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joelsrose · 1 day ago

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Tangled in Paradise: Chapter 3

my masterlist ~ previous chapters

warnings: oral f!recieving heheheh dirty talk joel is a dirty sexy bastard?! also sorry if its toooo longgg

The next morning, you woke to an empty bed, the sheets beside you cool and undisturbed. You rolled over, squinting at your phone. 10 a.m. “Shit,” you muttered, groaning as you stretched your arms overhead.

The sound of the door opening made you sit up, the grogginess quickly melting away. Joel walked in, his hands full—one holding a drink carrier, the other a bottle of water.

He looked maddeningly good for so early in the morning. His skin was sun-kissed, his hair just slightly messy like he’d already been out and about, and that damn t-shirt, snug across his broad shoulders, did nothing to help your situation.

“Hey,” he said, flashing you that easy, devastatingly handsome smile. “You’re awake.”

“Yeah,” you replied, your voice still raspy from sleep as you rubbed your eyes. “Sorry for sleeping in.”

“Don’t apologize,” Joel said, shaking his head as he crossed the room. “We’re on vacation. You’re allowed to sleep in.”

Before you could respond, Joel sat down on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight. He reached over, setting a cup on your nightstand with a soft clink.

“Iced vanilla latte,” he said, his voice warm but casual, as if this wasn’t the sweetest gesture in the world. “And water. Figured you’d need it.”

Your heart stuttered, the ache from earlier dissolving into a wave of warmth that spread through your chest. “Joel,” you murmured, reaching for the latte. The condensation cooled your fingers as you held it, and you glanced up at him. “That’s sweet—you didn’t have to.”

He shrugged, his lips twitching into a lopsided grin that made your stomach flip. “Ain’t nothin’,” he said, but the way his gaze stayed on yours—steady, almost searching—betrayed the weight behind his words. “Anyway, Maria and Tommy left for a hike… like five hours ago. Apparently, they’re tryin’ to be one of those couples.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “God, they’re ambitious.”

“Or insane,” Joel added with a smirk, leaning back farther until his weight shifted onto one arm. His eyes flicked over you, a soft intensity in them that sent a small thrill down your spine. “So, I guess it’s just you and me for a while.”

Joel’s lips curved into that slow, wicked smile, the one that always made your pulse skip. He reached out, his fingers brushing over your knee lightly before retreating just as quickly.

You arched a brow, holding his gaze as you sipped your drink again. “What’d you have in mind?”

"Well," he drawled, his tone casual but his eyes glinting with something warmer, "we could sit by the pool. You could read me one of those romance novels you’re always pretending not to like," he added, nodding toward the book resting on your side table.

Your jaw dropped in mock offense, and he laughed, leaning back as if he’d scored a point.

“Joel Miller, I do not pretend.”

“Oh, you definitely do,” he teased, his voice rich and smooth. “Let me guess—billionaire bad boy falls for the sweet, innocent girl? Sound familiar?”

You smirked, shaking your head. “Wow, somebody’s projecting.”

“Hardly,” he shot back, his grin widening. “I’m more of a ‘charming Texan sweeps her off her feet’ kinda guy.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head as you set your drink down. “You’re insufferable.” You bit your lip, trying not to smile too wide.

“Fine,” you relented, brushing a hand through your hair. “Pool it is. But I’m not reading to you.”

⋆🌺˚.⋆ꪆৎ.🐚⋆❀˖°

You bit your lip, turning toward the full-length mirror in the corner of the room. The bikini was flattering—more than flattering, really—but no matter how you adjusted the straps or smoothed the fabric over your hips, that familiar knot of self-consciousness tightened in your chest.

A soft knock at the door jolted you out of your thoughts. “Hey,” Joel’s voice came through. “Can I come in, or is this a no-roommate zone right now?”

“Uh… yeah, come in,” you called, your hands automatically tugging at the fabric one last time.

The door opened, and Joel stepped inside. He froze, just for a second, his eyes dragging up your body in a slow, deliberate sweep. His lips parted slightly, and for a moment, the cocky charm he usually carried seemed to falter. “Shit.”

“What?” you asked, your cheeks immediately heating under the intensity of his gaze. “What’s wrong?”

Joel blinked, his mouth twitching into that lopsided grin that somehow managed to be both infuriating and heart-stopping.

“Nothin’. You’re just—” He gestured vaguely with one hand, his words trailing off as his gaze dipped again, lingering on the curve of your waist. His voice dropped lower, rougher. “You’re gonna give the lifeguard a fuckin’ heart attack walkin’ around like that.”

You let out a huff of laughter, though your cheeks burned under the intensity of his gaze. It wasn’t just his words; it was the way he looked at you—like he was savoring every second of it. “Joel, stop,” you murmured, trying for exasperation, but your voice betrayed you, sounding far too soft.

He didn’t budge, didn’t even blink. If anything, his grin deepened, a slow, lazy curve that made heat curl in your stomach. His eyes shamelessly roamed over you, trailing from the slope of your shoulders to the length of your legs, before snapping back to your face. “Not my fault,” he drawled with a casual shrug, though his voice was thick. “You show up lookin’ like that, you can’t expect me not to notice.”

“You’re impossible,” you muttered, shifting awkwardly under his gaze. Turning your back to him, you pretended to adjust something on the nightstand, hoping the movement would distract from how flustered you felt.

“Hey,” Joel said softly, his voice closer now. A warm hand landed on your shoulder, his fingers brushing against your bare skin as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, then swept it away from the back of your neck. His touch was unhurried, intimate in a way that sent a shiver down your spine.

“What?” you murmured, your voice catching as your heart pounded in your chest.

“Don’t gotta hide from me,” he said, his tone low, the kind of voice that could coax secrets from you without even trying.

“I’m not hiding,” you mumbled, though the way you kept your gaze averted didn’t exactly help your case.

Joel’s smirk deepened, his hand lingering on your shoulder just a moment longer before he let it slide down your arm, his fingers brushing yours. “No? Could’ve fooled me,” he said, his voice soft but teasing.

You turned to face him, finally meeting his eyes, which were dark and full of something you couldn’t quite name. “I’m not,” you insisted, a little firmer this time, though the heat in your cheeks betrayed you.

“Alright,” he said, raising his hands in mock surrender. “If you say so.”

Your breath hitched at the way his eyes locked on yours, dark and amused, like he was daring you to argue. Before you could muster a retort, Joel turned away, striding over to where his tote bag rested on the dresser.

“C’mon,” he called over his shoulder, the smirk still audible in his voice as he rifled through the bag. “Let’s go cause some medical emergencies.”

⋆🌺˚.⋆ꪆৎ.🐚⋆❀˖°

You found a quiet spot by the pool where the loungers were spaced far enough apart that it felt private, secluded.

The soft sound of the water lapping against the edge of the pool blended with the faint hum of conversation from a few sunbathers nearby. You sank back into the lounger with a sigh, adjusting your sunglasses and stretching your legs out in front of you.

“Nuh-uh,” Joel said, his voice cutting through the tranquil moment.

“What?” you asked, peeking up at him over the rim of your sunglasses.

"Did you know," he began, his tone light and teasing as he flipped the sunscreen bottle in his hand, scanning the label, "that not wearing sunscreen is one of the top causes of skin cancer? Says so right here." He tapped the back of the bottle for emphasis.

You frowned, pushing your sunglasses up into your hair. “Joel…”

Joel crouched beside you, the sun casting a golden glow over his tanned skin, making every line of his toned arms stand out as he shook the sunscreen bottle. “Sit up,” he repeated, his voice carrying that soft but undeniable authority that made you instinctively obey, even as your brow furrowed in playful annoyance.

“You’re bossy, you know that?” you muttered, adjusting yourself on the lounger.

“Someone’s gotta keep you in line,” Joel shot back, uncapping the bottle with a smirk. His gaze flickered over your shoulders, his expression softening slightly. “You got burnt yesterday. Can’t let that happen again.”

“Thanks, Mom,” you teased, though the way his eyes lingered made your chest tighten in a way that was anything but maternal.

He chuckled low, leaning in to smooth the sunscreen over your shoulders. His hands were warm, strong, and far too deliberate for your heart to stay steady. “Relax,” he said softly, his voice almost a purr as his thumbs kneaded gently into your skin. “Not my first rodeo.”

“You do this for all your roommates?” you quipped, though your voice wavered when his hands slid down the curve of your shoulder blades.

Joel paused, his lips quirking upward as he leaned just a fraction closer, his breath ghosting against your ear. “Only the ones I like.”

Your heart thudded against your ribs, but you refused to give him the satisfaction of a response. “How kind of you,” you said instead, your tone light, though your pulse was anything but calm.

“What can I say?” Joel said, his grin turning downright wicked as he shifted to smooth sunscreen over the tops of your arms. “I’m a giver.”

The insinuation hung in the air, thick and electric. Your cheeks burned hotter than the sun, and you cursed your brain for immediately flashing back to the things he’d said last night.

“You’re quiet,” he said softly, his voice breaking through your thoughts.

“Yeah, well,” you muttered, your breath hitching slightly as his fingers grazed the nape of your neck, “not much to say when someone’s slathering you in sunscreen.”

Joel chuckled, the sound low and warm, rumbling against your back. “There,” he said, his voice lighter now.

“Well, thanks, I guess,” you said, trying to sound nonchalant, though the way Joel’s hands lingered for just a moment too long sent an undeniable thrill through you. You tried to ignore it, shifting back against the lounger to lie down, but Joel coughed.

“What now?” you asked, glancing at him over your shoulder.

He raised an eyebrow, his grin faint but mischievous. “You forgettin’ ’bout me?”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re a grown man, Joel. You can put your own sunscreen on.”

“Yeah, but I can’t reach my back, genius,” he said, giving you a look that was equal parts exasperation and amusement. “C’mon. I just hit you with a cancer fact. You really want me to get cancer?”

You groaned dramatically, sitting up. “You’re insufferable.”

Joel just chuckled, his grin widening as he said, “Good girl.”

The words hit you harder than you expected, low and rough in that way only he could pull off, and you hated the way your heart stuttered in response. Joel turned, presenting his back to you as he handed over the bottle of sunscreen.

You squeezed some into your hands, rubbing them together before pressing your palms against the broad expanse of his back. His muscles tensed immediately under your touch, the warmth of his skin making your breath catch.

You slapped the last bit of sunscreen onto his back a little harder than necessary. “There. Cancer-free.”

Joel laughed softly, the sound rumbling through his chest as he turned to glance over his shoulder at you. “Thanks, roomie,” he said, flashing you that crooked smile that made your stomach flip.

You shook your head at his antics before glancing around. Something caught your eye—a woman nearby sipping a colorful drink that looked particularly refreshing. Sitting up, you brushed your hair out of your face. "Hey," you said, turning to him. "I’m gonna grab a drink. Want anything? A beer?"

Joel cracked one eye open from where he was stretched out on his lounger, his expression shifting instantly from relaxed to alert. “What? No,” he said, already moving to sit up. “You stay here—I’ll go.”

“Joel,” you said, laughing softly. “I can handle walking a few steps to get a drink. I promise it’s not a Herculean task.”

He scoffed, standing and grabbing his wallet from the side table. “Not happenin’. I’m Southern. We don’t let the ladies lift a damn finger.”

You couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. “Oh, is that right?”

“Damn right,” he said, throwing you a lopsided grin as he stood over you, the sun casting golden highlights across his face. He shifted slightly, sliding his wallet into his back pocket with practiced ease. “Now, what’ll it be’?”

You tilted your head, pretending to deliberate. “Hmm… surprise me,” you said finally, leaning back with a smirk.

Joel raised an eyebrow, his grin widening as he bent slightly toward you. “Oh, you must really trust me now, huh?”

You shrugged, doing your best to appear nonchalant despite the way his proximity made your stomach flutter. “Guess we’ll see,” you teased.

Joel straightened, shaking his head with an amused chuckle. “Alright. Don’t move. Be back in a sec,” he said, giving you a parting wink before sauntering toward the bar.

You couldn’t help but watch him go, the way his broad shoulders shifted, the confident, easy sway of his steps.

He reached the drinks bar, leaning casually against the counter as he spoke to the bartender. After a moment, he glanced back over his shoulder, catching your eye. Joel smiled, that damn charming smile of his, and raised a hand to wave. You waved back, warmth blooming in your chest despite yourself.

And then, of course, you noticed her. The waitress — insanely beautiful, with flawless skin, a dazzling smile, and a figure that made your confidence waver in an instant. She was laughing at something Joel said, her glossy hair catching the sunlight as she leaned a little too close.

You felt your stomach twist as she placed her hand lightly on Joel’s forearm, the gesture casual but intimate. Joel didn’t pull away. Why would he? He was single, a man—of course he’d flirt back. And he did, flashing her that same charming smile he’d given you just moments ago.

You tried to shake it off, leaning back in your lounger and adjusting your sunglasses, but the ache in your chest wouldn’t go away. It wasn’t jealousy, you told yourself. Not really. Joel was free to talk to whoever he wanted, flirt with whoever he wanted.

Finally, Joel returned, two drinks in hand. He moved with that same easy confidence, the kind that felt both infuriating and magnetic, like he had no idea the effect he had on people—or maybe he did. His expression was casual, but as he got closer, you noticed the slight furrow in his brow, like he’d picked up on the shift in your mood.

“Guess which one’s yours,” he said as he settled down onto his lounger. He balanced the drinks carefully, one a beer and the other a concoction that looked like a unicorn had exploded into a glass, complete with glittery sugar on the rim.

You tilted your head, pretending to consider. “Hmm…” You pointed to the beer, a small smirk playing on your lips. “That one.”

Joel let out a loud, buzzer-like sound, shaking his head with a grin. "Wrong." He handed you the colorful drink, his fingers brushing against yours for the briefest moment before he leaned back with his beer. "Here," he said casually.

"Thanks," you murmured, taking the drink from his hand. You hesitated for only a second before adding, "So," a playful edge creeping into your tone, "Blondie seemed pretty interested."

Joel lowered his beer slightly, turning his head to look at you through his sunglasses. You felt the weight of his attention, and it made your pulse quicken. “The waitress?” he asked, his tone unreadable, casual in a way that somehow made it worse.

“Yeah,” you said, shrugging as you adjusted your posture. You hoped you looked relaxed, but the ice rattling in the glass betrayed you. “She was all smiles and giggles. You should, uh… go talk to her.”

The words felt heavy, wrong. You hadn’t meant to say them. Why did you always do this? Push men away, pretend you didn’t care, when every fiber of your being was screaming at you to hold on tighter?

Joel chuckled softly, a low, gravelly sound that sent a shiver down your spine. He set his beer down on the small table between you, the bottle clinking softly against the glass top. Then he pulled his sunglasses off, revealing those sharp, dark eyes that always seemed to cut straight through your defenses.

“Now why would I do that?” he asked, his voice calm but edged with something you couldn’t quite name.

You blinked, taken aback by the simplicity of his question. “Because she’s interested in you,” you said, your voice quieter now, almost unsure.

Joel tilted his head slightly, his gaze steady as he studied you, like he was trying to piece together a puzzle. The corners of his lips twitched, and he leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. “Well,” he said, his voice softer now, “I’m not interested in her.”

Your breath caught, your heart stuttering in your chest. He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world, and yet, the way his tone softened at the end made the words hit differently, made them linger.

“Plus,” he added, his voice lighter now, playful as his foot nudged your leg, “I’d rather sit here with you.”

The words sent a rush of heat through you, even though he delivered them casually, like it wasn’t a declaration but a simple fact. He grinned, leaning back in his chair, his eyes never leaving yours. The weight of his gaze made your skin feel too tight, your heart pounding in your chest.

Your lips parted, but no sound came out. You wanted to say something clever, something to break the tension that hummed between you, but your brain seemed to have short-circuited.

“So,” Joel said, breaking the silence as he reached into his bag. “You remember our bet, right?” His lopsided grin deepened as he pulled out a weathered baseball cap and placed it on his head.

His hair, sun-kissed and tousled from the day, peeked out in messy waves beneath the brim, and his lips—slightly pink from the beer and sun—curved into that easy, damnable smile that always made your heart skip.

“Yes,” you replied, leaning back in your chair as you tried to match his nonchalance. “Whoever guesses when Tommy will propose gets... what was it again?”

Joel tilted the brim of his hat, pretending to think. “The other’s social security number,” he deadpanned, his tone as casual as if he were suggesting splitting an appetizer. “Nothin’ big.”

You laughed, the sound bubbling out of you before you could stop it. Why did he have to be so damn cute and funny? It wasn’t fair.

“So,” Joel said, his voice dipping just enough to make the air feel heavier as he took another sip of his beer, “you think he’ll do it during the hike?”

You tilted your head, considering it. “Hmm,” you mused, tapping your finger against your glass. “I don’t think so. I mean, Maria will want to look good when it happens, you know? Not sweating and gross. Plus,” you added, glancing at him with a grin, “I have a feeling we’ll be there for the actual proposal. Tommy’s the kind of guy who’d want witnesses.”

Joel’s brows lifted slightly, a hint of impressed amusement in his gaze. “You make some valid points,” he admitted, his voice low and thoughtful, though the corner of his mouth twitched as if he were holding back a smirk. “I’m startin’ to worry I might lose to you.”

You tilted your head, your grin growing as you leaned just a little closer. “I have a feeling you’re not used to losing, Miller.”

Joel chuckled, leaning back in his chair, the brim of his hat tilted just enough to shade his eyes. “Not often,” he admitted, his tone light, almost like he was testing the waters. His gaze lingered on you for a moment, sharp but unreadable, before he tipped his beer bottle toward you. “Guess it’ll be good for me. Keep me humble.”

Joel leaned back now, his broad shoulders catching the sunlight in a way that made it impossible not to stare. You caught yourself looking as he pulled out his phone, scrolling for a moment, his thumb moving lazily over the screen. Then, with a sudden movement, he sat up straighter, his face lighting up as if he’d just remembered something.

“Shoot, I almost forgot,” he said, setting his phone down and turning toward his tote bag.

“What?” you asked, sitting up a little in your lounger, intrigued despite yourself.

Joel leaned over to dig into the bag, the muscles in his arms flexing as he rummaged through it. You swore he was doing it on purpose. “Got ya somethin’,” he said casually, his voice almost too casual.

You took a sip of your drink, eyeing him warily. “Should I be scared?”

“Terrified,” he replied with a smirk, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye.

“Great,” you muttered, your tone dry, but a smile tugged at the corners of your lips.

“Alright,” he said, pulling something out of the bag and holding it behind his back. “Close your eyes.”

“Seriously, Joel?”

“C’mon now,” he coaxed, his grin widening. “Promise it’s nothin’ kinky.”

You squinted at him, unimpressed. “Wasn’t even worried about that, but now I am.”

He chuckled, a deep, rich sound that sent a flutter through your chest. “Trust me. Just do it.”

You sighed, rolling your eyes dramatically but obliging him. “Fine. But if it’s something weird, I’m chucking it in the pool.”

“Hands out,” he instructed, and you could practically hear the sly grin in his voice.

With a sigh, you held out your hands. “Wow,” Joel teased, his tone thick with innuendo. “So obedient.”

“You’re a perv,” you shot back, laughing softly. But then something soft and light landed in your palms, and your curiosity piqued. “Can I look now?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You opened your eyes, and there it was—a Hawaiian Hello Kitty plushie, complete with a tiny grass skirt and a pink flower tucked behind its ear. The sight of it hit you like a wave, disarming and unexpectedly sweet.

“Oh my God,” you breathed, clutching the plushie. “This is so cute.”

Joel laughed, the sound warm and easy as he took a sip of his beer. “You like it? I was pickin’ up snacks for us to try later, saw it, and thought of you. You know, cute, girlie…” He shrugged casually.

“I love it,” you said, the words spilling out without hesitation. Your heart swelled as you held it closer, running your fingers over the soft fabric.

“Good,” Joel said, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied grin. “Thought you might be missin’ Mimi.”

The mention of your cat made you laugh, a soft, genuine sound that eased the tension you hadn’t even realized you were carrying. “She’s gonna be so jealous when I get home with this.”

Joel shook his head, his gaze lingering on you for a beat longer than necessary. “Glad you like it,” he murmured, his voice softer now, almost shy. For just a moment, the teasing melted away, leaving something warmer, deeper in its place. His eyes flicked down to the plushie in your hands, then back up to your face, as though he was committing this moment to memory.

“Well, now I gotta get you something,” you said, your voice lighter, trying to shake off the way his stare made your chest feel tight.

Joel leaned back in his lounger, casual and effortless, his grin slowly spreading. “I can think of a way you could pay me back,” he said, his tone laced with just enough suggestion to make your stomach flip.

“Oh, God,” you groaned, rolling your eyes even as your cheeks warmed.

Joel chuckled, his voice low and warm. “Geez roomie. Get your dirty mind outta the gutter,” he teased, his grin turning mischievous. “I meant you could try stayin’ on your side of the bed for once. You know, as payment for my generosity.” He leaned over to poke your side gently, his finger brushing against your ribs.

Your blush deepened, and you hugged the plushie closer to your chest. “Sorry about that,” you mumbled, though you couldn’t help the small, sheepish smile tugging at your lips. “I didn’t realize I was such a bed hog.”

Joel’s grin softened, his teasing easing into something gentler. “I’m jokin’,” he said, his voice dipping lower. “I like it. You’re cute when you sleep.”

⋆🌺˚.⋆ꪆৎ.🐚⋆❀˖°

It hadn’t even been ten minutes of peaceful reading when you heard a long, exaggerated groan from the lounger beside you.

You turned your head, eyebrows raised in amusement, to find Joel sprawled out, one arm slung lazily over the back of his chair. His book was balanced precariously on his lap, his impossibly short red shorts leaving little to the imagination. “You good?” you asked, your tone half-curious, half-mocking.

“I’m fuckin’ bored,” Joel declared dramatically, tipping his head back to glare at the sky. Then he turned to you, his dark eyes locking on yours. “You’re ignorin’ me when we could be chattin’.”

You sighed, snapping your book closed with a soft thud. “What happened to reading?” you asked, gesturing toward the book he hadn’t even bothered to open.

“Got bored,” he shrugged, the motion impossibly nonchalant, as if his restlessness was your problem to fix.

“Jesus,” you muttered, leaning back in your chair. “You’re like dealing with a child.”

Joel’s grin spread slow and wicked across his face, his tone dropping into something deeper, richer. “Nothin’ childish about me, darlin’,” he drawled, the insinuation hanging thick in the air between you.

You rolled your eyes, but your chest tightened at the way his gaze lingered on you. “You’re impossible,” you muttered, though the edge in your voice wasn’t nearly as sharp as you’d hoped.

Joel turned his body fully toward you now, resting his forearm on the armrest and leaning in slightly. His expression turned mischievous, his grin full of trouble. “So,” he started, his eyes flicking to your phone resting beside you, “you one of those Instagram influencers or somethin’?”

Your eyebrows shot up. “What?”

He gestured vaguely, his grin widening. “I dunno. Just got the vibe, is all. Pretty girl. Always readin’ or sippin’ iced coffee. Bet you got a ton of followers.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “I’m on private,” you said, leaning forward to grab your drink. “I think I’ve got, like, 300 followers. Maybe.”

Joel hummed, his grin softening into something warmer as he tilted his head. “Green flag,” he teased, his voice playful but with an undertone that made your stomach flip.

“Oh, and you?” you shot back, leaning toward him now. “You add all your Hinge matches on Instagram?”

Joel let out a laugh, the sound low and rumbling in his chest. “Nah,” he said, smirking. “They don’t get that luxury.”

You rolled your eyes, sipping your drink to hide your grin. “Sure.”

“C’mon,” Joel said, shifting closer, his arm draping over the back of his lounger as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Lemme follow you.”

“You wanna follow my Instagram?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

He shrugged, the motion effortlessly casual. “We’re friends, right? Ain’t that what friends do?”

You smiled despite yourself. “Alright,” you said, giving him your username as he typed it in.

As you accepted @JoelMiller91's follow request, Joel sat up straighter, his attention fixed on your Instagram profile as he scrolled through it. He angled the phone so you could see the screen, his thumb moving deliberately, pausing on a photo of Mimi curled into a perfect ball.

“Damn,” he said, his tone teasing but with a hint of something warmer. “This is, like, a full-on Mimi shrine. Look at this—‘Mimi in the sun,’ ‘Mimi with a bow,’ ‘Mimi judging you.’”

You snorted, leaning over slightly to peek at the screen. “She’s very photogenic.”

He grinned, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. “You got, what? Three photos of yourself on here, tops?”

“Well, Mimi’s cuter than me,” you said, shrugging as you sipped your drink.

Joel hummed, a low, thoughtful sound that made your stomach flip. “Agree to disagree,” he murmured, his eyes still scanning your feed.

Your breath caught as his gaze flicked back to you, his grin widening. “Alright,” he said suddenly, sitting up on his knees and setting his beer aside. “We gotta fix this.”

“Fix what?” you asked, watching him warily.

He gestured to your phone. “This ratio. You and Mimi. I’m takin’ some pictures of you.”

“What, now?” you asked, your voice incredulous.

“No, tonight when you’re half-asleep and grumpy. Yes, now.” Joel was already on his feet, standing in front of your lounger, phone in hand.

“Joel, I’m not exactly the ‘pose in a bikini’ type,” you muttered, squirming slightly under his intense gaze.

“Who said anything about posing?” he said, crouching slightly to adjust the angle. “Just sit up. Relax. I’ll do the work.”

You groaned, but before you could protest further, the shutter sound clicked. “Oh my God, Joel!”

“C’mon,” he teased, grinning at you over the top of the phone. “You’re gorgeous. The world deserves to see.”

You flushed, shaking your head. “I’m really bad at posing.”

“Don’t pose, then. Just…” He gestured vaguely with the phone. “Pretend to read your book.”

“Fine,” you muttered, picking up your book again and settling back against the lounger. You tried to focus on the words, but your mind was too occupied by the way Joel moved around, crouching and angling himself like some overly enthusiastic photographer.

“Yeah,” he murmured, his tone softening. “These are nice.” He stood up straight, his gaze flicking back to you, and for a moment, you swore you saw something unguarded in his expression.

You couldn’t help but blush. “Alright, are we done?”

“Not yet.” He gestured toward your drink. “Take a sip.”

You rolled your eyes, but you did as he asked, lifting the glass to your lips.

“There she is,” he said under his breath, his voice almost reverent. “Atta girl.”

You set the drink down and glared at him playfully. “Happy now?”

Joel grinned as he settled onto your lounger, the chair dipping under his weight. It was too small for one person to sit comfortably, let alone two, and the proximity sent your pulse fluttering in your throat. His thigh pressed against yours, warm and solid, as he leaned in, his phone angled toward you.

“Look at this one,” he said, his voice carrying a boyish excitement as he swiped to a photo. He tilted the screen toward you, leaning in just enough for you to catch the faint, sharp scent of his aftershave. “You look like a Victoria’s Secret model or somethin’.”

You flushed, heat prickling at the back of your neck as you pushed the phone away gently, your gaze darting toward the pool instead. “Stop,” you murmured, trying to laugh it off. “I don’t need to see.”

Joel’s brows furrowed as he turned the phone back to himself, glancing at the picture again like he couldn’t fathom what you were talking about. “You’re kidding, right?” His tone was softer now, laced with something tender and earnest.

