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@reputationmunson
not using chatgpt is literally the easiest thing in the world
Just This Once: Part Five
Pairing: dbf!joel miller x f!reader
Chapter Summary: Joel surprises you for a weekend getaway with a less than ideal ending.
Chapter Warnings: language, age gap, smut (18+ MDNI), unprotected piv sex, rough sex, outdoor sex, spanking, discussions about hunting animals, so much fluff then boom! angst, they're catching feelings big time, alcohol consumption
WC: 12.5K
Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four
"Where are we going?"
"Told you. It's a surprise."
You sigh dramatically behind your blindfold as Joel chuckles softly from the driver's seat of his truck.
He was never the type to come up with great, unique ways to impress a woman, and this time he felt was no exception. But he had a gut feeling you'd like what he had planned, even though it wasn't exactly fancy or exciting.
"Can I guess?" you ask, tilting your head blindly in his general direction.
Joel grins. "Go for it."
Out of the corner of his eye, he sees you tap your chin.
"Is it... another baseball game?"
Memories of the Longhorn game he took you to a couple weeks prior flash through his mind. It was so relaxing, finally being able to openly drape his arm around your shoulders and kiss you whenever he wanted. And you were so fucking adorable in his borrowed team shirt and the brand new hat he had bought you before finding your seats. When you leaned into his side to ask questions with your hand resting comfortably on his thigh, everything felt so real. So good. It was a feeling he found hard to let go of once the game was over and you had to go back to reality.
"Nope. Not another game."
You hum quietly in thought.
"Is it a yoga class?"
Joel tosses his head back and laughs.
"You know as well as I do I wouldn't last five minutes in a yoga class."
"I don't know... you're more flexible that you look," you giggle, "remember last week in the shower when you picked me up—"
"Alright, y'done?" he asks, cutting you off before you could tease him further.
"No! I'm still guessing!" you exclaim, cutely propping your hands on your hips with a little defiant scowl.
Joel rolls his eyes and smirks before taking a right down a gravel road.
"Whoa. It's bumpy," you say, grabbing onto the door to keep you steady.
"Yeah, almost there now."
"Are you taking me to church?"
Joel snorts and shakes his head. "Ain't enough holy water in the county to save you, darlin'."
"You should talk," you shoot right back.
He had hardly stopped smiling the entire drive. His fucking cheeks hurt. And the closer he got to your destination, the more nervous he became.
When Sarah asked him last week what he's been doing and who he's spending so much time with, he almost let it slip. It was like the words were just sitting right on the tip of his tongue, like they were desperate to get spoken, to become real. Yet, he held back. He knew he ought to talk to you about it first—about what you were—but he was fucking terrified of what it would mean.
He pushes a hand through his hair and exhales nervously when the familiar driveway appears.
"Alright," he grunts when he turns the wheel. You bite your bottom lip excitedly, fingers tapping restlessly against the top of your bare thighs as you wait for the go-ahead to remove the blindfold. He glances at you once he puts the truck into park, allowing himself just a few more selfish seconds to admire you without you seeing.
"Joel?"
"Hm?"
"Can I take it off? I gotta pee."
"Oh, right," he says, unbuckling his belt before reaching for your own. "Okay... go on."
You tear the blindfold off with the eagerness of a kid on Christmas, then drop it next to you on the seat before looking around. Confusion clouds your face for a second, like you're trying to place where you are, before giving up and turning to Joel.
"What is this? Where are we?"
Joel looks through the windshield at the small cabin tucked away on the edge of the woods.
"Used to be my old man's huntin' cabin," he explains, "used to bring me 'n Tommy up when we were younger. Spent alotta summers here."
"You're a hunter?" you ask, eyes still scanning the ancient, tall pine trees surrounding the cabin.
"Not so much anymore," he says, pushing open his door to slide out of his seat. He groans to himself when his feet hit the dirt, his knees and back already angry and stiff from the ride. You follow suit, walking slowly around the front of the cab, still taking everything in. There's a large, empty field filled with tall yellow grass, wedged between the front of the cabin and the road, although from this distance, the road was barely visible.
"It's so beautiful here," you breathe, spinning around like you couldn't tear your eyes away from your surroundings if you tried. "So quiet and peaceful."
Joel grins, his heart settling a bit in his chest once he earned your approval.
"It ain't much, but I thought you'd like it," he shrugs, "thought we could spend the weekend. If y'want."
You finally meet his eye again, brows shooting up in surprise.
"The weekend?" you echo. "The whole weekend? But I didn't bring—"
"I did," he says, reaching into the bed of his truck and lifting a duffel bag filled with your clothes and whatever else was out on your bathroom sink that looked heavily used. You laugh like you're in shock, jaw dropping as he shouldered the bag.
"Well... I was supposed to study this weekend, but I guess—"
"Got that, too," he replies, reaching for the tote bag you use for school. "And I got your cameras but I packed 'em pretty tight. Didn't wanna scratch 'em up."
"You—you did all this?" you ask, voice filled with wonder. He nods, leaning up against the truck.
"Yeah. Thought you'd like a break. It's a quiet place to study. Lots of stuff to take pictures of."
Emotion swells in your chest at his thoughtfulness. You press your lips together, suddenly overwhelmed from his sweet gesture while staring up at Joel in disbelief. He gives you a shy grin and shifts his weight when the silence goes on too long.
"I do okay?"
You nod and wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down for a kiss.
"Yeah," you murmur against his lips, "better than okay."
---
Ten minutes roaming inside the cabin told you Joel put a lot more effort into this little impromptu trip than he was letting on. The fridge was already stocked with fresh food and the linens smelled like they had just been cleaned. It made you smile to imagine Joel coming here and fixing everything up, just for you.
"When did you pack all my things?" you ask after leaving the bathroom. Joel was busy chopping up potatoes next to the sink when you sidled up next to him to help.
"When you were sleepin' last night."
You frown and pick up a knife to chop some carrots.
"How come I didn't hear you?"
Joel grins, his cheeks flushing a bit.
"Must've wore you out."
You scoff but feel your own skin beginning to heat up.
"Don't give yourself too much credit. I had a long week."
"Yeah, yeah," he chuckles, then nods towards the small sitting room. "Go on. I got this."
"You sure?"
Joel raises an eyebrow at you. "I fed Sarah all by myself her whole damn life, didn't I?"
"Well, she is still alive," you agree before setting down the knife and washing your hands. "Guess that counts for something."
When you turn to leave the modest galley kitchen, Joel snaps a towel across your ass, making you yelp and giggle before retreating to the corner where he had put your box of cameras and equipment.
From the corner of your eye, you watch from the floor of the sitting room while Joel cooks. He occasionally goes outside to tend to the grill, pushing the old screen door open with his hip and humming quietly to himself.
You clean one of your Canon cameras, the pieces spread out on the worn carpet in front of you, while he works just a few feet away.
It's serene. Domestic. Comfortable.
You try to ignore the way your heart flutters every time he passes by and you catch a whiff of his cologne.
Once the camera is reassembled, you fiddle with the zoom and a few other settings before sneakily raising it up and snapping a few quiet pictures when Joel isn't looking.
"Five minutes," he announces. He licks his fingers and wipes them absentmindedly on the towel draped over his shoulder before gathering up two bowls and heading towards the door. You stand, dust your hands on the sides of your denim shorts, and slip into the kitchen to help bring plates and silverware outside to eat.
The weather is perfect. It's not too hot in the shade and there's a small breeze every now and then that lifts your napkin from your lap. Crickets begin to stir in the grass around you, singing to one another as the sun starts to dip below the trees. It's the only sound you hear—even if the road was closer to the cabin, the noise would be minimal. Joel said there isn't another house for two miles and the most he's ever seen on any given day growing up was one tractor and four cars.
"What did you used to hunt?" you ask from across the weathered picnic table. Joel popped a forkful of mashed potatoes into his mouth before answering.
"Deer, mostly. Sometimes birds."
"You ever get anything?"
"Once," he grins, his eyes crinkling at the corners from the memory. "Got an eight-point buck when I was fourteen. Tommy didn't believe me after me 'n our Pops dragged it back, thought we were pullin' his leg. The antlers are right there, above the door," he adds, pointing with his fork. You twist around and see a few sets of antlers nailed into the wood.
