact. 

“Drop-- the wood. Stop bein’ a-” 

“A what?” You challenged. The distance between you two suddenly felt like it was becoming air-tight, his eyes narrowing on yours as his features hardened. He didn’t look mad, lord knows you’d never want to actually make Joel Miller mad. He just looked-- provoked. 

“A brat.” He finally bit, your teeth clenching at the name. The shock of it all made your arms finally burst open like a dam breaching with water, all of them falling to your feet as you let out an involuntary squeal. God, you did not want him to hear that noise leave you like that. 

You finally tugged away your wrist from his hand, your eyes leaving his daggered gaze to examine your palm that had a decent size splinter plunged into the center of it. 

“Shit,” You swore, feeling whatever heat you had left in your body pooling to your stringing finger. 

You heard Joel let out a debated sigh before he took you by your wrist, much more gentle this time, and tried to bring it up closer to his eyes to examine it. 

“Can’t see for shit out here.” He grumbled. You couldn’t see it either but you could feel right where it spread searing pain through the rest of your hand. 

“I got some tweezers in my workshop, I’ll get it out.” Joel offered as he started walking a few paces but you let out an involuntary whimper at the sound of him taking it out. 

“You don’t want that to get infected, do you?” He asked with a true voice of reason, to which you let out a sigh of agreement and followed him to his workshop.

You had only been inside Joel’s workshop a handful of times. You remember once your dad dragged you over so he could talk to Joel about his truck, and you had to wait there and wait there until they finished gabbing. Another time was when you explored it on your own, your eyes fascinated by the little world he surrounded himself in. It wasn’t all wood like you’d expect it to be. He had old guns mounted on the wall, ladders hung up in the rafters, and dusty old fishing plaques that made you disgusted at the sight. It housed his tools, the same ones he had been using for years. He knew where they were by heart, not even looking when he reached for something. Everything had its place, down to the tweezers he immediately found in an old little toolbox. 

“Here,” he said as he pointed to an old metal stool as tall as your waist. You sat down on the cold metal, a little hiss of discomfort leaving you as he sighed. “Always somethin’.” Joel shook his head and offered you a spare dusty blanket, shaking your head. 

“Just-- fix my hand. Please.” You said as you displayed your palm to him, now seeing it in the light for the first time. Okay.. it didn’t actually look as bad as it felt. Joel actually smiled as he looked at the tiny sliver shoved into the skin. 

“..Might have to amputate it.” He said with a half-serious tone, as joking as Joel could sound. But there was a little glint in his eye, one of satisfaction from his own joke.  

“Joel Miller has a sense of humor? I’m surprised. And pleasantly delighted.” You teased as he huffed and shook his head, the smile that graced his lips already came and gone. Sort of. He just looked down at your hand so you couldn’t directly see it anymore. 

It took you until now to see that he changed out of his dark green shirt from this afternoon and into an old 80’s rock band shirt with a worn dark navy flannel over it. He must have showered after laboring in the Texas heat. The thought made your stomach churn in excitement. 

You shivered at how cold you felt all of a sudden, no longer by the warm fire and on this damn metal stool. You shifted uncomfortably on it, cursing yourself for wearing jean shorts. 

Joel let out an exasperated sigh as he stood up straighter and shoved off his flannel, your eyes softening at the sight. 

“You want me to take tweezers to your hand but you keep... shiftin’ around. Stand up.” He directed, and this time you didn’t debate with him. You hopped off the metal stool and he laid down the flannel. It was a nice gesture and you were grateful. You hoped the goosebumps were from the temperature, not how close he was. 

Joel pulled up another metal stool so he could steady himself, reeling himself in as close as he could and holding your palm open in his as his eyes squinted a little bit. 

You felt frozen in place, your lips parting as you slowly looked down to one of his knees that parted between your own legs. Fuck. You weren’t sure if it was the little buzz of beer still in your system but something drove you to have enough courage to gently lay your hand just above his kneecap. 

His eyes flicked up to yours, trying to read what was behind your thought process right now. He looked so confident, you feared you looked all shifty. 

You could feel the worn denim of his jeans under your palm but underneath, he was warm. He was as hot as a furnace as your body craved it. 

“The sliver.” You pointed back out, your voice smaller since you two were in such close proximity. You watched his chest heave as he took a deep breath, grumbling something under his breath before he focused back to his initial task. 

You pursed your lips as you both watched and felt the tweezers line up to the red and irritated skin, his movements precise and patient until you watched him clench the tool closed. 

You let out an involuntary breath of both relief and anticipation, just wanting it out already. 

“Hold on, just gotta make sure I..” Joel’s voice trailed off as he slowly pulled the tiny sliver from your palm, an uncomfortable whine leaving the back of your throat. 

His thigh twitched under your palm at the sound, not even realizing your hand had sunk higher up his jean-clad thigh. 

“Got it.” He finally said, swiping the tip of the tweezer on the table to display the nasty little piece of wood that had caused you all this grief. You let out a breath through your nostrils and nodded. 

“Thank God, no amputation.” You joked, to which he awarded you a small smile. 

“I’ll call the surgeon and tell ‘em to turn around. We’re good here.” Joel said as he gently released your wrist. You watched his features carefully, seeing his lips part as he glanced down to his leg that your hand still held for balance. 

“What’er you doin’?” He finally asked, his voice dropping an octave at the question. Shit. 

Don’t read this wrong, or this will be the most awkward interaction you and Joel have had to date. This is worse than when he saw you fall out of the inner tube while boating, worse than when some kid tripped you at the town barbeque, worse than when you fell off Sarah’s scooter so hard that he gave you the nickname Skids. 

“Woah, Skids! Better slow down!” God, that was so many years ago. His chuckle still echoed in your ears.

Now you were older, you were a woman. You had long legs and glowing skin, and a smile that knocked guy’s out of the fuckin’ park! But he was older too, older than you, younger than your dad but god, not by much. You were so close to him, you could inhale the distant smell of the bonfire, the one he probably made instead of Sarah. He also smelled like an old spice deodorant and fucking cigarettes. 

He was stingy, and greasy, and hot, and Joel. 

Your years of anticipation thinking about him like this was over. 

You bit down on your lower lip, your mind was foggy with the rushing in your heart,  feeling your ears pound and your palm still seared. He was a head taller than you while you sat together, and before you could stop yourself, you were leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to his pulse. 

Your lips lingered around his neck for a moment, the sensitive skin of your mouth feeling beard stubble and tasting distant cologne. Your breath fanned over the skin, clammy but sweet with his sweat. 

He didn’t stop you, his eyes merely watching you carefully. 

“What’er you doin’?” He asked again, but this time, his words sounded more-- goading. Do it, I know you won’t. You’re chicken shit. If you know what you want, do it. 

Your heart raced as you nearly leaped off the stool, closing the distance between you two as you stood between his legs. Your hand moved higher on his thigh, so close that you were nearly touching the leather of his belt. Your mouth returned to the sweet spot of his pulse while your injured hand reached up to the opposite side of his neck to gently hold him there. 

“Joel,” you whispered his name breathlessly, asking him for more, feeling his head drop down beside yours. You feared you embarrassed yourself, he wasn’t reciprocating, he wasn’t--

The thoughts brewing in your head bubbled down to a boil as his firm arm wrapped itself low around your waist, keeping you to his front as he pulled down to look at you with a stern look on his face.. You were so fucked. 

Your desperate eyes met his, trying to gauge what he thought. You hated how you looked like you wanted him so bad. He was your neighbor, your friend’s dad, but you wanted him to be something for you too. 

“I don’t know what the hell you think you’re doin-” 

His words made your chest go tight and your eyes filled with pure horror. What have you done?!

“But you need to be the one to walk away, because I don’t think I can.”

His words surprised you. He didn’t think he could walk away from you right now? Holy shit. 

Your heart was pumping so hard under his watchful gaze, seeing his eyes look from yours to your parted lips. But he didn’t kiss you, you don’t think you would let him. It felt too intimate. You just didn’t want another boring summer in Danbury and you were determined to have a fling. 

Who knew it would be with Joel Miller. But you wanted him. 

Your brave hands took him by the chest of his shirt, your mouth moving to his jawline as you balanced the tightrope of kissing and nibbling on the skin before your hands moved south to find his belt buckle. 

His legs naturally parted for you, catching a brief smirk on his lips as you took control of the situation. 

“Dirty girl goin’ right for my fuckin’ cock.” He whispered against the shell of your ear, a desperate nod leaving you while your cheek involuntarily rubbed against the stubble of his beard. You didn’t know he talked like that.

You initiated more space for yourself, nudging the inside of his thighs with your own legs as you had his back up against his drafting table with you no longer on his side but standing in front of him. 

Your quick fingers desperately undid his belt, feeling the old leather under your fingers. You didn’t have the balls to look at him and frankly, you were afraid you would lose your nerve if you did. 

His hands were encouraging for your nervous system, firm palms planted into your hips and even going as far as to squeeze the flesh that sat under your jean shorts. His body warmed you up, his eyes admiring you as you plucked open the button on his jeans. 

You pushed your tongue against your cheek in concentration, all of a sudden desperate at the thought of having him in your mouth. You dragged down the zipper, the relaxed denim exposing the black briefs he wore underneath that hugged his tan hips. 

You slowly sunk to your knees before him, as if you were worshiping a God. Maybe you were, it was Joel Miller, after all.

“This what you were learnin’ off at school?” Joel belittled, your head doing a few quick nods as a flush stained your cheeks. God. Something about Joel calling you a slut had you in a tailspin. You couldn’t wait anymore. 

Your fingers delicately felt over the impressive growth that his briefs held down, biting down on your bottom lip as you let your pointer finger make the outline of his girth. 

He let out an audible grunt at the action, his jaw jutted out, and his eyes filled with lust. “Lemme see that pretty mouth.” He practically purred, your chest rising and falling in anticipation as you slowly opened your mouth for him. You felt the intrusion of his thumb, a guttural moan leaving your throat as your big eyes stayed on his. He pinched at the inside of your cheek for a moment, your eyes twinging closed and opening back up with twinkling tears on the brim of flowing. 

“Good girl, keep that mouth open for me.” He encouraged as he pushed two fingers past your lips, testing you. And you were more than willing to accept his little challenge. His fingers pushed on the back of your tongue, feeling your lips graze all the way to his knuckle as you worked on breathing through the feeling of his fingers shoved down your throat. 

You were determined for him not to get the best of you, to prove how you had some experience under your belt. Your tongue willingly swirled around his digits, humming softly as you suckled. Now it was his turn to look like he was ready to fold. You felt him swell in your hand, the hand still stroking over his erection in his briefs. 

He ripped back his fingers, leaving them with a pop to your lips. Holy shit. You took a few deep breaths and swallowed, blinking back the tears that his fingers provoked from going so far down. 

“Damn, baby, look so pretty down on your knees for me. Don’t make me wait ‘ny longer.” Joel’s breaths were heavy, his southern drawl exaggerated in his lust-filled state. 

A proud smirk laced on your lips, his eyes on you as he watched you pry down the material of his briefs, watching as he lightly lifted his hips off the stool and using the drafting table behind him as leverage to let his jeans and boxers rest comfortably around the top of his thighs. What you had been craving slapped eagerly into the palm of your uninjured hand, an unexpected little moan leaving you. 

You studied his cock with anticipation, the glowing pinkish-red tip glistening with pre-cum from all the anticipation. He was generous in size, he would be the biggest you had ever taken. He was just… grown. You let out a satisfied little mmm, smirking up at him as your fist wrapped delicately around the base as you pumped over just the bottom half of him. 

Your hand came up to push some hair behind your ear but Joel was quick to handle that for you, stroking the stray pieces back behind your ear and then planting his palm right on the top side of your head. He tried to guide you closer but you just continued to smirk at him, a desperate grunt leaving the back of his throat. 

“Don’t play with me, kitten.” The nickname had you fawning, much better than the other nickname he had given you in the past. Maybe this new one would replace the old, the girl he dismissed before now a woman whose attention he craved. 

You guided his tip to gently tap at your flattened tongue, using his base to guide him until you generously wrapped your mouth around his leaking head. He let out a satisfied hiss which made you smirk, knowing you were the one making him dance on the line between pain and pleasure. 

You let out an involuntary mewl as the fist he had made in the back of your hair forced you further down his rigid member, feeling wet tears threatening to spill over your waterline as his tip nudged against the back of your throat. He said not to play with him and you disobeyed. 

Your palms flattened to the front of his thighs as you pushed yourself off of him, gasping for air as you swallowed the mixture of your spit and his leakage that clogged your throat. 

“So fuckin’ pretty chokin’ on me like that, such a pretty face.” He sneered, referring to your teary eyes. But the compliment made you blush and the choking and sobbing was all of a sudden worth it for the praise. 

After that, you craved to take all of him just like he wanted. Your head worked in subtle bobs, taking inch by inch of him at a time. Sometimes his hand in your hair guided you, allowing you to take him with confidence as he let out disgusting groans and low moans. 

Your gluck, gluck, glucks filled the shed, hot pants leaving your mouth around him but not willing to let your head up. Trails of your saliva attached themselves from his balls to your lips, the sight being a trophy for your hard earned deep throating. He was already so close, you couldn’t bear not to taste the prize you had worked so hard for. 

All of a sudden, Joel stood up from his seat at the drafting table and you couldn’t help but show a look of disappointment. You thought he was done, going to leave you like a mess on the floor with bruises on your knees from the cold concrete and your slobbery mouth feeling his loss. 

Your wet eyelashes fluttered as he returned to fist the hair at the top of your head and angled your face upward, watching as his other hand yanked on his member. The sight made your jaw drop. 

“Where do you want me to finish?” His words were pained, stretched thin as he tried to hold out for an answer from you. But you wanted him to finish, you wanted to watch his face contort from the wake of his orgasm that you helped create. 

“Mmm,” you hummed out as you purposefully prolonged his finish, watching as his chest puffed and his skin grew rosy from the heat flooding his body. Your cockiness was punished by a tighter grip in your hair, yanking your head closer to his shaft to force a real answer out of you. Your scalp stung but only a smile was on your face. 