You shook your head, still not meeting his eyes. “I’m not...,” you muttered, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear in a nervous gesture.

When you eventually met his gaze, the usual mischief in his brown eyes had melted into something achingly sincere. “You’re gorgeous,” he said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “How can’t you see that?” His brows knit together, a flicker of frustration in his expression, as if he couldn’t understand how you didn’t see it yourself.

The words settled over you, heavy and warm, and for a moment, the world around you—the sounds of splashing water, distant laughter, the hum of conversation—faded into nothing. All you could hear was the soft, steady cadence of his voice and the way it made your chest ache.

You cleared your throat, trying to dispel the tension that wrapped around you like a vice. “Alright,” you hummed, finally setting your book aside and breaking the spell. “Let’s see yours then.”

Joel froze, his expression teetering between amusement and mild panic. “Oh, hell no,” he said, quickly pulling his phone back as if to shield it from your view.

“What? That’s so unfair,” you protested, swatting his thigh playfully.

“Alright, alright,” Joel groaned, rolling his eyes before surrendering the phone with a reluctant sigh. “Here. Take it.” He passed it over, leaning back into the lounger and taking a sip of his beer, his eyes fixed on you as you started scrolling through his photos.

The first photo was a group shot at the beach—Joel and a handful of friends standing knee-deep in the water, beers in hand, all of them grinning like idiots. Joel stood off to the side, his smile easy and boyish. “Aw,” you cooed, tilting the phone toward him. “Look at you. So wholesome.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Joel muttered, waving you off. “Keep scrollin’.”

The next photo made your breath hitch. Joel, shirtless, standing beside a grill with a spatula in hand. His skin was sun-kissed, his hair slightly tousled from what must’ve been a long day outside. He wasn’t even looking at the camera, his focus instead on whatever he was cooking, but damn. You swallowed, the image burning itself into your brain.

“Jesus,” you muttered, quickly swiping to the next photo. “Do you have something against shirts, or…?”

“You complaining?” he smirked, his tone playful.

You shook your head, laughing softly as you scrolled to the next post. It was him and a woman—a beautiful woman. She was smiling brightly, leaning against him as his arm rested loosely around her shoulders. The caption read, Alright company. Your chest tightened inexplicably, and you fought to keep your expression neutral.

“This your ex?” you asked, feigning nonchalance, though your voice came out a touch too casual.

Joel leaned forward slightly, peeking at the screen before letting out a deep laugh. “My cousin,” he said with a shake of his head.

“Oh,” you said, relief washing over you far too quickly for your liking.

Joel didn’t let it go, though. His grin widened, and his dark eyes glinted with mischief. “What’s this, huh?” he teased, his voice dropping an octave. “You jealous?”

“Please,” you scoffed, trying to mask the embarrassment twisting in your chest. “As if.”

Joel tilted his head, watching you with that knowing smirk that was both infuriating and dangerously charming. “Alright,” he said, his tone light but teasing.

Joel set his phone aside, leaning back against the lounger with an easy grace, his arm wrapping lazily around your shoulders. His fingers traced absent patterns up and down your arm, sending shivers across your skin in a way that felt both casual and entirely deliberate. Then, without a word, he reached up, pulled off his baseball cap, and plopped it onto your head, ruffling your hair in the process.

“There,” he said, his lips curving into a satisfied grin as he tilted his head to admire his work. “Looks better on you.”

You huffed, reaching up to adjust the cap, but the warmth blooming in your chest betrayed your feigned annoyance. “You’re seriously cockblocking me right now,” you muttered under your breath, lifting your drink to take a sip, hoping it would hide the telltale flush creeping up your neck.

Joel’s eyebrows shot up, and then his mouth curved into a wide, teasing grin. “Me? Your fake vacation boyfriend, cock-blocking you? I’d never.”

You rolled your eyes, aiming for exasperation, but the heat on your cheeks gave you away. “Sure,” you muttered, leaning back in your seat, trying to ignore the way his eyes seemed to linger on you a moment too long.

His grin faltered, just slightly, and he glanced down at the beer in his hand, swirling the bottle idly. The teasing air around him softened, replaced by something quieter, almost contemplative.

“What?” you asked, the shift in his tone pulling your attention. You tilted your head, your gaze narrowing as you tried to read him.

Joel’s fingers tapped against the glass of his beer before he looked up at you, his eyes dark and steady. “You tryna find a boyfriend here or somethin’?” he asked, his voice low, casual—too casual.

You blinked, caught completely off guard by the question. “What?” you repeated, letting out a light laugh. “No, Joel. God, no. But even if I was…” You hesitated, fiddling with the condensation on your glass. “I don’t think anyone would dare approach me. Not with us sitting here looking like we’re… like this.”

Joel tilted his head, his gaze unwavering. “Lovey-dovey, huh?” His lips twitched into something that wasn’t quite a smirk but wasn’t far off either.

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat as his hand, warm and rough, drifted to your thigh. He traced slow, deliberate circles against your skin, his touch light but impossible to ignore.

“Maybe,” Joel said after a moment, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant, “maybe I don’t want anyone approachin’ you.”

You froze, your breath catching as his words hung between you, heavy with unspoken meaning. Slowly, you lifted your gaze to meet his, and the way he was looking at you—soft, sincere, and a little unsure—made your chest ache.

“Joel,” you started, your voice barely above a whisper, but he cut you off with a slight shake of his head.

“I’m serious,” he murmured, his thumb brushing against your leg now, his touch grounding. “Maybe I like this. Us… like this.”

Your chest tightened, your mind racing to keep up with the sudden shift. You furrowed your brows, forcing out a laugh to lighten the weight of his words. “You flirt too much,” you said, trying to sound teasing, though your voice wavered.

“I flirt,” he admitted, his lips curving into the faintest smile, “but this ain’t that.” He paused, his gaze locking onto yours, earnest and unguarded in a way you hadn’t seen before. “This is me bein’ honest.”

You swallowed hard, your throat tight as his words lingered between you. The weight of his gaze, the sincerity in his voice—it was too much, too raw. You forced a smile, trying to ignore the way your chest ached. “We should get back,” you murmured, brushing your hand against your thigh as if the movement might ground you. “Don’t wanna get burnt like yesterday.”

Joel’s expression flickered for a moment, something unreadable flashing across his face, but then he nodded, his lips curving into a small, almost reluctant smile. “Yeah,” he said, his voice soft, easy, but it carried an undercurrent you couldn’t quite place. “Let’s go.”

⋆🌺˚.⋆ꪆৎ.🐚⋆❀˖°

Dinner was, as always, lively and full of laughter. Maria and Tommy regaled you with tales of their hike, Maria’s animated hand gestures making you chuckle as she recounted, with dramatic flair, how “Tommy slipped and almost died.”

Even with Joel’s quiet confession from earlier still echoing in your mind, the two of you fell into the same easy rhythm as always. If anything had shifted between you, neither of you let it show. Joel teased Maria about exaggerating, you joined in, and Tommy feigned indignation, his grin betraying him.

The living room had become your little sanctuary after dinner, where everyone gathered to wind down. The warm glow of the lamp bathed the space in soft amber light, casting flickering shadows that made the room feel cozier. The low hum of conversation and the occasional clink of glasses filled the air, a soundtrack to these lazy, contented evenings.

A half-empty bottle of whiskey lounged on the coffee table, surrounded by an assortment of glasses and a scattered pile of peanut M&M’s that had clearly been Joel’s doing. You tugged at the hem of your silky pink pajama shorts as you made your way in, the fabric brushing softly against your thighs. Settling into the chair facing the couches, you tucked your legs beneath you, stealing a quick glance around.

“Ooh, pink,” Joel drawled, his voice pulling your attention. He leaned back on the couch, one arm slung lazily over the cushions while the other popped another M&M into his mouth. His dark eyes flicked over you, a teasing grin curling his lips. “I like that color on you.”

Your cheeks flushed instantly, the warmth rushing to your face faster than you could hide it. You glanced down for a beat, then back up, offering him a shy smile. “Thanks,” you murmured, your voice soft as you adjusted your position, tucking your legs a little tighter beneath you.

Joel’s grin widened, but he didn’t push further, though the playful glint in his eyes lingered, making your heart race just a little faster than you’d like to admit.

Maria, seated next to Tommy on the other side of the couch, suddenly reached for the remote, pausing the movie they’d been half-watching. “Okay,” she announced, sitting up with an energy that made you suspicious. “Tonight, we’re gonna play…” She turned dramatically toward Tommy and Joel, clapping her hands together. “Drumroll, please!”

Tommy immediately leaned forward, drumming his hands against the coffee table. Joel, always the joker, slapped his thigh loudly, his grin turning into a laugh when Tommy gave him an exasperated look.

Maria threw her hands in the air. “Truth or Dare!”

You let out an audible sigh, sinking further into your chair. “Really?” you asked, your tone somewhere between amusement and dread.

“Yes, really,” Maria said, narrowing her eyes at you. “Don’t be a party pooper.”

You glanced around the room, your resolve slipping under Maria’s playful glare and the way Joel was watching you with that infuriatingly charming grin. “Alright, fine,” you said, relenting with a dramatic sigh.

“Atta girl,” Joel chimed in, his voice warm and teasing. “But why’re you sittin’ so far away? C’mon, I don’t bite.” He patted the empty space on the couch beside him.

Hesitating for just a moment, you finally stood, smoothing down your pajama shorts as you crossed the room. Joel’s gaze followed you, warm and steady, and when you lowered yourself into the seat beside him, his arm draped casually over your shoulder, the movement so seamless it felt almost automatic.

“See? That’s better,” he murmured, his voice dropping slightly as his fingers brushed lightly against your shoulder. His scent surrounded you—something clean and woodsy, mingled with the faintest hint of the beer he’d been sipping—and it made your head swim. You fought to keep your breathing steady as he leaned back, his thumb lazily tracing an idle pattern on your arm, his presence entirely too consuming.

“Alright, brother,” Joel said, his voice light with mischief. “Truth or dare?”

Tommy leaned back against the couch, his arms spread wide like he was ready for anything. “Dare,” he said confidently.

Joel laughed, the sound rich and deep, already brimming with amusement. “Alright, I dare you to…” He paused for effect, his eyes sparkling with wicked delight as he grinned at Maria. “Suck Maria’s toes.”

“Ew, Joel!” you exclaimed, nudging him in the ribs. “That’s disgusting.”

“What?” Joel said, feigning innocence as he rubbed the spot where you’d elbowed him. “It’s a dare. Ain’t my fault Tommy said he’d take one.”

Tommy, to everyone’s surprise, slid off the couch and onto the floor in front of Maria. He pointed a finger at Joel, his expression dead serious. “You think I won’t do it, Joel?”

Maria shrieked, pulling her legs up onto the couch and hiding her feet under a throw pillow. “No, Tommy! Gross! Don’t you dare!”

“C’mon, baby,” Tommy said, reaching for her ankles with exaggerated determination. “I ain’t losin’ to my brother.”

“You’re disgusting!” Maria yelled, laughing uncontrollably as she swatted at him. “Get away from me, oh my God!”

Joel was laughing so hard he nearly doubled over, his hand brushing against your knee as he steadied himself. “Oh man,” he said between breaths, “this is better than I could’ve hoped for.”

Still chuckling, Joel straightened up, his hand lingering just a moment too long before he pulled it away, leaving a phantom warmth behind. He pointed toward the tequila bottle on the table, his smirk turning mischievous. “Alright,” he said, his drawl playful and commanding. “You failed your dare. Gotta drink.”

Tommy groaned, grabbing the shot glass and downing it in one go, his face twisting in dramatic agony as he slammed the glass back onto the table. “Ugh, that’s brutal,” he muttered, shaking his head.

“Rules are rules,” Joel said with a smirk, leaning back on the couch and looking far too pleased with himself.

“Alright, wise guy,” Tommy said, poking Joel in the chest with one finger, his competitive streak clearly coming to life. “Truth or dare?”

Joel’s eyes flicked to you for a moment, a faint spark of mischief dancing in them before he leaned forward with an exaggerated air of confidence. “Dare,” he said, his voice slow and deliberate.

You let out a groan, leaning your head back against the couch. “Why do men always choose dare?” you murmured.

Joel turned his head, smirking at you. “Because, darlin’, truth’s too easy. Dares keep things interesting.”

Tommy’s grin turned downright devious as he scanned the room, his gaze settling on you like a predator locking onto its prey. “Alright,” Tommy said slowly, dragging the word out for maximum effect. “I dare you to give this lovely lady…” He pointed directly at you, his grin widening. “…a full Magic Mike lap dance.”

“What?!” you exclaimed, sitting up straight, your cheeks instantly burning. “No way. Absolutely not.”

Joel let out a low laugh, shaking his head as he ran a hand through his hair. “You’re somethin’ else, Tommy,” he said, though there was a glint of amusement in his eyes as he glanced at you. “But hey, a dare’s a dare.”

Your jaw dropped. “You’re not seriously going to do this.”

Joel shrugged, his grin turning slow and wicked as he stood, rolling his shoulders like he was gearing up for a performance. “What can I say? I don’t back down from a challenge—especially if it’s an excuse to take my shirt off.”

“Joel,” you said, your voice rising slightly in protest, but he was already stepping around the coffee table, his movements smooth and confident as he approached you.

“Oh, c’mon,” Maria chimed in, laughing as she nudged Tommy. “This is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Do it, Joel!”

Joel smirked, his gaze locked onto yours now, playful and teasing but somehow disarming all at once. “Relax,” he murmured, his voice low enough that only you could hear. “I’ll keep it PG.”

You couldn’t decide if that made things better or worse.

He stopped just in front of you, tilting his head slightly, his dark eyes sparkling with mischief. “Alright, sweetheart,” he said, his tone low and dripping with charm. “You ready for the show of a lifetime?”

“Oh my God,” you muttered, feeling your face heat as you instinctively covered it with your hands. Joel’s laugh was low and warm, and you could feel it ripple through you, making your pulse quicken.

Tommy, of course, had found Pony on his phone, and the unmistakable opening beat filled the room. The sultry lyrics—I'm just a bachelor…—sent Maria into a fit of laughter. Joel turned his head toward you, a slow, deliberate grin spreading across his face, one that practically radiated mischief. Trouble. Before you could say a word, he leaned in, his hands bracketing your body as you instinctively sank further back into the couch.

“Don’t worry,” he drawled, his voice a warm murmur against your cheek. “I’ll be gentle.”

Your heart raced, your breath catching as you tried to process the nearness of him, the way his eyes flicked over your face like he was gauging every reaction. Before you could form a response, Joel straightened, his expression shifting to something far too smug as he stepped back and began to move.

And God, did he move.

His hips swayed to the beat, slow and deliberate, his hands running through his hair before trailing down his chest with exaggerated precision. It was ridiculous and yet… not.

Joel had a way of commanding the space around him, making every motion seem effortless, every glance deliberate. The energy in the room shifted, a mix of laughter and something heavier—something you couldn’t ignore.

Shit, he was sexy.

Then, with the faintest smirk tugging at his lips, Joel reached for the hem of his shirt. Slowly, agonizingly, he began to lift it, revealing a sliver of tanned skin and the faintest hint of muscle as he moved to the beat. Your stomach flipped as you watched, your breath hitching when he met your eyes again.

“Oh my God,” Maria wheezed, slapping Tommy’s arm. “He’s really doing it.”

Joel ignored her, his focus entirely on you.

The air between you seemed to crackle as he tugged the shirt higher, revealing more of his toned stomach, the faint trail of hair leading down from his navel making your face burn. He didn’t stop there, pulling the shirt over his head in one smooth motion and tossing it aside, his grin growing as he caught the stunned look on your face.

“Joel!” you hissed, mortified and utterly unable to look away. “This is insane.”

“Yeah?” he drawled, stepping closer, his voice rougher now, a teasing edge layered with something deeper that sent a shiver down your spine. His gaze locked onto yours, dark and smoldering, his smirk a devastating mix of cocky and alluring. “Thought you liked a little crazy, darlin’.”

You opened your mouth to respond, to throw out some quip to defuse the growing tension, but the words caught in your throat as Joel reached for your hands. His fingers wrapped around yours, warm and steady, and he guided them slowly to his chest.

Your breath hitched as he directed your hands downward, over the taut planes of his chest, across the curve of his ribs, and lower still. His muscles flexed under your fingertips, firm and defined, as he moved your hands across his abdomen with deliberate slowness. The heat of his skin radiated through his shirt, every motion purposeful, intimate.

You should pull your hands away, tell him to stop, but you couldn’t. You were utterly mesmerized, caught in the intoxicating push and pull of his presence.

Then, Joel dropped to one knee in front of you with a smooth, deliberate motion, and before you could fully process what was happening, his hand was on your knee. Gently but firmly, he pried your legs apart just enough to step closer, his movements so fluid it left you stunned.

Your instinct was to close them again, your body reacting on autopilot, but Joel’s other hand caught your knee, holding you there. “Ah, ah,” he murmured, low enough that only you could hear. His voice was teasing, but his grip was steady, unyielding, as he tilted his head to meet your wide-eyed stare. The music thrummed around you, its sensual beat matching the rhythm of your pulse pounding in your ears.

“Holy shit,” Tommy howled from the couch, his laughter breaking the spell for just a moment.

Joel ignored him, his attention fixed entirely on you. He reached down for his shirt, which he’d tossed on the floor earlier, and in one smooth, exaggerated motion, twirled it above his head. The playful movement drew laughter from the room, but his eyes never left yours, daring you to look away.

You didn’t.

Finally, Joel stood, his grin softening as he stepped back and ran a hand through his hair, his chest rising and falling with each breath. He turned to Tommy and Maria, throwing his arms out dramatically. “There,” he said, his voice light but tinged with satisfaction. “That good enough for ya?” as he tugged his shirt back on

Tommy doubled over, his laughter echoing through the room. “Hell yeah! That was worth it.”

Maria was practically in tears, clutching her side as she tried to catch her breath. “Oh my God, Joel! That was… I don’t even have words. If all else fails, you could always be a stripper.”

“What’d ya think?” Joel asked, stretching out on the opposite side of the couch. His long legs sprawled lazily in front of him, one arm draped casually across the backrest.

You blinked, your heart still racing from the impromptu performance he’d just put on. “Yeah,” you stammered, barely managing to meet his gaze. “You’re… good at that.”

Joel chuckled, the sound rich and deep, his grin widening into something wickedly self-assured. “Must’ve done somethin’ right if I got you sweatin’ like a sinner in church,” he teased, his dark eyes gleaming with mischief.

Your cheeks burned, and you cleared your throat, looking anywhere but at him.

His grin deepened, downright devilish now, as his gaze locked on yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. His fingers drummed idly against his thigh before he leaned forward slightly, pointing at you with a playful edge that felt like a challenge.

“Alright,” he drawled, his voice low, honeyed, and full of trouble. “Truth or dare, roomie?”

You sighed, already regretting your life choices. Both options seemed like traps in Joel’s hands, but you had to play along. “Fine,” you muttered, crossing your arms. “Truth.”

Joel’s grin widened, his eyes gleaming like a cat toying with a mouse. “Truth, huh? Guess I’ve gotta make it worth your while.”

“Joel…” you warned, narrowing your eyes at him, your fingers fidgeting nervously as you rubbed your hands against your shorts.

His smirk deepened, and he leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees as he sat up and reached for his drink. “What’s your favorite sex position?” he asked, his voice smooth as silk, as if he’d just asked you the weather.

Your breath caught in your throat, and you almost choked on air. “What?!” you sputtered, your eyes wide as heat surged to your face.

Maria gasped loudly, covering her mouth, while Tommy froze mid-drink, his eyes darting between you and Joel.

Joel just shrugged, taking a slow sip of his beer before setting it down with deliberate ease. “What?” he said, feigning innocence, though the playful tilt of his lips betrayed him. “It’s a valid question. You said truth, didn’t you?”

“I—” You blinked, completely thrown off. “That’s not… You can’t just ask that!”

“Sure I can,” Joel replied smoothly, leaning back again and stretching an arm across the back of the couch. His gaze never wavered, and the smug confidence in his expression made you want to throttle him—or possibly kiss him. You weren’t sure which. “You agreed to play, roomie. Can’t back out now.”

“C’mon now,” he said softly, his voice dipping lower, more intimate. “It’s just a question. I’ll keep it between us if you’re shy.”

Your heart pounded, your brain scrambling for an answer that wouldn’t make things worse. Joel’s gaze was unrelenting, playful yet intense, his presence almost suffocating in the best way. The teasing lilt in his voice, the challenge in his eyes—it was all too much.

Finally, you folded your arms across your chest like armor and muttered, “I don’t have one.”

Joel raised an eyebrow, his grin widening as he leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees. “You’re lying,” he said simply, his voice low and sure. “I can tell.”

“I’m not,” you shot back, your voice a little too quick, a little too defensive.

Joel tilted his head, smirking as he picked up the bottle of tequila and poured a splash into a glass. He held it out toward you, his grin never wavering. “It’s called Truth or Dare—or Drink,” he said, his tone maddeningly casual. “If you’re gonna lie, you gotta drink.”

“Fuck,” you muttered under your breath, glaring at him as you felt the heat rising to your face. “You’re the worst.”

Joel chuckled, his eyes glinting with amusement. “I get that a lot.”

You stared at the glass for a moment, weighing your options, but you knew drinking would be as good as admitting defeat.

“Fine,” you mumbled.

Joel leaned in closer, his movements slow and deliberate, his smile softening just enough to make your pulse stutter. “Go on,” he urged, his voice low and coaxing. “No judgment here.”

You hesitated, your gaze darting to Maria and Tommy, who were both watching with barely restrained glee. Joel must have noticed because he glanced at them and smirked. “Eyes on your drinks,” he said, waving them off with a flick of his wrist. “This ain’t for y’all.”

Maria giggled, Tommy groaned, but they both obliged, turning their attention to their drinks—though you could feel their barely contained curiosity lingering in the air.

Joel turned back to you, his gaze locking onto yours, steady and unyielding. “Alright” he murmured, his voice softer now. “What’s it gonna be?”

You exhaled shakily, your cheeks blazing as you forced the word out. “Cowgirl.”

Joel blinked, his grin faltering for just a fraction of a second before it returned, slower this time, a little more dangerous. “Cowgirl, huh?” he drawled, his voice rougher now, lower. “That’s… a solid choice.”

Your face burned hotter as you avoided Joel’s gaze, your fingers fidgeting with the hem of your shorts. You wished the floor would swallow you whole, wished for anything to break the tension thrumming between you. “You said no judgment,” you mumbled, your voice barely audible.

“And I meant it,” Joel said quickly, his tone softening, though the teasing edge in his voice hadn’t fully disappeared. “Matter of fact…” His lips curved into a lazy grin as he leaned back, his arm draped casually across the back of the couch. “Think that’s my favorite too.”

“The question wasn’t for you, Joel,” Tommy teased, shaking his head as he pointed at him. “Why are you always tryna make it about you?”

“This is an open discussion,” Joel shot back smoothly.

You groaned, burying your face in your hands for a brief moment before peeking at him through your fingers. “What do you like about it?” he pressed, his tone dripping with playful curiosity.

“I didn’t realize there were follow-up questions,” you said, your voice dripping with exasperation, though your lips twitched with the beginnings of a smile.

Joel just raised an eyebrow, waiting, his patience maddeningly effective. You sighed, shifting in your seat under the weight of his gaze. “I don’t know,” you said finally, your voice quieter now. “It… feels good. That’s it.”

“Huh,” Joel murmured thoughtfully, leaning forward slightly as if he were considering your words like a philosopher pondering the meaning of life. “What about missionary?”

Your eyes snapped to his, wide with disbelief. “Joel!” you exclaimed, your voice high and mortified.

“What?” he said, completely unbothered, gesturing around the room. “We’re all adults, right? Just a question.”

Tommy groaned, tipping his head back against the couch. “Man, you need a hobby.”

Maria smacked Joel lightly on the arm. “No, he needs to stop.”

You couldn’t help it—you laughed, shaking your head as Joel turned back to you, his grin still firmly in place. “Well?” he asked, ignoring everyone else entirely.

You rolled your eyes but decided to play along. “It’s… fine. With the right person, it's ... nice.”

Joel nodded as if you’d just given the most profound answer. “Fair enough,” he said, his voice thoughtful. “And doggy?”

“Okay!” Maria interrupted, throwing her hands up as she pointed at him. “You. Cold shower. Now.”

Tommy burst out laughing, clutching his stomach as Joel raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright,” he said, though the wicked grin on his face told you he wasn’t remotely sorry.

He turned to you one last time, his voice low enough that only you could hear. “Guess I’ll just have to get your opinion on that one later.”

⋆🌺˚.⋆ꪆৎ.🐚⋆❀˖°

Joel stepped into the room, the towel slung dangerously low on his hips, water still dripping from his hair. A toothbrush hung from the corner of his mouth, and he glanced at you, his eyes crinkling at the edges in amusement.

You were sprawled out on the bed, scrolling mindlessly through your phone, but the moment he entered, the casual atmosphere shifted. The sight of him—damp, shirtless, and so effortlessly masculine—made your stomach flip.

He leaned against the wall for a moment, then started doing pushups against it, the muscles in his back and arms flexing with every movement. “Ninety-nine, one hundred,” he counted, his voice gruff but teasing.

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you. “God, you’re such a man,” you said, emphasizing the word with mock exasperation.

Joel straightened up, spitting the toothpaste into the sink as he grinned. “Sounds like a compliment to me.”

You rolled your eyes. “Put some pants on,” you muttered, trying to focus on your phone again, though the heat rising to your cheeks betrayed you.

“Sure thing,” he said, opening the drawer and pulling out a pair of boxers, which he slung casually over his shoulder like he had all the time in the world.

Then, with an infuriating smirk, he turned toward you. “Cowgirl, huh?”

Your jaw dropped, heat flooding your face. “Joel, stop.”

He shrugged, the smirk never leaving his face. “Just making conversation,” he said with a wink. “Alright, close your eyes.”

“What?” you asked, eyebrows shooting up.

“I’m changin’,” he said simply, tugging at the knot of the towel. “I’ll be naked in like three seconds.”

“Oh my God,” you groaned, slapping a hand over your eyes. “We have a bathroom for a reason.”

“Yeah,” Joel said with a laugh, “but where’s the fun in that?”

You squeezed your eyes shut, but your curiosity got the better of you.

Just a peek, you thought.

You cracked your fingers open just enough to catch a glimpse, and your breath hitched. Joel’s back was tan, the muscles rippling under smooth, sun-kissed skin as he reached into the dresser. The sharp definition of his shoulders tapered into a strong, narrow waist, the dip of his spine leading down to—

Oh. My. God.

The towel fell to the floor, revealing the most perfectly round, firm ass you’d ever seen, framed by powerful thighs that looked as though they could crush steel.

And then you saw his cock.

It hung thick and weighty, the shaft resting against his muscular thigh, even at rest. The skin was tanned like the rest of him, a darker, ruddy hue gracing the head, which was perfectly proportioned and smooth. A faint, darker vein ran along its length, drawing your attention in a way you couldn’t look away from.