"Wow," you reply, dragging the last letter out to sound impressed, even though you didn't have the first clue about hunting. "Why'd you stop?"
Joel shrugs and picks at his chicken. "Felt like somethin' I just liked to do with him. Once he passed, didn't feel the same."
"Oh. Sorry. I didn't—I guess I never—"
Joel shakes his head and waves you off. "It happened a long time ago. I was 'round your age."
He feels his stomach tighten a bit when he said that phrase, around your age. It doesn't sound right rolling off his tongue. He sounded... old.
You seem unbothered by it, however.
"What about your mom?"
"She's doin' alright, still in Cedar Park. Keepin' busy. She's in good shape. Me 'n Tommy take turns goin' up there, take her shoppin' or fix things that need fixin'. She's got a whole mess of friends," he chuckles, "more than me. She's always busy doin' somethin', I swear."
You smile at the way his face softens when he talks about his mother. It makes your chest ache when you begin to think about your own. He must sense it when you fall quiet and your eyes drop down to your plate with a sad smile.
"Was gonna build a fire later," he says, changing the subject. You perk up at that.
"Yeah?"
He nods, pushing his empty plate to the side so he can rest his crossed arms on top of the picnic table.
"Yeah. Got stuff to do s'mores, got some beers. Should be a nice night."
"I like that idea," you say with an excited grin. He smiles back, dark eyes sparkling a bit from across the table.
After a ten minute argument over cleaning up, Joel begrudgingly left you alone to do the dishes while he wrestled with a warped wooden door to a small shed. Through the window over the sink, you watch as he disappears inside only to emerge holding an axe. You really don't think anything of it as you mindlessly scrub the dishes, but when you hear the first crack of wood splitting in two, your eyes dart back up to the window.
"Jesus," you murmur to yourself as you watch Joel raise the axe over his head, then swing it back down with a deep grunt that has your throat going dry.
Your hands still as you continue to watch, slack jawed. Once Joel's satisfied with the pile of wood he split, he finally stops and lifts his shirt to wipe the sweat from his face. He drops it and turns back to the cabin, smirking when he spots you staring. Your face heats up and you quickly look away, then open the fridge to grab a bottle of beer. When you step outside, dusk settling calmly over the field and surrounding forest, Joel is stacking the wood into a neat pile.
"Here," you say, handing him the bottle. He straightens up, slightly out of breath, and his eyes drop to the beer in your hand.
"Thanks, darlin'."
You watch him twist the cap off and bring the bottle to his lips, taking a few healthy swigs. Your head lilts to the side and your teeth sink into your bottom lip as you watch his throat bob. You had just noticed the sweat soaking through his blue tshirt when he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and juts his chin in your direction.
"See somethin' you like?"
"That's an understatement," you answer coyly.
He laughs and throws an arm around your shoulders, tugging you forward so he can kiss the top of your head.
"Go grab a drink and a blanket," he says, releasing you and setting his beer on top of an old fence post. "I'll get the fire goin', but it still gets pretty cool here at night."
He was right. Once the sun set, the cool air drifted off the wide open field and wrapped itself around you. However the fire, the blanket, and Joel had you feeling perfectly comfortable.
"You gonna actually make a s'more or just eat the ingredients?" he teases when you pop a marshmallow into your mouth, straight from the bag.
"Little of both," you reply, although your words are garbled. He grins and leans back into the wooden Adirondack loveseat, draping one arm along the back while his other hand lifts his beer to take a sip.
Crickets and cicadas fill the air, along with the occasional crackle from the fire. The breeze is gone, the leaves on the trees are still, and you realize this might be the most peace you have ever felt.
His voice is soft—quiet—like he doesn't want to disturb the tranquility.
"How's the class goin'?"
"Good. I like it so far. But I have my first test on Tuesday, so I'm a little nervous," you admit.
"What do you got to be nervous for? You know this shit, inside 'n out."
You shrug, then readjust to lay your head on his lap and toss your legs over the arm of the loveseat. His hand instantly drops to gently stroke your hair and you close your eyes, content.
"I don't know. It means a lot to me. I just... I wanna do good."
"You will," he assures you, "don't put so much pressure on yourself 'n remember why you got into this in the first place."
Your throat tightens a bit as you smile, eyes still closed. It's hard to put into words just how good it feels to be seen and understood by him. Until this whole thing with Joel started, you didn't realize just how much you were lacking support in your life. But now that you have it, have him, you feel so much more at ease. Joel somehow built up your confidence little by little, and even though you believe you would have eventually done it in your own time, joining the photography class at the community college was largely due to Joel's unwavering faith in you.
"Do you ever say the wrong thing?" you tease, opening your eyes to look up at him. He's already gazing down at you, the orange flames from the fire making his face glow and his eyes practically sparkle.
"Oh, plenty," he chuckles, "gimme time, sweetheart. I'll put my foot in my mouth eventually."
You grin and pull an arm out from underneath the blanket. Your fingers curl around the front of the flannel he shrugged on over his shirt and you give it a little tug.
"C'mere," you murmur, and you lift your head from his lap at the same time he leans down to press his lips firmly against yours. When you drop back down, you lick your lips and let go of his shirt.
"Chocolate and beer. Yum," you giggle.
He grins and settles back, spreading his knees a bit under your head. One hand still mindlessly fiddles with your hair and the other picks his beer back up. He looks so at ease in the wilderness, like he was never truly meant to live in a busy suburb.
Your eyes drift around your mostly dark surroundings, trying to imagine Joel growing up here with his family.
"What else did you do here besides hunt?"
"Fished. There's a pond 'bout two miles east that me 'n Tommy used to catch bass from," he says, pointing with his bottle in a general direction, through the woods. "Swam in it, too, when it got too hot. Caught snakes, played games... got into trouble. Stupid shit."
You hum and close your eyes, picturing a dark haired boy racing around the property, laughing and shouting with his brother while their parents sat in the shade, watching them in the distance.
"Can we swim in it tomorrow?" you ask.
Joel arches an eyebrow at you. "Didn't bring swimsuits."
"I don't think answers my question," you say, opening your eyes, revealing a glint of mischief. The corner of his mouth tugs up into a half smirk.
"You wanna go skinny dippin'? In broad daylight?"
You shrug. "Unless you can't handle it," you tease, and Joel scoffs at that.
"Oh, I can handle it. I'll handle it anytime, anywhere, darlin'."
You giggle and push yourself upright, blanket sliding into a pile on the loveseat when you toss a leg across his lap to straddle him.
"Maybe I'll get lucky and find a snake," you muse, linking your arms around the back of his neck. Joel's corresponding laugh echos in the dark, reminding you just how secluded you are out here.
"Keep it up and that snake'll find you soon enough," he grins, looping his free arm around your waist.
With matching smiles, you lean down for a kiss. His lips are soft and wet. He tastes like beer and smells like summer, an addicting combination that is quickly becoming your downfall. Your shoulders drop and you sigh against his mouth, completely relaxed and content. Even though the night air has a bite to it, the warmth from the fire at your back as well as Joel's touch keeps you comfortable.
It's so easy to stay like this, in his lap, leisurely exploring his mouth with your tongue. Time doesn't matter here. There's no rush or risk. It makes you happier than you ever thought possible. You wish you could tell him but you're too afraid of what that would mean, so you keep the words inside. Instead, you show him with slow, deep kisses and gentle fingers that rake lovingly through his hair until the fire behind you gets low and a chill passes down your spine.
"Oughta go in," he rasps. He's the first to break the kiss but his swollen lips don't go far. They hover over yours, parted and slick as you each pant for air. Beer bottle abandoned in the grass at some point, both his hands are now free to slide up your back, holding you close.
He makes you feel so seen and safe, you're pretty sure you could kiss him like that forever if he'd let you.
Definitely a thought to keep to yourself.
With a heavy sigh and one more tender brush of your lips over his, you stand and gather your things. The walk back to the cabin is quiet but filled with every unspoken thing neither of you dare say aloud. And as you settle into bed next to him that night, one leg naturally tossed over his waist and cheek pressed against his shoulder, you try your hardest to ignore the incessant pull in your chest you refuse to name.
---
The following morning, you awake earlier than normal. The loud silence surrounding the cabin overnight gave way to the sounds of wildlife stirring and a gentle breeze rustling the thick, overgrown oak tree branches outside your window.