“You wanna cum on my face, Mr. Miller?” You asked in the most innocent tone you could muster, your mouth parting at the sight of him. He looked heavenly. The glow from his shed lights made him appear as if he had an angelic glow. But you knew he was hellish, nothing close to an angel. 

Joel let out a scoffy little grunt at your question, a wicked smile gracing his lips as his hooded eyes slowly fell completely closed as the shock of his orgasm coursed through his body. 

You eagerly watched and you hated how hungry you knew you looked right now. You licked your lips, eager for his taste, eager to make the Joel Miller cum. You were desperate. 

His cock began twitching in his hand, watching as he methodically yanked out his own orgasm. His eyes lazily glanced between his shaft and to your large eyes, slowly smirking at the sight of you holding out for him. 

“Let me see that tongue, darlin’.” His words were breathy, just on the edge of no return. You obeyed, dropping your jaw and flashing him your tongue as you fluttered your eyelashes. At the sight alone, he finished himself off with eager grunts and short moans, you swore one of them was your name. 

His hot cum landed on your face, your eyes closing in satisfaction with a cocky smile. Most landed on your tongue, a few piping hot white strands splattered like paint on your cheeks and nose. All the air in your lungs left you as he tapped his pulsing tip eagerly against your tongue, watching with his jaw slack as he let the rest pool onto your tongue and down your throat. 

You swallowed knowing he was watching, his hand in your hair relaxing. He tasted better than you expected, a new craving. 

Instead of fisting your strands, he started stroking them away from your messy face, praising you as he tucked himself back into his pants.

Both no longer in the hot fantasy you swore you imagined once, you tried to collect yourselves. You shakily stood up from the ground, your knees cold from the concrete. You wipe off any dust or dirt they may have collected, sneaking glances at Joel as he fastened his belt around his waist once more and popping the button of his jeans back into place. 

You glanced around for a tissue, your back to him as you cleaned up your face. Oh my god, you were wiping Joel Miller’s cum off your fucking face.  As the two of you pieced yourselves back together, he reached for his discarded flannel that he had given you still resting on the metal chair you previously abandoned before settling between his legs. 

“Said you were cold. Take it.” He said as he fisted some of the material and looked at you expectantly. You sighed before gently taking the material and wrapping yourself in its warmth. 

As he placed a bandaid on your palm to cover your futile wound, you admired the flannel in all of its unknown beauty. 

It was one of his older ones, you sort of felt bad because you could only assume it was one of his favorites. It adorned a few minor holes and rips, some of which were badly stitched back together in an attempt to salvage it for another few years. Despite its appearance, you melted into it because it smelled like him. It smelled smoky like his cigarettes or maybe that was just the residual smoke from the bonfire. As you walked outside, you could smell it clearer.

Sandalwood with a hint of cinnamon, you wondered what cologne he used. 

Your head was lost in thought as you began to wander back towards the bonfire, a sharp clearing of his throat bringing you back to your senses. You whipped around, seeing as he pointed to the stray wood you had dropped from earlier.

“Oh-” you said bashfully as you returned to the pile with him, both of you knelt down picking up stray pieces. Once you started piling the wood in your arms again, he let out a short chuckle from deep inside him as he held your wrist from stacking more. 

“That’s enough for now, just go.” You liked seeing his face lit up like that, knowing you were the cause of it being even better. 

“Okay, Mr. Miller.” You cooed quietly, his face hardening at the name of adoration you had given him. 

“Okay, Skids. I’ll be seein’ you.” He said with a tight nod of his head, his eyes directing you back to the fire. You set down the firewood by the rocks surrounding it as a barrier, clearing your throat as you returned to the tailgate. You could still taste his cum on your tongue. 

No one seemed to notice your trip taking unexpectedly longer than necessary. Your parents were both swaying their heads and laughing, empty bottles by the legs of their folding lawn chairs to explain their obvious lack of awareness. 

Sarah had joined up with other friends in your absence, but you didn’t mind. 

You finally had a moment to reflect on what had just taken place in Joel’s shed. You let your vacation house neighbor cum in your mouth. Your older, stoic, stubborn ass of a neighbor. 

As if on cue, Joel returned to the side of his truck with his body leaning against the tailgate. His jean-clad hip lightly grazed your thigh, glancing over to see him offering you a beer. 

“Since you’re all grown up now.” He said with a little spark behind his eyes. You nodded and took the opened beer with a growing smile. 

“Cheers.” He offered as he held out his bottle to clink with yours. 

“Cheers to another summer in Danbury.” You tell him. 

He cocked his eyebrow and glanced over to you one more time before he focused his eyes on the growing fire. 

“This one ain’t quite like the rest.” It almost sounded like a promise from him. You hoped it was. Because you were wearing his flannel and you were on his knees for him tonight, you wondered what experience of Joel could offer you this summer. 

---

read part 2 - dark paradise!

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[cybrs4pphic]

camgirl pt 2!!

camgirl!reader x abby

afab/fem!reader, squirting (:p), full nelson (:0), abby yearns to be inside you, fuckin on the first date, reader has no idea abby knows abt her sex work, kinda awkward first-time sexual tension lol, abby has a fat dick (:D), this is so long???????

18+ mdni (goodbye minors)

it’s the next day and abby is still trying to work up the courage to text you. she doesn’t want to sound boring, but she also doesn’t wanna overdo it. she’s laying in bed, your number typed into the chat, her fingers hovering over the keys.

‘hey, you gave me your number at the coffee shop yesterday and i thought you were really pretty so… i’m abby,’

her thumb was now just hovering over the blue arrow to send the message before hitting it, eventually sending the message. abby immediately shuts her phone off tossing it on the bed trying to find something to distract herself with while she waits.

abby decides to just turn on some show she’s seen a million times. a few hours later you text her back with a ‘hiii abby!! thank u!! sorry, was at work :( i’d love to do somethin w you sometime soon if ur down :p,’

she’s almost, almost, embarrassed at how fast she replies. ‘you’re okay, how was work today? and i’d love to. what did you have in mind?,’

‘well, if u wanted to hangout today, i wouldnt mind just gettin to know you like at mine or somethin, i’ll cook u dinner too whatcha want :3,’

abby’s gonna blow up. ‘i’m not picky, surprise me. and that sounds great, how does 7 sound then?’

‘perfect, i’ll see you soon!’ you send her your address in a separate message with a little heart. abby could actually pass away right now.

2 hours later it’s 7:05 and abby’s standing outside your door, not wearing anything too special— just jeans and a shirt taking a deep breath before knocking. a few second later she hears the door unlocking and opening.

she sees you, looking cute as ever. she then hears the sweetness of your voice inviting her in, abby mustering up a smile through the nerves.

“okay, so, i‘m makin’ chicken alfredo if that works for you?”

“s’perfect,” abby slurs out, practically soaking her underwear watching you cook, mainly your ass in those stupid leggings. is she wearing underwear? floods abby’s thoughts.

“almost done. if you wanna go sit down i’ll get everything ready,” you turn around giving abby a quick smile before returning to your cooking.

abby’s in heaven right now. you sitting across from her, just getting to know each other. finding out you both actually have so much in common makes her feel ecstatic. you guys are having such a good time talking you both nearly forget about the food.

“you’re a great cook,” abby says as you, blushing, take her plate from her placing it in the sink after rinsing it off.

“thank you! tried really hard on this one actually,” you say, giggling. yeah, abby’s obsessed. she needs to be inside you, making you a mess on her cock-

“wanna watch a movie ‘er somethin’?” you interrupt her thoughts.

“what kinda movie?”

“was thinkin’ something scary, if you’re down?”

“works for me,” abby replies, moving to sit next to you on the couch as you scroll through the vast amount of horror movies on whatever streaming app you picked.

“oh! how ‘bout the new texas chainsaw?” you don’t even give abby a chance to reply before you hit play— not like she really cares what you guys watch anyway.

abby has her arm around the back of the couch manspread while you have your knees tucked under you half sitting on your butt half on your heels next to her. within the first five minutes of the movie, she has her arm draped over your side mindlessly drawing patterns into your hips and thighs while you lay on her chest.

you guys get about halfway through the movie before abby breathes out, “hey.”

“yeah?” you reply, picking your head up to meet her eyes.

abby glances at your lips, before asking, “can i kiss you?” to which you just nod a bunch.

abby leans in meeting you halfway to finally kiss you. not long after, she’s grabbing your hips pulling you onto her lap so you’re straddling her, deepening the kiss.

you pull away first, gasping for air. abby’s also gasping for air, but she could kiss you til she passes out, honestly.

“tell me if you want to stop at any point, okay?” abby breathes out as she toys with the hem of your shirt. you nod as a reply.

“words,” abby says bluntly.

“yes,” you breathe out, still catching your breath. abby wastes no time pulling you out of your shirt and bra before taking her own off.

“god, fuck, c’mere,” she’s pushing your hips up so that your tits are eye level with her before she immediately latches onto your tit. one hand is groping your ass while her other hand is toying with your other nipple. jesus, her hands are so fucking cold you’re practically shaking under her touch.

your hands run down her chest, stopping to play with her tits before sliding down to the button on her jeans.

“take ‘em off,” you whine out. abby happily obliges, gently grabbing u by the hips before laying you down on the couch. she gets up undoing her pants sliding them off. she’s immediately on top of you, thumbs under the waistband of your leggings breathing out a “can i?”

“please,” your voice barely above a whisper, but abby’s already peeling your leggings off realizing you, in fact, were not wearing underwear.

“s’like you wanted to get fucked tonight,” abby lets out a small laugh.

“by you,” you shoot back as you spread your legs in front of her making abby blush as she leans forward to kiss your inner thighs, seeing your glistening cunt clenching around nothing. she starts sucking like she’s about to leave a hickey, making your legs shake from the sensitivity.

“abby, please,” you breathe out.

“please what?

“fuck me, abby, please need to feel you,” you whine out reaching out to wrap your fingers in her hair.

“don’t have a strap, ba-”

“i do,” you cut her off. “come with me,” you pull her up by her hair giving her a quick kiss before getting up, taking abby’s hand, and practically skipping to your bedroom. once you open the door abby immediately recognizes it. your bed in the center of the room against the back wall, a desk across from the bed, probably where you set up your camera. what’s new to her is all the decorations that she didn’t usually see when you were live.

“cute room,” abby states as you’re digging through your closet for a dildo.

“thanks! what kinda cock you want?” you ask her it so casually abby nearly.

“how many do you have?” abby questions you back.

“a bunch,” you giggle.

“what, are you some kind of pornstar?” abby smirks and you can practically hear the smirk in the way she asks the question. you have the dildo in your hand, but you freeze at her question. you know it’s a joke, a rhetorical question, so you just laugh it off bringing her the dick.

“you seem like a fat cock kinda girl,” you smile handing abby the harness and dildo.

“and you seem like you love taking fat cock,” abby fires back sliding the harness up her legs, securing it. “now where were we?” abby says, sliding her hands up your stomach to your breasts watching them spill out from her fingers. you lean up to catch her lips in another kiss, quickly deepening it by tilting your head to the side and allowing abby’s tongue access to your mouth. she’s grabbing your hips and placing you on your bed before attacking your neck and chest with kisses.

“fuck, these tits are perfect,” abby says as she slides two fingers down your cunt, teasing your entrance. “you can take two fingers, right, baby? gotta get you ready for my cock,” you practically moan at her words and she’s barely touching you. is she even real?

“yes, yes! please just touch me, abby,” abby responds by sliding her middle and ring finger into you searching for that soft spot. she’s fucking her fingers back into you,, eventually finding your g-spot, hitting it with the tips of her fingers making you let out a mix between a gasp and a moan.

“found it,” she smirks to herself. she really can’t believe she’s actually touching you right now; this is like a dream come true for her. countless nights of her watching you touch yourself and her finally being the one to make you shake and moan under her touch. she has to fuck you.

“do you have lube?” she asks to which you nod telling her where it is. abby gets up squirting some lube onto the cock you gave her, taking her hand making sure it’s covered.

“are you ready?” she asks looking up at you, her hand still on her cock, stroking it like it’s attached to her. you give her a few eager nods followed by a ‘yes’. abby walks over to you, pushing you on your back before asking if you’re ready again like she’s scared she’s gonna hurt you

“please fuck me, abby,” you get right to the point and abby nods before pushing the dildo into your weeping cunt with her hips. the way you’re gasping and whining just from her putting it in makes abby want to absolutely ruin you. abby needs to fuck you so well every time you touch yourself on camera all you can think of is her.

abby begins rocking her hips back and forth at a pretty slow pace, nearly pulling out completely before pushing herself right back in, where she belongs, you letting out little whimpers every time she pushes back in.

“faster, please, abby,” you whine out as she’s pulling out.

“gladly,” abby takes your legs, throwing them over her shoulders before leaning forward to properly fuck you. abby’s fucking you faster like you requested but it’s still not deep enough for your liking.

“abby abby deeper, please please,” you plead for her.

“can i try somethin’?” abby questions to and you, obviously, tell her yes. before you know it abby’s completely pulled out of you, whining at the empty feeling, before she’s leaning her upper back on the bed frame, patting her lap for you to straddle her.

“face away from me, baby,” abby says.

“what’re you plannin’?” you giggle out, smiling at her.

“‘ts a surprise,” she smiles back before patting her lap again to which you throw a leg over her lap (abby definitely slapped your ass) before settling right in front of the dildo.

“now what?” abby put her feet up on the bed and threads her arms underneath your thighs beginning to pull them up towards your chest.

“relax f’me,” she says quietly from behind you causing you to relax into her hold, your back to her chest. once you’re fully in abby’s grasp, you take her cock sliding it back into you.

“you good?” abby questions to which you nod and abby’s hands snake around the back of your neck, forcing you to watch you take her cock.

before you can comprehend it, abby’s fucking you like you’ve never been fucked before. you can feel how tight it is, how deep she is, all of it— you practically feel her in your throat and all you can do is take it and watch.

abby’s grunts mixed with your whines and moans is making abby soak through her fucking underwear

“fuckfuckfuck abby, y’re too deep! please please,”

“you can take it— know you can,” abby replies not letting up on her assault on your cunt. you’re a fucking mess of moans and tears and drool and you can barely handle it when abby’s hand snakes to your clit rubbing it in fast tight circles with her two fingers.

you’re practically fucking sobbing with how she’s stimulating your clit and constantly fucking up into your g-spot. your eyes closes shut as you’re so close to coming.