The base was framed by a neat patch of dark, coarse hair, blending seamlessly with the faint trail that started at his navel. It was the kind of cock that made your stomach flip, intimidating in its sheer size and girth but undeniably captivating.

Even soft, you couldn’t help but imagine how much bigger, harder it could get, and the thought sent heat rushing through you. You clamped your eyes shut again, your cheeks burning hotter than ever, but the image was burned into your mind now, seared there like a brand you couldn’t shake.

“I’m such a perv,” you thought, your stomach twisting with a mix of embarrassment and something warmer, something far more dangerous.

“All done,” Joel said casually, snapping you out of your spiral.

“Good,” you croaked, your voice barely audible. You risked a glance as he slipped into bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. He turned toward you, his gaze soft and a little too knowing, the corner of his mouth pulling into a lopsided smile.

Gosh, why was he so handsome? The soft lamplight caught the curve of his jaw, the faint flush on his cheeks, the tousled mess of damp hair falling over his forehead.

He smelled like coconut—probably from the hotel body wash—and you felt your stomach twist in ways you didn’t entirely understand.

“Before we go to sleep,” he hummed, his voice low and easy as he propped himself up on one elbow, his head resting on his hand, “truth or truth.”

You laughed, caught off guard. “Joel, I think we’ve had enough of that for one night.”

“Please,” he said, drawing out the word in a way that made it sound so much softer. “Truth or truth,” he repeated, his lips curving upward just enough to betray a hint of nerves behind his teasing tone.

You stared at him, momentarily lost in the way he looked right now—so boyish, so earnest. His pink lips were slightly swollen, his cheeks still a little red, his wet hair falling over his temple in a way that made you want to brush it back.

“Fine,” you murmured, unable to say no when he looked at you like that. “Truth.”

Joel’s grin faltered for the briefest second, the playfulness in his expression dimming as he searched your face.

“Okay,” he said slowly, his voice quieter now, like he was working up the courage. He hesitated, his tongue darting out to wet his lips before his eyes locked on yours, something unguarded and raw in his gaze. “Are you… attracted to me?”

Your heart stuttered, your chest tightening. “What?” you breathed, your eyebrows shooting up as heat rushed to your cheeks.

He shrugged, but the movement was almost self-conscious, like he was trying to play it off even as his eyes stayed steady on you. “It’s a fair question.”

“Joel, I—what are you even talking about?” you stammered, your voice shaky as you tried to process what he’d just asked.

“C’mon,” he said softly, the teasing edge gone now. “Just… tell me. I’m not gonna hold it against you.”

His sincerity threw you off more than the question itself. Joel Miller didn't strike you as the type of guy to be vulnerable like this—wasn’t supposed to ask questions that left your stomach flipping and your heart racing.

But here he was, waiting for an answer, his expression open, his usual confidence tempered with something quieter, something unsure.

You swallowed hard, your pulse pounding in your ears as the air between you seemed to thicken, charged with something unspoken. And for the first time, you didn’t know how to hide.

“You’re a handsome guy,” you shrugged, trying for nonchalance. But the way your voice wavered betrayed you.

Joel tilted his head, his expression unreadable, though there was something sharp, something quietly intent in the way his eyes stayed on yours. “That’s not what I asked,” he murmured, his voice soft but insistent.

Your gaze flicked to him, startled by the shift in his tone. He was watching you so carefully, so thoroughly, like he was trying to decipher every flicker of emotion across your face.

“What?” you said, your breath hitching slightly.

“I said,” he repeated, slower this time, his Southern drawl wrapping around each word like a secret, “are you attracted to me?”

Your heart slammed against your ribs, the words landing heavier than they should have. “I—” you started, then scoffed, shaking your head like it could somehow dispel the heat rushing to your cheeks. “What kind of—who even—”

Joel didn’t interrupt, didn’t move. He just kept looking at you, patient and unyielding, his gaze steady and unrelenting as if he had all the time in the world. And that was worse somehow—because it left you nowhere to hide.

You huffed, breaking under the weight of it, your voice coming out quieter than you meant. “Yeah. Fine. Yes, Joel. I’m attracted to you. Happy?”

He nodded once, the movement slow and deliberate. His eyes softened just enough to make your chest tighten, though his expression remained unreadable. “Good,” he murmured.

You bit your lip, a nervous laugh escaping before you could stop it. “What?” you asked, trying to fill the charged silence. “You needed that for your ego or something?”

Joel shook his head, his lips curving into the faintest smile, though there was something different about it this time. Something shy, almost unsure. “No,” he said quietly. “Just… wanted to know.”

Your heart tripped over itself at the simplicity of his words, and you shifted slightly, your fingers twisting in the hem of your shirt.

The question tumbled out before you could stop it, your voice barely above a whisper. “Are you… attracted to me?”

For a moment, Joel didn’t answer. He just stared at you, the silence stretching unbearably as something flickered across his face—something you couldn’t quite place.

“Yeah,” he said finally, the single syllable carrying enough weight to knock the air from your lungs. His voice was low, gravelly, and sure. “Yeah, I am.”

Your chest tightened as Joel leaned in slightly, his hand braced against the mattress, his movements deliberate yet hesitant. His dark eyes flicked to your lips for the briefest moment before snapping back to meet your gaze.

Joel’s voice broke the silence, low and quiet, almost like he didn’t want to scare the moment away. “Thought it was pretty obvious,” he said, his lips twitching into a soft, self-conscious smile as a quiet laugh escaped him.

The sound made your chest ache, the vulnerability in it catching you off guard. He shifted slightly, leaning back just a fraction as if he was giving you space to breathe.

“Anyways,” he murmured, his tone softening even more, “it’s late. You should get some sleep.”

You blinked, your heart still racing as the tension eased, replaced by something warmer, gentler. Joel’s eyes lingered on you for a beat longer, like he was trying to memorize your face, the curve of your lips, the way the moonlight painted your skin.

⋆🌺˚.⋆ꪆৎ.🐚⋆❀˖°

You lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, the room dark and still except for the soft sound of Joel’s breathing beside you. He was sound asleep, his features softened in a way that almost felt unfair.

His brow, usually furrowed with intensity or mischief, was relaxed. His lips, so often curled into a smirk that drove you crazy, now rested in a slight, peaceful curve. He looked so sweet, so angelic, nothing like the devil he became when he was awake and teasing you mercilessly.

Your eyes lingered on the way his dark lashes fanned against his cheeks, the steady rise and fall of his chest as the light sheet barely covered him. His hair was messy, slightly tousled, the curls resting against his forehead. He looked younger like this—soft, unguarded, and warm.

You sighed softly, your chest tightening as the weight of his earlier admission settled over you. The honesty in his words had left a crack in your defenses, and now, staring at him like this, you couldn’t help but wonder if he realized just how completely he’d unraveled you.

“Fuck,” you muttered under your breath, squeezing your eyes shut as if that would erase the ache in your loin. You shifted under the covers, restless, your body betraying you at every turn. Joel’s antics earlier—the damn lap dance, his relentless teasing, his towel slipping, the dip of his hips, his cock. Jesus, his cock.

You pressed your thighs together, heat blooming between them as the memory of it all replayed in vivid detail. And now, lying here in the dark with him just inches away, asleep and completely unaware of the havoc he’d wreaked on your mind and body, it felt unbearable.

Needy. That’s what you were. Completely, hopelessly needy. And it was all Joel’s fault.

Padding out into the quiet living room, you sank onto the couch, curling your legs beneath you as the cool leather met your skin. The room was dim, illuminated only by the soft glow of your phone as you scrolled aimlessly, searching for a distraction that could ease the tension winding tightly through your chest—and lower. But nothing seemed to work.

You were so caught up in your thoughts that you didn’t hear the soft pad of footsteps until they were right behind you.

“Hey,” Joel’s voice came, low and rough from sleep, and it made your pulse skip. You turned to see him rubbing at his eyes, his hair even messier now, sticking up in disheveled tufts that only added to his boyish charm.

He was barefoot, the hem of his sweatpants riding low on his hips, and his shirt hung lazily over one shoulder, revealing the toned expanse of his chest.

“Can’t sleep?” he asked, his voice softer now as he stepped closer, the faint rasp of sleep still clinging to it.

You swallowed, dropping your phone into your lap as you sighed. “No,” you admitted, your voice quiet. “Sorry for waking you.”

Joel shook his head, plopping down beside you on the couch with a small, tired groan. “You didn’t wake me,” he murmured, though you could tell he was lying. The slight squint of his eyes and the tousled mess of his hair gave him away.

He glanced at the clock on the wall, squinting slightly in the dim light. “It’s 1 a.m.,” he said, his lips curving into that familiar lopsided smile. “You’ve been up this whole time?”

You shrugged, pulling your legs up to your chest. “Just couldn’t fall asleep.”

Joel leaned back against the couch, studying you for a moment. His gaze, still heavy-lidded from sleep, softened as it swept over your face. “Hey,” he said after a beat, his voice lighter now, teasing as he nudged your knee with his hand. “I got an idea.”

You raised an eyebrow, immediately suspicious. “Oh, no. What kind of idea?”

Joel’s grin widened, the kind of mischievous, devil-may-care smile that made your stomach flip in the worst—or maybe the best—way. “One that involves changin’ into your swimsuit,” he said, his voice low and coaxing, his Southern drawl making the suggestion sound almost innocent. Almost.

You blinked, heat rushing to your face. “Joel…”

“Come on,” he said, standing up and holding out his hand. His grin softened, something gentler lurking beneath the teasing. “Trust me. I’ll wait.”

You hesitated, glancing from his outstretched hand to his face, your heart racing for reasons you couldn’t quite name. But there was something in his expression—a quiet steadiness behind the playfulness—that made it impossible to say no.

With a small sigh, you slipped your hand into his, his palm warm and solid against yours. “This better not be one of your bad ideas,” you murmured.

Joel chuckled, tugging you gently to your feet. “Oh, it’s definitely bad,” he drawled, his grin flashing again. “But you’ll love it.”

⋆🌺˚.⋆ꪆৎ.🐚⋆❀˖°

Not long after, you found yourself padding down the resort’s quiet, dimly lit hallway, Joel leading the way with his hand wrapped around yours. His grip was warm and steady, entirely unnecessary but impossibly reassuring. You didn’t dare pull away. The gentle pressure of his fingers against yours sent a thrill up your arm, a sensation you tried—and utterly failed—to ignore.

Joel walked confidently ahead, his bare chest catching the faint glow of the overhead lights. His swim shorts hung low on his hips, his relaxed stride exuding an effortless confidence. Beside him, you felt the cool air against your skin, the bikini you’d hastily thrown on feeling all the more revealing in the stillness of the night.

“Joel, this is insane,” you whispered, glancing nervously over your shoulder. “We’re gonna get in trouble.”

He stopped abruptly, turning to face you with that infuriatingly cocky grin that made your stomach flip. “Hey,” he said, his voice low and warm as he tilted his head, his hair still charmingly messy. “We’re payin’—” He paused, his smirk widening as he corrected himself. “Actually, Tommy’s payin’ a shit ton of money to be here. If we wanna use the pool at 1 a.m., we’re gonna use the damn pool at 1 a.m.”

You sighed, a blend of amusement and exasperation bubbling to the surface as you reluctantly let him pull you along. “This feels like a terrible idea.”

Joel glanced back at you, his grin sharp and teasing under the dim glow of the resort lights. “The best ones always do.” His thumb brushed against your knuckles, a small, almost thoughtless gesture, but one that sent a ripple of warmth up your arm. The air was thick with the scent of salt and hibiscus, the soft rustle of palm fronds above only amplifying the quiet intimacy of the moment.

Joel pushed open the gate to the infinity pool with a soft creak, holding it open as his hand tightened briefly on yours, guiding you through before letting it close behind you with a gentle clang.

And then your breath caught.

The infinity pool stretched out before you, its surface still as glass, shimmering under the silver caress of moonlight. It was a vision of serenity and magic, the water reflecting the stars like liquid silk.

Subtle underwater lights glowed in hues of soft blue and white, their faint ripples casting dancing patterns onto the surrounding tiles.

Beyond the pool’s edge, the dark expanse of the ocean stretched into infinity, its gentle waves blending seamlessly with the star-strewn sky.

The world felt quieter here, as if the night itself had conspired to create this pocket of intimacy, a secret space carved out just for the two of you.

Joel stepped up beside you, his hand slipping from yours at last, leaving behind a fleeting chill you weren’t ready for. “See?” he said, his voice low and reverent, like he didn’t want to disturb the stillness. “Told ya it’s even better at night.”

The pool lights cast a gentle glow across the water, the soft hues of blue and silver rippling over his skin. Shadows played along the strong lines of his shoulders, the curve of his chest, and the defined cut of his back, every movement a study in quiet power.

The faint shimmer of moonlight danced against the tan of his skin, and for a moment, he looked almost otherworldly—like something pulled straight out of your imagination.

Joel took a step into the water, the muscles in his legs flexing as he descended. He turned to you, his smirk fading into something softer, more inviting. “You comin’ in, or what?” His voice was low, coaxing, with an edge of something that sent heat straight to your core.

You swallowed, the warmth rising to your cheeks undeniable as you tried—and failed—not to linger on the way the water lapped at his waist, highlighting every inch of him. “Yeah… yeah, I’m coming,” you murmured, your voice betraying the flutter in your chest.

Joel didn’t move, just stood there in the water, his eyes fixed on you. His gaze was steady, quiet, as though he was waiting for something. The faintest curve of a smile tugged at his lips, and then he extended a hand toward you. “C’mon,” he said softly, the words like a thread pulling you closer. “Water’s perfect.”

You took his hand, his grip warm and steady as he guided you into the pool. The water lapped at your skin, cool and refreshing, sending a soft shiver through you as it rose higher. Joel’s fingers lingered a moment longer than necessary before he let go, and you floated alongside him, both drifting naturally toward the edge of the infinity pool.

Joel leaned forward, resting his forearms on the edge of the pool. His hair, slicked back from the water, caught the faint glow of the underwater lights, droplets clinging to his tanned skin and glinting like tiny jewels.

His expression was unguarded, almost boyish, as he let out a soft sigh. “Shit,” he murmured, his voice carrying the weight of quiet sincerity. “This might be the best trip of my life.”

You turned your head toward him, his words settling warmly in your chest like a flicker of something you didn’t quite want to name. “Me too,” you admitted softly, your voice barely audible over the gentle lapping of the water.

Joel glanced at you then, his gaze lingering a moment too long, his eyes searching yours as if trying to piece together the thoughts you weren’t saying.

“So,” he said finally, breaking the silence, his voice lighter now but laced with something deeper. “Why couldn’t you sleep?”

The question hung in the air, far too close to the truth. Your heart stuttered as you turned your gaze back to the water, the soft glow of the pool lights casting ripples of light across your skin.

How could you possibly admit it? That Joel’s lap dance, his teasing, his cock—all of it—had left you restless, needy, and completely unable to quiet your racing thoughts.

“Not sure,” you murmured, shrugging and avoiding his eyes, your voice quieter than you intended.

Joel’s eyes narrowed slightly, a sly smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Oh, come on,” he said, his voice low and teasing, yet laced with something that sent a shiver down your spine. “Usually, you’re out like a light. Somethin’s on your mind.”

Your heart raced, your defenses crumbling under the weight of his gaze. “I told you,” you muttered, forcing a casual shrug. “I just couldn’t sleep.”

Joel tilted his head, studying you like he was working out a puzzle, his grin turning downright devilish. He leaned in slightly, his elbow braced on the edge of the pool, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. “Shit,” he drawled, his tone equal parts teasing and dangerous. “Baby… are you…” He paused, letting the question linger as his grin widened. “…horny?”

Your breath caught in your throat, your face heating instantly. “Joel!” you hissed, your voice a mixture of indignation and mortification as you swatted at his arm. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

He laughed, low and rich, leaning back just enough to let you breathe but not enough to create distance. His grin was positively wicked, his dark eyes sparkling with amusement. “What?” he said, feigning innocence. “Just tryin’ to help. Look me in the eye and tell me I’m wrong.”

You bit your lip, your gaze darting to his before skittering away again, the tension coiling tighter in your chest. “You’re wrong,” you said, forcing the words out, but your voice wavered, betraying you.

Joel’s grin didn’t falter. If anything, it softened slightly, turning into something warmer, more disarming. “Darlin’,” he said, his tone low and coaxing, “you’re the worst liar I’ve ever met.”

Your eyes darted to his chest—broad and glistening under the soft glow of the pool lights—and lingered for just a second too long. When you realized what you’d done, you quickly looked away, cursing yourself internally.

He chuckled, the sound quieter now, almost fond as he shook his head. “Christ, girly,” he murmured, his voice dipping even lower. “When’s the last time you had sex?”

You groaned, looking away as your cheeks burned. “Joel, I’m not answering that.”

“Oh, you are,” he said, his grin still firmly in place. “C’mon, I’m dyin’ here.”

When you stayed quiet, Joel’s teasing softened just slightly. “Seriously,” he said, his voice more curious now, less playful. “When?”

You sighed, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “Fine. Like… eight months ago.”

Joel froze, his eyes widening as he turned to fully face you. “What?” he choked, the disbelief in his voice almost comical. “Are you serious?”

You nodded, your gaze still fixed on the ocean, but the heat in your cheeks betrayed you. “Yeah.”

Joel ran a hand through his wet hair, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. “Eight months?” he repeated, his voice quieter now. “Shit, darlin’… how have you not lost your mind?”

You let out a small laugh despite yourself, turning to look at him. “It’s not that big of a deal, Joel.”

“Right,” he said, a teasing grin tugging at his lips. “Because you got your little toy.”

Your face burned as you groaned, shooting him a glare. “I regret ever telling you about that.”

Joel chuckled, leaning his elbow on the pool’s edge as he turned to face you fully, his grin widening. “Hey, I’m just sayin’. No shame in it,. Gotta take care of yourself somehow.”

“Joel,” you muttered, pressing your hands to your face. “Please stop.”

He held up his hands, mock surrender in his posture. “Alright, alright, I’ll behave.” A pause, and then, with a tilt of his head, he added, “Seriously, though—why not?”

“Why not what?” you asked, looking at him warily.

Joel shrugged, his tone lighter but edged with genuine curiosity. “Why not just… y’know, find someone? It’s been eight months.” His gaze swept over you, slow and deliberate, his voice softening. “Look at you. You could have anyone you wanted.”

You sighed, your fingers skimming the water’s surface as you avoided his gaze. “Joel, some of us can’t just have casual sex with people.”

“Hey,” he said, his voice dipping lower as his expression shifted, a flicker of something serious passing through his eyes. “What makes you think I can?”

You looked at him, surprised by the sudden change in his tone. “Well… I just assumed.”

Joel leaned back slightly, his lips pressing into a thin line as he shook his head. “I don’t just go sleepin’ around with everyone, you know.”

Your eyes widened, heat rushing to your cheeks. “I didn’t mean it like that,” you said quickly. “I just meant… I don’t know. You seem like you’re more… experienced than me.”

Joel raised an eyebrow, his grin softening into something closer to a smirk. “More experienced?” he repeated, the teasing lilt back in his voice. “What’s that supposed to mean, huh?”

You groaned again, burying your face in your hands. “It means exactly what it sounds like, okay? You’re Joel. You’re… confident and flirty and… you. I figured you’d have had more… practice.”

He laughed, the sound low and warm, and when you peeked at him through your fingers, he was shaking his head, his grin softening even further. “just because I know how to flirt doesn’t mean I’m out here sleepin’ with every pretty face I meet.”

You blinked, caught off guard by his honesty. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” he said, his gaze meeting yours, steady and sincere. “Truth is, I don’t do casual either. Never really been my thing.” He shrugged, his tone lightening again as he added, “Not that I haven’t tried, but… I guess I’m picky.”

“Picky?” you repeated, your lips twitching into a small smile.

“Yeah,” Joel said with a casual shrug, though the faint smirk tugging at his lips betrayed him. “When I was younger, I guess I was more… free, you know? Didn’t think too hard about it. But now…” He trailed off, his gaze dipping briefly before locking back onto yours, a flicker of something deeper in his eyes.

“Now, I gotta have a connection with someone before I…” He smirked, his voice dropping lower as he added, “…rock their world.”

Your laugh burst out before you could stop it, a sound somewhere between amusement and disbelief. “Oh, my God, Joel.”

His grin widened, and he leaned back against the pool’s edge, his arms stretching out to rest along the tiles. “What?” he said, feigning innocence. “Just tellin’ it like it is.”

You shook your head, the laugh still lingering on your lips as you looked at him. “You’re impossible.”

“Nah,” Joel said softly, his tone shifting just enough to catch you off guard. “You’ve got a nice laugh.”

Your smile faltered for a beat, your heart skipping at the sincerity in his voice. “Smooth operator,” you replied, raising an eyebrow at him, trying to keep things light.

Joel shrugged, his grin softening. “I mean it,” he said, his voice quiet but sure, his gaze steady on yours.

You bit your lip without thinking, a nervous habit you’d had forever, and Joel’s gaze flicked down to catch the motion. Something shifted in his expression, his smirk faltering just slightly as his brow furrowed, his voice a low mumble when he finally spoke. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” you asked, your voice softer now, the air between you thick with unspoken tension.

Joel shook his head slightly, his lips twitching into a faint smile, but there was something darker in his eyes, something restrained, like he was fighting an internal battle.

The moment stretched, the sound of the waves crashing below blending with the quiet hum of the night. And then—like the universe had a sense of humor—your bikini top came undone, the tie at the back slipping free.

“Shit,” you gasped, clutching the front of your top against your chest to keep it in place. Your eyes widened as you looked at Joel, your heart hammering for a whole new reason now. “Joel,” you whispered, motioning toward your back. “Can you… can you tie me up?”

His gaze flicked to yours, his lips curving into a slow, wicked grin. “And if I didn’t?” he teased, his voice low and dripping with amusement.

“Joel!” you hissed, glaring at him as your cheeks burned, your grip tightening on the loose fabric against your chest. “I’m serious!”

Joel tilted his head, his smirk growing as he treaded water, the glow from the pool lights casting shadows across his face. “What?” he teased, his voice low and playful. “You never skinny dip before?”

Your jaw dropped at his audacity. “No!” you replied, your voice sharp, though the heat rushing to your cheeks made you feel anything but confident.

“Seriously?” he said, his tone shifting into something bordering on incredulous. He let out a low whistle, shaking his head. “Damn, you haven’t lived, girlie.”

“Joel,” you said again, your voice dropping into something softer, more pleading, but he wasn’t backing down.

“Alright,” he said finally, his voice dipping lower, coaxing now. “Turn around.”

You hesitated, your pulse hammering in your chest, but his gaze held steady, warm yet unrelenting. With a sigh, you did as he asked, your back to him, the ocean stretching out into the night as the breeze brushed against your skin.

The sound of the water rippling around him reached your ears, and then you felt his hands—gentle, careful—as they brushed your back. His fingers worked deftly, the lightest graze of his knuckles against your bare skin making your breath hitch.

“Hold still,” Joel murmured, his voice low and intimate, the warmth of it wrapping around you. He finished tying the knot with ease, but he didn’t step back.

You stayed frozen, facing the endless horizon, when you felt it—the unmistakable weight of his hand settling lightly on your hips, his touch firm but not overbearing. His breath, warm and steady, ghosted against the back of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Joel…” you whispered, your voice barely audible, your heart thundering in your chest.

His grip tightened slightly, grounding you as he leaned in closer, his lips so near that you could feel the faintest brush of them as he spoke. “When,” Joel murmured, his voice low and rough, “was the last time a man made you cum?”

You froze, your breath catching as the question hung in the air, the intimacy of his tone cutting through the quiet night like a blade. Your fingers dug into the edge of the pool, your mind racing as every nerve in your body seemed to ignite at once.

“Joel…” you whispered again, though this time, it wasn’t a protest. It was something softer, needier, like your voice betrayed the thoughts swirling in your head.

He didn’t move, his hand steady on your hips, his fingers pressing just enough to make you hyperaware of every place he touched you. His breath, warm and steady, ghosted over your neck, and you swore the heat of it sank into your skin, making your pulse race.

“I—” you stammered, trying to steady yourself, trying to form words despite the way your heart thundered in your chest. “I told you. Eight months ago was the last time I had sex—”

Joel cut you off, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver down your spine. “I didn’t ask the last time you had sex,” he murmured, his words deliberate, each one like a spark against your already frayed nerves. “I asked when the last time a man made you cum.”

Your breath faltered, your stomach flipping as the weight of his question settled between you. You felt exposed, laid bare in a way you weren’t prepared for. “I…” you started, your voice catching. “I don’t… I don’t remember.”

Joel went still behind you, his grip on your hips tightening ever so slightly as his breath hitched, barely audible. “Shit,” he muttered under his breath, the word low and soft, like it wasn’t meant for you to hear.

You swallowed hard, your chest rising and falling with each shaky breath. The truth was out there now, raw and vulnerable, and you didn’t know what to do with it. Your hands gripped the edge of the pool for balance, the cool water lapping against your skin doing nothing to calm the heat building between you.

“Eight months,” Joel murmured again, his voice tinged with something you couldn’t quite place. His hand shifted slightly, the movement subtle but enough to make your breath hitch.

You could feel him now, the unmistakable press of his body against your back, solid and warm. “And not once…” He trailed off, exhaling sharply before he leaned in closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “…not once did a man know what to do with you?”

“Joel,” you whispered, your voice trembling, his name catching in your throat. It was a plea, though you couldn’t tell if it was for him to stop or to keep going. Every inch of you felt alive, your senses overloaded by the heat of his breath, the weight of his hands, the raw intensity of the moment.

Slowly, Joel turned you around, his hands guiding your movements like he was in complete control. Your gaze locked onto his, and your breath caught at the sight of him.

His hair was tousled, damp from the pool and catching faintly in the light. His eyes burned with something raw, unrelenting, and entirely consuming. He looked angelic, like a man shaped by the heavens but sent to ruin you—and you felt like you were teetering on the edge of insanity just looking at him.

His voice broke through the haze, low and quiet, but laced with an intensity that made your stomach twist. “Were you wet when you went to bed?”

Your heart stopped, your pulse roaring in your ears as his words hung between you, heavy and deliberate. “Joel…” you managed, your voice cracking as your mind scrambled to keep up. “What are you doing?”

“You heard me,” he said, his tone soft but firm, his breath brushing against your cheek as he leaned closer. His fingers lifted to your chin, tilting your face up so you couldn’t look anywhere but at him. His eyes locked onto yours, dark and unwavering, and you felt utterly exposed under his gaze. “Answer me.”

Your breath hitched, your chest rising and falling as the truth clawed its way out of you, unbidden. “Yes,” you whispered, barely audible, but Joel caught it. “I was.”

Joel’s lips quirked into the faintest smirk, but there was something almost tender beneath it, something that made your knees weak. “That so?” he murmured, his thumb brushing along your jaw as he studied your face, his voice dipping lower, rougher. “And you didn’t think to do anything about it?”

Your cheeks burned, the heat of his words and the sheer audacity of the moment leaving you reeling. “I—” you stammered, unable to form a coherent thought, let alone a response.

Joel tsked softly, shaking his head as his gaze lingered on yours. “Darlin’,” he said, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine, “what am I gonna do with you?”