Joel is still dead asleep and lightly snoring when you tiptoe out of bed. Snatching his abandoned flannel from the night before, you shrug it on and sneak into the living room for one of your cameras and a couple lenses.
Your midterm project is still a month away, but you figure there's no time like the present to start. Besides, you're not in the mood to study the relationship between F-stop and shutter speed for your big exam. You can do that later.
The theme assigned to your class is perspective, and out here in the woods there's plenty of opportunity to get a few good shots in to choose from later.
Being up early has its benefits. There's still a low fog when you step outside, trapping the cold from the night before. You shiver but don't mind, knowing the fog will burn off to a pleasant warmth soon enough.
From the driveway, you crouch down and snap a few shots of the eerie fog hovering above the gravel, framed by two large tree trunks. You wander down the drive, taking a picture or two as you go until you find yourself on the edge of the tall grassy field that sits in front of the cabin. Peering inside to make sure there's no surprises, you lay on your back amongst the grasses and look up at the sky. The fog is thinning above your head but you snap a few pictures anyway, catching the way water droplets cling to the tips of the wispy stalks.
You lay in the grass a little longer, letting your gaze drift around, lingering on the rustling tree limbs hanging overhead and closing your eyes with a sigh when the sun peeks through the hazy clouds. It's warm and soothing and you smile when your ears fill with the sounds of buzzing insects and singing bluebirds.
Your intention was to go back to the cabin, but when you stood you noticed the way the sunlight trickled through the canopy in the woods, dappling the ground with golden flakes of light. Your feet moved before you could think and before you realized it, almost thirty minutes was spent taking pictures of dewy leaves, strong pine trees, and vivid mushroom caps hidden amongst the forest floor.
When you eventually emerge from the woods, lost in thought already about developing the photos, you hear Joel call your name. You lift your head and grin when you spot him leaning against the porch railing with a coffee in one hand and looking way too handsome for someone who just rolled out of bed.
"Get anythin' good?" he asks right before draining his mug.
"Yeah, I think so," you tell him excitedly. You climb the stairs to the porch and glance around at the serene landscape you just explored. "This place is beautiful, Joel. I haven't felt this inspired in a long time. I can't thank you enough for bringing me here."
He smiles warmly before pulling you in for a hug. You inhale his natural scent, his sweat mixed with the sun and a faint hint of smoke from the fire last night. It's heavenly.
"That was the idea," he murmurs, releasing you. His eyes still look a little soft and sleepy when he looks down at you, taking in his flannel draped over your shoulders. He plucks at it gently between two fingers and grins. "Looks damn good on you."
You look down at your clothes before tucking it protectively against you. "I might just have to steal it."
"I wouldn't stop you." He lifts your chin with a hooked finger and presses a soft kiss to your lips. "C'mon," he tells you, stepping away, "I got coffee and breakfast waitin'."
---
The rest of the morning and early afternoon is spent on the porch with Joel. You study for your exam, just like you said you would, and Joel reads some sci-fi book that caused you to raise a curious eyebrow but chose not to question. He never struck you as a sci-fi type, but then again, Joel is full of surprises.
The reading glasses perched on the tip of his nose make you lose focus more times than you care to admit. Why does he have to look so fuckable like this? Just sitting here, all domestic and soft, greying curls brushing the tips of his ears, lips moving ever so slightly as he concentrates. It's a miracle you manage to get through the first three outlines for your exam before you throw in the towel.
"Done already?" he asks, eyebrows raised when he looks at you over the top of his glasses. You bite your lip and try to not look as fucked as you know you are.
"I need a break," you admit, rubbing the back of your sweaty neck. The sun is at its highest point, just past noon. The chill from the night before is a distant memory now. "Can we go swimming? It's hot."
Joel chuckles and slots an old receipt between the pages of his book, marking where he left off.
"Ain't that hot."
"Maybe it's just you making me hot, then," you smirk. Joel rolls his eyes and, to your dismay, tucks his glasses away.
"Sure you ain't just lookin' for an excuse not to study?"
You shake your head. "I still have all day tomorrow and I already got halfway through my material."
Joel's heard all of Sarah's excuses before and yours sounds no different. He opens his mouth to say as much but stops himself when he realizes drawing the comparison between you and his daughter is not something either of you want to dwell on.
"Alright. Let's grab some towels," he relents, and you jump up with glee.
The pond is a two mile walk but mostly in the shade of the woods. The air is still and the bugs are annoying, but you're positively gleaming the whole way. Joel can't wipe the smile from his face when he sees you this happy. It makes his chest swell and his heart flutter like a fool.
"Used to have a tree house over there," Joel points as you make your way through the thick brush. "But one year a bad storm whipped through and tore it down. Damn near broke Tommy's heart, he loved that thing."
"What's Tommy like?" you ask, tilting your head curiously in his direction. Joel grins.
"Trouble," he laughs, "but he's gettin' better. Used to keep me on my toes. Never knew what shit he'd get himself twisted up in, but he's settlin' down a bit now."
"Is he married?"
"No," Joel shakes his head.
"Is he as handsome as you?"
Joel laughs, cheeks turning red. "No," he says again, making you giggle.
"And he works with you? Or... for you?" you ask, trying to remember pieces of what your dad said over the years.
Joel nods. "Took him on 'bout three years back. Felt too guilty sayin' no and he'd just lost his third job that year. Figured I'd keep an eye on him, try and get him right."
"Joel Miller, you big softie," you tease, making him chuckle.
"He's just lucky it worked out," he tells you pointedly. "I worked too damn hard to get my business where it's at, I wasn't gonna have him come in and muck anythin' up."
You never gave it much thought growing up, but considering now how Joel raised Sarah all by himself while starting a business from the ground up at the same time was incredibly impressive, and you tell him so. His cheeks grow hot and he waves you off, but you clock the bashful grin he tries to hide.
You hear bullfrogs before seeing the clearing and you skip excitedly along the trail. "We're almost there, aren't we?"
"Mhmm," Joel hums with a smile, finding the way you're so excited over something that holds a special place in his heart just too damn adorable.
When you finally step out of the woods, you're faced with a much larger body of water than you expected.
"Wow," you breathe, stumbling to a halt to take it all in. It's wide, the shores reaching places you can't even see due to massive weeping willow trees draped over so much of the pond, hiding much of it from view. It's shady as a result of the trees and the water ends up being a lot clearer than you expected.
"It's pretty clean," Joel says next to you, reading your mind, "but you oughta keep your underwear on, just in case."
You tilt your chin up and grin, squinting against the sun. "You don't want to get me naked?"
Joel laughs as he lifts his shirt over his head. "Oh, I'll get you naked, alright," he teases, tossing the shirt into the grass, "don't you worry 'bout that, sweetheart."
Your gaze drifts down his bare chest, lingering on the tempting bit of sweat that collected there during your walk before unbuttoning your denim shorts and sliding them down your legs.
"That sounds like a promise."
Joel's shorts join his shirt but he keeps his boxer briefs on before stepping towards the water. "Goddamn right, it is."
He wades in up to his knees, his broad, tanned back on display. The way his muscles shift under his skin has your mouth going dry. He has the body of a man, one who works hard, who's good with his hands. You know he doesn't fully understand it but you find those qualities extremely attractive, and coupled with the way he treats you, listens to you, looks at you...
You shake your head, attempting to scatter your dangerous train of thought.
"You comin'?" Joel calls, and your head snaps up to find him in the water up to his neck with a huge smile. "Feels nice," he adds.
"Y-yeah," you stammer before lifting your shirt over your head. Joel's gaze instantly locks onto your bare chest and his eyes go wide, making you grin as you step hesitantly into the water. "You said underwear," you say, walking in up to your knees, "nothing about a bra."
"Shit," he mumbles, hypnotized by the way the water reflects off your glowing skin before you wade deep enough to hide your body from view. You're wearing a smile a mile wide when you swim out to meet him and Joel has to blink a few times to snap himself out of his trance.
"Tell me," you say softly, wrapping your legs around his waist under the lukewarm water, "when you were younger, did you ever think about bringing a girl here?"
His arms circle around your middle, pulling you even closer so he can plant gentle kisses over your shoulder. "Sure, thought 'bout it. Never thought it'd be someone as fuckin' beautiful as you, baby."