“eyes open, breathe,”

“can’t— i can’t s’too much, ‘m gonna come,” you’re shocked you can even get out even that much.

“‘m not stoppin’ you,” abby says, not letting up in the slightest. you do your best to keep your breaths steady, but the way your orgasm is building up, it feels different.

“abby… abby abby,” you chant her name, whether it’s a warning or a plea, she doesn’t care. all abby cares about right now is the way her hands and thighs are being soaked right now. your mouth is hanging open in a silent scream just watching the way you gush all over abby’s cock.

“did you just fuckin’ squirt,” abby’s giddy right now.

“are you even human?” you breathe out to which abby just lets out a laugh, releasing you from her grasp causing you to practically collapse on top of her.

“so the answer’s yes,” abby smirks, brushing her fingers gently along the back of your neck, where she knows she definitely put too much pressure on while fucking you.

you feel her slide out of you as you roll onto your stomach eyeing her up and down. you freeze as you hear her say

“i know you’re a camgirl,”

“what?”

pt 3 maybe :3 this is the longest thing ive ever written

[wildlife4life]

8x01 Fuck-it Friday Coda

I'm back!!! The writing beans came to me and I had to write a post b-day scene. Hope ya'll enjoy!!! (Using this as my Fuck-it Friday as well!) Posted to A03 as well.

Tommy tried to apologize, tried to offer to help clean up, and suggested to give Buck a ride home. 

“Don’t” was Eddie’s first response before the apology could even get past the older man’s lips.

“I’ll deal with it later.” Was his second.

And Buck, merely shook his head and lead the pilot to the front door, hugging him in the doorway with too soft words Eddie doesn’t even try to catch.

He stays seated on the couch, laptop still closed, cone hate crushed in his fist and the stupid noise maker at his feet. Another birthday passing through a lagging computer screen. Another person he loves upset and angry for his choices.

Except there’s silence that echoes around him instead of the bustle of an army encampment. His body isn’t weighed down by miliary gear and the ever presence fear of dying in the sands of war.  Eddie is no longer that man in his early 20’s, running from his problems. Now he’s just a man in his mid-thirties, watching his son run away from him.

The couch dips to his right and warmth seeps into his numb body.  It spreads around his back and over his left shoulder.  The band of muscles around him, flex, pulling Eddie deeper and pushing the numbness further away.

Eddie doesn’t even try to fight it.  He closes his eyes, tipping his body sideways and burying his face into his best friend’s shoulder.

Buck doesn’t say anything.  He doesn’t try to apologize or offer to help clean, and he doesn’t suggest leaving Eddie to wallow alone. Because he doesn’t need to say any of those things.

Apologies from Buck aren’t going to salvage the failed birthday surprise.  Offers to clean the dollar store decorations and store-bought cupcakes will in no way make a dent in the disarray that is Eddie’s relationship with his son. And Eddie knows better than anyone, Buck is never going to leave him alone in this mess.

Side by side they sit in the silence that has been lingering since Christopher left for Texas.  Eddie breaths in the mixture of Buck’s cologne, laundry detergent, and something that is just uniquely Buck.  He takes breath after breath, and Buck matches each one with his own. Same rhythm. Same speed. Same heartache.

They sit there for minutes, hours, maybe even the rest of evening. The time didn’t matter, but this moment did, and Eddie needed to stay in it for just a little longer. He needed the line of warmth from Buck to chase away the remaining ache. He needed just a few more deep breaths with Buck’s scent lingering in the back of his throat. He needed Buck to keep holding onto him. He needed the silence to try and remember the echoes of previous birthdays where Christopher didn’t scoff, but smiled and laughed and returned his father’s hugs. He needed his son back.

But at this moment, his son didn’t need him.

It sobers Eddie, admitting that and he comes back to himself, breaking the bubble he secluded himself in with Buck.

He pulls his head from Buck’s shoulder and with a squeeze of his hand to Buck’s knee, Buck drops his arm, but the strength of his support remains. And when Eddie rises to his feet, disconnecting himself from Buck’s side, his warmth, his love, clings and doesn’t allow the numbness to return.

The silence is still there. The hurt and echoes of laughter’s past still resonance around them. There is still a mess. But Eddie isn’t alone with any of it.

Buck grabs the trash bag he laid out earlier and plucks the crumpled party hat from Eddie’s laxed grip. It makes the slightest rustle when dropped in the bag and again when followed by Buck’s red one.

“No cone hats next year, they’re uncomfortable.” Buck states as he tosses Tommy’s discarded blue hat in.

He reaches for the noise maker on the floor and Eddie manages to allow the smallest spark of hope to erupt with a tiny smile, “What do you suggest instead?”

The noise maker disappears into the trash bag and Buck’s eyes catch Eddie’s, lighting up with giddiness, “Depends.  Disney has the mickey ears, but what about universal? Shrek ears? Troll hair? Minion bald caps?”

A grand birthday plan is already in the works for Christopher’s 15th. Because Buck could see past pool clubs and renovation talks. He is seeing past the tangles in Eddie’s and Christopher’s distant relationship, beyond the anger and sadness.  His hope is larger than a single spark and one day, it will charge Eddie’s own.

One day, but not today.  So, Eddie shakes his head at Buck’s hat contemplations and makes his way over to the cupcake stand that is only missing one. “You’re baking these next year.” Eddie says softly.

Buck comes up behind him beaming, “You’re helping.”

Exactly what he needed to hear.

Tagging for fuck-it friday (no pressure): @colonoscopys @mattsire @bigfootsmom @tidesreach @kitteneddiediaz

@inell @pansysgothgf @smilingbuckley @shitouttabuck @dangerpronebuddie

@bucks-daddy-issues @tizniz @aroeddiediaz @cal-daisies-and-briars @lemonzestywrites

@diazsdimples @daffi-990 @diazheartsbuckley @transboybuckley @rainbow-nerdss

@theotherbuckley @lover-of-mine @jeeyuns @watchyourbuck @exhuastedpigeon

@spaceprincessem @starlingbite @glorious-spoon @jesuisici33 @hippolotamus

@prosperdemeter2 @try-set-me-on-fire @homerforsure @bekkachaos @honestlydarkprincess

@thekristen999 @sibylsleaves @mellaithwen @lonelychicago @tawaifeddiediaz

@fruitydiaz @monsterrae1 @elvensorceress @gayhoediaz @captain-hen

@eddiebabygirldiaz

[st4rb3rries]

OMG I LOVED UR STAN AND KYLE BSF HEADCANNONS!! Can i req one with the main four, like what its like to be in a group w/ them?? have an amazing day <33

BEING IN A FRIEND GROUP WITH SOUTH PARKS MAIN 4

pairings; stan, kyle, kenny, cartman x fem!reader (all aged up 18+)

summary; chaotic friend group hc's!

warnings; cussing

a/n; hi and ty hope you have an amazing day too!!

key colors; blue= stan green= kyle orange= kenny red= cartman pink= reader

late night skate boarding with them. it's always cartman who texts you guys to go. in reality he only wants to go to just to start shit. in my opinion kenny is the best skater out of y'all. but cartman is the worst💀. "you guys you guys look im gonna go down the ramp!!" "cartman that isn't a good idea your not ready-" "WAAAAAHHHHH" laughter is coming out from you, stan, and kenny. kyle wants to laugh but he ain't risking it😭. "GAWDAMMIT KYLE IM BEAT YOUR J-" cartman stops himself because he knows damn well not to rip on kyle in front of you. so he switches up real fast 🙄. "you guys i seriously think i broke a bone" "whatever cartman you just switched up cause you know y/n would kick your ass" 5 minutes kenny is teaching you, stan, and kyle a trick. "ok so next you gotta-" "get a room lovebirds i mean come on🙄" "CARTMAN STFU!!" "yeah dude stay mad because your not psychically able to do any of this🥱" this all happens in less than 15 minutes, like why can't y'all just be a nice friend group😭. moments later stan was about to go off a ramp. UNTIL HIS WHEELS BROKE OFF THE SKATEBOARD. i wonder who unscrewed them..... "AAAUAGHHHHHH" "DON'T WORRY STAN I GOTCHU!!" and there he was, stanly marsh in your arms. "W rizz stan or nah😏" stan could feel his face heating up fr. "damn dude that should've been me not stan😔" "kenny shut the hell up💀" "wait a minute where's cartman he literally almost killed stan tf????" cartman isn't trying to get his ass kicked in front of people so he ditched and went home. classic cartman.

karaoke night. you guys are definitely singing 2000's songs. but it always seems like you guys get interrupted no matter what. karaoke night was started by cartman, which is so surprising?? "I WANNA HOLD'EM LIKE THEY DO IN TEXAS, PLEASE" "FOLD'EM LET'EM HIT ME RAISE IT BABY STAY WITH M-" stan and kyle always hating cause you and cartman sound a little too good. "BOOO GET OFF THE STAGE" "YA MY EARS ARE BLEEDING" "OH FUCK OFF GUYS LET US SING" "you guys have been singing this same song for 2 hours bruh😭" "2 minutes kenny get it right" they just hating cause they can't handle real talent. sometimes when the karaoke gets intense you guys act like judges for americas got talent💀. "is this kenny mccormick from south park colorado?" "yes" "and what will you be doing today?" "YOUR MOM AHAHA" "disqualified poor people can't seem to have talent" "CARTMAN WTF" "NEXT" "no wait i'll sing with him" "oh god" if kyle and stan think you and cartman sound a little too good. JUST WAIT UNTIL THEY HERE YOU AND KENNY. "THIS ONE IS FOR THE BOYS WITH THE BOOMIN SYSTEM" "TOP DOWN AC WITH THE COOLER SYSTEM" super bass by nicki minaj is y'alls go to song. every time you guys finish that song your out of breath and laugh so much😭. "AND THE CROWD GUYS MILD🔥" "NEXT" "cartman we are done playing americas got talent" "dude let me and kyle sing next we haven't sung at all🥹" "fine" "ah hell nah it better not be anything emo💀" *30 seconds later every one starts singing* "BUT IM A CREEP" "IM A WERIDO" "WHAT THE HELL AM I DOIN' HERE" "I DON'T BELONG HERE" suddenly the tv, microphones, and speaker goes out?? "LISTEN UP BITCHES IM NOT HAVING AN ALCOHOLIC, A JEW, A FATHERLESS DAUGHTER, AND A HOMELESS POOR BOY SING RADIOHEAD AT MY HOUSE‼️‼️" guess who got jumped that night🤔???

[viking-raider]

Thankful

Summary: For Thanksgiving, you decide to take part of a military support group event and host a Veteran, having them over for dinner. Forming a lasting bond with a certain Captain.

Pairing: Henry Cavill/Reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Warning: G - Cotton Candy Goodness, Angst, Mention of Loss of Family Member, Mourning, Cold Mother, Embarrassed!Reader, Hurt/Comfort, Alcohol Use, Fluff, Friendly Bets, Southern Charm

Inspiration: It’s for Thanksgiving. 🍗

Author’s Note: I hope you enjoy this! Line divider by @FIREFLY-GRAPHICS! My Syverson's first name is Austin.

If you would like to get notifications for my writing! Just follow my Tag List blog, @VIKING-RAIDER-TAGLISTand turn on the notifications for it! It’s that easy! @VIKING-RAIDER-LIBRARY

You had received the message from one of the countless Military support groups you were a part of about the Sponsoring a Veteran for Thanksgiving event, and if you were interested in participating. You had hesitated for a couple days, before finally caving. You didn't have much family left of your own, just your mother. Since your father passed, when you were a kid and your only sibling, a brother, had been killed in the line of duty. Which was why you were a member of the support groups, looking to keep a closeness to him, and find some sort of peace with his death.

“All right.” The lead organizer, retired Lieutenant Sarah Timmans, sighed, looking over her clipboard at the list of names of all the Veterans that had been signed up for the event. “Your mother knows you're hosting a Vet, right?” She asked, cocking a brow at you, knowing how sensitive and touchy your mother was still about being around anything directly Military.

“I told her, I was bringing a friend over.” You answered, biting your lip nervously, knowing your mother's own mood swings on the subject.

“Girl, she's going to flip out on you.” Sarah said, shaking her head, eyes bulging. “Maybe, you should just do something one-on-one with them?” She suggested, trying to bypass a disaster.

“She's expecting us, and I'll get an earful, if I skip another family gathering.”

Sarah snorted at you, smirking. “It's your KP!” She teased, going down the list to find your name and who you'd been assigned. “So, your Vet is Captain Austin Syverson. He just retired seven months ago after nineteen years in the service of the U.S Army. Special Forces.” She informed you, looking up from the clipboard to scan the crowded room for a moment.

“Ah, there he is!” She smiled, motioning behind you.

Turning around and following her gaze, you were surprised for a moment, standing on the other side of the room, in a small cluster of other Vets, was a tall, thickly muscular guy, with a shaved head and well groomed beard. Everything about him exuded authority, self-confidence and calm. He was so damn handsome in his pair of dark wash blue jeans, brown cowboy boots and fleshly ironed, black dress shirt that was tucked in, showing off his belt buckle. Your insides tingled as you stared at him, throat going dry.

“Damn, that's a Texas boy.” You mumbled under your breath.

“Sure is.” Sarah agreed, checking him out as well. “You should go introduce yourself, before he thinks you stood him up.” She added, a hint of encouragement in her voice.

“God, you're right.” You started, frightened he just might, then weaved through the crowd towards him, pausing for a moment, until he noticed you. “Hi there.” You beamed up at him, your knees like a nervous jelly.

“Ma'am.” Syverson greeted you back with a Southern drawl, tipping his head forward.

“I'm your host, Captain Syverson.” You informed him, introducing yourself.

“Oh.” He replied, giving you a proper look over, a smile pulling over his lips as he took your lovely figure in the white, knee-length dress covered in delicate yellow flowers, paired with black flats. “It's a pleasure to meet you.” He said, his bright blue eyes meeting yours once more. “You can just call me, Sy.”

“Nice to meet you as well, Sy.” You answered, cordially extending your hand.

Smirking broader, Sy gently took your hand in his, shaking it. “I'm grateful that you've allowed me impose myself on you and your family's holiday.”