The question wasn’t meant to be answered—it was a statement, a challenge, and it hung in the air between you, thick and charged. His hand stayed on your chin, his thumb brushing softly over your bottom lip, the motion feather-light but enough to make your breath catch.

Your head dropped slightly, the weight of the moment pressing down on you. “We can’t, Joel,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

“Why?” he asked, his tone steady, curious rather than insistent.

You exhaled shakily, searching for the right words. “Because it’ll… it’ll make things weird for the rest of the trip. It’ll ruin the engagement.”

Joel studied you, his thumb pausing on your lip before he let his hand drop, though his gaze never wavered. He nodded slowly, his jaw tightening as he listened. “Alright,” he said softly, his voice gentle. “I hear you.”

His words felt like a lifeline and a loss all at once. Relief mingled with a strange ache in your chest as you dared to glance at him. His expression was unreadable, a mixture of restraint and something deeper that you couldn’t quite name.

“I won’t do anything you don’t want me to,” Joel said simply, his voice low and sure, his words laced with an unspoken promise. He leaned back slightly, giving you space, though his eyes still held yours. “But… I’ll say this much.” His lips curved into a faint, wry smile. “It’s a damn shame you’re goin’ to bed needy every night when I’m right next to ya.”

Your heart stuttered, your body betraying you as his words sent a spark of heat racing through you. You shook your head, trying to push the thoughts away, but the weight of his gaze pinned you in place, making it impossible to ignore the truth simmering between you.

“You’re so sweet,” Joel murmured, his voice low, rough, and laced with something softer, something that made your stomach flip. His hand, still resting lightly on your chin, tilted your face back up, coaxing your eyes to meet his.

You looked at him, your breath hitching as your gaze flicked—just for a moment—to his lips. Joel’s gaze was heavy, dark, and unrelenting, and his voice came low, steady, and utterly devastating. “Did you bring it with you?” he asked.

“What?” you whispered, thrown off by the sudden question.

“Your toy,” he clarified, his eyes locked onto yours like he could see right through you.

Your cheeks burned, and you shook your head quickly. “No,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Joel nodded slowly, his lips curving into a faint, knowing smirk. “So,” he drawled, leaning in just slightly, “you were beside me all wet and needy, huh?”

Your heart stopped, your stomach flipping as his words sank in. “Joel, this is insane,” you murmured, your voice trembling with equal parts disbelief and something darker, something you didn’t want to name.

“You already admitted it,” he said, his voice warm but laced with that maddening edge of confidence. “Didn’t you?”

“Yes,” you breathed, the word falling from your lips before you could stop it.

He nodded again, his gaze never leaving yours, his voice dropping even lower. “So… were you gonna touch yourself?”

“What?” you asked, your eyes widening.

“Were you?” Joel repeated, his tone calm, deliberate, but the weight of his question hung in the air, crackling between you. “With me next to you, asleep? Were you gonna take care of yourself?”

You shook your head quickly, the honesty spilling out before your brain could catch up. “No,” you said, your voice soft, trembling.

Joel tilted his head, his smirk softening into something almost tender, though the heat in his eyes remained. “Poor girl,” he murmured, his tone turning to a low coo that sent shivers down your spine. “No wonder you couldn’t sleep. Just need someone to take care of you, huh?”

He leaned in closer, his hand brushing against your hip as his lips curved into a slow, deliberate smile. “Wonder if I was to touch you right now…” he murmured, his voice rough and quiet, like a secret just for you. “If you’d be ready for me.”

“Joel…” It was as if it was the only word you knew, the only one you could form, and the way you said it—soft, trembling, and utterly breathless—made his expression darken further.

His hand lifted to your chin again, his thumb brushing lightly against your jaw as he whispered, “Can I?”

The question was low, rough, and full of restrained hunger, but there was a softness in his tone, a thread of care that made your chest ache. He wasn’t pushing—he was waiting. And the way he looked at you, the way his gaze held yours, made it clear that you held all the power in this moment.

Your breath hitched, your chest rising and falling as the world seemed to narrow to just the two of you, the ocean, the night, and the question hanging between you like a live wire.

“I don’t know if this is a good idea. What if it… what if it makes things weird?”

“It won’t,” he said simply, his voice low and sure, like he’d already thought through every possibility. “You’re overthinkin’ it. I just wanna help you feel good.”

“It’s not that simple,” you said, shaking your head, though even as the words left your lips, they felt weak, as though you didn’t quite believe them yourself.

“Why can’t it be?” Joel countered, his tone gentle but firm, his eyes searching yours with a steady intensity that made it impossible to look away. “Not everything has to be complicated, darlin’.”

You swallowed hard, your gaze flickering between his eyes and the curve of his lips. “We don’t have to do anything,” he added, his hand lifting to brush a damp strand of hair from your face. “But I can see it in your eyes—you don’t trust men anymore, do you?” His lips quirked into a small, teasing smile, though there was a softness in his voice that made your chest ache. “Let me help restore your faith a little.”

You let out a shaky laugh, though it came out more like a breathless exhale. “What, by making me cum?”

Joel’s smile deepened, his hand resting lightly on your waist as he leaned in, his voice dropping to a murmur. “That what you want?”

Your heart pounded as you stared at him, the heat in his gaze stealing the air from your lungs. “Didn’t you say every woman you sleep with does?” you asked, your words coming out bolder than you felt.

He nodded slowly, his eyes darkening as his thumb brushed along the curve of your hip. “You wanna put it to the test?” he asked, his voice low and rough, the challenge in his tone sending a shiver through you.

The way he was looking at you—like you were the only thing in the world that mattered—made your chest tighten, your resolve crumbling with every second. He looked delicious. You couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but give in.

“Fuck it,” you whispered, the words slipping out before you could stop them. Your hands shot up to grab his face, pulling him toward you, your lips crashing into his.

Joel didn’t hesitate. He kissed you back with a force that left you reeling, his hands immediately finding your waist as he pushed you back against the smooth edge of the infinity pool. The sound of water rushing over the edge was drowned out by the pounding of your heart as you pressed yourself against him, desperate, frantic, consumed.

His hands were rough as they slid along your sides, pulling you closer, grounding you even as everything around you seemed to spin. His lips were warm, insistent, and he tasted faintly of the tequila you’d both shared earlier. It was intoxicating, the way he devoured you, like he couldn’t get enough, like he’d been waiting for this as long as you had.

You gasped against his mouth as his fingers dug into your hips, his body pressing firmly against yours, his heat searing even through the cool water.

“Shit,” he murmured, his voice rough and breathless. His eyes burned into yours, dark and unrelenting. “Gotta taste you.”

The words knocked the air out of you, leaving you blinking at him in stunned silence. Before you could even process what he’d said, Joel’s hands were on you, gripping your thighs as he turned you toward the entrance of the pool. With a firm but careful tug, he lifted you, placing you on the cool stone ledge so your legs dangled over the edge, the water still lapping at your calves.

“Joel,” you breathed, your voice shaky as you propped yourself up on your elbows, watching him with wide eyes.

He stood in the water, the faint glow of the pool lights illuminating the sharp lines of his face and the damp mess of his hair. His gaze never left yours as he pushed his slick hair back, his movements slow and deliberate, like he was savoring the moment. “Lay back,” he urged, his voice low and commanding, yet soft enough to make your pulse stutter.

“What?” Your eyebrows shot up, your heart pounding as your gaze darted between him and the vast openness of the pool deck around you. “Here?!”

“Yes, here,” Joel replied without hesitation, his tone steady but edged with amusement, like he found your disbelief charming. His hands slid up your thighs, gripping them just enough to send another spark of heat through you. “Ain’t no one around, darlin’.”

“Joel,” you hissed, glancing toward the resort, your mind racing. “We’re gonna get arrested.”

He chuckled softly, his grin widening as he leaned in closer, his hands still resting on your thighs. “We won’t. Trust me,” he murmured, his voice dropping lower, almost a purr. “Now, lay back.”

“Fuck,” you groaned, squeezing your eyes shut for a moment before letting out a shaky breath and lowering yourself onto the cool stone. Your head rested against the ledge, the night sky stretching out above you, stars dotting the inky black canvas.

“Good girl,” Joel murmured, his voice softer now, almost reverent. His hands coaxed you down gently, sliding you closer to the edge until your hips hovered just above the water. “Shuffle down a bit. That’s it… just like that.”

Your body moved instinctively, following his instructions even as your mind screamed about the sheer insanity of what was happening. The cool air brushed against your skin, making you shiver, but Joel’s hands—warm, rough, and steady—kept you grounded.

“Relax,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that somehow managed to soothe and ignite you at the same time. “I’ve got you.” Your heart pounded as you swallowed hard, the tension between you crackling like a live wire. Joel’s lips quirked into a faint, teasing grin. “All you gotta do,” he continued, his tone soft and coaxing, “is lay there and look pretty. You’re doin’ just fine.”

You sighed, a mix of nerves and anticipation, as his hands began to move. They slid slowly, deliberately, from your thighs to the thin ties of your bikini at your hips. His fingers worked with maddening precision, untying one side, then the other, the slow drag of the fabric against your skin making your breath hitch.

“Joel…” you started, your voice shaking as the last barrier slipped away, leaving you bare beneath him.

He paused, glancing up at you with a teasing glint in his eye. “Yeah, darlin’?”

“I swear to God,” you hissed, glancing toward the pool deck, “if someone sees us—”

“Shh,” he interrupted, his voice a whisper that carried more weight than it should have. His lips brushed against the inside of your thigh, a soft, deliberate kiss that made your breath catch. “Stop worrying,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, “and let me take care of ya.”

Before you could respond, he hooked both of your legs over his shoulders, his hands gripping your hips to steady you. The cool night air brushed against your bare skin.

“You’re somethin’ else, you know that?” Joel murmured, his voice soft but laced with his signature teasing edge. His gaze swept over you, slow and deliberate, the weight of it making you feel completely exposed in a way that sent heat rushing through you. “All this fussin’, but here you are, lettin’ me do this anyway.”

But then, to your surprise, he didn’t move. His hands rested firmly on your thighs, his gaze locked onto your bare cunt like he was savoring the moment, drawing it out. The pause stretched too long, and suddenly, the self-consciousness crept in. You started to close your legs, your body instinctively pulling inward.

“Don’t you dare,” Joel said sharply, his voice low but firm, and the command in it made your breath hitch.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, your voice uncertain as you pushed yourself up onto your elbows to look at him. The way his gaze burned into you made your stomach twist, the heat in his eyes almost overwhelming.

“Nothing,” Joel said, his voice quieter now, almost reverent. “I just… shit.” His hands tightened on your thighs as he shook his head slightly, his lips twitching into a faint, crooked smile. “I wish you could see yourself, baby. Drippin’ for me.”

Your breath caught, your entire body going still at his words. He hadn’t even properly touched you yet, and the ache between your legs was unbearable. As if he could read your mind, his eyes flicked to back your core, and he chuckled low, rough, and entirely too confident.

“Christ,” he muttered, his voice roughening as he watched you clench around nothing. “Really haven’t been fucked good in a while, huh? Damn shame.”

Your lips parted, ready to scold him for the audacity, but before you could get a single word out, Joel dove in. His mouth was on you, his beard brushing against your thighs, and the sensation sent a jolt of electricity shooting through your entire body.

“Oh my God!” you shrieked, your head falling back against the cool stone as your hands flew to his hair instinctively. The mix of his rough beard and the soft, deliberate way his tongue moved against you was overwhelming, like he knew exactly how to unravel you piece by piece.

Joel hummed against you, the low vibration sending shockwaves through your body as his hands gripped your hips, holding you firmly in place. “Taste even better than I imagined,” he murmured against your skin, his voice rough and muffled, his words brimming with that maddening, casual confidence. It would’ve made you roll your eyes if you weren’t already halfway undone.

Then one of his hands moved, his thumb brushing slow, devastating circles over your clit, and you nearly screamed, your back arching as the pleasure hit you like a tidal wave.

“Baby,” Joel murmured, his voice teasing yet commanding, “you’re gonna get us caught. And then,” he added with a smirk, his lips curving against your skin, “you’re gonna break my streak.”

You gasped, your breath trembling as you gripped the stone ledge for support, every nerve in your body alight. “Joel, you’re so good… shit,” you breathed, your voice faltering as his movements quickened, relentless and precise.

Joel didn’t answer, didn’t stop to tease. He just growled against you, the deep sound reverberating through your core as he devoured you like a starving man who’d been waiting for this moment forever. His lips, his tongue, the rough scrape of his beard—it was too much and not enough all at once.

“Joel, I’m close,” you gasped, your voice trembling as your hands scrambled for something, anything, to anchor yourself, but the smooth stone beneath you offered no reprieve. Your body was suspended in pure sensation, trembling on the edge.

“Shit, baby,” Joel muttered, pulling back for just a second to bite gently at the inside of your thigh, his teeth sending sparks of pain-tinged pleasure racing through you. “That was easy.” And then he was back, relentless and hungry.

Your breath hitched, and all you could do was gasp his name. “Oh… oh, I’m gonna—Joel, I’m gonna cum—fuck!” The words tore from your throat as the pleasure crashed over you, your body trembling violently as waves of heat and release consumed you. Your legs clamped around his head involuntarily, your body overwhelmed as you rode the high, every nerve sparking like wildfire.

Joel didn’t let up. His tongue moved with practiced precision, drawing out every last ounce of pleasure until your body was nothing but sensation. You whimpered, your hands flying to his hair, tugging desperately. “Joel,” you gasped, your voice trembling. “Stop—please, it’s too much.”

Still, his lips lingered, a soft, satisfied hum vibrating against you before he finally pulled back, but not without one last, languid stroke of his tongue that left your entire body trembling.

His eyes, dark and heavy-lidded, fixed on you like you were a masterpiece he wasn’t finished admiring. Slowly, deliberately, he swiped his bottom lip with his thumb, his gaze unwavering as if he were savoring every second of your unraveling.

Then, with a tenderness that felt almost out of place after the intensity of what had just passed, he leaned back in, brushing the lightest, most deliberate kiss against your swollen, sensitive clit. Your body jolted, a shiver rippling through you that made your breath hitch audibly.

“So damn sweet,” Joel murmured, his voice low, husky, and dripping with reverence, like it was a secret only he was privileged to know.

Finally, with a satisfied hum, Joel pulled back, his lips and beard glistening as he pushed himself out of the pool and collapsed beside you on the cool stone. His chest heaved as he caught his breath, a cocky grin spreading across his face as he glanced over at you.

You stared at him, your vision hazy, your body still humming from the aftershocks. He looked insane—angelic, even—his hair damp and tousled, his lips swollen and wet, his grin entirely too pleased with himself.

“Shit,” you murmured, your voice barely a whisper.

Joel propped himself up on one elbow, his grin widening. “How’d I do?” he asked, his tone teasing but laced with genuine pride.

You didn’t answer. Instead, you grabbed his face and pulled him into a kiss, your lips crashing against his as you moaned softly into his mouth, tasting yourself on him. His hand slid to your waist, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss, his thumb brushing over your skin in slow, lazy circles.

After a moment, you broke the kiss, your lips brushing against his as you whispered, “Too good.”

Joel chuckled, his grin widening as you reached for your bikini bottoms, slipping them back on as you tried to gather yourself. You opened your mouth to say something, but a sudden, blinding flashlight beam broke through the tension.

“Hey! Who’s there?” a loud voice yelled, the beam swinging toward you.

Your eyes widened in panic, but Joel just laughed, the sound low and warm as he grabbed your hand. “Shit,” he murmured, his grin turning wicked as he whispered, “Run.”

Before you could protest, Joel was pulling you to your feet, his hand tight around yours as the two of you sprinted away, your laughter bubbling out of you uncontrollably.

The heavy footsteps of the security guard pounded behind you, and Joel’s low chuckle filled your ears as he led you through the resort, ducking around corners and weaving between palm trees.

“You’re insane!” you hissed between gasps of laughter, your hand tightening in his as you glanced back at the guard, who was struggling to keep up.

“You love it!” Joel shot back, his grin wide as he glanced over his shoulder, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

By the time you finally collapsed behind a cluster of bushes, both of you out of breath and laughing, you couldn’t help but think that this might just be the best night of your life.

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capuccinodoll · 17 hours ago

Text

Honey love, dark eyes

♡ Chapter ten ♡

Summary: You open the door to Joel, preparing yourself to hear what he has to say. WC: 9.9k A/N: Helloooooo! Wishing you all happy holidays! I hope your holiday season was wonderful, and that you enjoy reading this part. Be patient <3 I def enjoyed writing it lol Don't forget to follow capuccinodollupdates for notifications! love u all

“I... I know you probably don't wanna see me,” he said, his voice low, almost strained, his eyes dark and heavy with something blue, looking at you with controlled desperation. “But I... I... can we talk? Please?”

Your eyes blinked rapidly, lashes brushing against your skin in quick, involuntary flutters. Joel caught the movement immediately. Of course he did. He noticed everything about you, even now, even after everything. It was obvious he had startled you, but whether that made him feel vindicated or more like an intruder, he couldn’t tell.

The week had been hell. He had been hell. Work was relentless, a grind of demands and decisions that seemed designed to erode what little patience he had left. Coming home wasn’t much better—Sarah’s teenage tolerance for him was wearing thin, and he knew it. Her exasperated sighs, her eyerolls, the way she barely looked up when he walked in the door.

The last time you’d spoken, your voice had been steady, measured, almost clinical, which somehow made it worse. “I think you should go,” you’d said, calm and certain, slicing through the rising heat of his anger like a blade. “I just... I just need some time.”

Anger had only been the surface. Underneath, he was wrecked. Broken in a way that felt unfamiliar, even compared to the times he thought he’d been hurt before. While you spoke, his mind had fixated on Travis—his stupid smirking face, the condescending edge to his voice. It was all Joel could see, all he could hear, drowning out everything else.

He’d slammed the door of his house that day and told himself he was done. He wasn’t going to call, wasn’t going to show up, wasn’t going to see you again. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. He told himself he was done. Done with you, done with all of it.

You won’t see her again. You don’t want to see her again. The resolve felt like armor at first, solid and impenetrable. But later, as he sat in the dark of his room, it hollowed out, echoing back every memory of you he couldn’t seem to let go of.

And now here he was, standing in front of you, stripped of any armor he thought he had. He told himself he looked calm, his posture straight, his face neutral. But his hands betrayed him, fidgeting with the edge of his shirt, his fingers curling and uncurling like they didn’t know what else to do.

“Joel,” you said finally, and it wasn’t anger in your voice. He heard that right away, though what it was instead, he couldn’t quite name. “Need somethin'?”

The coldness of your tone startled him more than he wanted to admit. Not anger. Indifference. He recognized it only because it was unfamiliar coming from you.

“Yeah,” he said, too quickly, the word tumbling out before he had time to second-guess it. “Yes. I... I need to talk to you. Please, can we talk?”

“What do you wanna talk about?”

Your question was measured, but it wasn’t an invitation. He felt his lips twitch into an awkward half-smile, the kind you used to find endearing in its clumsiness. Now it only seemed to widen the space between you. You both knew the answer; you were just making him say it.

“About everything,” he said, stepping closer without thinking. The movement was automatic, but the way you took a step back wasn’t. It hit him like a sudden ache, sharp and lingering. “My birthday. What happened after. Travis. Everything I said to you, everything I did.”

“I don’t wanna fight, Joel.”

“Neither do I,” he said quickly, his voice soft. “I ain't here to fight. I swear. Please, just... give me a minute. If you don’t wanna hear me after this, I’ll—” He hesitated, his throat tight. “I’ll respect that.”

Your head tilted slightly, a small, almost imperceptible motion. “You’ll leave me alone?”

The words landed hard. He felt it, like a stone dropping into his chest.

“If that’s what you want,” he said finally, his voice quieter now, his gaze locked on yours. “If that’s what you really want, then yeah. I’ll leave you alone.”

You shifted to the side, a subtle movement that opened a narrow space between your body and the doorframe. Joel hesitated for just a moment before stepping through, his eyes flicking to your face as his arm brushed lightly against yours. The contact was fleeting, accidental, but it sent a strange charge through him that he couldn’t quite ignore.

As he walked past, he inhaled deeply, letting the scent of your home wash over him. It was grounding, like stepping into a memory he hadn’t realized he was carrying. The air was thick with the comforting notes he associated with you—freshly brewed coffee mingled with the faint, clean sweetness of the textile spray you spritzed religiously on the couch cushions. Beneath that lingered the softer, subtler scents: the warm floral of your fabric softener, the trace of your favorite perfume still clinging to your skin, and something else he couldn’t quite name but had always recognized as distinctly you.

It was the same scent that used to cling to his shirt after one of your hugs, when his nose would inevitably dip into the curve of your neck without thinking. The thought of it now hit him like a whisper of nostalgia, equal parts tender and bittersweet.

Joel’s gaze swept the living room as he entered, and he paused, taking in the familiar organized chaos. Two mugs, each half-full, sat abandoned on the coffee table. Next to them lay the crinkled remnants of half-finished snacks. Soft blankets were strewn across the couch, their folds still marked with the shapes of bodies that had recently lounged there. Two candles flickered on the mantel, filling the air with the warm, tropical scent of coconut and vanilla. On the floor, two pairs of slippers rested haphazardly, as if their owners had kicked them off mid-laughter.

The first pair was purple, dotted with little blue hearts—Cassie’s, he assumed. The other pair he recognized instantly. The white pom-pom slippers, soft and well-loved, and he could still picture the Christmas he’d given them to you. You’d hurt your foot a week earlier, and he’d insisted you needed something sturdy to wear around the house. At the time, you’d rolled your eyes at the practicality of the gift but had smiled when you slipped them on anyway. After that, he gave you his other gift: the complete box set of Nightmare on Elm Street.

Now, seeing them here, Joel felt a tightness in his chest, a painful warmth that spread through him as he took in the scene. This mess, this lived-in disarray, was evidence of you. Evidence of life. And he missed it.

For weeks now, his own home had been the opposite—too quiet, too clean. No lingering smells of scented candles, no forgotten mugs on the table. Sarah had been retreating to her room more and more, and the spaces she used to fill with her presence now felt hollow. The house smelled of little more than coffee, and the silence stretched long and thin, oppressive in its stillness.

“Have a seat,” you said, your voice cutting through his thoughts. “Want some coffee? Cassie made a pot before she left.”

Joel didn’t want a tidy house. He didn’t want a quiet living room. He didn’t want the emptiness that had taken root in his home.

He wanted noise. He wanted laughter echoing through the halls, the kind that erupted out of nowhere and carried long after the joke had ended. He wanted his living room cluttered with the evidence of conversations and evenings spent together. He wanted his house to smell like candles, fresh bread from the oven—burnt edges and all—and your perfume lingering in the air. He wanted the warmth of Sarah and Tommy and you, all of you there together, filling the house with life again.

“Sure,” he replied, watching as you moved past him toward the kitchen. His eyes followed the curve of your shoulder, the way the light caught in your hair, until you disappeared through the door.

He sat down on the couch, his hands resting on his thighs as his gaze landed on the coffee table. A book lay there, its spine tilted just enough for him to read the title: Jane Eyre. His fingers reached for it instinctively, brushing over the cover as memories flickered to life. Two years ago, you had insisted he watch the movie with you. He’d been indifferent at first, grumbling about how slow it was, but by the end, he’d found himself blinking furiously, swiping at the tears that kept slipping past his guard. You and Sarah hadn’t let him live it down, teasing him gently once the lights came back on.

A quiet laugh nearly escaped him at the memory, but it faded as you reappeared, two mugs balanced carefully in your hands. You set them down on the table and took the seat across from him.

Joel reached for his mug immediately, grateful for something to do with his hands. He lifted it to his lips, the warmth spreading through his palms as he took a sip. The coffee was strong and slightly sweet, the taste familiar and comforting. But as he lowered the cup, he couldn’t stop his eyes from drifting back to you, watching as you settled in place.

You sat next to him, the cushion between you a quiet, unspoken boundary neither of you seemed willing to cross. Your arms rested on your lap, fingers absently tracing patterns on your knee, while your eyes fixed on him—watching, waiting. He wasn’t looking at you, not yet. His gaze was locked on the mug in his hands, the coffee inside long forgotten, as if it were the only thing keeping him tethered to this conversation.

The silence stretched, uncomfortable and taut, until finally, he broke it.

“I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout what to say to you,” he began, his voice steady but low. He didn’t look up, still focused on the mug. “How to say it, what order to put it in so I wouldn’t just… trip over myself and make it worse.”

You said nothing, your eyes trailing across his profile, noting the tension in his jaw, the slight furrow between his brows.

“And even after all that thinkin', there doesn’t seem to be an ideal way to do this,” he continued, his fingers tightening around the ceramic. “But I think… I think the first thing I gotta say is that I’m sorry.” He paused, swallowed, then lifted his eyes to yours. They were heavy with something raw. “I’m so sorry. For everything.”

Your chest tightened, but you forced yourself to hold his gaze, refusing to give him an inch.

“What’s everything?”

You already knew. Of course, you knew. But you needed him to say it, needed to hear the words from his mouth.

He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “For not being enough. For not living up to what you needed. For being a coward.” His voice cracked slightly, but he pressed on. “I’ve been afraid—terrified, actually—and I hate myself for it.”

Your tone was sharper than you intended. “Afraid of what?”

“Of making a mistake. Of ruining things.” His gaze dropped back to his hands, his lower lip trembling in a way that made something inside you twist painfully.

“You already ruined things, Joel. You already blew it.”

At that, he looked up, his face pale, his expression something close to stricken.

“I know,” he admitted, the words barely above a whisper. “I know I did. But… I was hurt.”

You let out a humorless laugh, shaking your head. “You were hurt?”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice rising just a touch, a hint of frustration there. “Last time we talked, at my place, we said things… things that stuck in my head and twisted ‘round ��til I couldn’t think straight. And then Travis—he blindsided me. He said things I wasn’t ready to hear, and before I knew it, I was just… angry. Angry and too stubborn to think if any of it even made sense.”

“You could have asked me about it,” you said, leaning forward slightly, your voice tight with restrained anger. “It would have been that simple. All you had to do was ask.”

Joel shook his head, running a hand through his hair, his frustration palpable.

“You say it like it’s easy. Like it’s that black and white. But it wasn’t. I couldn’t think straight. My head was full of these awful, painful thoughts, and I didn’t know if I could face the answer. I didn’t know if I wanted to face it. What if you told me it was true?”

“What if I told you it was true?” you repeated, incredulous, your voice sharp enough to make him flinch. “Joel, it’s me. Not some stranger off the street. It’s me. Why is it so fucking hard for you to talk to me?”

“'Cause it’s you!” he said, his voice breaking slightly as he finally set the mug down, turning fully toward you. “You’re not just anyone, don’t you get that? You’ve never been just anyone. You’re you, and that’s why it scared me so much. That’s why it’s always scared me.”

You stared at him, your hand brushing against your neck as you tried to process his words.

“What does that even mean?” you asked, your voice quiet but loaded with frustration. “I’m me, but you treat me like I’m a stranger. You accuse me of things I would never do. How does that make sense?”

“It doesn't make sense, I know,” he said, his voice soft now, filled with remorse. “I know, and I’m sorry. I should have—”

You cut him off, leaning closer, your tone sharp and unforgiving.