You close your eyes and rest your cheek against the top of Joel's head as his lips continue to lovingly graze over your collarbone. Your fingers find his shoulders, splaying wide over his sun-warmed skin as you float in his arms, allowing him to slowly spin and move you around the pond. It's so unbelievably peaceful here. The only sounds you hear are the rustling of trees in the breeze, the soft lapping of water against your bodies, and the occasional frog jumping in from the shore.
"I like it here," you murmur, eyes still closed, cheek still pressed against Joel's damp hair. His beard rubs against your neck when his lips find the hollow of your throat.
"I like you here, too."
You inhale sharply when the evidence of Joel's arousal prods at your inner thigh.
"I can tell," you smirk, and he chuckles breathlessly against your skin. A shudder rolls down your spine when his teeth graze your jaw, mouth falling open just enough for Joel to slip his tongue inside when his lips seal over yours.
Everything is so perfect. It feels like you're exactly where you should be—in Joel's arms, far away from life's silly problems. It's a wonderful feeling, one you don't want to let go of easily.
"Are there—" You break away from his heated kiss just to moan when his hands slip lower to squeeze your ass.
He looks at you with feigned confusion before dragging two thick fingers over your clothed slit. Your jaw drops and your nails dig into his shoulders at the perfect amount pressure he provides exactly where you need it.
"What, honey?"
You swallow tightly when he does it again. You try to focus but he looks so fucking good with his hair slicked back, dark eyes all soft and needy, and plush lips parted, beckoning for you to take them with your own.
"Are there... are there other houses around here?" you mange to ask. Joel grins and nips at your chin, already knowing where your line of questioning is leading.
"Yeah. A few."
Your eyes dart around the pond but it's still secluded and quiet. Joel's mouth continues down your neck, leaving kisses every time his fingers flick over your clit underwater.
"What? Now you're shy?" he goads.
You glance around once more, unsure where other people could possibly be, if they were around. The thick tree branches and natural fauna surrounding the pond creates a barrier, mostly enclosing you with privacy. As best you can tell, anyway.
Fuck it.
"No," you reply stubbornly as your hips begin to chase his hand. He smirks and keeps petting you through your underwear.
"No?" His voice takes on a teasing lilt and you frown.
"Nope."
"And what if I fucked you? Right over there?" He juts his chin towards the grass, where your towels and clothes lay. "Right out in the open, where anyone might see?"
You moan into his mouth when your lips crash together, grabbing his lower lip with your teeth before releasing it and saying, "I don't care. Let them see how good you take care of me."
It's all talk. There are other houses around, but not once has he run into anyone down here. Still, he loves the idea of you being so fucking crazy for him that you'll risk being caught. It makes his cock twitch impatiently as he carries you out of the water with every intention of following through on his promise.
Your panties are soaked with water when he deposits you in the grass, nearly see through and clinging to your pussy. He can't stop himself from rubbing two fingers through your folds again, groaning when the fabric molds to your shape and he instantly regrets not asking you to bring one of your cameras so he could remember the image forever.
"Joel," you beg breathlessly when he does it again. Your hips wriggle and he makes a soft noise of approval before tugging your underwear off, leaving you entirely bare in the grass. Sunlight dances across your body, wet droplets from the pond resemble glitter as the light drifts lazily over your skin.
"You're the most gorgeous fuckin' thing," he mumbles. You smile shyly while he peels off his boxers, eyes lighting up when his cock springs free, already hard and heavy between his legs.
"Think you can take me, sweetheart?" he asks, but he's already positioning himself between your legs, panting with need before you even answer.
"Yeah," you whine, widening your knees for him. Your slick folds part as he rubs the tip of his cock up and down the seam of you and fuck, you're so warm and wet and ready for him.
It sends a thrill through you when you see his shoulders quickly rising and falling with anticipation. His eyes look a little wild as he stares between your legs, coating himself with your arousal. It makes you feel so wanted and special, to have him this wrecked, all because of you.
"Christ," he groans when he presses forward. It's just a few inches and already your back arches off the ground. He's so thick and hard, it steals your breath no matter how many times you've taken him.
"More," you whimper when he pauses for a beat too long. His eyes lock on yours and he gives you what you want, sliding inside you even deeper until your eyes squeeze shut and your jaw drops.
"You okay?" he pants, and you nod, fingers curling into a death grip on the thick blades of grass next to you. With a deep breath, Joel pushes forward, giving you the rest of his cock with a sharp curse in your ear.
You release a strangled moan and Joel falls forward, propping himself up on his elbows, forearms bracing your head, and he kisses you with so much lust and want that it sends your heart soaring.
"Y'feel so good," he groans against your lips. He's not even moving yet and he already feels like he's close. "So fuckin' tight and perfect. Never felt somethin' this good before."
You whine and shift around a little underneath his broad frame, trying to adjust to his size and girth making space inside of you.
"Fuck, Joel—"
"I know, baby," he coos, giving you another kiss. One hand lifts to get tangled in your hair as he deepens the kiss and you whimper. Words are difficult to come by but he already knows. He knows he's a lot to take and he loves the way your brain shuts down when he first splits you open. He loves being able to take away all your stress and replace it with pleasure. He loves—
Shit.
"So big," you whisper, unaware of the way his brain is short circuiting. You're mouthing at his jaw, humming at the sharpness of his beard against your sensitive lips while his heart does flips in his chest.
Shitshitshit.
One of your hands slides up to his hair, fingers twisting around his wet locks, and you pull him down to your mouth again. When he doesn't reciprocate right away, eyes still blown wide open in shock and pulse skipping wildly at the jarring moment of clarity he's currently stuck in, you look up at him curiously.
"Are you okay?"
He blinks slowly, then meets your gaze. You're looking up at him so sweetly, eyes soft and mouth so fucking kissable. There's a little furrow of concern in your brow that makes his lips twitch into a small smile. Your eyes drop to his mouth, watching the way his lips turn upwards, and when his face clears, so does your worry.
"I'm great," Joel finally says, smiling wider now. He gently nuzzles your nose before pressing a small kiss to your lips. "Never better," he adds before deepening the kiss with a moan.
He starts slow. Shallow thrusts to work you open while his tongue invades your mouth. The hand in your hair tightens, holding you still as he puts everything he's too afraid to say aloud into the kiss.
You make a soft noise and he swallows it down. His hips rock faster, your knees lift higher against his ribs, and his head is so lost in the taste and feel of you that the world fades away until there's nothing left but you, you, you.
With a sharp gasp you tear yourself away for air, but his mouth continues to suck marks into your skin, too desperate to keep the taste of you on his tongue. Your hands fall to his shoulders, fingernails scraping down his tanned back, encouraging him to keep going.
You moan loudly when he finds a steady pace, the sound echoing off the willow trees. The sun beams down, drying your bodies and cradling you in warmth. Birds sing in the trees, the leaves rustle in the gentle breeze, and everything feels so, so perfect.
"Shit, baby," he groans, fingers curling around one of your knees to widen your hips. You cry out and Joel hisses under his breath when your nails break his skin, but the bite of pain just makes him fuck you even harder. "Gonna make me come with this perfect little cunt," he growls, pounding into you fast enough now to make your vision blur.
All you can manage is a strangled noise as your pussy squeezes tightly around his cock. Joel chuckles darkly, hot breath fanning across your face when he watches your eyes roll back with pleasure.
"You like that, huh? Like hearin' how fucked up you got me?"
You whimper and nod. "Y-yes—Joel, fuck—"
"Oh, baby, you got no idea. No fuckin' idea," he growls, all but slamming into you now. Your head tips back and your spine bends, body contorting to find your high. With a grunt, Joel switches to grind against you, rolling his hips as deep as possible. Your eyes flash open with a ragged moan and your muscles tense, right on the edge of release when he manages to find the spot that makes you come undone.
You can't even warn him before your orgasm takes you by force just a few moments later. Joel grits his teeth, savoring the broken way you sing his name, how you can't even formulate a single thought while the pleasure he just gave you washes through your body.
When your limbs go limp, he gathers you up in his arms and buries his face against your neck. Weakly, you're able to reach up and gently thread your fingers through his damp hair, quietly urging him to come, to let go and fill you up and make you his.