“Oh, it's quite all right.” You waved it off, shrugging your shoulders. “It's really just me and my mom, so nothing major.”

“Well, I'm just a Captain, so it'll literally be nothing Major.” Sy quipped, making the group around him crackle at the inside joke.

You dropped your head, hiding your amused smile, knowing the two of you were more than likely to get along, if he had that sense of humor. “Fair.” You nodded, lifting your head. “More than fair. Well, we can leave whenever you like.”

Sy turned over his wrist to glance at his watch. “We can go now, if you like.” He replied, twisting to a chair that was behind him and picking up a black, denim Sherpa coat off the back. “I'll see you boys later. Have a good Thanksgiving.” He bid the men, patting a couple on the shoulder, before following you out of the building.

“You can follow me to my place or we can ride together.” You told Sy, standing on the sidewalk with him, chewing on your lip.

“I can follow.” Sy answered, smiling down at you. “My truck's just over there.” He said, motioning over to the big, 2021 Dodge Ram, parked a short distance away.

“Okay. I'm just right there.” You informed him, pointing out your little KIA Niro.

“On your lead then, Major.” Sy quipped, winking at you, before heading off towards his truck.

“Christ,” You huffed, watching after him for a moment, your hand moving up to a necklace around your neck. “He reminds me so much of you, Phelan.” You sighed, then made for your vehicle.

Pulling out of the parking space, your phone started to ring, so you connected the car's Bluetooth. “Mother.” You answered, glancing in your rear-view, to make sure Sy was behind you, before you started out of the parking lot and into the street.

“How much longer are you going to be?” Your mother snapped through the car's speakers.

“I'm just leaving now, mom.” You sighed, pressing your lips together. “I had to find my friend and now we're heading there now. We should be there in about ten or so minutes.”

“Why is he spending Thanksgiving with us? Doesn't he have his own family?” She demanded, clearly pacing the house.

“I'm sure he has a family, mother. But I invited him over to ours and he accepted. So, please, be nice to him. He's a very polite and outstanding person, who doesn't need to be pestered and guilt tripped, or reminded his mother is lucky, that her son is still alive and not in the military and so on.” You hoped to warn and deter her from her usual interaction with the males she came into contact with. “Let's just have a nice dinner, for once.”

“How can we, when your brother isn't here.” She growled, then the line went dead.

“At least, I'm here.” You sighed, deflated by her words. “I should really warn Sy before we get into the house.” You thought, then pushed that unpleasantness aside.

Sy managed to keep behind your car, drumming his thumbs on the steering wheel. He felt a little nervous about going to a random, pretty young lady's home to have Thanksgiving dinner with her mother. However, he didn't have any other plans for the holiday under his belt, other than staying on the ranch he'd started up on his return home with Aika.

“Idle hands are the devil's workshop.” He commented aloud, following you off the on-ramp.

It would have just been him and his pup, working the horses all day, before making another ten minute meal and sitting in front of his laptop, since he still hadn't gotten around to buying himself a proper tv for the living room. So, he let one of his buddies nag him into signing up for the event. Sy wasn't at all disappointed either.

You were more than easy on his eyes.

Finally making it outside your place, you got out and met Sy in your driveway, shifting glances between him and the front door.

“Are you all right?” Sy asked, squinting down at you.

“Okay, look.” You blurted out, not looking back at him. “My mom is super touchy about the military.” You started to explain to Sy, giving him an embarrassed glance.

“Why?” He frowned, confused.

Your shoulders slumped slightly and a tired expression washed over your face. “My brother died in Afghanistan six years ago. My mom has taken that to her heart and soul. So anything military tends to set her off.”

“Then, should I even be here?” Sy asked, concerned about causing your mother any distress.

“It's my house and you're my guest.” You told him, bluntly. “I want you here for dinner. It'll be nice to have someone over that might actually engage with me.” You said, heading up the footpath towards the front door. “And not remind me that I'm not my dead, older brother.” You added under your breath, but Sy's sharp ear heard you all the same.

“Mom!” You called out, toeing off your shoes as you stood in the entry with Sy. “We're here.”

“Took long enough.” Her voice echoed back somewhere in the house.

You looked up at Sy. “I'm so sorry.” You mouthed, shaking your head.

“It's all right.” He smiled, his hand touching the back of your arm.

“Do you want something to drink?” You asked, showing him into the kitchen and pulling open the fridge. “Got wine, a couple bottles.” You twisted your upper half to peek at an upper shelf. “Looks like she's left my Ardbeg whiskey alone.”

“I wouldn't mind a little whiskey.”

Nodding, you shut the fridge and got down two glasses with the whiskey bottle. “Straight or on the rocks?”

“What are you having?” Sy asked, leaning back against your sink, a twinkle of mischievous curiosity in his eyes.

“The rocks.” You answered, a playful smirk tugging on your lips.

Sy drew a breath in through his nose, pressing his lips together as he nodded. “Impressed.”

“Thank you.” You chuckled, grabbing a couple ice cubes from the freezer and dropped them into your glasses, then poured you and Sy a generous amount of amber liquid. “Here you go.”

“Thank you, ma'am.” Sy tipped his head, taking the glass from you and took a sip. “Damn, that's smooth.”

“Mmm, for a twenty year old bottle, it should be.” You snorted, taking a gulp of yours.

“Twenty years.” Sy choked slightly. “Damn, almost as long as I was in--” He caught himself, eyes shooting to the two kitchen entrances. “Well, you know.”

“Yeah.” You nodded, a little stiff, praying your mother was lurking nearby, and polished off your drink, before moving over to the oven, revealing a nice sized turkey, just starting to turn a golden brown, filling the kitchen with a mouth-watering scent. “I started this about an hour and a half ago, so it should have about another hour or so to go. While it does that, I can show you around.”

“And, if you're as much of a Texan as I think you are, I'll pop the football game on.”

“You don't have to put the game on.” Sy laughed, feeling called out. “We can watch whatever you and your mother want. I'd hate to impose.”

“Captain Austin Syverson, you're not imposing.” You informed him, putting your foot down.

Sy's eyes widened and he gave you a half smirk. “I do love a woman that takes charge. Yes, ma'am, if you say so.”

“Besides, I'd love to see the Chiefs kick the Cowboys ass.” You added, teasingly.

“Oh, you're a traitor to your home state!” Sy gasped, horror on his face.

“Texas isn't my home state.” You giggled at him, then tisked. “Kansas isn't either, to be far.” You snorted, amused by the banter. “But I like Mahomes.”

“What's wrong with Dak Prescott?”

“Nothing! He's a great QB. I'm just a Chiefs girl.”

“I may have to call this Thanksgiving off.” Sy said, draining his whiskey glass and set it on the counter behind him and pushed off the edge. “To eat at the same table as a Chiefs girl, may just be too much for this ol' Texas boy.”

You were worried for a moment that Sy was genuine, and felt terrible for bringing it up, until you finally noticed the look in his eye and relaxed. He had a dry humor and pulled it out on you, catching you good.

“Shoot, you had me there.” You chuckled, breathy.

He winked at you, amusing you more with his cute double blink.

“Well,” You sighed, looking at the kitchen. “This is the kitchen.”

“A very nice kitchen.” Sy echoed, nodding and rubbing a hand over the counter top. “Nice and clean.”

“Thank you, I do my best.” You replied, bowing your head. “Out that way is the dining room, where we'll be having dinner.” You said, motioning to your right, and Sy peeked in, finding a long, glass table already set for three people with nice little autumn decorations as a centerpiece. “Over here, is the living room, where we'll probably be starting our football rivalry.”

You showed him into the living room, just as your mother came downstairs, in nothing but a pair of loose shorts, a tank top and an open bathrobe, a half glass of white wine clutched in her hand. You felt a cold shard of embarrassment go down your back. You had hoped, when you told her you were going to get Sy, she would have dressed into something—anything.

“Mom, this is Sy.” You told her, keeping your voice even. “Sy, this is my mother, Dana.” You introduced them, chewing the inside of your lip to bits.

“Pleasure to meet you, ma'am.” Sy greeted her politely, nodding his head kindly, like nothing was out of place.

She looked Sy over, taking a gulp of her wine. “How do you and my daughter know each other?” She inquired, lifting a brow at him.

You stiffened, you hadn't considered fielding that question from her while Sy was over.

“Work.” Sy said, casually.

“So, she's your accountant?” Dana pressed and showed no sign of easing off.

“I am.” You chimed in, hoping to get her to drop the subject and leave Sy alone.

“That she is.” Sy confirmed, backing you up. “Helps me out with my ranch.” He told Dana, tapping that belt buckle at his waist, bearing the Hook Hill Ranch logo on it.

“Hmm.” Your mother grunted, not sounding convinced. “Why aren't you spending Thanksgiving with your family?” She asked, giving Sy a hard look.

“Mom!” You snapped, horrified.

“It's all right.” He assured you, giving you a soft smile. “I'm an only child. I've never known my father and my mother ran off, when I was ten years old, leaving me to be raised by uncle, her brother. He had a heart attack three years ago, while milkin' his cows. So, it's just me and my dog, Aika, nowadays. Your daughter was kind enough to ask me over to your Thanksgiving dinner, and I accepted.”

“Satisfied?” You asked, annoyed your mother caused Sy to divulge such personal information.

Rolling her eyes, your mother turned in a flare of her bathrobe and headed back upstairs.

“Turkey will be done in an hour!” You called after her, with no reply. “I'm so sorry.” You said, turning back to Sy.

“It's okay.” He said softly, more concerned for you. “Is there anything I can do to help you finish up with dinner?”

“Um,” You tapped your foot. “No, I don't think so. Besides, you're my guest. You should relax.” You told him, waving over to the couch. “I can handle everything.” You assured him, rounding the arm of the couch to swipe the remote of the coffee table and turned the tv on, quickly finding the football game. “Ooh, Cowboys are beating the Chiefs by two points!” You hissed, casting a glance over your shoulder at Sy.

Sy moved to join you, holding your gaze. “I bet you a round of drinks, at a later time, that the Cowboys beat your Chiefs.”

“Are you asking me out on a date, Syverson?” You asked, surprised.

“I am.” He admitted, unashamed.

“Then, you're on.” You grinned, giving him a cocky look. “But, if the Chiefs win, I want to see your ranch.”

“Bold.” Sy smirked, a chuckle rumbling in his chest. “I'll even cook for you.”

“Sold.” You agreed, extending your hand out to him.

He shook your hand, then sat down on the couch, getting comfortable to watch the game, while you returned to the kitchen. Pausing for a moment, you refilled his whiskey glass and took it out to him, giving him a soft smile as you set the cool glass down on a coaster and went back to prepping dinner. Sy watched you over the back of the couch, moving and bumping about, taking a deep breath and taking all the lovely smells of your hard work wafting towards him and making his belly rumble.

Lord have mercy, she's gorgeous.

“You sweet on my daughter?” Dana's voice came up behind him.

Sy's head swung around to look back at her, seeing she'd finally gotten dressed, now wearing a pair of black leggings and a loose, cream colored jumper, but no shoes or socks. “I just might be.” He answered, meeting her gaze head on. “She's a sweet, generous young lady.”

“Young lady, how old are you?” Dana huffed, dropping down into a recliner at the end of the couch.

“I'm thirty-eight.” Sy replied, with an odd amusement.

Dana looked Sy over, her gray eyes scrutinizing. “At least you're both in your thirties.” She huffed, curling her legs underneath her and glared at the tv.

What a curious woman. Sy blinked, shaking his head at her.

The two of them sat quietly, not speaking or interacting with each other any further. Which didn't bother either Sy or Dana. You peeked in at them from time to time, scurrying out to fill Sy's glass, whenever you noticed it was empty and always asking if he needed or wanted something, before vanishing back into the kitchen or dining room.

You wanted the dinner to be as great as possible for Sy, and your mother.

“Dinner is ready, everyone!” You declared, coming into the living room, glancing at the football score, discovering the Chiefs had recovered since the last time you'd entered, now ahead by four points.

“Smells delicious.” Sy complimented you, as he and your mother came into the dining room, finding the set table.

The turkey was juicy and golden-brown, slices already carved and on a plate beside it, with sides of stuffing, mashed potatoes, rolls and cornbread muffins, yams with marshmallows, peas and asparagus, accompanied with pecan and pumpkin pie. There were two decanters of red and white wine, a bottle of Ardbeg, and a pitcher of iced tea.

“Thank you.” You grinned with shy pride, biting the inside of your lip. “Sit wherever you like and dig in.” You said, motioning to the chairs around the table, before slipping into one.

Sy joined you, winking at you, as he picked up a plate and started helping himself, piling his plate with meat, rolls, yams and cornbread. “Mmm, this is amazing.” He hummed, nodding his head and chewing his mouthful of turkey and mashed potatoes.

You were giddy that Sy was so in love with your cooking, glancing towards your mother, who was at the end of the table. But found she was sipping a glass of red and nibbling on a buttered roll, to your slight dismay. Pushing the feeling away, you fixed your plate and dug in, moaning at how tasty it was.

“So, your team was winning.” Sy commented, giving you a side brow as he continued to eat.

“Yeah, I noticed.” You smirked, feeling bubbly, as you poured yourself some wine. “Looks like we'll be spending some more time together.”

“That it does.” He nodded, feeling your mother's eyes on him. “I'll have to show you the new foal that was born last week.”

A flood of excitement filled you, you loved the thought of seeing a baby horse. “Oh! I bet they're just the cutest thing on the planet!” You gushed, eyes bright with love already. “What did you name it?”

“Oh, I haven't named the little rascal, yet.” Sy laughed, watching you just gush. “Maybe, you could help me come up with a name for her?” He suggested, looking at you over the rim of his whiskey glass.

“Hmm.” You hummed, falling into a meditative state as you brewed over a name for the baby horse.

“So,” Dana cleared her throat, eyes narrowed between you and Sy. “You're a Rancher?”

“Yes, ma'am.” Sy nodded, turning to regard her, nothing by polite respect in his expression.

“How long have you been one?” She questioned, swirling the wine in her glass.

“Ranchin' has been in my family for generations.” Sy replied, not letting her trip him up. “My many great-grandfather came over from Ireland, just after the American Revolution. Then, when the Civil War happened, my family fought and were granted land at the end, for their service. We've been doing it ever since.”