“I talked to Travis, Joel. He told me everything. He told me what he said to you—that he implied we’d slept together that night.” Your voice faltered for a moment, but you steadied it. “And it was a lie. He lied to you. And you didn’t even stop to think. You didn’t come to me. You just believed him.”

“I know,” he said again, his voice a little stronger this time, though his eyes dropped to the floor. “I know it was a lie. I know that now.”

Your brow furrowed in confusion, anger bubbling just beneath the surface. “How?”

He met your eyes, and for the first time that evening, there was something solid in his expression, something that felt like conviction.

“Travis confessed to me. Earlier today.”

You blinked, stunned, the words hitting you like a physical blow.

“What?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “What are you talking about?”

“He came to my house this morning.” He paused, glancing at his hands like they might steady him. “When I saw him, I wanted to beat him to a pulp. I thought about it—what it’d feel like, what it’d fix. But he looked… pathetic. Like a wet dog. And I don’t know why, but I listened to him.” He exhaled sharply, his fingers curling into a fist on his thigh. “He confessed everything. Said it was all a lie. That he was angry that night, that he wanted to hurt me, hurt you, us. And that he was sorry.”

That morning, before Joel had even finished his first cup of coffee, the doorbell rang. He wasn’t expecting anyone, least of all Travis, who stood on the porch looking like he’d rehearsed this moment a dozen times but still wasn’t ready. There was a tension to his posture—hands shoved in his pockets, shoulders squared but uneven, like he couldn’t decide between defiance and regret.

Joel opened the door without a word, his eyes narrowing slightly, the kind of look that made most people hesitate. But Travis didn’t flinch. He cleared his throat, glanced briefly over Joel’s shoulder as though confirming they were alone, and began. His confession was brief but clear.

Joel stood in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, his silence heavy and deliberate. Anger started to build in him, slow and deliberate, like water simmering in a pot. If he’d been alone, he might’ve said something sharp or done something rash—just enough to make Travis rethink ever stepping foot here again. But Sarah was at the dining table, half-hidden behind a glass of orange juice, listening to every word. It was too early in the day for things to escalate, and besides, Joel knew better.

“I don’t know you, Joel,” he said, voice low but firm. He kept his gaze on Joel, unblinking, but his body angled slightly away, as if ready to retreat if things got ugly. “And I don’t claim to know the whole story between you two. Don’t know all the details, don’t pretend to.” He exhaled sharply, a trace of frustration slipping through. “But I know enough to say this—she doesn’t deserve what you’ve done to her. Not a damn bit of it.”

Joel’s expression darkened, his jaw tightening, but he stayed silent, his arms crossed in front of him like a barrier.

Travis shifted again, this time squaring his shoulders, his voice growing firmer.

“Whether you deserve her or not... that ain’t my call to make.” He shook his head, almost as if he pitied Joel. “But, just be enough. Stop lookin’ for ways to screw it up. Fix it. Make it right.”

The last words hung in the air, sharp and unforgiving. Travis glanced back at Joel one final time before stepping off the porch, his body already half-turned away, as if to signal the conversation was over.

Joel’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing. He stayed there, rooted to the spot, as Travis turned and walked away without looking back. When the door finally closed, Joel exhaled slowly, dragging a hand through his hair before heading back to the kitchen.

Sarah was seated at the table, her cereal soggy in its bowl, her chin propped up on one hand as she watched him. Her expression was impossible to read at first—calm, maybe even detached—but there was a flicker of curiosity in her eyes, the kind that always made Joel brace himself.

He dropped into the chair across from her, rubbing a hand across his face.

“So,” she began, her voice light but measured, “are you gonna tell me what that was about, or should I start guessing? Because I can go wild with it if you want.”

Joel looked at her, his mouth twitching into the beginnings of a smile despite himself. “You don’t need to guess anything, Sarah. Eat your breakfast.”

She raised an eyebrow, letting the silence hang for a beat. Then she switched tactics.

"You have the afternoon off today, don't you?”

"Yeah."

“Can I spend the afternoon with Irina?” she asked then, her tone casual, like the question had been waiting for its moment to pounce.

Joel eyed her suspiciously, leaning back in his chair. “Why do I get the feeling this is part of a larger plan?”

“Because it is,” Sarah said brightly, sitting up straighter. “But also because you’re smart, and I’m obviously your favorite child, so you’re always on high alert.”

Joel snorted. “You’re my only child.”

“Exactly,” she said, pointing at him with her spoon. “See how much you have to lose if you say no?”

“Fine,” Joel said, shaking his head. “But be home for dinner.”

“Can I stay over?” she asked immediately, her tone hopeful but strategic, like she was carefully laying pieces on a chessboard.

“Sarah—”

“Tomorrow’s saturday,” she interrupted, grinning now. “And besides, you could use some alone time. Don’t you think? You know, kick back, put your feet up, maybe even watch a movie. Something fun, preferably. You’ve been way too broody lately—it’s not good for your skin.”

Joel raised an eyebrow. “My skin is fine, thank you very much.”

“I’m just saying,” she said, widening her eyes for emphasis. “Take a self-care moment. Relax. Settle your affairs. And let’s be honest—at some point, you’re gonna have to get used to me bein’ gone. In a few years, I’ll be outta the house anyway. Might as well start now.”

Joel chuckled low in his chest, shaking his head. “You’re thirteen, sweetheart. You’re not leavin’ anytime soon.”

“Thirteen and a half,” she corrected. “Which means I’m practically halfway to twenty. Time flies, man. Better get used to it.”

He shook his head, a smile breaking through despite his best efforts.

Joel shook his head, letting out a quiet chuckle. “ Come back for dinner,” he said firmly. “And finish your breakfast, smartass. We’re running late.”

Relief fluttered through you, but it didn’t stay long enough to root itself. Instead, anger rose, sharp and unyielding, burning through your chest like fire.

“So that’s why you’re here,” you said, your voice cutting through the air between you. “Because Travis decided to clear his conscience? What if he hadn’t? What then, Joel? Would you have hated me for the rest of your life without even asking me about it?”

“No,” he said quickly, his posture straightening as if bracing for impact. “Of course not. I wanted to come and talk to you before—”

“How can I be sure of that?” you interrupted, leaning forward slightly, your voice cold and unwavering.

His face shifted, his desperation barely masked. His eyes moved over your features, searching for something—an opening, a shred of forgiveness, anything to grasp onto. It was the look of someone teetering on the edge of losing what mattered most. And seeing him like that, so vulnerable and raw, sent a sharp pang through your chest.

But you didn’t move. You didn’t let him off that easily.

Joel sighed heavily, the sound thick with frustration and resignation. He looked back down at his hands, his shoulders sagging as though the weight of the conversation was pressing him into the couch. For a long moment, he didn’t speak. You watched him wrestle with his thoughts, his jaw tightening and loosening, his fingers twitching slightly.

Finally, he opened his mouth, but no words came. He shut it again, his brow furrowing, his expression pained. He looked like he was trying to pull something out of himself that refused to surface. Then, with a deep breath, he ran a hand over his forehead, his fingers brushing through his hair before he finally lifted his gaze to meet yours again.

His cheeks were flushed, the color spreading to his neck, and when he spoke, his voice was quieter but startlingly clear.

“You could do the worst atrocities in the world to me, and I’d still come crawling back to you,” he said, his words landing heavily in the space between you.

You blinked, stunned, your anger momentarily eclipsed by his confession.

“I’d take it all,” he continued, his voice steady despite the emotion rippling just beneath the surface. “Every insult, every blow. At first, I’d probably bark back—like some angry dog—but it wouldn’t matter. I’d still come back to you. Over and over again. Until you decided I wasn’t worth the effort anymore. And even then…” His voice faltered slightly, his eyes darkening as he leaned closer to you. “Even then, I’d wait. I’d wait for you like some stupid, loyal, domesticated animal.”

His hand fell lightly onto your knee, the weight of it grounding and electric all at once. His face was closer now, the warmth of his breath brushing against your skin.

You stared at him, speechless, his words circling in your mind, unfamiliar and disarming. You had never heard him talk like this before, never heard him articulate his feelings with such painful honesty.

Confusion flickered across your face, your brows knitting together as you tried to process what he’d said. But before you could respond, Joel pulled his hand back, his movements slow and deliberate, as though he was reluctant to let go.

He sat back, his hand running along his jawline, his thumb brushing against his stubble in an attempt to soothe himself. His eyes shifted away from you, staring somewhere into the distance as he collected himself.

When he finally spoke again, his voice was quieter, almost hesitant, but still carrying the weight of everything he hadn’t said yet. His eyes stayed fixed on some invisible point in front of him, his expression thoughtful and distant.

“I’m a lucky man,” he said, the corners of his mouth twitching in a small, almost imperceptible smile. “Though for a long time, I thought life had it out for me.”

The confession lingered in the room for a moment before he continued, his voice lower now, almost as if he were speaking more to himself than to you.

“When I was a teenager, I had all these goals, y'know? Dreams that seemed so big and endless back then. And then every single one of 'em became impossible the moment Amelia told me she was pregnant.” He laughed softly, though it wasn’t a happy sound. It carried the weight of years gone by, of opportunities lost. “It took me a while to make peace with that. To accept that everything I thought my life would be was just… gone. My responsibilities changed overnight, and I wasn’t ready. Not even close.”

You stayed quiet, your gaze fixed on him as he spoke, unwilling to break the flow of his words.

“It was hard,” he admitted, his hand rubbing the back of his neck, a gesture of discomfort. “Harder than I could’ve imagined. But then Sarah was born.” His voice softened when he said her name, a reverence in the way he spoke of her. “And everything changed. Suddenly, none of it mattered anymore—not the dreams I lost, not the plans I’d made. Because I had her. She was all I needed to be happy, even when everything else felt like it was falling apart.”

There was a pause, a stillness that filled the space as he collected his thoughts. His hands, resting on his knees, clasped together tightly, his knuckles turning white.

“And then Amelia left,” he said, his voice dropping lower, his jaw tightening as though the memory itself was still too sharp. “When she walked away, I thought I wouldn’t survive it. I wanted to die. The only thing that kept me going was Sarah. She was my strength, my reason to keep breathing. And Tommy,” he added with a faint smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes, “even if he gave me more headaches than I could count.”

His voice cracked slightly, and he cleared his throat, his gaze dropping to the floor. “Those years were… suffocating. I was drowning, trying to stay afloat for Sarah’s sake. I worked every hour I could, even when it wasn’t enough. And I tried so damn hard to keep her from noticing. She was just a baby, too little to understand, but I noticed. I noticed every empty space, every moment we didn’t have what we should’ve.”

Joel paused, his fingers fiddling with an invisible thread on his jeans, his voice turning steadier as he continued.

“Everything I did was for her,” he said, his tone resolute. “Everything I still do is for her. I didn’t care if I wore the same worn-out shoes for years, as long as she had everything she needed. I didn’t care about working overtime, as long as she had a good christmas, with all the things she’d ever dreamed of.”

A soft smile crept onto his face, faint but genuine. “And then things got better. I started making more money. I was able to move us into a nicer place, give her her own room with everything she wanted—books, toys, a million stuffed animals. Seeing her happy was all I needed. Nothing else mattered. My own dreams, my own goals—they didn’t even exist anymore. I didn’t have room for them. All I cared about was her.”

He exhaled shakily, his hands now clenched together, his shoulders slightly hunched as if carrying a weight he hadn’t quite managed to set down.

For a moment, you couldn’t speak. His words settled into you, heavy and aching. Your throat tightened, and your vision blurred with unshed tears. You knew Joel was a good father—better than most. But hearing him lay it bare like this, recounting the sacrifices he made and the pain he endured, broke something inside you.

He looked down, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant.

“I had no desires of my own,” he admitted, his words halting, “until I met you.”

Your breath hitched at his confession, your gaze dropping to your hands, folded tightly in your lap.

Joel shifted in his seat, his eyes finally lifting to meet yours. He was waiting, searching your face for a reaction. When you finally looked up, your vision blurred, a single tear slipping down your cheek.

“And then you moved in next to me,” he said softly, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “And I became the luckiest man in the world. Because that night, on your birthday, I saw it. I felt it, clear as day, in your eyes.” His voice wavered slightly. “Did you feel it too?”

You nodded, your voice barely above a whisper. “Yes.”

Joel’s gaze flickered between yours, searching, probing for even the faintest shadow of doubt. But he found none. Your answer had left no room for uncertainty, and the truth of it settled visibly in his chest. For a moment, his eyes dropped to his hands, fidgeting restlessly in his lap. The reprieve was brief; his gaze snapped back to yours almost immediately, as if afraid to lose the fragile connection.

“You took me completely by surprise,” he began, his voice low and unsteady. “I had this quiet, organized life. Everything was in its place, everything predictable. And then you came along, and suddenly I was thinking about futures I’d never allowed myself to imagine before. Futures where my purpose wasn’t just being a dad, where there was… more.”

His lips pressed together, and he glanced past your shoulder, unable to hold your gaze for long under the weight of his admission. “I tried to act on it. I wanted to. I told myself I’d tell you how I felt, ask you out properly, but I was terrified. You were such an easy part of our lives, mine and Sarah’s, that the idea of risking that, of losing you…” He clicked his tongue, shaking his head as though frustrated with himself. “I couldn’t bear it. I couldn’t.”

His eyes returned to you, a mixture of resignation and determination clouding their depths. “So I swallowed it all. All these years, I’ve done everything I could to be the friend you deserved. To not let my feelings interfere. But if I’m being honest…” He paused, his jaw tightening as though bracing for impact. “I’d take anything from you. I’d come back to you every fucking time, no matter what. Because the thought of living without you—” He stopped abruptly, his voice catching in his throat.

Joel exhaled sharply, attempting to recover, and then a faint, self-deprecating humor colored his expression.

“I know how pathetic I sound right now,” he said, his voice lighter but no less sincere. “I don’t care.”

“Yeah, Joel, that’s pretty damn pathetic,” you replied, your lips curving into a soft, fleeting smile. There wasn’t much humor in it, but it was enough to ease some of the tension between you.

Joel chuckled faintly, shaking his head as though chastising himself. He glanced down at the floor, his shoulders sagging slightly.

“I know,” he murmured, almost to himself. “I’ve been feeling pretty pathetic lately.”

“Me too,” you admitted quietly, your voice tinged with an exhaustion that mirrored his.

Silence stretched between you, not awkward but weighted. Joel’s hands stilled, resting loosely against his knees, though you could tell he was still grappling with everything he’d laid bare. You studied him in that moment—every slight movement, every shift in his expression—trying to parse the tangle of thoughts in your own mind.

For Joel, the quiet was a reminder of how vulnerable he’d been. He could feel a knot tightening in his stomach, a lump rising in his throat that he fought to suppress. The fear of baring himself so fully gnawed at him, but it didn’t terrify him as much as losing you did.

“I don’t regret that night,” he said finally, breaking the silence. His voice was steady, though his eyes remained fixed on the floor. “But I hate how it happened. I hate that our first night together came out of a fight. A fight where I was…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “Terrible to you. That’s not how it should have been.”

“Oh, God. Stop that,” you cut in sharply, your tone carrying the faintest edge of irritation. You leaned forward, placing your hand firmly on his knee. “I’m tired of hearing you say the same thing over and over. Things are the way they are. Nothing more.”

His head snapped toward you, his brows knitting together in confusion and disbelief. His lips parted, as if he wanted to argue, but no words came immediately.

“I get it, okay?” he said eventually, his voice quieter but no less intense. “But I fucking blew it. Look where we are now. Years of keeping my feelings bottled up—for what?”

You shook your head and pulled your hand away from his knee, covering your face as frustration bubbled to the surface. Your eyes burned with unshed tears, your cheeks felt hot, and bitterness churned in your chest.

“Why are you so uncomfortable with the idea of being more than my friend?” you asked, your voice trembling, broken and laced with helplessness. “If we had never argued, we never would have slept together, and then what? You would have spent your whole life being just that—my friend?”

Joel’s face contorted, a mix of anguish and confusion. “It’s not that, I... I...” He faltered, his words tumbling over themselves as his gaze flickered between his hands and your face, desperate to find the right thing to say. “Relationships are complicated, you know that. No matter how hard you try, sometimes things just... break. Feelings get messy, people hurt each other, and then it’s over. And after that? You’re left with the wreckage, picking up the pieces, trying to put them back together, and... starting over. And I want to be wi—”

“I’m not Amelia!”

Your voice cut through the room like a whip, sharp and unrelenting. Joel froze. His body went still, his eyes wide as he watched you rise from your seat, your palms pressing against your face to catch the tears that spilled freely now. A sob broke through your chest, raw and guttural, shaking your whole body.

Joel stood abruptly, closing the space between you with long, purposeful strides. He reached out, his large hands settling gently on your shoulders, trying to ground you, to pull you closer to him. But you resisted, your body tense and unyielding beneath his touch.

You dragged your hands down from your face, revealing tear-streaked cheeks and an expression so pained that Joel felt an ache bloom in his chest. He swallowed hard, his throat tight, as he took in the sight of you.

“Why do you have to make everything harder?” you said, your voice cracking under the weight of desperation. Your words fell between you, sharp and piercing. “I know what happened to you was horrible, Joel. I know. I can’t imagine how alone you must have felt. It hurts—God, it hurts—to think of you going through that. I wish I could go back in time and change it, spare you all that suffering, but I can’t.”

Your voice broke again, and you shook your head, gripping his arms tightly as if trying to anchor yourself. “I can’t change it, and neither can you.”

“I know, baby,” Joel said softly, his voice almost breaking. “I don’t—”

“No!” you interrupted, your hands squeezing his arms harder. “You know nothing! You don’t listen to me. You’re scared—this, us, it terrifies you because it makes you feel weak and vulnerable, and you hate that. I know you do, because I know you. I know you like the back of my hand, just like I know myself."

Your voice rose, thick with emotion, trembling but unwavering. “You’ve spent years building everything you have, brick by brick, because you know how fragile it all is. You know how quickly it can fall apart. And yes, it’s true—that’s life. That’s how it works.”

Joel tried to interrupt, but you pressed on, your words pouring out like a dam had broken. “But I’m not Amelia, Joel. I’m not going to leave when things get hard. I’m not going to disappear. Just look at me—look at me right now. This has been hell since your birthday, absolute hell, and yet I’m still here. I’m standing in front of you, listening to you, when maybe—probably—you don’t even fucking deserve it.”

Joel’s breath hitched, and his hands slipped from your shoulders to your elbows, holding onto you as if afraid you might disappear. His eyes glistened, his lips slightly parted as he took in your words. For a moment, the room was silent except for the uneven sounds of your breathing.

“I know,” Joel said abruptly, his words choking out in a way that made his chest tighten, like he was barely able to get them out at all. “I’ve been a coward all this time, but—”

“Don’t. Don’t tell me the same thing again,” you cut him off, shaking your head in frustration, taking a small step back, your space suddenly feeling more necessary than ever. “Yeah, real—”

“Can you stop interrupting me and just listen?” he snapped, his voice sharp, the calm restraint in it fraying just a little as he stepped closer, his hands landing gently on your shoulders, grounding himself in the movement.

He stared down at your feet, his gaze lingering there, not meeting your eyes, the words heavy in the space between you. In that moment, he felt desperate, like the situation was slipping through his fingers again, but somehow, there was a strange sense of vulnerability in his posture, like he was standing on the edge of a cliff with nowhere to go but forward.

His hands fell away from your shoulders, but he didn’t move, his eyes finally lifting to meet yours, his gaze unwavering and intense. It felt like there were a thousand unsaid things in the air, and still, he said nothing for a long beat, his mouth opening, then closing again as if he couldn’t quite gather the words.

“Everything you said is true,” he started, his voice quieter now, but carrying a weight in it that felt both final and irreversible. “And everything I told you is true. And I don’t care, not anymore. I’m done with it.” He moved his hand across the space between you, as though trying to sweep away the past, drawing an invisible line through the tension that had hung over both of you for too long.

You let out a slow breath, the question hanging in the air before you could voice it. “And what does that even mean?”

“It means that I want you, that I love you,” Joel started, his voice breaking slightly on the words, the confession so raw it felt like it was tearing him open from the inside. “That I need you. That I can’t… I can't help but resent a life without you.” He took a shuddering breath, his eyes burning, not quite able to meet yours. “I always thought I was fine on my own. I’ve been alone most of my life, you know that. I never needed anyone. I never thought I was missing anything, never felt incomplete. I felt perfectly fine alone.” He swallowed hard, his throat tight. His hands, which had been clenched at his sides, were now trembling, fingers curling and uncurling as if trying to hold onto something, anything, to keep himself from shattering.

“And then I met you,” he continued, his voice barely above a whisper, like he was afraid to say the words aloud. “And I realized how empty I’d been. How much I’d been missing. How full I felt when I was with you.” He paused, his face contorting as if the weight of his own words was too much to carry. “And then I screwed up. I messed it all up.” His hands balled into fists at his sides. “And no, I’m not that cold. I’m not some heartless bastard. I need you. I need you more than I’ve ever needed anything. And I can’t—” He stopped, his breath catching in his throat, his chest rising and falling in quick, uneven gasps as he struggled to control the emotion threatening to overwhelm him.

His eyes closed for a moment, as though he could hide from the truth for just a second longer, but when they opened again, they were full of something that felt like desperation. “I can’t live another day knowing you’re just next door, and you’re uncomfortable because of what I did. Because of what I let happen. Because of how I failed you.” His voice cracked on the last word, and it was like a knife to your chest, hearing the hurt in him, seeing how much it was tearing him apart to even say it.

“I know I probably don't deserve you,” he whispered, each word like a burden he couldn’t bear. “I know that. And if you decide not to choose me, I’ll understand. I’ll walk away. I’ll stay away. I promise you, I won’t bother you again. But if you… if you just let me, one last time...” He faltered, his voice breaking as he looked at you, his eyes dark with pain and regret. “If you let me prove to you, show you, how much I love you... the way you deserve to be loved, if you let me do it for the first time...” He shook his head, his voice catching again, barely a whisper now. “I promise I’ll never disappoint you again. I swear it.”

There was nothing left in his voice now but the ragged edges of a man who had bled himself dry in front of you.

“Joel—” you started, but before you could finish, he cut you off, his voice calm but firm, like a man who had already said too much but was determined to say it all.

“No,” he interrupted, shaking his head slightly. “I’m not finished.” His voice held an edge of something deeper now, like he had reached the point of no return. “You have to understand what I’m telling you. When I told you about Amelia, when I told you how much of a coward I’ve been, when I told you about how you changed my life, when I told you I was afraid—what I meant is, that’s why it cost me so much to do all this. But now? Now, it’s all insignificant. All of it. Compared to this. Compared to you.”

Your breath caught as his words settled in the space between you, and you could feel your eyes widen, your body stiffening with an ache you couldn’t place. You watched him, his expression flickering—his eyebrows tense, his lips parted with an unreadable intensity, his eyes dark and glistening, glossed with the unmistakable trace of tears. Your stomach twisted at the sight of them, the tears there but barely contained, and you realized how long it had been since you had seen him like this. Vulnerable. So impossibly vulnerable.

He leaned in slightly, his hands rising to cradle your face, his thumbs brushing the damp skin of your cheeks, as if he could steady you both with his touch.

“I love you,” he said, his voice steady but thick with emotion. “I always have. From the moment I saw you, I loved everything about you. Everything. The way you are. The sound of your voice. The way your face lights up when you smile. The way you move, the way you think, the way you feel. I want it all, I want it all with you. Please.”

The words hit you like a slow wave, gentle but relentless, and before you could stop them, the tears you had been fighting to keep in check broke free. They streamed down your face, hot and heavy, staining your flushed cheeks. Joel’s hands were gentle as they wiped them away, his touch tender, almost reverent as his calloused fingers traced the outline of your skin. He stared at you, as if trying to read the language of your eyes, but there was something in them he couldn’t name. It wasn’t sadness. It wasn’t anger. It was something similar to doubt. Uncertainty, maybe. Something that he couldn’t fix with a touch or a word, but something that still held him captive.

“I would kneel in front of you,” he said, his voice soft but laden with a kind of desperate affection, “and beg all night if you asked me to, sunshine.”

His words had the air of a joke, but the way his lips curled into a smile—slow and warm—made something inside you tighten. Something inside you broke just a little, and you smiled in return, the gesture pulling at the corners of your mouth. The smile felt unfamiliar, like it had been so long since you had smiled for him. Really smiled, without hesitation. And when you did, the effect on him was immediate, like a light suddenly flicking on in a room that had been dark for far too long.

Joel’s breath caught at the sight of it. He looked at you as though he had been waiting for that exact moment, for that exact smile, for weeks. The smile he had missed more than he could admit.

With a quiet, almost embarrassed chuckle, he pulled his hands from your face, his touch lingering just a moment longer than necessary. You stared at him, confused, as he slowly began to lower himself onto one knee, the movement slow, deliberate, as though he was going to ask something, something monumental and beg. But before he could finish the motion, you instinctively reached for him, hands gripping his sides, pulling him back up with a soft laugh.

“Joel, please,” you laughed, the sound light and disbelieving, as if you couldn’t quite believe what was happening. But in your chest, you felt a soft pressure—the weight of everything he had just said, everything he had just given to you.

Standing before you, Joel didn’t give you a second to pull away, his hands moving with certainty, cupping your face with a tenderness that seemed almost fragile, as if he was afraid of breaking something. His fingers gently traced the contours of your skin, his gaze unwavering, like he was memorizing every detail of your face.

“I fucking love you,” he whispered, his voice rough, the words heavy with an urgency that seemed to echo in the stillness between you. Before you could react, his lips were on yours—soft, tentative at first, like he was testing the waters, and then more sure, more insistent, as he kissed you again, and then again, and again, and again. Each kiss was brief, a fleeting press of his soft lips against yours, but each one held a weight, a quiet desperation that was impossible to ignore.

Your hands rested on his chest, the steady beat of his heart under your palms grounding you in that moment, pulling you closer into the warmth of his embrace. You could feel the tension in him, the way his body seemed to pulse with need, and you knew—without a doubt—that he was hanging on to every second, waiting for you to say something.

"I love you," you whispered, the words slipping out involuntarily, caught somewhere between a confession and a plea. Your lips were mere inches from his as you spoke, your breath mingling with his in the small space between your mouths. As he kissed the corner of your lips, you felt the tremble in his kiss, the way his entire body seemed to respond to the simplicity of those three words.

Joel’s lips curved into a smile against yours, and he pulled back, just enough to watch your face. His eyes searched yours, like he was trying to memorize something invisible, something that only the two of you could understand.

“I love you too, Joel,” you said again, your voice low but steady, your hands gripping the fabric of his shirt like it was the only thing grounding you. “And I’m sorry. Truly. If I hurt you—if anything I did made you feel that way—it was never intentional. I need you to know that. Nothing that happened with Travis was ever about trying to hurt you. I’d never do that.” You paused, your fingers tightening slightly. “But I get it. I shouldn’t have let it get so messy, not after what happened between us.”

Joel tilted his head, his gaze softening even further.

“We handled this a little badly, didn’t we?” he said, his voice edged with a hint of humor, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes dark and bright at the same time, his pupils blown wide like he was looking straight at the moon.