Joel's voice breaks over a sob when he slams into you one final time, body seizing up as he comes, flooding your sore cunt with his release while still holding you close, chest to chest. He's trembling a little when his grip around you loosens, breath still uneven and shaky. You kiss the top of his head when he collapses on top of you, face still tucked into the crook of your neck while he catches his breath.
Your eyes slip closed, allowing the warmth from the sun and the weight of Joel's body to pull you under. Your muscles are loose and tired. Joel's scent and heavy breathing envelopes you with a feeling of such deep security that you can't stop the soft words that tumble from your lips next.
"I wish we could stay here forever."
He doesn't say anything but you're sure he heard you. The quiet is thick but it's not uncomfortable because you're pretty sure he's thinking the same thing. His eyelashes flutter against your throat, tickling your skin and making you smile up at the clear sky, and for a while all you focus on is the way his breaths grow steadier and the way his rough hands delicately skim your body in wonder. His forearm presses against your heart and he feels it thump while lazily tracing every dip and curve. In return, your fingers comb sweetly through his now tangled hair and you just hold one another until his cock softens inside you and the birds begin to hurriedly fly back to their nests above your heads.
"Gettin' late," he murmurs eventually, kissing your throat once before regrettably shifting his palms to the grass on either side of your head to push himself up.
"M'tired," you reply, grinning when Joel makes a pained face after sliding out of you. He sits back on his knees, gaze lingering for an extra moment between your legs before reaching for your clothes.
"Let's get back and feed you, then you can sleep," he says. He stands with a grunt before helping you to your feet. With his boxers and your panties still soaked from the pond, you dress commando and roll up your wet clothes in your towels before starting the trek back to the cabin.
It's a quiet walk, the air slightly cooler now that the sun is beginning to set. Joel wordlessly laces his fingers with yours and offers you a shy smile, one that has your heart skipping a beat and your mind drifting to silly little fantasies you know you shouldn't allow yourself to have.
---
When you arrive back at the cabin, Joel insists you shower the pond off your skin while he gets to work making some burgers. You want to argue and insist you can help cook, but the promise of a fresh shower is too tempting to resist, so you give in while he lights the grill.
The water is invigorating and wakes you up a bit, so when you leave the steamy confines of the little bathroom in search of Joel, you're feeling like you may have gotten a second wind.
You spot him through the screen door, manning the grill. The picnic table is already set with paper plates and condiments, all that's missing is you. When you push the door open, a quiet squeak gives you away and Joel turns to you with a smile.
"Feel better?"
"Much," you agree before joining him at the grill. You wrap your arms around his soft stomach from behind while he scoops the burgers off the grill and onto a plate.
"What'cha doin' back there?" he asks over his shoulder. You grin and take your time appreciatively dragging your hands over his torso before finally letting them fall to your sides.
"Just admiring the view."
"Ha," he says dryly, then nods towards the picnic table. You follow his lead and sit down, watching with hearts in your eyes as he plates the food for you both.
Joel sits down next to you and without thinking, you toss one leg over his, like it's the most natural thing in the world, and he gives your knee a squeeze before picking up his burger. You eat in relative silence, gaze drifting around the yard, taking in the string lights haphazardly strung overhead and nodding along to some music Joel had playing from the stereo inside.
"No clouds tonight," Joel finally says, looking up. You follow his gaze and note the darkening sky with a few dazzling stars already poking through. "You up for one more thing before we head back tomorrow, or are you too tired?"
Even if you were too tired, you'd still agree because having Joel like this all to yourself in the peaceful wilderness is not something you want to squander on sleep. So you nod happily and clean up dinner while Joel begins gathering items from inside the cabin and hauling them outside. You're curious but choose to let him have his moment and surprise you, so you refrain from peeking out the window while taking care of the garbage and dishes.
"You ready?" he asks breathlessly, poking his head inside just as you're wiping your hands on a towel. You nod and eagerly follow him back outside to see what he did, but when you step out of the door, you don't notice anything at all.
"What—?"
"Over here," he says, waving you towards his truck. You raise a curious eyebrow and wander over.
"Are you trying to get rid of me or something?" you tease. Joel chuckles as he drops the tailgate.
"Hell no."
When you join him and see it, you gasp.
He's covered the bed of his truck with loads of blankets and pillows, along with a few bags of snacks and a couple beers tucked into the corner.
"It ain't much," he says, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck before pointing up, "but it's got a hell of a view."
You follow his finger and your face lights up when you see the inky night sky glittering with stars up above.
"This is..." you trail off, unsure why you have a lump in your throat all of the sudden. You try to swallow it down but only end up feeling tears prick the corner of your eyes.
"It's corny," he finishes for you, but you quickly shake your head and turn to him.
"No," you whisper, and his face softens like he might have been nervous. "No, not corny. It's perfect."
Joel smiles wide before offering you his hand, giving you a boost into the bed of the truck. He follows and you both settle on your backs to gaze up at the sky in wonder.
"Used to do this when I couldn't sleep," he tells you, voice quiet in your ear. You tuck yourself into his side, resting the back of your head against his outstretched arm.
"Yeah?"
"Mhm," he hums. "Once or twice I saw a shootin' star and Tommy'd never believe me."
You laugh at the image of two young boys bickering about something so inconsequential.
"Do you still argue a lot?"
Joel shrugs with a slight smile. "Yeah. Sometimes."
"What do you argue about?"
"Nothin'. Everythin'." Joel thinks about it for a moment as you nuzzle against his chest and gaze up at the stars. "Money. Family. Sports. Y'know... the usual."
"Women?" you ask, peering up at him. The corner of his mouth lifts when he sees the mischievous look in your eye.
"What do you mean?"
You shrug and shyly avert your gaze back up. "Like, have you guys ever fought over the same girl before?"
He doesn't answer right away and that immediately draws your attention. When you tilt your chin up, he's got a devilish grin he's desperately trying to hide.
"You have!"
"No, no," Joel laughs, but you poke him between the ribs, calling his bluff. "Ouch," he scolds, still smiling, "it wasn't a fight. Not really, anyway."
"Then what was it?"
Joel swipes his palm across his chin, trying to appear humble when he admits, "There was a girl he was seein' once that... I don't know... she had a crush on me or somethin'. Pissed him off."
Jealousy sparks hot in your chest, a sharp feeling you try to tamper down. Obviously, there were other women before you, you just never dwelled much on it before. Why is that?
Probably because when he's with you, he makes you feel like you're the only one that matters.
"Well... what happened?" you ask, hoping your voice doesn't give yourself away.
"They broke up. Tommy blamed me, like I had anythin' to do with it," Joel scoffs, eyes drifting across the sky. "Wouldn't talk to me for almost a month. Had our mama in a tizzy."
You swallowed thickly before asking, "did the girl ever try anything with you?"
Joel shook his head. "Nah. Just googly eyes across the table at dinner. Maybe laughin' too hard at my jokes. Shit like that. Besides," he clears his throat like he's readying himself, "I had just started seein' Sarah's mom, I wasn't lookin' for, well... y'know."
Sarah's mom. A topic you know very little about.
You let it sit for a moment, not wanting to seem too pushy or too needy or... anything like that. The definition of your relationship is still murky, one neither of you ever bring up for fear of popping the bubble, and asking about his ex feels way too much like girlfriend territory, so you remain quiet for a while. Look at the stars. Watch a distant airplane blip across the sky.
Enough time passes that you think the subject is dead and buried, but then suddenly Joel speaks.
"I'll tell you 'bout her," he says, cutting through the silent night air. You freeze. "Just not tonight. Not this weekend. I don't wanna..."
He flounders for the right word but you already understand. He doesn't want to taint your perfect weekend together with something painful.
"Another time," you assure him with your hand seeking out his own resting across his stomach. His fingers curl around yours and he gives you a tight smile.
"Another time," he repeats.
---
After stargazing, Joel had plans to take a shower. You had tried to stay awake until he came to bed, you really did, but the day was so long and exciting and wonderful that your eyelids grew too heavy and you were out like a light by the time he was finished.
When Joel awoke the next morning, he's surprised to find you still asleep, but he doesn't complain. He takes the opportunity to admire every slope and curve of your face. He studies the way you breathe and your favored sleeping position. He wonders if you were dreaming and if so, he hopes it's about him.