“So, your family fought for the South.” Dana said bluntly, causing you to choke on your food.

“Mother.” You rasped, eyes practically popping out of their sockets.

“No, ma'am.” Sy said coolly. “We fought for the North.” He told her, and left it at that.

“Are you satisfied?” You asked her slowly, eyes still wide and mouth agape.

“No.” She answered, getting up and leaving the room.

“I'm so sorry, Sy.” You stuttered, ashamed of your mother.

“It's all right, love.” He shook his head, wiping his hands on his napkin. “It's not your fault. It's not hers either, really.” He said softly. “She's mourning her son, and doing so takes the form in many ways. That's how your Ma is coping with your brother no longer being on this Earth.” He told you, resting back in his chair and fixing his blue eyes on you. “You're coping by going to support groups and trying to understand the kind people that he was, that he worked with, that he died surrounded by.”

You bit your lip, a lump of emotion strangling you and blurring your eyes; Sy was right. You wanted to be surrounded by those like your brother. It was like still having him there, in a way. You felt the strong, rough warmth of Sy's hand slip into yours, squeezing it and rubbing his thumb over your wrist as the two of you sat there, quiet and surrounded by your Thanksgiving feast.

“You know,” Sy spoke, breaking the silence. “I could actually use an accountant for my ranch.” He said, smirking over at you. “Plus, how about drinks at my place, while you figure out a new name for my foal? Who cares who wins the game.” He chuckled, arching a suggestive brow at you.

“Are you hinting at a sort of date, Syverson?” You asked, playfully thumb warred him.

“It's possible.” Sy laughed, letting you pin his thumb. “Maybe, I'll even cook you Christmas dinner.”

“Oh, I think I'd like that.” You told him, grinning, thankful you'd decided to host him for Thanksgiving.

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Are You Reckless or Not?

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Warnings: None

Summary: A party you didn’t care to attend would lead to the best night of your life.

*gif is not mine

The party was in full swing, cheerful voices raised in celebration of your group’s arrival and acceptance. It was a nice thought and you appreciated the gesture, but after an hour in the company of privileged people who had never experienced the harsh reality of the world outside of their gates, you began to wish that was exactly where you were. 

You knew who you were out there, who you had adapted to be. No longer the weak dependent duckling that followed on the heels of protectors. You could take care of yourself. 

And the very reason for that sat with his back against a tree near the pond. 

You had missed him at the party, not really sure why when you knew he wouldn’t come. As you drew nearer, however, his intention to do just that was clear. He was clean; hair washed and his skin clear of blood and grime. He wore his vest over a fresh shirt and a pair of dark jeans that had noticeably been patched but still donned a considerably less number of holes. 

“Hey, Bowstrings. Whatcha doing out here?” Daryl looked up at you as you smoothed your hands down the back of your blue cocktail dress—thanks, Rosita—and sat beside him with your legs outstretched. You’d normally mimic his position: knees drawn up with forearms balanced across them. That night, it would definitely be considered unladylike, given that your attire was barely covering the entirety of your thighs. 

You could feel his eyes lingering on you as you soaked up the view. The pond was nothing special during the day. There were houses lining the other side, any flowers surrounding it sparse in number. At night, though. At night, with the moon shining on the surface of the water and the fireflies delicately dancing, it was beautiful. 

“Why ain’cha at the party?” He finally rasped. He had returned his gaze to the water. 

You shrugged. “Really just isn’t my scene. Why didn’t you come?” You countered, smiling at the sidelong glance he afforded you that clearly said seriously? You bumped his shoulder with yours and chuckled. “You obviously thought about going.”

“Mhm.” The archer plucked a blade of grass, rotating it between his fingers. 

“Why?” 

He looked at you, the surprised expression morphing into his usual indifference so quickly that you may have missed it had you not known him as well as you did. Clearing his throat and looking away as you narrowed your eyes, he mumbled an I dunno, blending the words into a series of sounds and syllables. 

“Oh yes you do.” You bumped his shoulder again and then again when he didn’t answer. “Come on, I tell you everything.”

Daryl scoffed and discarded the grass. “Didn’t ask to be your human diary.” To anyone else, he would have seemed annoyed but it was you. You knew he was simply being Daryl. You leaned to lay your head against his bicep, blinking up at him with pleading eyes. 

“Please.” 

“You’re a pest.” He bounced his shoulder, effectively shrugging you off. You continued to stare at him, watching smugly as he dropped his casual demeanor and sighed. “There’s a, um…a—a girl, woman. A woman.”

The jealousy that tapped on the door of your heart was pushed aside in favor of supporting the man that had somehow managed to become your best friend at the end of the world. “Oh? The great Daryl Dixon has a crush?”

“Ain’t twelve, Y/N.” He huffed. You chuckled. 

“What would you call it then?” His brow furrowed in thought but after a moment, he simply grunted. “That’s what I thought.” You forewent the satisfaction and swallowed hard. “Who is she?”

Daryl went rigid. No longer playful but absolutely invested in his potential happiness, you moved closer and placed your head on his shoulder. 

“You know,” you began with a deep breath, “I’d never judge you. You know I wouldn’t. I just want you to be happy, Daryl. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.” Your fingertips lightly brushed over his wrist, sliding down to lace your fingers through his. “You can tell me or not. It doesn’t matter. I’m here now and I’ll be here when you bag this girl because who could ever resist your southern charm?” He began to relax against you, his shoulders bouncing with a breathy huff of a laugh. 

“You’re so dense sometimes.” 

You sat up straight, not veering straight toward anger. You were confused. What exactly had you said that would make him refer to you as dense? “What the hell, Daryl?” He was staring at you, that unreadable expression you had always been able to decipher was actually successful. You had no idea what the man was thinking. “Is it someone I know?” You finally queried. His chin dipped slightly in a nod. 

You didn’t know anyone from Alexandria. So it was someone from your group. Sasha. Maybe Rosita. He had done a lot of tracking with Michonne. She fit the bill too. Capable and clever, beautiful but deadly. Maybe it was Carol. He’d told you once that Carol was his best friend and it “weren’t like that” with her. It had to be Michonne.

Smiling, you took a trembling breath. Daryl could read you like a book and had to know you were seconds away from tears but you pressed on. Maybe if he admitted it to you, actually speaking it out into the universe, he would gather the courage to admit it to her. “Who is it, Daryl?”

He didn’t move, staring at you with those blue eyes, the unfiltered light of the moon giving their color a hint of silver. His index finger bent to scratch against the side of his thumb, one of his automatic responses to an anxious situation. You waited him out but he never spoke. He just looked at you, his eyes piercing as if searching your very soul. 

Clearing your throat, you tilted your head. “Well? Are you gonna tell me or not?” You tried for a laugh but it came out as a weak noise that reeked of desperation. You were quick to pull yourself together and play it off with a smile. 

He remained unmoving aside from the finger scratching against his thumb. It was almost instinct to stop him, your fingers wrapping around the shorter digit to place a buffer between it and his finger. After a moment, you uncurled your fingers and pulled back your hand only for his to catch it, pull it back, and hold it against his knee. 

“Daryl?”

He smirked and looked back toward the pond, shaking his head. “Dense.”

Confusion wasn’t the word you would use to describe how you felt. Was there another term? One that meant your head had emptied of every viable thought to try and form any sort of hypothesis for his behavior?

“I don’t—” Your mouth snapped shut when he looked at you again, face stoic but eyes alight with emotion. His hand tightened around yours and you gasped. 

Daryl chuckled again. “Finally.” Your mouth was moving but no words, no sounds, were emerging. The archer smirked again and released your hand in favor of wrapping an arm around your shoulders, pulling you in against his side. 

You looked up at him, blinking, so incredibly lost. You weren’t beautiful like Rosita. You weren’t fearless like Sasha. You weren’t cunning like Michonne. You were just you. You tripped over your own feet. You always managed to overcook the squirrels. You were never able to keep quiet when he took you hunting. 

With your brain belittling you so loudly, you hardly noticed when he angled his head to gaze down at you. He gave you a gentle shake and muttered quit it. 

You sucked in a breath. “Why me?” 

“Why not you?” Was it just you or was he getting closer? Within seconds, he had hooked a finger beneath your chin, his breath warm against your lips. “This okay?” You heard him gulp, knew he was stepping out of his comfort zone. He was doing it for you. 

“More than.” You whispered, barely uttering the last word before his mouth slotted over yours. The kiss was clumsy, uncoordinated, and absolutely perfect. As his lips caressed your own, your eyes fluttered closed, the moon disappearing behind the clouds to leave only fireflies to be your lantern when you broke apart. Breathless, heart beating a tattoo into your ribs, you smiled and brought a hand to his cheek, your thumb rubbing over the stubble he kept there. 

His expression was soft, more open than you’d ever seen it. “S’always been you.” He proclaimed quietly, leaning back in for another kiss, that one more controlled but no less passionate.

As you melted into him, his gentle touches calmed your fears for the time being. With a manifold of fireflies and a soundtrack provided by the stereo from the party across the street, you allowed yourself that perfect moment. 

As surprising as it was, in a world of death and cruelty, you had managed to find something new and beautiful.

No. 

He had found you. 

[wosoimagines]

Peaches

part 7 of rivals

Jo leads an interview while at the 2016 Olympics Qualifiers.

2,911 words

previous part| |next part

“Hi, everyone,” Kelley said to the camera. “I’m Kelley O’Hara, defender for the United States Women’s National Team and Sky Blue FC.” 

“I’m Emily Sonnett,” Sonny introduced herself to the camera, “A newer defender for the United States Women’s National Team and more recently the Portland Thorns.” 

“And I’m Jo Knox, forward for the United States Women’s National Team and since I'm still in high school, I’m not telling you guys where I play,” I said with a grin toward the camera. “And this is an episode of Get To Know Your Georgia Peaches.” 

“No one calls us that.” 

“No one outside of the University of Virginia knows who you are, Sonny,” I said, causing the girl to gasp. “Which is why we are here today. To get to know both you and Kelley.” 

“Why are you here?” 

I sighed at Sonny’s question. I had been dragged to do this media with the two because I was one of the only ones who was from the South. But at this rate we would never get to actually start the questions. 

“I’m meant to be your Southern translator,” I said. Sonny opened her mouth to question that. “It’s because I’m from Texas. Houston to be exact.” 

It didn’t surprise me that Sonny didn’t remember where I was from. We must’ve had the same conversation at least three times while on the U-20 team. 

“Oh.” 

I nodded before turning to the camera to explain just what we would be doing today. 

“I have another question.” 

I groaned as my head dropped. I glanced back at Kelley who was trying to hold in her laughter at my obvious annoyance. 

“We’re never going to finish this, are we?” 

Kelley shook her head. 

“Is your name short for anything cause Jo is usually short for Jolene? Or Josephine?” 

“Sonny, we’ve known each other from the youth teams, and you’ve been in senior camps since last year. You just now thought to ask me if Jo is short for anything?” 

“Yeah,” the blonde defender nodded, “So is it?” 

“Yes, it’s short for Jolene.” 

I tried to turn back to the camera. 

“You know what would be cool?” 

“I don’t know why I try,” I muttered, knowing that the mic would pick it up. 

“If you were named after this older song,” Sonny started. I sighed because Sonny really had no idea. “It’s called ‘Jolene’ and it’s by Dolly Parton. I dunno if you know it or not, but it would be cool if you were named after it. Do you know it?” 

“No,” I deadpanned just so we could move past the topic. 

Kelley snickered behind me. She was quite aware that I did in fact know the song since it had been a topic of discussion during the World Cup. 

Sonny, however, pulled out her phone causing me to groan. I just wanted to get through this interview so I could go to the pool. 

“You gotta listen to it.” 

I didn’t even give Sonny the chance to see me listen to it because I immediately started singing along with the song before I reached over to hit pause on her phone. 

“You lied!” 

“I’m from Texas! Of course I’ve heard the song! It’s one of the most representative country songs ever,” I defended. It was kind of offensive that Sonny thought I wouldn’t have known the song. “Dolly Parton is a legend!” 

“You lied?” 

I sighed at how upset Sonny sounded this time. 

“Sonny, I want to go to the pool. I can only do that if we finish this interview because Becky is gonna make me do my homework at 3 and it’s already 1.” 

“So, you lied to me?” 

“And I would do it again.” 

The three of us stood in silence for a moment and I turned back to the camera hoping that we could finally get this interview started. 

“What about this?” 

“You have to give me something harder than ‘Take Me Home, Country Roads.’” 

The song changed and I groaned. 

“Apparently this is just going to be me showing off that I do in fact know country songs. It’s ‘Rhinestone Cowboy.’” 

The little game that Sonny had going on continued until we were headed to the pool. I would only have an hour of free time today to swim before I would be forced out and up to my room to work on homework before dinner. But Sonny followed behind me, still playing different country songs as we reached the pool. 

“What’s going on?” Becky asked as I threw my shirt at Sonny as the song was changed again. 

“The interview just became a stupid game because Sonny found out that I’m named after Dolly Parton’s song.” 

“Did you guys all know that?” 

“Did you not?” Tobin asked Sonny. 

“A whole hour of having to tell Sonny the name of country songs to prove that I know my music. I just want to swim.” 

“Well, you better get in now because you have about fifty-three minutes left,” Becky said. 

I groaned at that before jumping into the pool. Much of my fifty-three minutes spent in the pool was trying to dunk Sonny under the water once she got in the water as well. I had been hoping that I could get away with keeping her underwater, but Becky had quickly gotten onto me for that. 

All too soon, my time in the pool was over. 

“Jo, out.” 

“Come on,” I pouted at Becky who had moved to stand. 

“Jo, now.” 

“Ten more minutes.” 

“Jo.” 

“Please.” 

“No.” 

I huffed at that. 

“It’s just ten more minutes.” 

“No, it isn’t. Then you’ll beg for ten more, and after that another ten. So, get out.” 

I huffed again but pulled myself out of the pool. 

“Can’t believe Sonny can get away with taking away an hour of my pool time,” I grumbled as Becky dropped the towel on my shoulders. 

I didn’t miss the way that Sonny was laughing in the pool at my expense. 

“You too, Sonnett.” 