You nodded, the corner of your mouth twitching upward. “I think that’s putting it lightly.”

His smile turned rueful, almost sheepish. “I’m sorry—for all of it. I mean it. Please, forgive me.”

Your hands slid upward, fingers tracing the line of his collar, then moving to the soft skin behind his ears, the place where his hair curled just slightly above his nape.

“I forgive you,” you murmured. “It’s okay. I understand. And I love you.”

You leaned in, brushing your lips against his—just the barest touch—before pulling back again, almost abruptly. Joel didn’t move, his eyes flicking between yours like he was searching for something more in your expression. Your fingers played with the hair at the back of his neck, anchoring you both.

“But if you ever do something like that again,” you said, your voice soft but firm, “if you ever run away from me again, Joel Miller, I swear to fucking God—”

He shook his head quickly, cutting you off. “I won’t. I promise.”

You studied him for a moment, your eyes narrowing slightly, measuring the weight of his words. Then, as if deciding you’d had enough distance, you closed the space between you in one swift motion, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling his mouth back to yours.

This time, there was no hesitation. No shyness. No lingering doubt. Just heat and certainty, the kind that made the room feel smaller, the air heavier. Joel’s arms circled your waist, pulling you flush against him until there wasn’t a millimeter of space left.

When you finally broke the kiss, his lips left yours with a soft, audible sound, one that seemed to echo in the stillness of the room. You hovered for a second before kissing him again, this time opening your mouth, your tongue grazing his bottom lip. He groaned softly, a sound that vibrated from his chest to your mouth, and you smiled against him.

Somewhere in the distance, a shrill sound broke through the haze. His phone. It rang once, then twice, before falling silent again. Joel didn’t so much as flinch.

You pulled back, slightly breathless, your hands cradling the sides of his face. His lips were pink, puffy, his cheeks still flushed. His hair was mussed from your fingers, and his eyes—those impossibly dark eyes—looked at you like you were something sacred.

That man was yours.

“Cassie will be back any second,” you whispered, your fingers brushing through the locks that had fallen over his forehead.

Joel hummed, leaning in to press his lips against your neck, his mustache tickling your skin in a way that made you laugh involuntarily.

“I doubt it,” he murmured, his breath warm against you. “But we could go to my place if you wanna keep talkin'. Sarah won’t be back till dinner.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but his teeth grazed your neck, gentle but deliberate, sending a ripple of warmth through you that stole whatever you were about to say.

“Talk,” you managed, half a laugh, half a protest, as his lips pressed against the spot again, and the world outside the two of you felt very far away.

“I wanna take my time with you,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your skin as he kissed a slow, soft trail up to your jaw. “I wanna do things right, without arguments or interruptions.”

You could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, the weight of his intention, and for a moment, it felt like everything outside of this room was suspended. Time wasn’t rushing forward anymore—it was just the two of you, existing in this space, in this perfect, quiet moment.

But just as the last word left his lips, the ringing of his phone sliced through the air, sharp and unwelcome. Joel froze for a beat, the smile on his face faltering slightly. He pulled away, reluctantly, the distance between you growing just enough for him to glance at the phone screen.

“Convenient,” he muttered, his voice holding a note of dry humor, but the amusement quickly faded as he saw the caller ID. His brow furrowed, and he answered with a steadying breath, bringing the phone to his ear. “Yeah?”

You watched him, the way his posture stiffened, his focus sharpening as he listened. His brows furrowed deeply, his eyes narrowing. Your hand, which had been resting on his chest, stilled as you saw the shift in his expression, the tightening of his jaw.

He stepped back slightly, as if distancing himself from the moment, his hand gripping the phone tighter as his voice lowered, more urgent now. “Which hospital?” he asked, his words clipped. “Okay, okay, I’m on my way. Tell her I’m on my way—tell her not to be scared...”

You took a step forward, instinctively, your voice trembling as you whispered, “Joel...”

His eyes flicked to you, a flicker of panic crossing his features, but he quickly masked it. He stood straighter, listening intently, his body still but tense. “I... uh,” he hesitated, his gaze meeting yours, the weight of the moment sinking in. “I’ll be right there.”

The words hung in the air, and just as quickly as the connection was made, it was severed. He snapped the phone shut, his breath shaky as he shoved it into his pocket. His face had gone pale, the usual warmth drained from his expression.

“Irina’s mother is at the hospital with Sarah,” he said, his voice thick with worry. He ran a hand through his hair, the movement absent, almost frantic, as he turned toward the door, his steps hurried. You followed him, your heart now thumping in your chest, your mind spinning with the new reality of the situation.

“What happened?” The question left your mouth, but it felt cold, distant, as if the words hadn’t quite reached you. Your heart raced, the quiet stillness in your chest now replaced by a frantic pulse. “Is she okay?”

“She fell out of the treehouse,” he said, his voice breaking for a moment as he spoke, a touch of guilt in his words. “I... I...” He trailed off, unsure of what to say, his words tangled in the chaos of his thoughts.

Without another word, you grabbed your coat from the rack by the door, your fingers shaking as you pulled it on. Without thinking, you moved toward him, your hand pressing gently but firmly against his lower back, urging him forward.

“Come on,” you said, the urgency in your voice pulling him out of his fog. “I’ll drive.”

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littlcdarlin · 23 hours ago

Text

My Burning Sun Will Someday Rise

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 || read on AO3

summary: Joel and reader's vacation continues and lines start to blur. tags: daddy kink, big age gap (Joel is 49, reader is 23), dbf!Joel, Joel has a lovely belly, Joel is a little mean, praise kink, Joel calls reader "kid", unprotected piv, creampie, cunnilingus, sexual tension, blow jobs, smut with a little bit of plot, no use of Y/N, afab!reader, reader has hair (will add more as I add more parts)

note: happy new year to all of you, and sorry for the long wait! I was completely flashed by the love you showed for part 1 (THANK YOU!!!), and wanted to live up to your expectations. I’ll try to write part 3 as quickly as possible! Sorry if there's any typos, I edited this while severely hungover

The afternoon at the beach was relaxing and lighthearted after you agreed with Joel and stopped studying so much, and you find that apart from having a body that makes you clench your thighs together, he’s interesting to talk to. He doesn’t give you the same bullshit about university and acting responsibly, but rather accepts that there are things you dislike about your degree. He doesn’t offer advice on how to learn to enjoy those things, he just nods when you tell him you’ve learnt to deal with them. He treats you like an adult, someone who makes their own informed choices – something your life has been sorely lacking.

You head back to the rooms in comfortable silence, and you enjoy the way Joel’s arm almost grazes yours. When you think about the flutter in your stomach for too long it’s ridiculous, but it’s so easy to leave behind the morals and expectations of home when all you’re facing right now is an all-inclusive dinner and as many cocktails as you want. You aren’t planning on getting drunk if Joel isn’t, but you want to have fun tonight. You haven’t been on a real vacation in ages.

You take another shower once you’re in your room, wash away the sunscreen and sea salt, until your hair is all soft again and you smell like shampoo. The hotel restaurant isn’t super fancy, but you feel like putting in a little effort, so you pick out a black dress you like, and wear your sandals again. You wonder if you’ll get cold – the days are burning hot, but at night there’s a cool breeze that might make you regret your choice of clothes. Fuck it, you think, you haven’t had an occasion to dress up in ages, and getting Joel all flustered again sure seems like reason enough. You grab your purse, phone and keycard, and head to the door.

Joel opens his door at the same time you do, and you swallow when you see he’s changed outfits, too. His hair is slightly damp and all curly, he’s wearing black jeans and a simple black t-shirt with an unbuttoned, flowy linen shirt over it. The sleeves are rolled up to reveal his forearms. It’s stylish. You didn’t expect Joel Miller to look stylish.

"Wow," you say with a smile. "You clean up nice."

Joel just huffs, but his eyes ghost over your dress for a second too long. He doesn’t answer.

When you get to the restaurant, Joel pulls out your chair for you, which earns him a blinding smile. Stylish and a gentleman, who would have thought? Back home he always seemed like a grumpy lumberjack to you, and although you do find him excruciatingly attractive in his flannels, you’re intrigued to find out what else you didn’t know about him.

"Is it really all-inclusive?", you ask, gazing at the menu and not quite believing you can order anything you’d like and not pay for it.

"Sure. You want a cocktail?"

"If you’ll have one with me?"

Joel holds your gaze, but shakes his head.

"I think I prefer whiskey over that sweet stuff," he says, and you make a face.

"Fine, whiskey it is, then," you say, and Joel frowns.

"You don’t have to drink what I’m drinkin’. Have a cocktail."

This time you’re the one to shake your head.

"It’s no fun, having cocktails on your own. But I haven’t had whiskey in ages, maybe I like it better now."

The corner of Joel’s mouth twitches.

"Ages, huh? How long have you been allowed to drink again?"

You smile, but don’t dignify his question with an answer, and after a moment Joel chuckles and looks back at the menu.

"Fine, I’ll have a Gin Fizz," he says, looking up again. "You?"

He wants to order a cocktail, just so that you can enjoy having one, too. Your stomach flutters.

"Joel, you don’t have t-"

"I know I don’t. I’m having a Gin Fizz."

There’s a finality to his tone, but his voice is friendly. You give him a reluctant smile, one that isn’t ironic or half-joking. He smiles back, and leans back in his chair, eyes still on yours. You study the menu again, this time having a closer look at the cocktails.

"Sex on the beach," you say seriously, and Joel snorts.

"Clever."

***

You do end up drinking a sex on the beach, and Joel actually enjoys his gin fizz. The food is delicious, Joel lets you try a piece of his steak and you offer him a bite of your fish, but he declines with a disgusted look on his face that makes you grin. No seafood for Joel Miller, then.

Joel orders you another cocktail when the waiter clears your plates, and you smile to yourself. He’s being courteous.

"Are you trying to get me drunk, Miller?", you ask, the corner of your mouth twitching. Joel raises an eyebrow.

"I think you’re managin’ that without my help."

He’s right, of course – your long day of traveling makes the buzz in your head more prominent, and although you’re nowhere near drunk, your tongue is a little looser than usually, and you find it much easier to hold Joel’s eye-contact.

"I’m glad I came here," you say all of a sudden, the thought fleeting, but true. "I needed a break."

Joel’s smile is honest, when he answers.

"I’m glad you came, too. It’d be boring, bein’ here on my own."

"Right," you say, "who would get you to drink cocktails? You’d be stuck drinking disgusting whiskey and wallowing in your loneliness."

Joel smiles, shaking his head slightly, and takes a sip of his Gin.

"You wanna head down to the beach?", you ask when your glasses are empty and you feel a little woozy from the second cocktail. Joel looks surprised.

"I love the sea at night," you say a little dreamily, voice trailing off.

"Sure. Let’s go," Joel just answers.

The air outside is cool, just like you anticipated, and you shiver slightly, wrapping your arms around yourself to keep the goosebumps at bay. Joel notices, and immediately shrugs out of his linen shirt, handing it to you. You stare at him.

"Take it," he insists, and you do, the fabric soft in your hands. You slip it on, the sleeves coming down to your fingertips, the collar smelling of Joel’s cologne. You wonder why it took you two cocktails to notice how good he smells. When you’re done rolling up the sleeves, you look up and find Joel watching you quietly. Your eyes meet – he looks away, and starts walking again.

You’re pleasantly tipsy, walking to the beach at night, wearing Joel Miller’s clothes and brushing his arm with yours every once in a while. It feels a little surreal.

"Aren’t you cold now?", you ask after a couple of minutes of quiet.

"No," Joel answers, his voice a little rougher than before, "’sides, you wear it better anyway."

You flush, and when you don’t answer, he looks at you.

"Jesus, sorry," he mumbles. "I didn’t…it slipped out. Just meant you look pretty, is all."

Your stomach swirls pleasantly, and you want Joel to put his arm around your shoulder, or kiss you, or take that shirt off again. You clear your throat.

"Thanks," you answer quietly, toying with the hem of the shirt. "I think you wore it well, too, though. Suits you."

Joel doesn’t answer, but when you glance at him, you notice the ghost of a smile on his face, half-hidden by his patchy beard.

You walk the rest of the way in contemplative silence, each of you lost in your thoughts. You’re always amazed to see the sea at night. The darkness somehow elevates its vastness, water and sky bleeding into each other at the near invisible horizon. It’s easy to forget about your exams here, with the whole expanse of the planet spread out before you, the relentlessly calm sound of the waves, and Joel’s scent in your nose. You sit down on an abandoned deck chair and watch Joel walk up to the water, pick up a seashell, and drop it into the water again. He seems content to be here, you think. Relaxed. You don’t know him well, but his body language seems more at ease than it did back home. Perhaps you’re not the only one who needed a break.

You get up again, and walk over to Joel, who smiles when he sees you coming.

"You were right," he says, "it’s different in the dark."

You know he means the sea, the beach, the lack of people around, the sand that burned your feet only hours ago now having a cooling effect. Still, his words leave room for interpretation and you don’t miss the way his gaze moves over your form in his shirt.

"Thanks for the cocktails," you say quietly, "and the shirt."

Joel looks over at you, but you don’t have the guts to look at him. You can’t quite be sure what the moonlight and scenery will make you do, not when he’s never looked more handsome, and you’re more than tipsy.

"You’re welcome," he says honestly. "I know you’re doin’ this for your Dad more than anything, but I hope you’re still havin’ fun."

He’s self-conscious, or something close to it, wondering how he could make this trip more enjoyable for you – so he orders cocktails he doesn’t like and lets you wear his clothes.

"I am having fun," you reassure him. "I’m at the beach at night wearing a guy’s shirt who got me all the cocktails I wanted, instead of studying at my desk for the millionth night in a row."

Joel chuckles.

"My Dad should break his leg more often," you sigh, digging the heel of your foot into the sand. Joel doesn’t answer.

When you walk back to the hotel, you feel the ghost of his hand on your lower back, not touching, but lingering, as if he instinctively wants to stir you in the right direction, or keep you from stumbling. It makes that flutter in your stomach reappear.

You pass reception to get to the elevators, and the same woman is still there, smiling when he recognizes you.

"You two enjoying the sea?", she asks.

"Very much, thank you," you answer, "we had cocktails and walked to the beach."

The lady looks pleased at how happy you seem and smiles at Joel.

"I’m glad to hear it! Well, you two enjoy your Daddy-daughter trip," she says, before answering the telephone that starts ringing just as you’re about to say good-night.

Joel’s brows are furrowed when you look at him, which makes you suppress a grin. The lady assuming he’s your father is clearly bothering him, and you get the feeling it might not entirely be about his age.

When you’ve made it up to your rooms, you turn to Joel to find him already watching you. He looks different here, in the harsh light of the corridor, dark shadows falling over his features, his form somehow looking broader.

"Breakfast at nine?", he asks you, voice quiet so as not to disturb any other guests in their rooms.

"Yeah," you say, and before you can change your mind, you kiss his cheek. His expression is unreadable, when you pull away.

"Goodnight," you say with a tired smile, before teasingly adding "Daddy."

Joel holds your eye contact, and doesn’t flush this time.

"Careful," he says gently, voice low and dark. You swallow.

Before you can forget, you shrug off his shirt, but Joel doesn’t move to take it from your outstretched hand. After a beat, his eyes flicker over your face.

"Keep it," he says curtly, "I like it on ya."

And then he’s gone, the door to his room shutting with a soft thud. You shake your head slightly, and press the soft linen fabric against your nose, inhaling the scent of his cologne and sweat. You ache just at the thought of it having touched his skin, and him now wanting to see you in it, but it would feel like a violation if you relieved that ache now, even if Joel wasn’t there, so you ignore the dull throbbing between your legs best as you can and go to bed with Joel’s shirt right next to your bed.

***

The next morning you feel a little nervous about breakfast – something shifted between you and Joel after your good-bye in the hallway. He seemed so sure of himself when he told you he liked you in his shirt, so unwavering, and you’re a nervous wreck just thinking about saying good morning to him.

Instead of putting on the white sundress you wore yesterday, you slip into a bikini, a pair of comfortable shorts, and Joel’s linen shirt, half unbuttoned so that your necklace peeks out. This time you leave the sleeves un-rolled, liking how big it feels on you, a constant reminder of Joel’s size.

You wash your face and brush your teeth, but don’t shower since you’re going to have to do that in the evening anyway. Although you’re mostly excited to see Joel again, you also can’t wait to have your morning coffee and something to eat – you hope the breakfast buffet will be as good as dinner was.

You wait for Joel in the hallway, but when he doesn’t come out of his room, you knock on his door.

"One second," his voice comes from inside, and you wait leaning against the wall just like he did the day before. When he opens the door, you can’t suppress a smile – his hair is charmingly tousled from his sleep, he clearly didn’t know what to do with it without taking a shower first.

"Nice hair," you say, the corner of your mouth twitching. Joel doesn’t answer, with his brows slightly furrowed he keeps staring at you. Anxiety floods your veins, and you wonder if it was the best idea to dress the way you did, if Joel might think of it as strange or creepy or pathetic.

"You’re wearing my shirt," he says, voice quiet and still rough from sleep. It’s not a question, just a statement, no judgement behind it. You swallow, watching his brown eyes trail over your arms, torso, your shorts.

"Yeah," you answer timidly, fighting the urge to cross your arms. "You said you liked it on me."

Joel’s eyes snap up to yours, and with all the courage you can muster up, you hold his gaze for several long seconds.

"I did."

Again, just a statement. One that doesn’t require an answer, but you feel like shrinking under Joel’s gaze, so you offer him an out out of the situation.

"I’ll take it off, if you want me to," you mutter, and quickly add "I’ll put on something else."

Joel watches you quietly, and finally runs a hand through his messy hair.

"No need, kid," he says with a defeated sounding exhale. "’M glad ya like it."

***

Breakfast is a welcome distraction from whatever happened in the hallway – you drink too much coffee, and try all of the delicious food offered: bacon and eggs, colorful fruit you have never seen before, yoghurt and pancakes. Joel sticks to coffee and toast, though he does steal one of the peaces of fruit from your plate.

"I’ll get one more cup," you say when you have drained the last of your coffee, and Joel chuckles.

"Might as well do a line," he says and you snort, but stay seated – he’s right, you should watch your caffeine intake. He watches you, and after a second raises an eyebrow.

"I didn’t mean anything by it. You drink as much coffee as you want."

His voice is apologetic and soft.

"No, I’ll do as you say," you answer, "or I’ll die of heart failure."

Something flashes over his face at those words, but you can’t pinpoint it. Still, your stomach flutters, when Joel doesn’t break the eye-contact.

After breakfast the two of you get your towels and the rest of your beach-belongings from your rooms, and Joel changes into his trunks again. You walk past reception quietly, the lady from the day before isn’t there, and Joel’s arm brushes against yours casually. Suddenly you wish you weren’t wearing his shirt, just to feel his skin against yours. It’s a little pathetic.

Joel gets you two deckchairs – the beach is still relatively empty – and you put on sunscreen. When you’re done with your limbs and stomach, you offer Joel the bottle.

"Do my back, please?"

"Sure," he mutters, taking the bottle from you, and gently stroking your hair out of the way. He’s quiet, holding you steady by the shoulder when you instinctively squirm away from the initial cold of the liquid on your skin, his hands calloused but gentle. From time to time, his fingers slip under the shoulder straps of your bikini, and you feel heat pool between your legs when he starts covering your lower back in sunscreen. His hand is dangerously close to the waistband of your swimsuit.

"All done," he says, closing the bottle. You raise an eyebrow.

"Don’t need sunscreen," he explains, "I don’t burn easy."

"You’ll get skin cancer," you argue. "Everybody needs sunscreen."

He huffs, but hands you the bottle and turns around to sit down on the deckchair. You watch his beautiful back, the way the skin ripples over his muscles, how broad and solid it seems. You squirt some of the sunscreen onto your hand and apply it to Joel’s shoulders, rubbing gently. He relaxes under your touch, the tension leaving his muscles, and you move your hands more deliberately, focusing on his shoulders, until Joel’s head falls forward slightly, giving into the sensation.

"Good?", you ask, a little shy.

Joel hums, and you wonder if his eyes are closed, if he’s enjoying your touch so much he can’t form a full sentence. You dig the heels of your palms into his muscles, the sunscreen making the slide easy. His skin his littered in freckles and birthmarks, marked by years of working under the sun.

"You always apply sunscreen like that?", Joel asks suddenly, and you flush.

"Most people aren’t this tense," you quip back, fingers gliding over Joel’s neck. "Actually, nobody’s ever been this tense, I think."

He shakes his head slightly, but lets you carry on, working your way down his back, the tan line of his trunks visible and oh so tempting. You imagine pulling them down and try to refrain from clenching your thighs together.

When you’re done, Joel’s muscles feel a little looser, more relaxed, and he turns around to look at you.

"Thanks," he says quietly, and you nod. Now that he can see you, look you directly in the eye, it feels almost absurdly bold to have touched him like that. Still, things have started to unravel a little. Lines have blurred.

Although you don’t know where you get the courage from, you hold his gaze, put one hand on his shoulder, and squeeze.

"Any time, Joel," you answer, and watch him swallow. Then, his own hand comes up to yours, and you half think he’s going to remove yours, but he just loosely wraps his fingers around your wrist, eyes not leaving yours.

"That’s a dangerous game you’re playin’, kid," he says quietly, but doesn’t let go of you. You hope he never does.

"Do you…want me to stop?", you ask him, because you will if this is making him uncomfortable, if you read him wrong. He’s silent for a second.

"No," he says so quietly it’s almost inaudible. His thumb starts moving over your wrist, right over the pulse point, and it makes you weak in the knees. You didn’t know a touch as small as that one could be so erotic, but with Joel it seems, everything is. You fight to not let a whimper escape your mouth, and close your eyes for just a second.

"God," Joel mutters, more to himself than to you, "look at you."

Your eyes snap open when you feel him move, hand still locked around your wrist securely, and suddenly he’s towering over you. You gaze up at him, his eyes bright under the blazing sun, his hair still tousled, his beard patchy and flecked with grey. He’s all man, in a way you didn’t know you found desirable before him, but there is undeniable proof of your want leaking into your swimsuit, sticky and hot between your thighs.

He watches you, intense eyes moving over your face, your eyes, your mouth, your hands, your body in your nicest swimsuit, your throat as you swallow. His other hand comes up to stroke the hair away from your neck, and goosebumps erupt on your skin. Joel almost chuckles, but it’s more the ghost of a breath. You flush.

"It’s fucking stupid to go through with this," Joel says seriously, like he wants to inform you of it – as if you don’t know.

"Yes," you breathe, because he’s completely right.

"Your Dad would kill me, and rightly so," he adds.

"Oh, fuck my Dad," you answer, trying to reach out to touch Joel, but your wrist is still tightly locked in his grasp. You tug a little, but he doesn’t budge.

"You doin’ this to get back at him?"

You detect something in his voice you don’t like – uncertainty.

"No, Joel," you breathe, "God, no. Have you looked into a mirror recently?"

That makes him smile, and you wonder if he gets compliments a lot, but by the way his cheeks gain color, you don’t think he does. Stupid, stupid world, stupid people who came before you. He should be told every second of the day.

"It’s still stupid,“ he says, but his eyes are more intense than before now. You’re on holiday, away from all judgement. You can do whatever you want to do to each other.

"Thought I was the smart one in my family," you tease, reminding him of his words on the plane. You want him to lean down and finally kiss you, or throw you down on the deckchair and fuck you right there, your face pressed into his linen shirt. His thumb keeps moving over your wrist, relentlessly building tension.

"Take me to your room," you whisper, eyes wide, and anticipation pooling deep in your belly. Joel curses.

"You have any idea of the things I wanna do to you?"

His voice is low, dangerous, and you’d be at least a little afraid if this one anyone else. But it’s Joel, who lets you hate your degree without judgement, drinks cocktails he doesn’t like just so you can enjoy yourself, and through his permission allows you to stop studying, lets you enjoy this trip.

"Do them," you breathe, "I’ll let you do anything."

"Jesus fucking Christ, kid," he answers, and finally lets go of your wrist, one hand coming to rest on your waist, tugging you towards him, the other gently cradling your face. His breath ghosts over your mouth, and then he brushes your lips with his in a needy, slow kiss. His tongue slips into your mouth and you open up for him willingly. He tugs your hips against him, making you whimper and feel his bulge dig into your stomach.

The only thing keeping you from pulling him out of his swimming trunks right then is the fact that there are people around, and you’re pushing it already with the way his hands grasp at your skin and his tongue licks in your mouth. Any further and you could be arrested for public indecency.

"Please," you ask him between kisses, "Please, Joel, just take me to your room."

His teeth dig into your lower lip, and you fight a moan.

"Ask me again," he says, voice a little wrecked, and the need you feel for him deep in your stomach burns white hot. He wants you to beg.

"Please," you say, like he isn’t stripping you of your dignity instead of your clothes, but you can’t bring yourself to feel embarrassed, not when Joel groans at the sound.

"Alright, kid. I’ve got you.“

#my burning sun will someday rise #mine #my writing #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us part 1 #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedrohub #pedro hub #pedro pascal characters #game joel miller #hbo joel #hbo tlou

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hfayereads · 1 day ago

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Your honor. I love them.

#the way he says well yeah now lives rent free in my head #tlou #the last of us #tlouedit #thelastofusedit #bill and frank

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virginreprise · 3 days ago

Text

✧ ˚ 　 · 　　 . B L U E M O O N ✩ M O T E L

jackson!joel miller x reader ✧˖ * °

✧. ┊ ⁭ddlg dynamics, smut, fluff, edging, mean and soft joel, so basically joel, squirting, daddy kink, unspecified age gap, dirty talk, established relationship, just more of my depravity pretty much

✧ ⁺ ⁺ 　° words: 3.9k

─── ⋆⋅. AO3 .⋅⋆ ──

“C’mon, baby, don’t cry.”

There’s a hand down your face, another dancing along the skin of your stomach and pressing against the flesh—calming the heaving breaths that come with the tears.

Both legs are shaking with the exertion, your lips trembling as you rub your thighs together in a desperate attempt to tip yourself over the edge. To finally give yourself relief from the nauseatingly painful ache that leaks between your legs—seeping into the crevasses of your brain and rendering yourself a dumb, whimpering mess at the faux sympathy and shaking determination of the object of your desecration.

“Joel,” you whisper, throat too sore from where his cock had been inside it previously to open your mouth more than an inch. “D-daddy.”

“Shhhh, babydoll, s’okay.”

Through your blurred eyes, you can see his smirk, the undeniable pride that lingers in the pits of every bruise on his body; every scar that disappears when he has you so desperate.

“It’s not,” you manage to whine. “Daddy, please, it hurts.”

All he does is laugh, kissing uncharacteristically softly along your body—a distinct difference from the harsh treatment of your poor, abused cunt he had been toying with for the past hour. Sweat was glistening along your skin, naked as the day you were born save for the frilly little socks on your feet he had insisted you keep on in case your toes were to become cold. Couldn’t have that.

No, Joel’s little angel baby could not have cold feet. That level of discomfort was far too much for the man to allow. It was perfectly fine to have your clit rubbed raw and swollen, however. That was a pain you needed for your own peace of mind.

“I know it does,” he muttered with little sympathy, thumb running over your nipple—a jolt at the sensation and Joel’s smirk widening at the discovery. “Oh, honey, you’re so sensitive, ain’t ya?”