His eyes linger on your chest, at the way your shirt pulls tight across your breasts. Your nipples poke though the fabric, drawing him in like a moth to a flame. His gaze flickers up to you once again after he shifts closer—you're still fast asleep.
It's embarrassing, but seeing you like this, all sprawled out, vulnerable and soft in bed next to him is sending a rush of blood between his legs.
Joel battles with himself for a moment on whether or not he should disturb you before relenting with a sigh. Your time is coming to an end. You're heading back to the city this afternoon, and he wants to have you just one more time.
"Baby," he whispers. His hand lifts, sliding across your stomach. He hooks his pinky under the hem of your shirt and tugs it up. "Baby, you awake?" he tries again.
You make a sleepy sound that makes his cock jump, then your arms and legs stretch like a lazy cat before taking a deep breath. Your eyes flutter open and smile when you see him perched on his elbow, gazing down hungrily at your exposed stomach.
"Morning," you mumble, voice thick with sleep. Joel hums, pleased that you're beginning to stir.
"You're so warm," he marvels, watching his own hand slip lower, underneath the sheets. You inhale sharply when you realize what he's doing, then a moment later his fingers graze the band of your panties.
Arousal pools at your center, eager for him to keep going. You link your arms around the back of his neck and spread your knees under the sheets, wordlessly giving him permission to slide his fingers through your wet folds.
"Shit," he hisses, then your lips find his throat. He groans when the tip of his finger prods at your opening. "Pussy's wet already, huh?"
"All for you," you whisper, smirking against his skin when he shudders.
"Fuck yeah, it is," he growls, removing his hand, and you think he's going to roll on top of you but to your surprise, he pulls away. Your arms fall into the pillow next to your head and you pout when he rises to his knees, pulling the covers off your body as he goes.
"Turn around," he says roughly, and you grin excitedly before doing as your told, rising to all fours as Joel strips you of your shorts and underwear.
"Good girl." His voice is deep and thick behind you, worsening the ache between your legs. He must be taking his own clothes off now because he's not touching you and you think if he doesn't hurry up you might die. You wiggle and squirm and try not to pant in anticipation but it's too hard not to.
Then his big hand curls around your hip, thumb pressing into the softness of your curves, steadying your impatient movements. Tension pulls tight in your core and you whine when he takes a moment for himself to admire you like this.
"Gonna be hard all day tomorrow, thinkin' 'bout this." The thick weight of his cock nudges against your inner thigh as Joel shifts forward. One hand splays wide over your ass with a reverent caress, the other drops to line himself up at your entrance. "Least I can do is make sure you're thinkin' 'bout it, too," he adds right before flexing his hips.
Your mouth gapes at the stretch but he just keeps going, keeps pushing forward until he's forced himself in, impossibly deep. Your skin prickles at the fullness, an involuntary reaction to his size that happens every single time you're with him. It makes you shudder and then Joel's hand is flat against your spine, soothing you before stretching all the way up and curling over your shoulder.
"Like this," he tells you, pressing your shoulder down. You obediently fall to your elbows and lay the side of your head against the bed. It's vulnerable, this position: ass up, face lost in the blankets, unable to see or touch him... your breathing quickens, dizzy from how exposed he has you.
"Goddamn, you're pretty," he mumbles. Your eyelids flutter from the compliment, warmth blooms across your chest and you think you whisper something, but you forget because a moment later, Joel withdraws from you entirely just to slam back inside your tight heat.
You cry out and squeeze your eyes shut, but then the pain quickly melts into pleasure and your muscles relax. Feeble fingers grasp at the bedding, searching for something to hold onto when Joel snaps his hips again and again and again, pairing each harsh thrust with a deep grunt.
He doesn't hold back and you love it. You want him to give you everything, you want him to leave his mark and end this weekend on a memorable note. So you deepen the arch in your back and you widen your knees, bracing yourself as best you can while he pounds into you from behind.
"Fuck—" he groans, fingers bruising your hips to hold you steady. He can't look away from how gorgeous you look under him, breathless and shaky while he fucks you with enough force to shake the bed. Then his gaze drops to where you're connected, watching the way your cunt stretches and sucks him back in with each devastating thrust. So much of your wetness soaks the coarse hairs at the base of his cock that it practically glistens and makes his head a little foggy.
"So good," he slurs, "s-so good. Feel so fuckin' warm and tight, drives me crazy." You make a little sound in response but you can't even think straight. He's so deep, he's pushing you to your limit. Your fingers curl tightly over the blanket, your eyes squeeze shut, and you just focus on the heat radiating off his body and the impossible stretch of his cock splitting you open.
"Joel!" you cry out when one palm comes down to crack loudly across your ass.
"Sorry, baby," he gasps, "just... look so fuckin' good takin' this cock. You're so—shit—you're... incredible. Fuck—"
"Again," you whine. His head spins.
"Jesus..." He brings his hand up once again and you jolt forward on impact with a ragged moan.
"Oh god, Joel—" Your voice is wrecked, the buildup and angle too intense. Tears fall down your cheeks and you all but scream when he spanks you a third time. "I'm—I'm gonna come, Joel, please..." you sob as the muscles in your stomach tighten.
"Go on, honey, I got you," he murmurs breathlessly over the loud slap of skin on skin. Your throat aches, your thighs burn, hot tears pour from your eyes as the pressure mounts with every harsh swing of his hips. "C'mon, it's—lemme hear it. I-I need—" Joel's hips stutter against your ass and you hear him gasp. "I need—fuck, baby, I'm close—"
Without warning you shatter around him, screaming his name into the mattress as sweet relief floods your veins. It's overwhelming, the sharp bursts of pleasure that radiates into calmer waves of bliss. It's unlike any other time you've come and it has you rattled. You're shaking while he tries to talk you through it, but you can't hear a thing. His hands turn gentle on your hips, caressing and squeezing to try to ground you, but when his own release suddenly has him groaning and bucking wildly behind you, yet another wave of euphoria rolls through your body.
"Hey—hey, shh, are you okay?"
You blink, confused, as Joel speaks softly in your ear. You're still in the same position, face down with Joel behind you, but he's leaned forward now, blanketing his body with yours.
"Y-yeah," you stammer with a sniffle. That's not good enough for Joel. He pushes himself back up with a grunt and eases out of you. You wince at the loss but then he's gathering you in his arms and pulling you close against his heaving chest.
"C'mon now, you're alright," he soothes, still catching his breath while patting down your tangled hair. You bury your face against his bare chest and breathe deep.
"I'm f-fine," you assure him, "I'm good. I—that was—"
"Too much," Joel finishes for you with a dash of disgust in his tone. You shake your head and lift your chin, forcing him to look you in the eye.
"No," you breathe, still trembling. "Not too much."
"It was," he says guiltily. "You're shakin', I pushed you too far—"
"No, it was good," you insist. Your throat still aches and your head is swimming. It's frustrating that you're unable to properly articulate yourself.
"You're crying," he says, and his face is drawn tight as he carefully drags a hand across your cheek to collect your tears.
"Good tears," you insist, "good tears, Joel. No one's ever made me feel like that before, I don't know... it just... it's a lot," you laugh, voice cracking a bit, "I promise... please believe me."
The first flashes of relief finally break through his stern expression. "Yeah?"
You nod and crane your neck up, hand curling around the back of his neck. Before your lips connect, you whisper yeah, and melt into his kiss. Slowly, he slides down onto the mattress, bringing you with him and holding you close.
"You scared me," he murmurs once you break away to nuzzle against his bare chest. His heart is still hammering loudly as you press your cheek above his sternum.
"Sorry," you whisper.
"Don't be," he says soothingly, patting down your tangled hair. You hum and close your eyes, letting Joel's steady breaths and gentle touch bring you back down to earth.
Meanwhile, the world outside is waking up. Birds are singing from the trees and it appears that it's going to be another beautiful day. It's bittersweet, really, having this wonderful surprise come to an end, but you're already fantasizing about the next time Joel brings you to this cabin when he eventually pushes himself up and out of bed.
"Stay in bed," you pout, but Joel is already grabbing his boxers and a plain white t-shirt.
"You stay in bed. I'll make breakfast."
"If you're hungry, I have something for you," you tease, flinging the sheets off your naked body. Joel spins around and his eyes lock onto your pussy, still leaking with him, and he makes a pained sound.