I grinned at that as it was Sonny’s turn to complain. 

“Jo’s got a point. You delayed her getting to the pool, so you can suffer too.” 

Sonny’s eyes met my own as I smirked at her misfortune. Sonny grumbled even as she also got out of the pool. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

“What are you doing?” 

I glanced up at Alyssa as she and Becky sat on my sides. I turned my attention back to the video that was playing on my laptop. 

“Film.” 

“Obviously, but of who?” 

I sighed but paused the game. 

“Who will likely be our first match up at State.” 

“Doesn’t State start in April?” Alyssa finally spoke up. 

“It doesn’t hurt to get a start on forming a game plan.” 

I didn’t miss the look that Alyssa and Becky shared between each other. I knew that they both still shared concerns that I was going to run myself ragged with how much time I spent training for the national team and my school team, but I knew that if play suffered on either team, then there was a good chance that I wouldn’t be getting call-ups anymore. 

“Jo, it’s February. Like, the beginning of February,” Becky pointed out. I softly sighed as I paused the video I had been trying to focus on. “You’ve got plenty of time and there’s a good chance that you won’t even have your first matchup against this team.” 

“They have a history of upsetting teams.” 

“You have time.” 

“You don’t get it.” 

“Jo—” 

“No, you don’t get it. She embarrassed me.” 

“It’s okay if another player embarrasses you on the field.” 

“Jennifer didn’t embarrass me on the field,” I said as I shook my head. I had to get them to understand. It wasn’t about proving I was the better player. I already knew that I was. “We went out on a few dates. I thought that it meant something. Then to go to a party that my teammates dragged me to just to find her getting real cozy with someone else.” 

The two older players stayed quiet at the revelation. I hadn’t even told the team that I was into girls, much less that I had been seeing someone. 

“She thinks she’s some big shot cause she’s got a scholarship to A&M,” I said. I knew that Jennifer was good. “It isn’t like it’s Houston or Texas. Who would wanna be an Aggie?” 

Becky rested a hand on my shoulder as Alyssa took my laptop and closed it. 

“How about we take a break. You can focus on how you’re gonna get your revenge later,” Becky said. My shoulders slouched forward as I could tell from the stern tone that there was no room for debate. “You just focus on being a kid right now, Jo. That’s all you need to worry about.” 

“I think the rest of the kids were looking for you anyways,” Alyssa added on. 

I didn’t fight them as I was softly pushed away from the seat that I had been in. Maybe spending time with the others that were closer to my age would be good for me. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

I groaned as I hit the ground again. We hadn’t even made it to halftime yet and I couldn’t keep up with the number of times I had already hit the ground. I wasn’t too surprised by the whistle being blown as I rolled over onto my back. I took a second to collect my breath as I sat up. I waved the ref off as I knew that I just had the wind knocked out of me. But it didn’t stop Tobin from stepping up to argue with the ref that it should be a card against Canada for the sheer number of fouls against me already. 

I sighed as Becky knelt down in front of me. My eyes met hers before she was pulling some of the grass out of my hair. I scrunched my nose at the sight. 

“You sure you’re okay?” 

I nodded. I could still play. I might be sore tomorrow, but I could still play. I didn’t want to make it easy on Canada and it was obvious that they were pretty worried about what I could do if the ball landed at my feet. 

“You don’t need to be checked out?” 

“I’m fine, Becky. I promise,” I assured her. Becky sighed as she checked over me once more. “I promise I’ll tell you if anything changes.” 

Becky slowly nodded before she helped pull me up. She patted the back of my head as we lined up for the free kick. I pushed back against the defender behind me. I wasn’t even entirely sure who it was anymore that was being put on me considering I had pretty much been drawing the ire of all of Canada’s defenders tonight. 

I was the first one to move as the ball crossed into the box toward me. I hadn’t been too surprised by the shove to my back as I had gotten the shot off. But what had surprised me was the sudden, sharp pain that was radiating through my right knee as I tried to catch myself on the leg that I hadn’t shot the ball with. 

I went tumbling down once more. 

All I could hear was the blood rushing to my ears. Not my teammates cheering. Not the crowd erupting into cheers either.  

There was still another half to play. I had to get up. 

I had to. 

But I couldn’t do anything but cry out in pain as I clutched at my knee. I curled in on myself as I tried to reign in my emotions. If I could play it down, then I wouldn’t have to go off. 

I had to finish this game. I had been chosen to get the job done against Canada. More importantly I had been chosen to get the job done on Becky’s 100th cap. I had to make sure that we won. 

But I wasn’t given the chance. 

“Stay still.” 

I closed my eyes tighter as I tried to push the pain away. 

“Jo, I’m serious. Stay still until the medics get here.” 

I shook my head as I forced myself to my feet. 

“I gotta win,” I said as I looked at Becky who had scrambled to her feet and kept me steady. “We gotta get the win. For you.” 

“Jo, stop.” 

Becky held me in place so that I couldn’t move as the medics were rushing to us. I tried to keep as much weight as I could off my right leg as they asked me about what had happened when I went down.  

When I asked if I could keep playing, they assured me that they would check me out on the sidelines first before they made their call. I nodded before I went to walk off the field with them. I only made it a couple of steps before my knee couldn’t hold the weight anymore. 

I didn’t completely crumble to the ground though. 

A pair of strong hands had caught me before I could collapse. I didn’t fight it as I was lifted up into the air by the woman. 

“Why are you helping me?” 

“Come on, Pip. We’re still teammates.” 

“Hope, you hate me.” 

The goalie rolled her eyes at that. 

“I don’t hate you, Pipsqueak. You’re just annoying. There’s a difference.” 

Hope had never done anything nice for me before. But I wasn’t complaining as she made it to the sideline with me still in her arms. I was given over to Alyssa who immediately headed back to the locker room with me. I wasn’t surprised with the detour she took to head to the physio’s room. Nor was I surprised by Ali following behind. 

With the two of them coming with me, I knew I was done for the night. 

Both of the older women stayed with me as the medics poked and prodded at my knee before they decided to have me loaded onto a stretcher and heading to the hospital. I wasn’t even surprised that the two joined me for the ambulance ride. 

I did, however, huff and throw a slight fit when the nurses told Ali that she would have to go to the waiting room since she wasn’t family until they moved me from the ER to a room. I mostly just tuned out the nurses and doctor that came into to talk to me before they were wheeling me off to get an MRI. 

I knew that it wasn’t that bad. There really was no need for all of this for my knee. It would be fine. I’d go home and rest it and ice it for a week or two and then I’d be as good as new. I really didn’t get the big deal. 

But I had plenty of time to reflect on what my recovery would look like considering the MRI was going to take forty-five minutes. 

The longest forty-five minutes of my life. 

I furrowed my brow in confusion as I was wheeled into a room. Alyssa was on the phone as Ali was pacing back and forth. 

“They just brought her back. She’s in room 420.” 

I let out a little giggle at the room number but quickly quieted it when Alyssa turned to glare at me. I shrunk back into the bed 

“We’ll be here. They told us we could expect the results from her MRI tonight.” 

I perked up at that. At least I would be able to prove to everyone that I was fine. Ali sat down next to the bed once the nurse left as Alyssa finished up her call. I wasn’t entirely sure if she had been talking with Dawn or someone else. 

“How’d the game go?” 

I couldn’t help but ask the question after there had been many minutes of silence once Alyssa ended the call. 

Alyssa scoffed as she shook her head while Ali actually started to laugh at the question. I glanced between the two before I completely moved my gaze to Alyssa. 

“I can’t believe you’re asking about the game when you’ve torn your ACL.” 

I furrowed my brow at what Ali had just said. No one had even mentioned an ACL injury to me. 

“It isn’t my ACL,” I shook my head. It couldn’t be. “You’ll see. I’ll win State right at the beginning of May and then we’ll be on our way to Rio for the Olympics. This is just a sprain.” 

“Jo, you told them you heard and felt a pop,” Alyssa softly said as she took a seat at the end of the bed. “I hate to be the one to tell you this, but you need to prepare yourself. This has ACL injury all over it.” 

I shook my head at that. It couldn’t be. It was fine. It would be fine. They’d see. All I would need was a little ice and rest and I’d be good to go. 

I wasn’t left to my thoughts for long as Becky made her way into the room. I perked up at the sight of her. 

“Did we win?” 

Becky’s eyes narrowed in on me. 

“Has the doctor came in with the results yet?” 

None of us got to answer her as the doctor came into the room right behind Becky. 

“I have the MRI results.” 

[chaotic-mystery]

Pairing: dbf!Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: You thought moving back to Texas would be a start to start over in life and you could maybe mend your relationship with your dad, but things don’t ever turn out the way they should, do they? Especially now that Joel has to pick up the slack your dad left?

Content warnings: Smut if you squint but still my work is 18+ so mdni!, eventually we’ll have smutty filled chapters but it’s a slow burN PLS, swearing, reader has daddy issues, mean Joel, eventual enemies to lovers, reader has a brief fling w Tommy, mean!joel, Joel’s hater ass gf is rude to you, arguing, alluding to smut. Joel & reader smoke from time to time. Tell me if I missed anything.

Word Count: 3.7K

A/N: I’m so excited for this you have no idea. I’ve been wanting to do an enemies to lovers with dbf! Joel for awhile now so here it is! 🖤 tell me what you think, if you want to talk about it at all send me something in my inbox! Um also huge shoutout to everyone who helped me work on this (you know who you are) I love you guys so much okay?? 🖤

Moving back to Texas wasn’t really in your plan for life, but after your life fell apart and you needed a do over, the idea of going back home didn’t seem so bad. When your dad reached out and reminded you he's still at your childhood home, he surprised you when he said you could call him and he’d be there in a pinch. You weren’t super close with him anymore, hadn’t been for years. Sure, you called him every once in a while but that was about it. No holidays with him, not a single card on your birthday, but a call every so often sufficed for him. You were lucky enough to have found a house about forty minutes from his. It’s a cozy little two bedroom, just big enough to hold you, all your shit, and personal problems inside like a warm blanket.

With everything still packed away in your car, you figured the first stop should be his house. You knew if you didn’t stop to see him before doing anything, that would be something you’d hear about later on. As you make your way to the front door, you observe all the cars in his driveway. His truck is there, and your step-monster's car is there unfortunately, but whose truck was this one? The dark blue truck with tons of shit in the back? The nervous pit in your stomach grew rapidly the closer you got to the door, almost not wanting to knock. What if he really didn’t mean it, that you could come back home and he’d help where he could? With the what if’s running rampant in your head, you needed to calm the hell down before you go in there guns blazing, tripping over your words and making an ass out of yourself after all these years of being gone. You reach into your purse and grab your semi crushed pack of cigarettes you swore you’d stop smoking two packs ago and pull out a cigarette, lighting the end of it just enough to get it going. With your lips pursed to hold it in place while you tucked away the pack back in your purse, you rolled your eyes at the ugly welcome mat on the ground by the door. As the smoke rolled from your mouth, you grabbed the cigarette with two fingers and dangled it to the side, contemplating on going back to your house for the night. There was no way you could do this, not the first night here.

The front door swings open and someone comes stumbling out laughing, someone you’ve never met before. Slowly his laugh dies as he notices you standing there and he stands up straight, clearing his throat ready to speak. “Can I get a puff? Don’t got any on me, they’re in my truck.” His deep accent made you turn slowly to look at him straight on, passing your cigarette to him between your fingers. He grabbed it and took a deep puff, smoke creeping out from the corners of his mouth as he pulled the cigarette away from him. You noticed his curly hair and the way his brown eyes squinted at the setting sun that was making its way into your eyes.

“Is uh, Is Alan in there by chance? I noticed his truck is here but ya know..” you leaded on and puffed the cigarette once more before putting it out on the concrete and throwing it in the bushes like you used to in high school.

“Oh, uh yeah, he’s in there. He’s makin’ a fuckin’ mess in the kitchen right now trying to fry up some chicken, but he’s in there.”

“If you’ll just, excuse me, I’ve got some pressing matters to attend to.” You turned the handle on the screen door and took one last look at the broad shouldered guy and disappeared into your once childhood home that now felt so strange. “Hello? Anyone here?” You called out and made your way to the kitchen where his wife and your dad were standing there over the stove, grease popping everywhere. “Well Janet, god damnit I can’t get the chicken in the fucking pan if you keep grabbin’ my arm like that!” He hollered annoyed beyond belief and she scoffed loudly, throwing her hands in the air. “Oh Alan shove it up your ass, I jus’ don’t wanna get popped!” Glad to see nothing has changed. “Hellllooo! It’s nice to see you too!” You shouted over the bickering and they turned around in unison, shock washing over their faces. “Well, look who’s come back home….huh.” He didn’t seem too excited to see you, just the tone in his voice alone made you feel like that same little girl you once were, not paying you much attention when it came to anything.

The pit in your stomach was settling into anger now, angry at yourself for even coming here. You could’ve lived here for years before ever running into your father. He probably wouldn’t even recognise you at the grocery store had you not stopped here. His wife didn’t bother to greet you at all but that was no surprise. You didn’t like her and she wasn't crazy about you, that was for sure. “I just came by to grab your two wheeler to use to bring all my shit inside my house. Is it still in the garage?” His back was towards you, grease still popping everywhere. Before your dad even has a chance to answer, his wife butted in like she always does. “ “Well, no, that's for my brother to use this weekend. Sorry.” The smug look on her face was already driving you to go back outside and choke down another cigarette. “Dad?” Your head leaned to the side and you hoped his answer was different. It’s not like you were going to keep it, you’d bring it right back. “You heard Janet, can’t use it, sweetheart. M’sorry. Maybe Joel can help you move your stuff? I’m kinda busy at the moment.” Never once did he turn around to look at you. Shoving your tongue to the side of your cheek and biting on it, you nodded slowly and your brows furrowed.

“Who is Joel? Why are you pawning me off on your friends again, dad?” With tears stinging your eyes, you knew you had to get out and you had to get out fast. “Well, he’s here somewhere, think he stepped out to call his-”

“The hell are you on about ole man? I’m right here.” The man from earlier came strolling in, a smirk playing on his lips. Only now did you realize how much taller he was than you, your beautiful eyes looking up at his, hoping he’d look in your direction to help you in any way.