You peel your eyes open to scowl at him, the condition he’s worked you up to making you so irritable you could hardly care if he was disappointed in your attitude.

“Yes!” you whine, hand clawing at his shirt—the object of your desires hovering above you, still fully clothed whilst you lay naked and sweating. “Daddy, please, I haven’t been bad!”

It was the truth. Joel knew it too. You’d been his perfect girl all these weeks he’d been busy helping control the dangerous amount of infected that had been hoarding the mountains surrounding Jackson. Long days and late nights, a tired and consequently irritable Joel coming home to a sweet and obedient you that didn’t cry, barely even flinched when he snapped at you that time you’d been rambling about your day and he wasn’t in the mood to find it endearing. You’d just quietly apologised and then crawled onto the floor to take your place at his feet—arm wrapping around his leg and face nuzzling into his thigh.

He’d apologised the next morning and kissed you all over, more forgiving than he was now: hovered over you and pulling away every time you felt the coil tighten and threaten to snap.

“I know you have,” he said matter-of-factly. “And daddy’s very proud of you but this isn’t a punishment, baby. I’m rewardin’ you.”

“No you’re not-”

“Hey, now,” he scolded, gripping the hands that fisted at his shirt, wrapping his fingers around your wrists and pushing them against your chest; holding you hostage as he explained himself. “Don’t interrupt me or I ain’t ever lettin’ you finish.”

You pouted, still defiant as ever but decided forgivingly to hear him out, mumbling a half-hearted apology and letting him speak.

“I ain’t tryna make you feel bad, baby, daddy would never wanna do that to you. ‘Specially with how good you’ve been and I know it don’t feel too good right now but the payoff is gonna be somethin’ special, I promise you.” The grip of your wrists began to loosen at your quizzical brow, the contempt replaced with confusion.

“But how-”

“Shh, honey.” He shook his head softly, bringing your hands to his lips and placing kisses along the knuckles. “You have to trust me. You do trust me, don’t ya?”

You nodded enthusiastically, never one to deny the notion that you trusted him implicitly—he had your whole life and, despite his questioning, he would never doubt your devotion.

“Then just let daddy take care of you, okay?” he mumbled against your collarbone, fingers sliding along your skin to nestle between your thighs again, stroking and pinching at your poor cunt once more—clit twitching as he played you with the expert precision that years of experience had gifted to him. Those goddamn hands that had your cheeks heating every time they touched softly along your skin; the most innocent of caresses sending you blazing hot. Skin marred.

Heaving breaths came from your chest when he slipped his fingers inside your wet hole, slick running down your legs and creating a damp spot on the sheets. A stain that you would apologise for and he would clean, promising you that he didn’t care. That this house was as much yours as it was his now.

It had been a quick transition: the way you began to permeate his space. Angel hairbrush on his dresser, panties hanging from the corner of the headboard and the smell of roses lingering in the bathroom steam. He kept you locked in the house that echoed deafeningly before you came traipsing through the front door—the adoration he had for you growing until there was nothing left except the sweltering, burning love that sparked the wood walls and encouraged the smoke that threatened to flame.

You loved him; that much you knew. You loved the way that he took care of you, understood the grievances and the strife, understood the need to let go of yourself, to revert to that childlike personality you had lost years before you should’ve. The stunted childhood—lost to the corners of your nostalgic memory of what it was to be carefree. He let you not care. There was no responsibility, there in his arms. Your head was not full with the thoughts that came so dark in those hours of solitude that kept the blood pumping and your heart screaming.

All you had to do was be loved by him; he made it so easy with the way he spoke to you. The way he loved you.

“That’s my good girl.” The praise was dragged from him by a choked moan, his fingers curling, thumb playing with your clit and lips along your neck—bruising and marking. Time, as a moving thing, slowly began to soften his paranoia, and those blooming purple splotches along your neck and breasts, nipped along your thighs, were something to be proud of. Something that he looked at from the corner of his eye, smiling softly into his drink when Annie from the bakery worried over you—thinking naively that the marks were injuries from patrols you had been banned from long ago. Smouldering from afar as you tried to explain and then cowering when he would see Tommy’s disproving glare and Maria’s distaste grow stronger than usual.

Marks that he created again in the sweat of his bed, with you whining and begging him for release.

“Please, Daddy,” you sniffled, stomach tightening again—so easy to build you up after he’d deprived you so many times already. “Can’t take much more…”

“Oh, my little girl.” There was a certain lilt to his tone as he cooed, an intentional quickening of his fingers that told you, even in your blissed-out state, that this was not the time. That he would pull away as soon as he felt you clamping around him and panting in the wake of your desperation.

“Daddy,” you cried again, tears streaming into your temples, trailing along your scalp and making you shiver with the contrasting cooling of your blazing hot skin. “P-please don't.”

“Don’t what, baby?” You groaned at his question, sobs falling at his laugh. “C’mon, angel, tell Daddy what you want. Don’t leave me wonderin’.”

Your words were coming out in unintelligible babbles as the fire raged deep in your belly, spreading to your hips and forcing them to buck as they burnt—blisters appearing along your skin as you tried to ask him if you could come, tried to tell him how much you needed it, contemplating uttering that fateful word from your lips that guaranteed your safety. Cry in his arms for a bit and then smile as he softened and gave you exactly what you wanted.

“C-come, Daddy,” you managed to whimper, ready to scream when he replied.

“Say again, honey. Didn’t quite catch that.”

You gripped at the sheets, sweating all over, feet too hot with the socks adorning them and cried into the pillows as he pushed you right to the edge of the cliff, holding you gracefully over the lip, keeping you teetering—stomach spinning. You begged him to let you go, to kick your legs out from under you and let you feel the sweet release.

“Need to come, p-p-please.” For a moment, you thought you had him, clit tingling, palms sweating, chest heaving, ready to finally jump, and then as quickly as the hope had come, it was squandered as he pulled his hand away from your legs, and began shushing your cries—sobs fully encapsulating you as he took you in his arms and kissed over your face.

“Breathe, angel, it’s okay,” he murmured into your hair, careful not to press his full weight into you as he pulled your chest to his and kissed the tip of your nose, each cheek, your forehead and then your lips—a choreographed worship that had become the biggest comfort to you in the times where he denied you everything you wanted.

“Daddy…” you said through the sobs. “Why?”

“It’s okay,” he muttered, dodging your question with no grace and all brute force. “It’ll be worth it, babygirl, I promise. Daddy promises, yeah?”

You shook your head defiantly, expressing as best as you could your irritation with him—a mood that he would let slide for now because he knew fully that you didn’t deserve what he was inflicting on you. You had been so good, the bestest of girls for him whilst he battled the long days and harsh conditions—staying as sweet as possible and knowing him well enough that being a brat purely because he wasn’t giving you enough attention, was not one of the ways to make him feel better.

You had been good—his perfect girl. You deserved to come as many times as you comfortably could, and you deserved his love and affection—the softest of touches and the sweetest of nothings.

But, he needed an outlet. He needed somewhere to put all the irritation and the gruelling mental battles—all the way inside you. He needed to punish you for his own peace of mind but still give you the sweet reward he was hoping to pull from you.

“Listen to me,” he said sternly, looking you straight in your bleary eyes as you clung to the broad expanse of his back, adding to the maps of scars along the muscle with the unconscious press of your nails into his skin. “Daddy isn’t being mean, baby. I promise. I need you to trust me on this one and if you don’t, you tell me, okay? You know I ain’t gonna be mad.”

And just like that Joel was there. Joel Miller, who treated everyone he cared about like they were fine china, was shining into the hedonism that darkened the bedroom. It softened your resolve, blessed by the beauty of every complexity that made up the man above you. So you nodded, the harshness of his eyes disappearing, the hint of a smile crossing his wrinkled brow and a promise sealed as he kissed you.

“Okay,” you murmured, pussy still on fire, eyes still flaming with adoration and depraved desire. “I trust you.”

The smile you got was an expression reserved only for these moments, times when he wasn’t being the stubborn, stoic man that you used to be so terrified of. The softness that he kept just for you—a woman that had captured him completely and made him feel revitalised by the innocence of your youth and the genuineness of your affections.

A woman that he would watch squirm under the heat of his beckoning fingers as they slipped inside you once more, a determination in his eyes that smouldered and flickered until you were shuddering against the feeling—hips bucking into his hand, eyes fluttering closed as the tears pressed into your hairline, lingering in the corners of your eyes and spilling when your legs began to shake.

“Daddy,” you whined, unable to think of anything but that goddamn word—the name that had completely changed your life on the barren plains of a cracked America, the solace of his arms and the comfort of the wondrous space he had provided for you. The safety.

“Lean into it, babydoll,” he murmured over the squelch coming from in between your legs. “Relax for me…breathe.”

His words soothed the burns, salve of his love stinging along the blisters and you let out a sharp exhale, chest slowing to a steady in and out. You braced yourself with a hand on his clothed back, whining at the feeling of fabric against his shoulders and trailing your fingers towards the hem of his shirt and tugging.

The emptiness you felt when he pulled his fingers from you to rip his shirt from his body was almost unbearable, mumbling a high-pitched beg as your ears rang and your head went fuzzy. If you were just a little more conscious, you would’ve smiled at the unbelievable way he seemed to read you, his fingers slipping and thrusting as soon as the cotton hit the floor and his skin was against yours.

“Better?” he muttered against your skin, a short laugh falling from his lips when you nodded eagerly and pulled him closer to you—desperate to feel him against you. You always were. You knew you were in trouble when he fucked you with his clothes on, the man knowing how much you adored feeling the heat of him against you, sweat against sweat, bodies completely entangled. You craved it. You breathed it. You devoted your life to the feeling of his body pressed against you and his forehead against yours as he breathed in every expelled depravity.

It was building there again, clamping around his fingers, slick dripping and eyes squeezing shut as he pressed kisses all over your face—wherever his lips could reach. Devotion squeezed inside the domination, an overpowering feeling overcoming you as he began intentionally stroking at that damned spot inside you that he found with the same precision he killed—bloodied hands blooming inside you, scraping against the sponge and pressing his free palm against your stomach.

The added pressure, the thumb against your clit had your brain ascending to euphoria, madness clawing at you as you tugged him closer; whimpering and shaking.

“There we go,” he said proudly. “We found it, huh? I can feel you squeezing me. Gonna cut off my damn circulation.”

“I’m sorry,” you cried pathetically, only recognising the scolding tone of his voice and not the jest that it was meant to be taken as, your hazy mind distracting you from yourself—pulling your body from its resting place and draping you amongst the clouds in heaven. A paradisiacal lunacy overcoming the sensibilities and leaving you in his hold. Trusting completely.

“Don’t be sorry, sweet girl. Just focus on that feeling for me,” he requested, fingers still stroking, feeling still growing and transitioning. Something new. “It feel different?” he asked as if he were reading your thoughts. Half the time you believed that he really could see inside your mind and when you muttered a broken ‘yes,’ he nodded along with you, muttering praises that were laced with a fascination with your body’s workings—the mechanisms that brought you to such a brink.

“Feels like-,” you heaved, moans deepening, fingers digging into his shoulders, marring the skin with sensual flagellation and scarring him with your love and desperation.

“Like you’re gonna pee?” He finished for you and you nodded in confirmation, his fingers working double time now, pressing against your stomach as this foreign feeling brewed inside you—indescribably terrifying and equally enthralling.

“D-don’t…can’t,” you babbled and a reassuring kiss was placed to the tip of your nose.

“It’s okay, baby, just lean into it. Let yourself feel it, you ain’t gonna piss on me, I promise.”

His strokes were so intentional, each swipe built to make you feel something so beautifully incandescent and sinful. His hand was flat against your stomach, his fingers guiding your hips upwards as he reached deep inside you, pulling cries from your mouth you had never heard before, thankful for the thickness of the walls and the security of his comforting words as he took everything from you. Swallowed every moan, every tear, every devotional that echoed along the four walls, seeped into the crevasses of the mattress and stained the sheets with a connection that could not be scrubbed from the fabric.

“Feels- Daddy, it feels-”

“I know, honey, I know.”

You begin to shake, thighs twitching and head spinning. Fingers scissoring inside you, a shit-eating grin on his face that you could only just make out through your tear-streaked vision and a gust of wind passing through your hair, sending it flying into the night as you reach the edge of the sea cliff and gazed at the crashing waves.

It happened quicker than expected, more sudden than even Joel had anticipated when you begin to seize and go hurtling over the edge, gushing around his fingers, feeling the wetness spray all over him—all over the sheets that become soaked with the essence of you.

“Fuck,” Joel whispered, enamoured with the way you arch and sing for him, trying to keep his own arousal at bay as you cry in his arms. “There we go,” he murmurs, coming back to himself as he feels you clinging to him; needing him close to you. “That's my precious girl…exactly what daddy wanted.”

You’re jerking and writhing when he finally pulls away, dragging the slickness up through your folds, your legs closing around his hand when he brushes against your clit.

“N-n-no, daddy,” you beg. “No more.”

He laughs at the juxtaposition, the exhaustion that had replaced your desperation to come, the sensations that had overcome you: leaving you braindead. A state that he knew should not be taken lightly.

“Oh, my baby,” he muttered. “You were perfect.”

Your eyes were slow to open, his praise basking you in a light glow, illuminating the depths of your soul and replacing the broken pieces that he had just left strewn across the bed.

“What…” you breathed out, legs squeezing together and a light moan gracing the room at the oversensitivity. “What did I just do?”

“You just squirted, honey. Been wantin’ to try that with ya for a while now.” He said it so casually, like he hadn’t just given you an orgasm that rivalled every other release you’d had in your life—coerced by an hour of edging and begging; your body exploding into a diabolical rapture that replayed in your mind as he stroked your hair from your face. “Daddy’s so proud of you, baby.”

You just whined in response, tugging him as close as possible, letting him rest on his side of the bed and pull you on top of him. You clung to him like he was your life source, breaths still steadying, cunt still tingling and three mumbled words on your lips that had been uttered so many times now you could hardly even remember your life before you adored him so ardently.

“Love you, Daddy.” You buried your face in the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent, happy with his hands all over you and his chest against yours. “Missed you so much.”

He knew what you were referring to, he knew that you had needed his undivided attention—edged or not—for some time now. He hadn’t been as good to you as he’d wanted to be, quick fucks slowly replacing the languid strokes by the fireplace and the whispered words of devotion against the wall; it had been tough on the both of you. All those hours spent in the snow; ugly, malnourished, infected lunging for him when he took a wrong step, fighting with all his might to survive. For you and the prospects that clouded your union.

“I know, babygirl, I missed you too,” he confessed, pressing his cheek into the side of your head, lips pressing feather-light into your hair and his arms tight around your waist. He would not let you go. Could not bear it if you were to slip from his hold. “I ain’t goin’ nowhere now. You know I’ve got the next few weeks off. Gonna spend all of it with my girl. Gonna keep you fucked and fed, how bout that.”

You giggled and shook your head, squeezing him tight and pulling your face from your hiding place to look him in the eyes.

“Sounds perfect, Daddy.”

He looked up at you, eyes scanning your face with a smile that lightened his old features, your hands cupping his cheeks and smoothing along the wrinkles around his eyes. And he let you touch him, let you admire his pretty eyes and strong jaw. All man and not mild. Strong and sturdy. Looking to protect you from the horrors that he daredn’t speak of, from the judgements of others until he’d convinced you that keeping you locked away was normal. That your contributions to the community was keeping him happy.

A beat, silence permeating the tranquility and then you: managing to fluster the Adonis that lay underneath you.

“You’re so handsome, Daddy,” you muttered. “The most handsome daddy ever.”

Joel stared with poorly contained adoration, a smile playing at his lips, a glint in his eyes as he mirrored your movements and took your face in his hands. Thumbs stroked your cheekbones, playing at the softness of your lips and then trailing down the bridge of your nose.

“And you’re the prettiest little babydoll I’ve ever seen,” he said softly. “My bestest girl.”

Your cheeks grew hot, his praise and compliments that came far too often, always leaving you a grinning, sweating mess and you hid yourself in his chest, feeling the vibrations of his laugh as you rested your ear against his heartbeat and brought your thumb to your lips.

You’d stay there forever if you could, naked, not afraid of the consequences of your vulnerability. Just completely safe in his arms, loved by a man who was so full of care he was bursting at the seams with a desire to protect someone. To protect you. And with a mumbled “I love you,” on his lips, a squeeze of your waist as he rolled onto his side, taking you with him, you understand what it felt like to be loved completely. To have every semblance of your being desired and wanted.

If he ever left, you would have no idea how to reconcile the grief—how to cope with the loss of someone who gave you everything.

So, you lay there and didn’t think about the next time he’d be on patrol. You lay there, in his arms, not thinking of the possibilities. He promised he would always come back to you.

He would always come back.

i have no idea what this is. i'm so tired i can't even be bothered to write this note. i wrote this in the past few hours and its now five in the fucking morning and i can barely see. please appreciate my effort.

#virginreprise™#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #tlou #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us 2 #joel tlou

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greenwitchfromthewoods · 2 days ago

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stitches. l Joel Miller

before Jackson

Summary: the moment Joel thought he might lose you

Warnings: angst, blood, weapons, Ellie is in on it, tears, rough night for Joel, some swearing

A/N: this is before they appear in Jackson. the idea for this chapter was given by the wonderful @underneath-the-sky-again . thank you so much! i hope you like it, sweetie. ❤️

your feedback is very important to me and I thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. 🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

short stories from life. [masterlist]

"Take Ellie and try to get out of here."

You looked at him with fear but also determination in your eyes. He had expected the words that left your lips "I won't leave you, Joel."

"But you have to, if you want Ellie to be safe." You nodded "I'll find you. We'll meet outside the city. Remember that red brick building? We'll meet there."

You didn't ask any more questions, just grabbed Ellie by the arm and led her out the back door. Once again, for a moment, you turned to look at Joel.

"Go. Now."

He should have been less harsh. He should have done a lot of things, and he definitely shouldn't have led you there. The road through the city was definitely shorter, and you could find the supplies you needed for the rest of the journey.

You were all tired, and Ellie was grumpy. She was tired of sleeping under the stars, and when you got soaked one night, she was even grumpier than Joel.

"Something warm, a piece of dry floor. That's the basics!" she said and finally Joel gave in.

These people were probably thinking the same thing. They knew someone was in the building, but they didn't know how many people were there or whether they were armed, that was to your advantage.

Joel reloaded his gun. Maybe you could get out without being noticed? But he had to distract these people, let them think you left the city a different way. His thoughts ran to you and Ellie once more, he knew you'd be fine.

The moment he entered the red brick building on the outskirts of town he knew something was wrong. It was already dark when he entered and secured the door.

"Ellie?" he called out in a muffled voice "Ellie!"

He almost had a heart attack when the girl appeared at the end of the corridor with a flashlight in her hands. Her eyes were wide, she was shaking.

"Are you okay?" he asked, quickly approaching her "W-What is it? Blood?"

Ellie's hands were covered in blood, some of it smeared on her cheek. She was pale as a sheet. Your name barely escaped her lips, and Joel felt as if his legs were giving out under him.

"That guy appeared out of nowhere!" the girl gasped, "She's bleeding terribly."

Joel rushed into the room after her. He knew one thing, he would never forget this sight. You were lying on the floor. Ellie had somehow managed to take off your jacket, but your shirt was soaked in blood on one side. The old towel that Ellie used as a dressing was already covered in blood.

"Fuck!" Joel hissed, falling to the floor next to you. "What happened?"

"There was a guy..." you replied quietly, you were breathing as if you were fighting for every breath, your eyelids seemed so weak. "A few streets away..."

"And you made it all the way here? In this condition?!"

"What was I supposed to do?!" Ellie groaned, sitting on her heels on the other side of you. "She didn't say anything. It wasn't until we left the city..."

Joel's hands easily removed yours, he lifted the towel and uncovered your side. The red mark from the knife ran almost from your hip to your bra. The wound was bleeding badly, although not as intensely since you moved less and pressed the towel that Ellie gave you.

"She'll be fine, right?" the girl's quiet voice focused Joel's scattered thoughts. "Hey! I'm asking you something!"

He nodded. That was all he could do, because he was afraid his lips would betray him. They would betray his fear, worries and uncertainty about you. It looked like you had lost a lot of blood. How much? He wasn't sure.

Focus! Focus!

"There's water in my backpack. Give it to me!" he ordered.

Ellie quickly rushed towards the backpack and after a moment pressed a bottle into his hand. He poured it over your side to clean it a bit.

"Joel? Joel..." you sighed.

"I know, give me a moment." he mumbled, but your hand lightly grabbed his. "My backpack... Ellie knows."

He looked at you, confused, and then at the girl. She didn't wait. She ran to your backpack lying against the wall and started looking through it, finally pulling out something that looked like a makeshift first aid kit. She threw it towards Joel.

A small bottle of alcohol, some bandages, antibiotics that had long since passed their expiration date. It looked bad, but it was all he had.

"I'd have to stitch the wound up." He said more to you than as if he was planning on actually doing it.

You nodded. Your eyes were closed, your breathing shallow. Despite everything, when he poured the alcohol on your side, you hissed loudly in pain.

"Fuck! I'm sorry, darling. I'm sorry..."

"It hurts her." Ellie groaned, her voice shaking as she sat down next to Joel.

"I know, but it'll hurt more."

Ellie's small hands pressed a spool of thread and a needle into his palm. Without a word, she walked to where your head was, took your hands, and squeezed them tightly. She knew what had to be done, and so did you. She laced her small fingers with yours and nodded at Joel.

He couldn't remember the last time he was so scared.

Joel opened his eyes and lifted his head. He shouldn't have fallen asleep. He couldn't.

It was starting to dawn. Ellie was curled up next to you, her bloody fingers still tangled with yours. She had spent the whole night watching over you and it was only a few hours ago that he had finally managed to convince her to go to sleep. The night watch belonged to him.

After you had passed out while he was stitching your body, you hadn't opened your eyes yet. Joel knew that this night would haunt him for a very long time.

Ellie's pale face, her tears running down her cheeks, your blood on his and her hands. He only hoped that he had done everything right. He couldn't lose you, not now, not ever.

Ellie stirred and rubbed her eyelids.

"She's not awake yet?"

Joel shook his head. "You should still be asleep, kiddo." he muttered.

She sat up and rubbed her face with her hand. Her eyes were puffy with tears.

"Do you think she'll wake up?" she asked.

God, she has to!

"If she doesn't wake up on her own, your talking will do the trick" he said, relieved to see the shadow of a smile on Ellie's lips. "You were brave, you know. If it wasn't for you..."

"You sewed her up like a rag doll." she said. "I wouldn't know what to do."

"You would know. You knew she had a first aid kit with her. Good job."

"Yeah, she showed it to me a while ago. She said it was just in case." Ellie stood up and stretched. "I need to find the bathroom. Will you watch her?"

"Yes, ma'am."

She smiled and quietly left the room. Joel leaned his head against the wall and closed his eyes. His whole body ached. Warm coffee would be something he would give a lot for.

A thought flashed through his mind - how long will you have to stay here? Is this place even safe enough for another night? What if he did something wrong?

"J-Joel..."

It was quieter than a whisper, but he still heard it. He opened his eyes and saw you looking at him, your eyelids still heavy, but you fought them.

"Hi, darling." he greeted and stood up to crouch next to you. "How are you feeling?"

"Ughh...horrible..." you sighed.

His hand touched your cheek and forehead. You saw the worry written on his face combined with the sleepless night.

"You had a small fever last night. I gave you antibiotics."

"Shit..." you groaned. "You wasted it on me?"

"Best decision ever."

You wanted to smile, but the muscles in your face were strangely numb. Meanwhile, Joel lifted the jacket you were wearing and glanced at your side. The wound was still red, but it wasn't anything to worry about. The most important thing was that you weren't bleeding. And you were conscious.

"Where's Ellie?" you asked.

"She's looking for the bathroom. She sat with you all night." He looked at you with sympathy and worry. "How did you manage to get here? When I showed up, you looked terrible."

"Yeah... That guy, I wasn't expecting him. I didn't want to shoot... That would draw attention."

He nodded. Damn, he knew you were strong and resilient, but he was still full of worries about you.

Your presence was soothing to him, and the relationship you had with Ellie... The girl would break down if something happened to you. So did he, although he didn't want to admit it.

You, on the other hand, twitched strangely, making a movement as if you wanted to get up.

"What the hell are you doing?" Joel covered you with his jacket again "You're staying like this."

"We can't stay here. These people..."

"We'll stay another night, or as long as we have to." he declared. "You won't be able to move around yet."

Footsteps in the hallway distracted you, because you clearly wanted to argue with him. Ellie's face lit up when she saw you and a moment later she was sitting next to you.

"Fuck! You scared us so much." she said. "Joel almost had a heart attack!"

The man threw her a look and shook his head. He listened to her babble as she told you in detail about the night, about everything that had happened. He smiled the moment he felt your fingers clumsily find his and squeeze them lightly.

A quiet "Thank you," that he appreciated more than anything. You were alive. Still. Soon you would move on. Slowly, but still, the three of you.

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

taglist, i think: @picketniffler @orcasoul @bbyanarchist @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi

#pedro pascal #joel miller #the last of us #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #short stories from life

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valalice · 1 day ago

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݁₊ DECISION TO DECISIONS ARE MADE. ft. 𝓮𝓵𝓵𝓲𝓮 𝔀𝓲𝓵𝓵𝓲𝓪𝓶𝓼.

pairing. ellie williams 𝑥⠀fem!reader

✦ summary. new year's is just a few days away and your roommate, dina, plans a party to celebrate the new year, inviting a certain special someone. ellie wanted nothing more to do than lay in bed, ignoring the fact that she's starting out yet another year without a kiss. however, she gets roped (or threatened) into attending a party she didn't even want to attend, for the sake of being a "good friend". now minutes before the clock strikes 12:00, both you and ellie are left without a special someone to embrace as everyone else welcomes the new year. what decision will the two of you make? w/c. 6k

warnings. fluff. angst. modern!au. loser ellie if you dare. reader is a socialite. roommate!dina. drinking (everyone is of age). ellie smokes. mentions of joel. the both of you are lowkey crushing on each other so bad. self sabotaging. talk of new year's resolution & the future. kissing.

a/n. my little treat to you all, happy 2025! i was going to make this set in tlou universe, but i can't stop thinking of city living and ellie, so here we are. ellie definitely has a loser girl, self sabotage mindset in this, but trust all she needed was to get kissed silly by a pretty girl! anywho, happy new years, lovely's, and i hope 2025 brings you success, peace, and treats you gentle 🤍 remember to support your writers by reblogging & commenting !

m.list | tlou m.list

The TV screen illuminates the dark room, the whistling wind swirls around flurry flakes into the night. It’s the first big snow of winter, and you hope it sticks instead of turning to the grey mush that’ll occupy the crevices of the city streets. You push your knees up to your chest, wrapping your arms around your legs and resting your head against your knee and letting your cheek squish into it, allowing you to observe the storm and the snow building up on the window seals. It’s unfortunate you think, and perhaps a little funny that the snow storm decides to happen the day after Christmas. Maybe even a little poetic or just a big fuck you from nature. However, you’re content by it.