"That ain't fair."
You giggle as he walks backwards out of the room in a trance, and only when he disappears from view and you hear the clanging of pots and pans in the kitchen do you get to you feet with a heavy sigh.
He's got the right idea. All good things must come to an end, you suppose, and just delaying the inevitable won't do any good. So you grab a fresh pair of underwear and the flannel you promised you would steal and head for the bathroom to wash up.
---
The smell of crackling bacon and fresh coffee fill the air in the small kitchen. Joel grins like a fucking idiot as he works over the stove, unable to get his mind off you and how you make him feel. God, you're so perfect. You're in the bathroom washing up, he heard the water from the sink running before he turned the fan on above the stove, and even though you're just right around the corner, he misses you. He fucking misses you.
He loves taking care of you. He loves feeding you, listening to you, fucking you and making you feel good. He loves sharing things about his life with you while holding you close. He loves the way you smell and the way your body relaxes against his. He loves how you fit perfectly into his arms and look so natural waking up next to him in the morning.
He's not sure where to go from here. This isn't something he expected and he's not entirely sure this is something you even want, but this casual thing with you born out of... what? Loneliness, he supposes. Maybe a mutual sentiment of feeling unseen? Regardless of the reason, it no longer feels casual for him, and he has no idea what to do with it.
It scares and excites him, all at once.
Joel turns off the fan above his head, eliminating the loud noise as he starts to plate your food. He's still lost in thought when he hears the floorboards creak just outside the kitchen and he grins when his heart skips a beat.
"Hungry?" he asks over his shoulder. He puts the pans in the sink and lifts two plates before turning around. "Hope you like—"
Joel freezes when his eyes land on Tommy, standing in the mouth of the kitchen looking at him curiously.
His blood turns cold and fear tightens across his chest, practically choking him while his brother surveys the area, slowly connecting the dots in his head.
"Shit, you got someone here?" Tommy says, guilty eyes flashing down Joel's frame, taking in his lack of clothes and freshly fucked hair. "Man, I'm sorry. You shoulda told me. I was just up here checkin' on the place, makin' sure the pipes—"
"It's fine," Joel croaks, shakily setting down the plates. "Uh, it was last minute, y'know? Um—"
He could feel his skin burning up under his brother's gaze. How is he going to explain this? Explain you? He needs to get Tommy out of here immediately and he'll figure it out later.
Fortunately, Tommy could see Joel's discomfort clear as day and chose to cut him some slack.
"Alright, lemme get outta your hair then," he says, raising his hands up and backing out of the doorframe. Joel sighs and nods, eyes nervously scanning the room behind his brother, but it only makes Tommy more curious. He frowns with a smile as Joel slowly ushers him back towards the door.
"Who you got here, anyway?"
"No one."
Tommy rolls his eyes. "C'mon, now. I tell you everythin' 'bout who I'm seein', why'd you keep th—"
"We'll talk later," Joel insists with a gentle push on Tommy's shoulder.
He laughs and shakes his head but relents, taking one step out the door. For a second, Joel feels relief. He'll have time to come up with some lie now, so long as Tommy gets the hell out of here, but then fate intervenes.
"Oh!" Tommy turns around to face Joel, who is standing in the doorway, screen propped open with his body like he's trying to prevent his brother from coming back inside. "I'm gonna be a little late tomorrow, forgot to tell you. I told—"
His eyes connect with something over Joel's shoulder and his words die in his throat. Joel already knows. He can smell your soap. He can sense your presence.
It's too late.
Joel looks behind him and spots you looking like a deer caught in the headlights and wearing only his fucking flannel. Your gaze darts between him and his brother and your face falls.
"Uh... hi," you offer weakly with a small raise of your hand. Your voice sounds different. Joel's heart sinks.
"Hey," Tommy eventually says, and Joel can hear the change in his brother's voice, too. He can hear the judgement. It makes his chest hurt.
Unsure what to do next, Joel awkwardly introduces you both. Tension is thick in the air as you nod at one another stiffly. You anxiously shift your weight from foot to foot before stepping back and excusing yourself.
When you're gone, Tommy's eyes find Joel's. Gone is the playfulness from before.
"Joel—"
"Let's talk later."
"Joel, how old is she?"
"Almost twenty-six," he says defensively.
"Christ," Tommy says with a dry laugh. Joel's throat tightens.
"What?" he snaps, eyes narrowing.
"Who is... where'd you meet her?" he stammers, and when he realizes this conversation is not over, he pushes Tommy outside.
"Not here," he mutters, letting the screen door swing shut. Tommy keeps his questions to himself until the pair reach his truck, parked right behind Joel's in the driveway, then turns on his brother immediately when they're out of earshot.
"Met her through my neighbor," Joel says awkwardly before Tommy can ask again. Bewildered, his brother pauses while allowing the information to roll around in his head.
"The guy across the street?"
Joel nods and tries to ignore the pang of dread in his chest. Tommy leans against his truck and stares at the cabin in silence, but when it dawns on him, Joel can easily spot the look of disgust.
"You mean, his fuckin' daughter?"
Joel keeps his gaze pinned to the gravel before his feet. He doesn't answer but it seems he doesn't need to. Tommy pushes off the truck with a scoff and paces a few feet away.
He has no idea how to make this right. How can he explain what you have together when he can't even bring himself to confess to you?
"Does he know?" Tommy eventually asks, spinning around with his hands propped on his hips. Joel shakes his head and Tommy groans. "Joel... what the hell are you doin'?"
Maybe because his brother's voice sounds softer now, Joel decides to try and open up.
"It was supposed to be just one time," he admits, still staring guiltily at the ground, "but then, I don't know... then it wasn't."
Tommy nods, lips pressed into a thin line. "How long?"
"Few months, I guess."
"Christ," he mutters, but then something inside Joel snaps. He's tired of hearing the contempt in his little brother's voice.
"What? You're talkin' to me like I'm some drug addict or criminal," he argues, finally raising his gaze with a scowl. Tommy crosses his arms tightly across his chest. "You got some fuckin' nerve. You forget all the shit I pulled you out of all these years?"
"This is different, Joel, and you know it!" Tommy yells, and Joel's eyes flicker anxiously towards the cabin, worried you'll hear. "She's young! She's your buddy's kid! She's Sarah's friend!"
"She's an adult and knows what she's doin'!"
"And you oughta know better!"
Joel's upper lip curls into a snarl and he begins to walk back towards the cabin. "Fuck you, Tommy," he calls over his shoulder. But then his brother shouts back at him, making Joel stumble to a halt.
"The fuck is the plan here, Joel? You gonna marry this girl?"
"Keep your voice down!" he seethes when he twists back around.
"You're just gonna hurt her," Tommy continues.
"It ain't like that," Joel says, "you don't understand. It's not—it's... I'm..."
He loves you.
Even though he can't say it, Tommy sees it. His face softens and his arms fall weakly to his sides.
"Oh, Christ. Joel..."
"Leave."
His voice is thick with emotion, Tommy can hear it.
"You're gonna end up hurt." Tommy corrects his earlier statement and Joel shakes his head, willing the stubborn tears burning his eyes to disappear.
"Just go," he begs softly, refusing to meet his brother's eye. "Please."
Tommy looks back at the cabin, then at Joel. "Just... be careful, yeah?"
Joel nods solemnly, sniffs, and turns away. As he walks back to the cabin, he hears Tommy climb into his truck. The engine turns over, the tires crunch over the gravel, and with every moment that stretches on, the heavier Joel's heart feels.
When he reenters the cabin, he finds you fully dressed and fiddling with your cameras in the sitting room, but it's pretty clear you're just trying to stay busy. You stand and take a step forward to greet him, but you must see something harsh in his face because you stop. Fingers fiddle anxiously at your sides as Joel silently goes into the kitchen for your food and brings it back out with much less enthusiasm than twenty minutes ago.
"I'm sorry," you whisper. Joel shakes his head.
"It's alright."
You eat the cold food in silence, but it's not the comfortable silence you've grown accustomed to. There's an edge to it that makes your stomach churn.
Afterwards, you pack your bags. Every minute that passes without talking makes you feel worse and worse. You heard bits and pieces of their conversation but you could tell based on body language alone that what happened with Tommy was not good at all.