“Sweetheart, this is Joel. Joel, this is my daughter, the one I mentioned before.” The confusion on Joel’s face said everything you needed to know, he had no idea Alan had a daughter, much less two of them and you were the only one on speaking terms with the bastard. Joel looks at you finally and gives a soft smile, the sadness in his eyes telling a different story. Your dad turned around to speak to Joel but not to talk to you, that’s very telling given the situation. You grabbed your purse off the counter and started walking out, shoulder brushing against Joel's arm. “Well thanks for all the help you two, really appreciate it!” You slam the front door shut and walk to your car, shaking your head in frustration. The mix of emotions was overwhelming you, the angry tears spilling out now. How could you have been so stupid? Your dad didn’t change, he was never going to change. He’s still a coward behind his wife and letting her tell you what to do, still treating you like you were nothing. Joel came out a few minutes later, walking up to your car. He rubs his eyes and looks at you, a sigh coming from his lips. “So uh, your dad tells me you need help moving? He asked if I’d help ya and I’ve got a two wheeler in my truck, I can follow ya over there if I need to.” You sniffle and wipe your tears away, giving a dry laugh to Joel. “Thanks, but I don’t need it. I can get all my shit inside by myse-” “Where am I following you to, girl? Damn. Jus’ tell me so I can get on with my night, please?” Rude. You didn’t ask to be dumped onto this stranger yet here he was acting as if you wanted this, like that was your idea to ask your dad for Joel to help you. Without a word you get back in your car and put your sunglasses on, looking at Joel through the open window. “You plan on following me or are you just going to stand there and say you helped?” The sarcastic tone in your voice took him by surprise and he walked back to his truck, climbing inside and starting it. A tiny part of you wished if you drove fast enough you could lose him.

Joel steps out of his truck and scoffs at the location of your house. “Huh, I knew I was getting a neighbor but damn, didn’t think it was you.” You couldn’t have rolled your eyes fast enough at his snarky comment, he deserved more than an eye roll if you were being honest. “That’s nice, I’ll have yet another spy watching me to report back to my dad so he can tell me how much of a disappointment I am to him.” Putting your hands on your hips, you look at Joel who wasn’t bashful about hiding his attitude towards you.

“Darlin’ to be frank with you, I don’t give a shit what you do, as long as you don’t damage my house, touch my shit, or keep me up till the fuckin’ sun comes out. Got it?” He walks to the back of his truck and lays down the tailgate, revealing all his tools in the truck bed. Suddenly you didn’t want any help as you realized he’d see all of your belongings. All of your music records, the boxes labeled weird shit like ‘Kitchen tingz’ and all the trinkets in your clear kaboodle you managed to keep all these years. The two wheeler was stacked high with almost everything in the trunk, Joel’s look of annoyance growing with every new thing you stacked on top.

“Are we done yet? This won’t hold much more.” He grunts and shifts his weight to support the boxes and you nod, walking in front of him to unlock and hold open the door for him. With the lock clicking open and the front door swinging open, he pushes your stuff in and sets it flat on the floor, pulling his tool out from under the stack slowly. Joel wasn’t too much of an asshole considering he helps you dismantle the mountain he just brought in. Sorting what went where into piles, a head popped in the front door, someone you haven’t met. “Joel the hell are you doin’ over here?” A man with almost jet black hair grinning from ear to ear looks in your direction and chuckles before coming inside. Without turning to look at him, Joel groans and continues sorting the boxes. “M’ Tommy, nice to meet ya.” His strong hand wraps around yours and shakes it firmly for what felt like forever. Finally, someone around this place with some god damn manners and he’s good looking? Bonus. “Tommy. I’m just finishing up here if you wanna wait outside f’me.” His knees crack as he stands up, groaning slightly at the aching muscles in his tired back. Tommy’s eyes never left yours, his deep brown almost black eyes glowing just a tad in the setting sun. “We’re goin’ to the bar if you wanna tag along, I bet you’re hungry after movin’ all this in here, huh?” The playful smile never left his elated face, and you started to grow one on your lips yourself. This was what you needed, to forget about your entire day and go out with Tommy, and a not as enthused Joel.

“Yeah I’d love to. Wanna see what bars are good and which ones aren’t worth going to.” Joel cleared his throat and you snapped out of the trance-like state you were in, looking at the sweating man in your living room. “If we’re going, can we go now before it’s too late? Got work tomorrow.” He didn’t wait for an answer before walking outside and cutting across your yard into his to go back to his garage. Tommy extends out his arm towards the door, signaling you to go first. He was hot on your heels behind you as you locked the door, chit chatting about nothing too important while making it to Joel’s truck. He opens the door for you to climb inside and sit in the back with him, Joel sitting in the front like the sad grumpy old man he is. Good, serves him right being such an asshole. “Are you a fruity drink kind of girl?” Joel asked sarcastically as he whips his truck out of your driveway, heading down the street to some hole in the wall. The blank stare you give him in his rear view mirror makes him return one right back to you for a second before flicking back to the road. “No actually, I’m a tequila shot kind of girl, thank you.” The snarky tone you spit back at Joel makes Tommy stifle a laugh, his hand resting on your knee. The veins on the top of his hand raised slightly, just enough for your thumb to notice as you brush over it. He was cute enough to distract you from your issues at the moment, the gnawing feeling of anger in your stomach slowly subduing. Joel pulls into the parking lot of the bar and throws the truck in park, telling everyone to bail out before they get locked in. He hardly waits for you to get out before you can hear the lock clicking in the door. “So is this a bar you guys frequent? It’s kind of shitty looking, hope they have decent drinks.” You ask and walk inside, the bartender catching half your conversation. She glares at you and then at Joel, giving him a scoff. Tommy clears his throat and sits down on the stool next to you, his hands running along the bar.

“This is um- this is Joel’s girls bar. That was her, Michelle.” You could feel the tension as Joel looked straight ahead at the bottles on the shelf against the wall, no one saying a word. With your lips puckered out slightly, you somewhat nod and fold your hands together, trying to find just the right words to apologize to Joel with. Fixing your lips to speak, you barely get a word croaked out before he cocks his head to the side, putting a finger in the air. “Don’t.” Joel barked and flew off the stool to go find his girlfriend. The other bartender working took your drink orders, a round of tequila shots was the exact thing you needed right about now. You grab the wet glasses from her and hand one immediately to Tommy, his smile growing once more. “Here’s to um..” You thought about it for a second, Tommy holding the shot in the air as he waited patiently for you to finish your toast.

“To the good, the bad, and the ugly.” You had no idea where that came from, but it works. Knocking the glass on the bar, you both threw the warm liquid back and Tommy shivered as it traveled down his throat and into his system. He starts talking about this one time his friend ate shit from being knocked off a horse but all you could think about was Joel. You notice if you lean back just enough you could see him and Michelle arguing in the hallway where the bathrooms were tucked away into. She was yelling but it wasn’t audible from the jukebox booming through the speakers. Her flailing hands, veins popping from her neck, pointing over at you, it was so obvious she didn’t want you here with Joel, let alone the two of them. It wasn’t easy trying to pretend like you were listening to Tommy’s story and trying to read Joel’s lips but all you could make out from their argument was “I didn’t have a choice! Her dad dumped his shitty problems onto me!” At that point it was too much for you to keep paying attention to when that was truly how he felt about you. “Tommy, do you wanna dance? I like this song!” He barely hears you but nods and drags you to the dance floor, grabbing your hips to pull you onto him. Michelle was storming back to the bar, brushing her hair out of her face to gather herself before asking the next person what they wanted to drink. Now that Joel got his ass chewed out for even being around a different woman mind you, a woman who was so much younger than him, he moved his seat to the end of the bar, right in Michelle’s section. Leash is kind of tight, isn’t it Mr.Miller? You thought to yourself while you grind your hips into Tommy’s crotch, your arms wrapping behind his head. His cold beer touched the skin on your hip, dripping condensation down to the hem of your shorts. Had you really been zeroing in on Joel that whole time before you asked Tommy to dance that you were completely unaware he ordered a beer and took two more shots? The echoing music was thumping in your lungs and your brain, like it was melting away all of your worries momentarily.

Six songs in and you were panting for air, your sweaty body still tightly pressed against him as he grinds harder into you. “I’m gonna go ge-get some water, okay?” You shout at Tommy and he nods, chugging what was left of his beer. You didn’t have to stand next to Joel to get water but you did, just to irritate him more. “Are ya done now? I wanna go. Tired.” He grumbled, rocking his empty glass and forth to shake the ice. The fighting urge to say something smart mouthed messed with you but you figured you’d need him sooner or later and right about now he was more help than your own father. “Yep. We can go.” Chugging the water you wiped your mouth of droplets and exited the bar, glaring up at Michelle who was watching you like a hawk since the moment you walked near Joel. When you make it outside away from the door, you take out your smokes. Down to your last two cigarettes, you light one and take a deep hit, smoke filling your lungs all the way.

The city seemed so far away with how the lights twinkled in the horizon. Maybe you should’ve moved there, away from this, start over completely. Joel’s hand was balled into a fist with Tommy’s shirt in it, attempting to help him walk to the truck you were leaning against with your cigarette. “I can walk Joel, I’m just a little wobbly. S’all.” His soft giggle echoes the parking lot and Joel’s aggravation becomes increasingly clear as he tries to get his buzzed brother into the truck. “Put that out before you get in.” He mutters in front of you, getting behind the wheel with the keys in the ignition. You take one last puff and flick it in the gravel, climbing into the seat next to Tommy. His hand immediately finds your thigh and rubs on it with his thumb gradually going up towards the apex of your thighs. His sloppy wet kisses pressed against your neck make you giggle and lean into him more, the rush of excitement rushing to your panties. Something felt off though, maybe it was the fact Joel was once again staring into your soul from the mirror. Your eyes locked onto his as Tommy started to rub your clit through the light fabric, eliciting a moan from you.

All at once the truck comes to a complete stop, Joel jumps out and walks behind the truck to your side and opens the door. “Sit in the goddamn front seat right now. You aren’t about to do this in my truck. Now.” Seething with anger he nodded to the front seat and Tommy sighs, telling Joel he ruined all his fun. The two bickered a little as you climbed into the front seat, shooting daggers into Joel’s head with your eyes while you watched him get back in and proceed driving. Fuck him, you can do whoever you want, wherever you want.

Joel isn’t your dad, why does he care who you wanna bang? The drive fell short due to Joel speeding, just ready to get you and Tommy out of his hair for the night, you were so ready to get away from Joel fucking Miller. The feeling was mutual, that's for damn sure. With his truck parked in his driveway, he looked down at the floorboard on your side and asked if you’d be alright getting inside by yourself. “Why do you care, Joel? Thought I’m just one of my dads problems he dumped onto you?” You rudely threw in his face as you got out and adjusted your purse on your shoulder. He looked like a deer in headlights, almost impressed you could read lips that well. “Don’t worry Joel, I won’t bother you with anything anymore, I’ll ask Tommy.” That wasn’t true. You’d still ask Joel but you wanted to make him hurt for saying something he didn’t mean.

“Cmon baby, let’s go inside and hang for a lil while.” Tommy was tugging at your hand to follow inside your house but something about the way Joel’s face changed when he heard that made you feel bad for ever agreeing to hang out with them. “Cat got your fucking tongue, Joel?” You rhetorically ask and walk to your front door and slip inside, leaving him to sit in his car and think about his words. That night, Joel tossed and turned in bed due to the noise coming from your room between you and Tommy. Rule number three: broken.

[psychedelic-ink]

𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐍𝐞𝐰 - 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐈𝐧 𝐁𝐞𝐝

pairing: pre outbreak!joel miller x f!reader, one sided tommy miller x f!reader

genre: angst, smut, romance, slow burn, mutual pining, secret relationship

series summary: After your grandfather’s passing, you find yourself moving into his home in Texas. You meet the Millers; Tommy, his older brother Joel and his daughter Sarah. With time, you and Tommy become close friends and Sarah visits you often. But Joel…Joel keeps his distance. The reason for this is due to one crucial fact you don’t know but he does; Tommy has a crush on you. Which means you’re off limits no matter what. But as your own feelings for Joel grow, things start to get more and more complicated.

additional notes: Joel is 36 and since I saw Tommy's age nowhere, I decided to give them a five-year age gap which will make Tommy 31 in this story. Reader is in her late twenties.

word count: 1.2k

chapter summary: Joel gets a new neighbor.

warnings: none for now!

a/n: thank you to my dearest @pedrito-friskito for editing and allowing me to scream at her over this as always, love you to the moon and back ❤️❤️❤️

chapter one

Joel sits with Tommy on the porch, surrounded by the brilliant warmth of the sun. The sky is a canvas of blue, with a few fluffy clouds lazily drifting by. The air is filled with the sweet scent of blooming flowers, and the gentle breeze feels soft and tender over his sunburnt skin. A car passes by their house and comes to a stop at the next. Sarah is at school, and for the first time in weeks, Joel feels that he can fully relax. He’s speaking to Tommy, but as always, his brother only half-listens, nodding absently as his gaze remains fixed on the woman emerging from the vehicle.

Joel observes the woman stepping out of the car. She looks young, likely closer in age to Tommy than to himself. She carries a box with her as she makes her way into her new home. Her expression is in complete contrast with the bright sunshine and blooming flowers. He knows why. Losing a family member is never easy.

"We should go say hi," Tommy suggests, pulling Joel out of his contemplations. "And maybe help her with the rest of her stuff."

Joel raises an eyebrow, running his tongue over the roof of his mouth before speaking. "You do know how she got the house, right? Her grandpa died. Not exactly a happy occasion."

"Maybe they despised each other—" Tommy counters, but his sentence is cut short as Joel smacks him on the back of the head. The younger brother rubs at the throbbing pain, shooting a glare at Joel, who remains unfazed.

Joel’s eyes drop to the green grass, observing each and every green blade, “The old man talked about her all the time. I doubt there was nothin’ but love going on between them. Have some respect will ya,” 

“I feel like that’s all the more reason to go help,” 

Joel releases a heavy sigh, loathing the fact that his brother is correct. Without a word, he rises from his seat, the short wooden stairs groaning beneath him as he descends. Tommy is quick to follow, a little too enthusiastically, Joel observes.