Your name's being repeated, it takes a moment for you to fully comprehend that you're being called upon, still wrapped within the thoughts of your own mind. Till something small and light hits your head, "What?" lifting your head up from where it rested upon your knee to turn to face the culprit, eyes flickering down to see the lone popcorn fallen on the couch cushion. "Dina—" you scowl, letting an arm fall from around your legs and picking up the kernel, throwing it at Dina's face. Her face scrunching up as it bounces off her forehead and lands in her lap. "What was that for?" it sounds closer to a whine than a question, the storm outside is now forgotten.

"You weren't answering me," she responds, her focus falling to her lap to pick up the popcorn kernel and pop it in her mouth. "and you're not even paying attention to the movie, you picked it out."

Twisting your lips, eyeing the TV screen, "Yeah, I guess you're right." It wasn't a movie you've never seen before, in fact it was a one you've seen more times than you can count. A safe pick for you as Dina let you choose the movie this night, and when picking it your mind was already elsewhere. So, even now with just a glance at the screen you can tell exactly what point the movie is at. "What did you ask me?"

Dina's hand piles into the bowl, grabbing a handful of popcorn and shuffles it in her mouth. Watching her demolish the delightful crunchy-buttery snack made you outstretch your arm, a silent ask for some popcorn. She takes hold of the bowl and passes it to you, taking your own handful of popcorn and eating it one by one. Dina swallows, "Was thinking of hosting a New Year's Eve party."

As if she could already sense your hesitance for the idea she continues on, firmly placing her hands on the plush couch to give her leverage to twist her body, making it face you as she tucks her legs underneath her. And as she leans forward, "C'mon it'll be so much fun. And we have yet to have a party in our new place, there's far better room here for one." she exclaims.

Your eyebrows raise at the last statement, "Barely." you remark, eyeing the room straight ahead into the kitchen. It was a nice place, far nicer than the shoe box you and Dina lived in months prior, but by no means is it more spacious.

"Okay, so maybe not by much. But, think about how much fun it'll be."

"I guess." You ponder the thought of it, dozens of people boxed in your guys' apartment like sardines in a tin can to welcome the New Year. Then you grimace at the thought of everyone drunk and sweaty, the booming voices counting down the clock, people scrambling to find someone to messily kiss. "I retract my statement, actually."

"Oh, c'mon." Dina huffs.

"Why can't we just invite over some small friends? A small gathering? Yes, a small gathering sounds far better." Nodding your head at the idea, trying your best to convince Dina of your idea.

"That's boring. It's gotta be a party, and besides, aren't you supposed to be a socialite?"

You let out a groan at her words, "Reluctant. It's a curse that I'm good with people."

"And that's why you're going to invite some of your fancy socialite friends over."

Your brows furrow deeper than you think they've ever done before. "I'm doing what now? And they're not really friends, just—" you pause to think of a nice name to call them rather than the ones you're currently thinking of. "acquaintances. And I thought you were just thinking of having this party?"

That cracks a smile onto Dina's face. "Well it's decided now." she muses, bunching up her shoulders and throwing up her hands.

"Really?" feeling unfazed by her.

"Yep!" Dina quips.

"Why do you always invite? They're not very good people." you confess.

Dina shrugs, "They suck but at least they bring good booze."

A laugh erupts from you, enacting a full body shake, pointing your index finger at the girl. "I like the way you think."

"I know." she smirks.

The mattress underneath Ellie vibrates, causing her to groan and flip over, giving her phone the cold shoulder. Sighing when it stops, feeling herself mold further into her pillow. Till the bzz bzz bzz begins again, she tries to ignore it and focus on getting back to sleep, but at this point it's been ringing an eternity. Dramatically turning her body back over, taking a hold of her phone and holding it up to her and squinting; Dina. A finger presses answer and she brings the screen up to her face.

"Hello?" she groggily asks, running a hand over her sleep ridden-face. Her body aches from the travels.

"Where are you going to be on New Year's Eve?" Dina demands.

Straight to the point she guesses, rolling her eyes at the lack of "Hello, to you too, Ellie. How are you feeling from your long travels?" Ellie lets her arm fall over her face. "In my bed. Is that okay with you?" she grumbles, hoping this isn't one of Dina's schemes.

"Wrong answer."

Ellie's head pushes further into her pillow, confusion written all over her twisted up face. "How?"

"You're going to be coming to my party." The girl on the other side of the phone corrects.

"Is that an invite where I can accept or decline?"

"No, you're attending this party."

Ellie lets out a long string of groans in retaliation. She didn't even why she bothered to ask if it was an invite, of course she'd be forced to attend another party.

"Oh, stop being dramatic. You always have fun."

A chuckle falls from Ellie's lips. "If you think me having a few beers and listening on to some random conversation is fun, then sure."

There's some rustling on the other end of the phone, like a faint jingle of keys. The noise alone alerts Ellie to check the clock on her night stand, moving her arm from over her face to peek at the clock; 2:54 p.m. She throws her arm back over her face.

Dina huffs and takes a breath, "You just never put yourself out there. That's why. You could easily spark up a conversation with a rando and they'll love you!"

Ellie scoffs at the image of her talking to some random person, let alone her initiating it. "Yeah, right. Besides, I don't really like any of the people that are at your parties, they're all outsiders from our group." Remembering a time at one of Dina's parties when she planted her ass on some couch then out of nowhere a small crowd started to surround her. One of the guys in the group had some weird bullshit rhetoric he was spewing, so she called him out, correcting him in the meantime as well. Everyone around her froze and started looking at her as if she grew another head; she carry's that memory with her to not fuck with any rando's.

"They're my roommates, friends, or acquaintances, whatever they are." Ellie perks up at the mention of you, her arm falling off her face once more, and this time she shuffles in her bed to sit up. "But, they bring that good beer you like."

"Ah, right. All's forgiven, I guess." she doesn't think her voice could get any sarcastic.

There's a moment of silence, Ellie clears her throat. "So, uh, how's your roommate?" It's an innocent question she asks, a hand coming up to her head to smooth over her messy bed head. She knows your name but she still calls you Dina’s roommate.

"Oh! She's good. Neither of us went home for Christmas this year, so we spent it together."

"Cute." Ellie hums. Whenever she hears Dina talk about you it makes a small part of her ache for a roommate, someone to always be around and grow a close bond with. But, not everyone gets as lucky as Dina in the roommate lottery, and the thought of it always gets pushed out of her mind in favor of a space entirely her own.

"She's going to be at the party." Dina blurts, knowing what Ellie is trying to do, she knows the brunette girl too well.

"Well, I would hope so." Her response was casual, holding her phone away from her face and unplugging it from its charging cord, deciding to press the 'Speaker' button and not succumb herself to holding the hot screen phone to her face. Swinging her legs off the edge of the bed, she stretches, a few small noises falling from her lips when doing so. Is it so wrong for her to ask such a question?

"I just bet you do." Dina teases, not convinced with the facade Ellie's putting up.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Ellie quirks, pushing the shirt that's ridden up her abdomen and pushing it back into its rightful position. The socks on her feet shuffling against the ground to move her body out of her room and to her liven area; it's living area and kitchen combined, she thinks it's a cool name since the entire area is open, but everyone else just calls it the dumbest name ever.

"You don't need to skirt around asking about her. I know about your little crush on her."

Ellie chokes at the word crush, playing it off back hacking up a lung. "I don't have a crush on anyone." she argues, still trying to recover from her coughing fit, wiping away the few dribbles of tears in the corners of her eyes.

"It's all that damn smoking." Dina retorts at Ellie's fit.

"You sound like Joel." Ellie snorts.

There's a beginning of an insult Dina begins to say until she gets interrupted. Being nosy Ellie tries to listen in to what it could be. “Uh, hold on a sec, Els.”

"Yep, it's not a problem." Ellie says, her mouth falling into a tight line. She takes a seat on her couch, listening intently to the chatter happening; as best she could, it's extremely muffled, almost like whispering. Placing her phone to be perched on her thigh she takes hold of her hand, picking at the skin around her nails. Picking at a stubborn piece of skin before she pricks herself and starts bleeding, "Ah, shit." bringing her finger up to her mouth to nurse at the bleeding spot.

“Ellie?” Your voice startles her to remove her finger from her mouth urgently, and straighten her hunchback.

She picks up her phone for some reason, clearing her throat. “Hey.”

“Hi!” You exclaim, enacting a small jump in Ellie's heart. Are you happy to talk to her or are you just like this? She'll settle on the latter. “How are you doing?” the simple question makes her feel embarrassed, a soft pink hue forming across her freckled cheeks.

“I’m doing all right. I just- uh," she pauses momentarily, and she thinks of lying, and telling you that she just got home from running errands, and before that she went to the gym for a few hours; to make herself seem productive. "I just woke up.” she tells the truth.

“Rough night?” there's something endearing in your voice and how it seemed to drop when you asked if she had a rough night, as if you're trying to work a dirty secret out of her by telling her you wouldn't tell a soul. And truthfully if she did have some wild night, it wouldn't take much for her to tell you about it.

Ellie shuffles on her couch, leaning forward, placing her elbows on her spread knees, leaning her head on her unoccupied hand. “You could say so. I landed back here at like 3 a.m.” Although the flight had not been her worst by close measure, she was still sleep deprived and being on a plane always managed to make her body ache.

“Oh, from Christmas. You visited your family, right?” Yet, again her heart leaps. Dina must've told you her plans in passing, but it's the fact that you remembered that made her heart thump a little faster.

She knows she's cheesing way too hard, but maybe you could somehow sense her happy mood through the phone, or at least she hopes. “Yeah, I didn’t go home for Thanksgiving, so it was good to see them.” Her family wasn't large, nor typical, but she held them dear to her heart.

“That’s very sweet.” you say, and just as Ellie hoped, on the other side of the phone you sit on your couch mirroring an identical dopey grin. She pushes her head into her palm, she hates that you have such an effortless effect on her, and she hates how your voice sounds airy, much like the noises doves make as they fly around. “Did you get everything you wished for, for Christmas?”

The question takes Ellie by surprise, letting out a soft, breathy laugh. “Oh, c’mon.” She's sure she'll bore you with the niche presents she got, and she's even more sure that you wouldn't care.

“Sorry, sorry.” you chuckle.

Ellie shifts once again, letting her body fall into her couch, a hand running through her knotted hair as her leg bounces vigorously. “I hear you're hosting a New Year’s Eve party.” She's making conversation.

“Well, it’s really Dina doing it all. I’m helping out, though.”

“That’s good. You're a real trooper helping Dina with all her shenanigans?" The smile she once had now turns to a crooked smirk; anything to send harmless jabs at Dina.

"Need a trophy for it really. But, I don't mind, she's lucky I love her." Your words strike something within Ellie, she doesn't know quite what it is, but there's something at how comfortably the word love falls from your mouth, it makes her feel bitter.

“You coming?”

It's a yes or no question, but Ellie still takes a moment to think. Dina's already made it clear that she has to attend, but she could also use this as an opportunity to back out of it and just spend the first few weeks of the new year hiding out from Dina like someone hiding from a hitman. “Uh, yeah. I am.” She's fucked.

“Fantastic!” You amuse her, not in a silly way, but in a way as in she's never met someone who genuinely uses the word fantastic quite like you. She finds it cute. “I was a little reluctant about it, but I’m coming around to it. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it.” Oh. So you weren't on board for this either?

“I’m sure I will, too.” She's beyond fucked up.

You don't respond, but that inaudible whisper is back, the two of you must be talking. “Oh, um. Dina wants her phone back," Ellie can feel herself deflate, slumping into the couch. She felt childish that she wants to whine and say she wants to keep talking to you. "but how much longer do I have to wait to get your number, or do you just not like me?” Your words bring life back into her, placing a hand on the soft cushion and pushing herself up. The two of you have known each other for about four years now and you two don't interact without the influence of Dina. And she feels embarrassed that not only do you think she could possibly not like you, you're also the one asking her for her number. But, of course you are, she's not as outgoing as you.

“What? No, no, it’s not that." It could never be that. "Just, uh, get it from Dina.” She panicked, but then again she didn't know if you had your phone on your or paper and a pen near you to write down her number. Dina comes in clutch, she guesses.

“Okay, I will. See you Tuesday night, Ellie.” You said her name again.

“See you Tuesday.” There's silence and she almost thinks you hung up till she taps her screen to see Dina's ID screen.

“And you say you don’t have a crush?” Dina's voice quips.

Ellie groans, her hands slapping at her face before they drag down.

Ellie's phone buzzes in her pocket, reaching for it she frees it from her jacket and unlocks it.

You

Hi! Hope you're excited for the party tonight, can't wait to see you! x

4:23 p.m

Ellie

Hey! Can't wait to see what Dina put together, and right back at ya :)

4:24 p.m

She stands in the store aisle as she watches a blue text bubble appear with three little dots, it abruptly stops, and instead of whatever you wanted to say you replaced it by hearting her message. Ellie stuffs her phone back in her pocket. Sighing as she throws her head back, squinting at the fluorescent lights. Rolling her neck she looks straight forward, swiping the golden figure from the shelf into her hand, taking it and the complementary beer for the party to the register.

Chatters overtake the living space, looking over it you see how certain people group together, it's endearing really how certain types of people naturally gravitate towards each other and stick together like magnets. You take another sip of your beer, looking down in your lap, flipping over your phone to check the time, 10:40 p.m on the dot. You huff, unlocking your phone and picking an app to mindlessly scroll through.

Someone says your name, causing you to lift your head in an instant. “Oh, Mack.” Lifting yourself from off the couch to hug the girl, letting your phone fall into the cracks of your couch in the process. “Hey.” She breaths into the embrace.

“How are you? You enjoying yourself?” you ask, you've gotta be a good host, although you've asked the same questions over ten times now when greeting each person. But, with Mack you don't mind all that much. She's one of the more tolerable socialites you know, and maybe even a friend if you dared.

“I’m doing good, and uh. Yeah! I just got here a little bit ago, saw Dina and everything. I love the new place.” she answers, looking around the room at the last part to take in the space once more.

“That's good, and thanks. Dina and I have been really enjoying it.” Flashing her a polite smile. “She was actually the one to push the idea of a New Years Eve party.” You're creating conversation that you're not sure you want to create.

“Well it's a nice party. You guys really went all out with the decorations.” Motioning to all the gold and black decorations littering the living space.

You hum, forcing another smile, “Why don't we sit down? I heard you just joined a startup from Jonesy, congratulations!” And there you've done it.

Out of your sight, Ellie shuffles into the apartment, searching for either your or Dina.

“Ellie!” A familiar voice yells over the chatter, Ellie looks out to see a tan hand up surfing through the crowd, it’s Dina. She pulls Ellie in for a hug, and she wraps her unoccupied hand around Dina.

“Hey.” Ellie’s greeting was faint, something only Dina could hear.

“Was worried you were gonna flake.” An elbow nudges into Ellie’s side, and she squirms, swatting Dina away.

“Wouldn't miss it for the world.” she grimaces, green eyes flickering around the sea of people packed into the small space.

“Yeah, I’d hunt you down if you did.” Dina’s words are playful, but there's some truth to them. Ellie focuses back on the girl in front of her, and she remembers the beer in her hand.

“Oh, I bought some beer.” Lifting up the case and showing it off.

“Great! Can never have too much of it.” Taking a hold of the case from the brunette and walking to the kitchen. Ellie follows after her, watching as Dina opens the fridge and places the case of beer next to another one, the one she knows one of your fancy friends brought, the one she likes. It makes her chuckle thinking that her case of beer will feel at home with the rest of the alcohol in the fridge.

“Did you want one?” Dina asks, still bent into the fridge.

“Yeah.”

Dina reaches and grabs a beer, extending her arm to Ellie. But upon one look, “Not that one, the one I bought.”

Dina removes her head from the fridge to stand up straight, questionably eyeing her. “I bought it with my money so I’m going to drink it.” Ellie shrugs.

“Whatever you say.” Dina mumbles, placing the beer back and grabbing the one from the other case, handing it to Ellie; she says a quick ‘Thanks’ looking behind her on the counter she's leaning against, grabbing a bottle opener and piping it open, pocketing the top in her jeans pocket taking a swig of the drink.

“Uh, where's roomie?” It's an ice breaker she tells herself.

Dina pouts, leaning so she looks over Ellie's figure into the open space living area that's completely filled with people. She shrugs as she sets herself back in place. “She's somewhere in there, y’know how she is.”

“Yeah, I do.” Taking another, longer swig of her beer.

"So," Dina begins. Ellie squints at her, the look in Dina's brown eyes tells her something is up. "Who are you kissing tonight?" Of course.

Ellie swallows. "Who are you kissing tonight?" She's deflecting, but she's also genuinely curious.

Dina looks off somewhere then back at Ellie. "I'm sure I can find someone. Now, stop deflecting. Who are you kissing?"

She rolls her eyes at the stupid question. "You know the answer. No one." It's been no one for years, it would be something she's embarrassed about but she's too used to it to feel that way. A reason she didn't want to attend the party, she didn't want to have to come face to face with the fact that she's so content with feeling alone, even when there's countless people who kiss other people with no strings attached on a night like December 31st; Ellie just couldn't do it.

Dina could see the question get under her friend's skin, the aversion of her gaze as it flickers around, focusing on anything but Dina, and the hand layer unoccupied on her jeans, a nimble finger scratching at the fabric. "Okay, okay. Stay lonely and un-kissed, loser."

Lifting herself up from leaning on the counter, "Have fun finding someone random to kiss." Ellie swings her beer up in the air, a solute to Dina's findings. The moment she turns her back to Dina she feels a twinge of regret, maybe she's being too sensitive about the topic. . . Nah. She knew what her friend was trying to insinuate when asking who she's kissing tonight, and with her hounding to know if she has a crush on you, it's too much. Ellie Williams isn't kissing anyone on New Year's Eve and she doesn't have a crush on you.

Your butt feels numb, you hadn't moved much since you sat down in an effort to seem interested in whatever Mack is talking about. It's routine really, ask someone about something recent, often something new or life changing and the person will talk your ear off, litter a few Ah's and Oh, Really's?, maybe a few questions of your own if you're feeling frisky. But, at this point you're starting to worry about how long someone could possibly talk about a startup.

Stretching your neck side to side you squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, opening them to put your attention back on Mack. And as quickly as it happens, you lose it. Eyes roaming the window you were staring out of just a few days ago, you couldn't see it about an hour ago, you guess people have congregated elsewhere. You're just about to focus on the girl sitting in front of you, again, till a bright little flickering flame catches your eye. Squinting as you watch the flame be brought to something then be gone, the moonlight and the city lights allow you to see silhouette, Ellie.

Turning back to Mack, you place a warm hand on her knee, "I'm really sorry, Mack. But, I think Dina is calling me." you lie, a very tiny fabricated lie that shouldn't hurt her too much. Rising from the couch and walking towards the window.

"Oh, but—" Mack's head twists behind her, a finger pointing to the opposite side of the room where Dina's at, talking to a few people.

Both you and Dina had thought it was a good idea to keep the balcony window open during the party, knowing that everyone would be packed in tightly together and some fresh cool air could keep the environment comfortable. The sheer blinds flap from the wind and you catch them, entering the balcony, but not quite. You were right, now faced with the back of Ellie staring down to the city streets, taking drags of the cigarette she just lite, expelling the smoke to let it be carried away by the wind and be swirled around. Everything about her is so signature, from her half up half down hairstyle, the chunky tan jacket she wears everywhere, the jeans she has on, down to the boots she exchanged during the winter season instead of wearing her converse; and there's a beer at her feet.

"Smoking and drinking? Pick a struggle." You remark, folding your arms over each other.

Ellie's startled by your voice, again. Turning around to see you standing in the opening of the window. The sheer cream blind sway behind you, but the moonlight illuminates to make them appear brighter, it gives you a halo that hitches Ellie's breath. And there's a toothy grin on your face, it's a telltale that you're clearly teasing her.

She tears her gaze away from you and turns back around to lean on the railing of the balcony, nodding her head.

The grin on your face drops at Ellie's action, and there's a few short clicks of your footsteps before you're also leaning against the railing next to her. "Was it too far?" you ask, in a softness close to a whisper.

Ellie turns to you, brows furrowed. "No, I just um—" She eyes the cigarette between her fingers, bad habits die hard. "My New Year's resolution is to quit." she stated, she doesn't exactly know when she decided this, but she always felt the need to say something unnecessary around you in hopes to impress you.

Your eyes widen at her words, "Oh, wow, Ellie. That's huge." you beamed, you feel proud to know this, and you wonder if Dina knows about her resolution. "You know we're all here for you."

Ellie huffs out another drag, she does it by looking in the opposite direction from you. "Yeah, I know." she agreed, turning back to you. "It's going to be fucking hard, been smoking for years."

"You're strong, Ellie. It is going to be hard, but again, just please remember that you have a support system. Even if you don't want to go to Dina or whoever, I know we're not super close, but I'm here." You're sincere in your words, and you just hope Ellie can tell that you are. Comfortable silence, or as close to silence falls over the two of you, eye contact not breaking as you gaze into each other. As Ellie looks at you she lets your words soak in, everything about you is soft right now; the kiss of your lashes on your cheeks when you blink, the small smile on your face and how it reached your eyes causing them to twinkle, the faint aroma of your perfume, to your words. Just alone with your comforting words she likes to think she could quit smoking cold turkey, despite knowing she'd probably roll over and die if she did.

"Thank you." A smile now mirrors yours. And in response yours stretches wider, a silent, No problem. "What are you doing out here?"

"Needed a breather." You needed more than a breather, you needed to escape from the Hell that is uninteresting conversations.

"You got one." She quips, she's sure you have better things to do, better things to talk to than her.

Your eyebrows rise, you weren't expecting a response like that. "Are you trying to get rid of me, Williams?" Quirking your head to the side. Feelings of Ellie not liking you come washing back, and your body burns, but she said she does like you, and you trust her.

"Not a chance." She confirms.

"Sounds like you are." You press, still hung up on such a response.

"I would never." Ellie consoled, she feels bad for her snarky remark, so she places emphasis on the word never. "It's just that—" She stops mid sentence, your sharp gaze waiting for the next thing to come out of her mouth, she feels hot and looks away for a moment, releasing the hand on the railing to come up and pull at her collar before smoothing to rub at her neck. "I just thought you'd be doing your socialite thing right now."

"Why does everyone keep calling me that?" You groan, and everyone as in Dina and now Ellie.

"What? You are." she proclaimed.

"Not by much," you grumble, looking down to the streets of the city. "Can I confess something to you?"

Ellie walks around you, to the little table and chair you and Dina had set up on the balcony, you could only fit those two things without taking up the entire balcony, so whenever the two of you come out here one sits on the chair and the other sits on the metal staircases. She buds out her cigarette into the ashtray Dina keeps outside before returning to her spot next to you. "My lips are sealed."

"I don't really like my life." you admit. It's a heavy topic that's been looming over your head in dark clouds. You would have talked to Dina about it, but she thinks your life is the best thing ever, and you know if given the chance she'd gladly jump into your shoes, and you'd let her.

"Oh."

"Yeah." you sigh, "Sorry if it's too much. I don't have many people to talk about this to." This is a bad idea.

"No, it's not, trust me. I just don't know if I'm the best person to talk to this about," She feels under qualified to talk about such a topic with you, although she understands the feeling all too well. "maybe Dina will?"

"Dina won't understand."

"Ah." she acknowledges, she agrees with that. "What's the matter?"

"I just feel unhappy and unfulfilled." you say, and you feel ungrateful doing so. "I shouldn't be that's the thing."

"How so?"

"Because, I guess I have everything. And I'm lucky and thankful." You break, collecting your thoughts. "But it's like everything I do is to please others. I'm tired."

Ellie frowns. She thinks of a decent way to try and comfort you, but each one doesn't sound right, and she doesn't want something she says to make you feel worse; there's even a passing thought of pulling you into a hug, but she decides against it; you guys aren't there quite yet. "Fuck that." A little brash, but she hopes it'll get the message across.

Your face scrunches up and you let out a breathy laugh. "What?" Confusion written all over your face from Ellie's response.

"Fuck that. Fuck people pleasing. And fuck not being happy your life." You're startled by her words, not knowing where she's trying to go with what she's saying; Ellie doesn't know where she's going either. She reaches into her jacket pocket and pulls out her phone, "It's 11:43, and we're leaving all that bullshit in the past in about 16 minutes. You're turning a new leaf in 2025." she retorted, feeling a new kind of adrenaline from her words.

You break out into a loud laughter, sure enough that the few people walking on the streets could hear you, but positive enough that no one inside the apartment could hear you. Ellie watches you fit, laughing a little herself, but not too much to take in the scene in front of her. You; mouth wide, curled open, cheeks plump as the press up into your closed eyes, the little birthmarks on your face and how they move as you express joy, she's taken aback by you.

When you calm down, there's still some giggles exiting your mouth. "Fuck all that."

A weight is lifted from off Ellie's shoulders, she twists and leans over the balcony railing. "Fuck all that!" she yells into the night.

You follow her actions. "Fuck all that!" you repeat louder.

A random person on the street heard the two of you and yells in retaliation. "Shut the fuck up!" their booming voice roars, but it only makes you and Ellie whip your heads to each other and erupt into a shared fit of laughter.

The two of you lean on each other to have support from the full belly laughs you guys are having. Ellie brings a finger to swipe at her eyes, "God, I'm crying." she croaks out. But you notice commotion happening inside, and you sober up from laughing quickly.

"You hear that?"

Ellie turns to look into the apartment just as you're doing, she can't see much, but she can hear the countdown.

Ten.

Nine.

Eight.

Seven.

Six.

Five.

Four.

Ellie stays strained looking, the blind are sheer enough, and there's still wind picking them up and flapping them, so she's able to see everyone inside with little party gadgets and jumping up and down as they count. "Well happy-" Words leave her mouth when she feels a hand on her cheek, pushing her to turn it to look back at you. Her green eyes widen when she feels the tip of your noses touch.

Three.

Two.

One.

It doesn't take much to move just a smidge closer, and kiss Ellie, letting your eyes flutter shut. Fireworks rocket off inside Ellie's head and her body tenses, this was the last thing she expected to happen, but her panicked state begins to match your relaxed one, a hand coming up to cup at your jaw, while the other comes to rest on your waist, pulling you further into her. She swears your lips is the softest thing she's ever felt, the way at which you two kiss has her chasing for more.

The noises of cheers rings through your ears, and you're the one who lets up first, giggling when Ellie still has her eyes closed, leaning into you for another kiss. You swipe a finger along her bottom lip, breaking the string of saliva that connected you two.

When her eyes peer open again, they're dazed, probably much like yours. "Happy New Year." you whisper, a coy smile on your face.

You watch as Ellie seems to remember something, and you're disappointed to feel her touch be removed from your body. She stuffs both her hands in her jacket pocket, like she couldn't remember which one she put an item in. And she lets out a little Ah Ha, as she pulls out a golden statue, or trophy. She hands it to you, and you take it in your hands, examining it, there's a little ripped piece of paper taped on the stand of the trophy with Ellie's scribble handwriting on it.

#1 Trooper of Dina's Shenanigans

"Happy New Year."

You caress the little trophy, holding on to it, and looking back up at Ellie.

2025 is going to be a good year.

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