Joel approaches the door and gives a short, booming knock. He takes a step back when the door opens, the woman looks at the two men with a confused expression, her eyebrow raised in question.

“May I help you?” she asks, eyes flitting between the two. 

Tommy takes the lead, which surprises no one. 

"Hi there, we're your neighbors," Tommy says, his eyes briefly scanning the inside of the house. "Thought we might offer some help?"

"Oh," the woman gasps, realization hitting. She quickly extends a hand, a nervous chuckle falling from her chapped lips. She introduces herself, squeezing Tommy's hand first, then Joel's.

Joel notices the way her gaze seems to see right through him, which makes him feel at unease. He clears his throat and points at Tommy, "He actually doesn't live next door, I'm your real neighbor, me and my daughter Sarah," he says, his hand still cradling hers. "Nice to meet you,"

Tommy shoots Joel an exaggerated look of offense, which he ignores but she laughs at. "It's nice to meet you too," she says, her laughter circling them both.

 It’s a pleasant sound, one that leaves both men speechless. 

“I’m actually done with all the boxes,” she says with a hint of pride. “But I would love to have you and your family over.” she addresses this part to Joel, then she adds as an afterthought; “After I get everything sorted, that is,”  

Joel opens his mouth to answer but Tommy beats him to it, “You got it, sweetheart. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to knock on our door,” 

“My door,” Joel grumbles, his eyes digging holes into Tommy’s skull. 

Luckily his new neighbor doesn’t hear him. The only evidence that the words actually left his mouth is provided by the sharp elbow Tommy digs into his stomach. 

Bastard. 

He winces in pain, hand shooting to his stomach with a cough caught in his throat. Joel doesn’t know how to react when she reaches over and places a soft hand on his shoulder, his pulse skyrockets, crimson red peppering all over his skin. 

“Are you alright?” she asks. “Do you need me to get you a glass of water?” 

“Oh, don’t worry about him,” Tommy says. “He’ll be fine.” 

When Joel manages to catch his breath, her hand is still on his shoulder. His body reacts impulsively, taking her hand and holding it between his fingers. Blood tingles under his fingernails. He doesn’t know why, but in that moment she reminds him of stained glass; beautiful, mesmerizing, delicate. 

What the hell is going on with him? 

“I’m fine, don't worry,” he croaks, letting go of her hand. She seems just as flabbergasted as him. “Well then, we’ll be off.” 

Tommy chirps next to him, his voice like nails on a chalkboard, “Are you sure you don’t want that water, Joel?” 

“I’m sure,” he answers, his brows furrowing. “Let’s not trouble our new neighbor any longer,” 

If Tommy wants to object, he doesn’t. Just as they’re about to leave, her voice calls out to him. He turns, and the world around him shifts into slow motion. Your eyes are glossed over, not looking at him but down to the pavement underneath. He cocks an eyebrow. 

“Did you know my grandfather?” she asks, stunning him further. Joel finds the strength to nod but his mouth is drained of all moisture. “If—If you don’t mind, could you tell me about him sometime? What his life was like living here. I…I hadn’t spoken to him for a while. I didn’t even notice a month had passed since…” 

Her voice breaks and trails off. Joel’s heart beats slow and steady. He looks at her with a sympathetic smile and when he turns to Tommy he sees that his brother is looking at her the same way. Grief is a cruel teacher, they both know.

“Of course,” Joel replies and your face lights up.

With that the brothers walk away from the house. The brief exchange replays in Joel’s mind in a constant loop, lingering on the memory of her smile and the tears that threatened to fall. 

“She’s quite somethin’ isn’t she?”

“Huh?”

Wide-eyed, Joel turns to Tommy. His stomach drops when he sees that same love-struck expression he’s seen his baby brother make since they were youngins. He sharply sucks his bottom lip through his teeth and bites it, he’s feeling anxious all of a sudden. The clear oxygen around him feels polluted, somehow.

“I said, she’s quite somethin’, isn’t she?” Tommy repeats, agitated. “You never listen to me do you? Anyway, you think she’d say yes if I asked her out?” 

“I don’t see why not,” Joel answers with a forced shrug. “Y’re not a complete eyesore which is a plus,” 

“Yeah?” Tommy grins, throwing his arm over Joel’s shoulder. “I think I will.” 

Joel doesn’t have anything to say to that. He allows Tommy to drag him back to their home, the subject has already changed to something mundane. 

But his mind is left at her porch. Wondering when their next conversation will be. 

[hauntedhowlett-writes]

title: those vacation blues

[part two of karma is my boyfriend's dad]

pairing: boyfriend's dad!joel miller x female reader

rating: explicit 18+ MDNI

word count: 2k

summary:

It's the last day of vacation and Joel intends to make it count.

dear reader:

back by popular demand, boyfriend's dad!joel. inspired by this anon. banners below by @saradika

content warnings:

explicit sexual content (18+ minors do not interact), explicit language, no use of y/n, alternate universe - boyfriend’s dad, age difference (21F and 56M), power imbalance dynamics, infidelity, asshole boyfriend, dirty talk, praise, pet names, almost getting caught, unprotected p in v, shower sex, joel miller having feelings. let me know if there are any that i've missed!

Joel has been dreading the last night of this vacation. He’s been sneaking around with you the last two days, fucking you at every opportunity and in every conceivable way. Sean continues to make the rare appearance before disappearing off to the bars and clubs to party, leaving Joel plenty of time to spend with you before the vacation bubble bursts and you return home and inevitably walk out of his life.

He’s supposed to be packing and getting an early night’s sleep since the flight back to Texas is another 4 am wake-up call, but all he can think about is you. He thinks about the squeeze of your thighs around his hips, the warmth of your pussy or mouth wrapped around his cock, the sweet way your voice sounds panting, moaning, or crying out his name. He’s shamefully hard as he tries to focus on folding his clothes and fitting everything back into his carry on bag with the addition of some souvenir cups he’s collected going to restaurants with you.

After adjusting himself in his shorts for a third time, he can’t take it anymore. He has to taste you, has to feel you one more time.

Joel grabs the extra key to your room he had made and crosses the hall, knocking on your door. If Sean answers, he figures he can spin some lie about just wanting to make sure you’re both packed. But if you answer, he’s going to fuck you senseless.

After a moment of no response to his knock, he lets himself in with the key. He can hear the shower running from the bathroom and the sound of your voice singing a song out of tune.

“I’m drunk in the back of the car and I cried like a baby coming home from the bar! Oh!”

Joel smiles, stripping himself of his shirt and shorts and quietly entering the bathroom.

“I don’t wanna keep secrets just to keep you!”

He wonders if there’s a reason you’re singing that specific song. Is that how you feel about him?

A man can only hope.

Joel slides the curtain aside and your head whips toward him, eyes wide with surprise that morphs quickly into happiness, your lips stretching into a matching grin.

“Well, hello,” you say, stepping back to give him room to join you. “This is a pleasant surprise.”

“Couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you,” he murmurs, sliding his hands over your wet body, mapping the now familiar curves until he reaches your ass, his fingers digging into your cheeks and pulling you close. He flexes his hips, his hard cock dragging over the soft skin of your tummy.

You reach between your bodies and wrap your hand around him, pumping him slowly. Joel tilts his head to capture your lips with his in kiss that makes his blood run hot and his pulse beat frantically. A traitorous part his mind tells him that this is it, this is the last moment he’ll get with you.

He better make it count.

He pulls back, reaching up for the detachable shower head he’s grateful the resort has in all of its bathrooms. “Turn around, sweetheart.”

As you turn, Joel adjusts the settings on the shower head to the massage function, a steady jet of water hitting the opposite wall. Your back is pressed to his chest and you lean your head back on his shoulder, grinding your ass against his cock and making him groan.

“Behave,” he warns. “Put your foot up on that ledge.”

________

Your heart feels like it’s going to break free from your chest as you lift your leg and rest your foot on the edge of the tub, Joel’s solid body at your back has a shiver running down your spine despite the heat of the water clinging to your skin.

One of Joel’s broad hands palms your breast, squeezing roughly and pinching your nipple until you gasp. He runs the stream up your leg, the water pressure strong but not unbearable.

“I’m gonna get you nice n’ wet,” he says, the water creeping closer to your sex, “And then I’m gonna fuckin’ ruin this little pussy.”

He holds the shower head a few inches away, aiming the fierce jet of water just above your clit so that the pulse of water brings you pleasure without being too overwhelming.

“That feel good, baby?” Joel asks, voice a low rumble next to your ear. You nod your head quickly, chest heaving with labored breaths as water of all things has to you barreling towards release so quickly it’s making your head spin.

“Joel, Joel, Joel,” you sob, writhing against him as the water continues to pound against your clit. “Joel, I’m gonna cum!”

Your muscles go tense as your release hits you like a strike of lightning, every nerve lighting up deliciously. Joel pulls the water away slowly as your orgasm subsides, setting it back in its cradle while you catch your breath. He’s supporting your body with a strong arm wrapped around your middle, his other hand coming up to your cheek to turn your face so that he can give you a sweet kiss.

“Bend forward for me, put your hands on the wall,” he says. You follow his instruction, your back arched and hips pushed back. He runs his hands over your ass, the soft caress almost reverent but quickly turning dirty as he grips each cheek and spreads them. “Wish I could’a had you here, too,” he says, rubbing a quick circle over the pucker of your ass.

Your face feels hot from the foreign but not unpleasant sensation. “There’s always later,” you reply.

Joel clears his throat, his hands leaving your abruptly and for a moment you wonder if you said something wrong, like you weren’t supposed to suggest that something could happen between the two of you beyond the days spent together in Florida, but just as quickly you feel the thick head of his cock pressing to your entrance, the tip breaching you with ease as you gasp.

He grips your hips tightly, the spots beneath his fingertips aching from his strength as he slips his full length into your tight heat with a groan. He holds himself still, hips pressed to your ass for a long moment before he draws back, the head of his cock dragging across a spot inside of you that makes fireworks burst across your vision.

“Christ, sweetheart,” Joel groans. He thrusts his hips sharply and you cry out, flexing onto the tips of your toes at the sudden rush of pleasure. “How am I supposed to go back home and pretend I’ve never felt heaven like this?”

You moan, your cunt pulsing around him as he pounds into you. The water is starting to go cold but you hardly care with how hot your blood is running.

Joel brings a hand to your clit, rough fingers rubbing quick circles on the over sensitive bundle of nerves, his pace growing more frantic as he chases his own release.

“Give me one more,” he growls, “Be a good girl, baby, cum around my cock one more time.”

Your eyes roll back as you do just as he commands, the combination of his hard thrusts and his quick fingers, along with his dirty words, making you break for a second time. He groans, pulling out to finish over the curve of your ass, warm cum painting your skin before being washed away by the lukewarm water.

Joel urges you to turn around, pulling you close and kissing you deeply, his tongue tangling with yours in a way that feels like a goodbye you’re not ready to say. You pull back and search his face, finding a furrowed brow and a clenched jaw that makes your chest go tight.

“Joel—“

The door opens, uncoordinated steps entering the bathroom, followed by a loud, “Babyyyyy! I need to shower.”

“I’m almost done! Can you wait in the room, you’re letting out all the warm air!”

Sean leaves the bathroom with a mumbled curse, slamming the door shut behind him. Joel takes his first breath since the door opened.

“What the fuck do I do?” He hisses.

“Give him three minutes, he’s going to pass out,” you say confidently.

“How do you know?” He asks. You raise your eyebrows at him.

“Trust me, Joel, this isn’t my first rodeo.”

He huffs in exasperation but remains still and quiet as you count down in your head to the window of opportunity to get Joel back to his room. You exit the shower, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around your body.

“Wait here,” you instruct Joel before carefully opening the bathroom door and peeking through the crack.

Sean is lying face down on one of the beds, messy brown hair the only thing you can see with his face turned away from you. One leg dangles over the edge of the bed and his chest rises and falls with even breaths, punctuated by loud snores. Turning back to Joel, you hold a towel out to him.

“Like clockwork,” you whisper smugly. His lips pinch together like he’s fighting a laugh while he wraps the towels around his waist. You open the door and he dashes across the room quickly, hand gripping the towel for dear life.

You spot his discarded clothing on the floor and gather it in your arms and rush after him, catching him as he opens the door to the hall.

“Here,” you whisper, handing over the bundle of clothes. You wrap a hand around the back of his neck and tug his face to yours for a quick kiss. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Joel looks like he wants to say something, mouth opening like a reply is on the tip of his tongue, but something passes over him and a wall goes up instead, words dead on arrival. Instead, you receive a curt nod before he crosses the hall and disappears into his room.

________

It’s just after 7 a.m. when Joel pulls his truck up to the curb outside of your apartment. Sean is once again asleep in the back seat while you’ve been riding shotgun in tense silence, your hands twisting in your lap. Joel wants to say something, wants to ask what you’re thinking and whether this is the end of the line for him, but he can’t. He can’t find the words, he can’t find the courage, he just…can’t.

When you open the door, Sean startles awake, looking around briefly in confusion before realizing he’s not at home. “You’re not comin’ back to the house, babe?”

“No, Sean, it’s over,” you say with a sigh.

“What do you mean?” His son replies. You pinch the bridge of your nose.

“I mean, I’m done faking orgasms and pretending that I don’t know you’ve been cheating on me.” You slam the door shut with finality and Sean slumps back in the seat with a pout.

Joel exits the truck and helps you with your bag, carrying it up to your door. When you unlock your apartment and cross the threshold, he remains rooted in the hall on the other side.

“Thank you for the trip, Mr. Miller,” you murmur. He hands you the suitcase, swallowing around the lump in his throat.

“You’re welcome,” he says. “And…if you need anythin’…let me know, alright?”

You smile, leaning forward to kiss his cheek, your lips lingering there. “You’ll be the first person I call.”

Joel feels his heavy heart lighten the tiniest bit.

________

Three days later, a text comes through to Joel’s phone when he’s just getting home from work.

It’s a photo of a new shower fixture with a detachable head, still in the box, set on a bathroom counter in front of a vanity mirror. In the reflection, he can see the curves of your body hugged by black panties and a matching bra.

Know anyone who could install this for me?

Joel grins.

Be right there, sweetheart.

Joel Miller masterlist.