The drive back to the city makes you want to cry. This weekend should be ending with laughs and smiles and quick kisses at stop lights but instead it's tense and uncomfortable. There's no strong hand on your thigh or knowing glances exchanged. Joel's lost entirely to his own haunting thoughts while you try your best to not read too much into it.
When Joel pulls up to your apartment, he parks and cuts the engine. You both stare straight ahead though the windshield, at the people strolling down the sidewalks going about their business with nothing to hide. You try to swallow the lump in your throat, but your voice still comes out strained when you ask, "Will he tell my dad?"
Joel shakes his head. His grip on the steering wheel tightens. "No," he replies quietly. You nod, blink away the tears, and scoop up your bag.
"Thank you," you manage to say, then push the door open. "I had a great time."
Joel forces himself to look at you now but you wish he hadn't because all you see is regret and shame when he forces a tight smile and says, "You're welcome, darlin'."
There's no warmth behind the term of endearment. Your heart plummets and before he can see you cry, you slide out of his passenger seat and shut the door. Maybe with some time and space, Joel will come to terms with what happened and everything can return to normal.
A few days later, you get your answer.
YEARS WITHOUT THEM AND HERE WE ARE. LOOK AT THESE TWO. THEY ARE SOULMATES
Only Wish This Year
Pairing: ex-husband joel miller x f!reader
Summary: Running into your ex husband at work two days before Christmas stirs up complicated feelings for you both.
Warnings: language, alcohol consumption, angst, mention of OC death, smut (18+ MDNI), competency kink, unprotected piv sex, car sex, fluff, mushy romantic stuff
WC: 6.5K
"Who the hell has a bachelor party two days before Christmas?"
"Someone whose best man must be clueless. I'm surprised all those guys were even able to make it," you tell Addy, handing over the last of her drinks from your place behind the bar. There has to be at least thirty guys attending the bachelor party. "Do you need help carrying them up?"
She looks over her shoulder, knocking her drooping Santa hat out of her field of vision. The loft overlooking the bar where you work is where parties are always held and the staircase to get up there tends to get crowded.
"No, I think I'm good. Thanks, though. I'm sure I'll be back in ten minutes with more orders," Addy replies, rolling her eyes. She stoops down and lifts the tray of drinks to balance on her shoulder, then begins to weave her way through the crowd.
It's busy. Always is before a holiday. People who are usually not in town come back to visit their families and, once relatives turn in for the night, they try to make plans to catch up with old friends. Given your bar is the favorite amongst the locals, it tends to be one of the busiest nights of the year. You and the other girls you work with have found over the years that dressing up a little earns you more tips from patrons who are already feeling rather generous and in the holiday spirit. Tonight is no exception. Wearing a Santa hat, a tight black tshirt, and a short velvet red skirt with a thick white trim to match your hat has already earned you more money tonight than you made all of last weekend combined.
It's so loud and you're so busy fielding as many requests as you can that you don't even hear the crash of glass until Addy returns with a sheepish look and a completely soaked shirt.
"I should've taken you up on that offer to help," she says, looking down at her ruined clothes. "I fucking reek of beer, oh my god."
"Oh, no! Here, I brought an extra change of clothes," you say, leaning under the bar for your tote bag.
"No, no, I can't do that! It's freezing out, you need your jeans for later."
"I'd rather you take my jeans for the night than leave me to handle that party upstairs," you say, shoving the bag into her arms. She gives you a grateful smile and hurries away to clean up. With the help from another girl, you remake the dropped drinks and volunteer to take them up yourself.
"Excuse me!" you shout over the music, pushing people out of the way with your free hand so they don't accidentally bump into your tray. You take the stairs carefully, sidestepping one of the busboys who is cleaning up the broken glass, and breathe a sigh of relief when you make it to the top unscathed.
A quick scan of the group tells you the men seem to be a few years older than you. Most are probably married or settled down in some way. Those are usually the best kind of bachelor parties—they aren't too rowdy and they tip well.
It seems like they just wrapped up eating and now are milling around the room. Some are staring at some sporting event on the television and pointing out had it not been for that pesky knee injury, they could have gone pro. Others are laughing at the mostly empty table over some story from their glory days. But one man unfortunately noticed you before the rest and stumbled over with a sloppy smile and reddened cheeks.
"Are you our new waitress or did you just get hotter since you left?" he slurs. You resist the urge to scrunch your nose in disgust and when you bend to set the tray of drinks down on the table, you try to be conscientious of your short skirt.
"Just thought I'd help Addy while she cleans herself up," you say, gaze cast down and focused on the drinks. But the guy doesn't take the hint.
"Aw, that's a shame. But you can hang out with us, yeah?"
You shake your head and blindly begin passing out the beers.
"I'm tending bar downstairs, I gotta get back, but I promise you're in good hands."
Stale breath sweeps across your cheek and he says—not as quietly as he thought—"Think I like your hands better, sweetheart."
Your back and forth must have pulled the attention of others because a boisterous conversation happening across the table dies down. You're trying not to look up for fear your face will give away your disgust, but when you hear a familiar voice, your head snaps up.
"Ho, Ho, Ho-ly shit!"
When you see Tommy Miller with the group in front of the television wearing a half buttoned flannel and a tacky button pinned to it that says, "I'm getting married, buy me a drink!", you smile and straighten up.
"Tommy!" You toss your arms around him for a big hug and it takes about five more seconds before you realize it:
If Tommy is here for his bachelor party, then that means...
"Joel! Look who it is!" Tommy turns with a cheeky grin, one arm still slung loose around your waist, the other pointing to you like Joel didn't already see you when you walked up the stairs.
You take a deep breath and force yourself to find him amongst the now mostly quiet group. Downstairs the music is still playing, people are shouting and laughing, yet for a second it all fades away when you lock eyes with Joel.
He's hard to read. Always has been. But his expression looks taught and you're pretty sure he's angrily chewing on the inside of his cheek as those soft, dark brown eyes flicker between you and his brother.
You clear your throat and take a step away from Tommy.
"Hey," you nod to Joel, voice obviously void of the excitement you harbored just a moment ago.
He grunts and looks away, then back up to his brother.
"This is why you picked this place?" he asks. You bristle, wishing you weren't working so you could give him a piece of your mind, but instead focus on distributing the rest of the drinks.
Tommy laughs. "No, no, it's just a good spot, is all."
"Did you know she worked here?"
You scoff under your breath but Joel still hears it.
"What?" he snaps. You roll your eyes.
"Like you didn't know I work here?"
"Don't flatter yourself, sweetheart. I ain't sittin' 'round thinkin' 'bout you."
As much as you wish it didn't hurt to hear the iciness in his tone, it does. You do your best to brush it off and hurry back downstairs, but then an unexpected hero comes to your rescue.
"Hey... that's why you look so familiar." Their friend, the one who was clearly way too drunk to process what was going on, spoke up. He points lazily at you and you look up. He's slowly piecing it together, you can see it, then his eyes light up when he figures it out. "You're the one in the, in the wallet! In Joel's wallet! Asked him—hey, hey, Joel—" He turns to find Joel glaring at him from his chair, arms pulled tightly across his chest. "She's the one from your wallet, 'member? When I was askin' earlier—"
"Shut the fuck up, Charlie!" Joel shouts.
"Alright, Joel, enough. Don't ruin my night, okay?" Tommy scolds. You have to stifle a grin when Joel's neck flushes bright pink with embarrassment and you figure that's enough payback for his shitty comment, so you collect your now empty tray with renewed confidence and fix the Santa hat on your head.
"Well, it was great seeing you, Tommy. Congrats," you say, leaning in to give him a kiss on the cheek. You can practically feel the daggers Joel is staring into your back and you smirk to yourself before heading towards the stairs, throwing your hips a little more than usual so that your Santa skirt sways as you walk away.
When you make it downstairs and back behind the safety of your bar, you finally exhale a loud, shaky breath. One of the other girls notices and gives you a look of concern.
"Everything alright?"
You nod and snatch up a shot glass. Pouring from the closest bottle, you toss it back with a wince before answering.
"Yeah," you say, dragging the back of your hand across your mouth. "Just saw my ex-husband upstairs. Merry fucking Christmas to me."
---
It was a long night but mercifully, busy enough to keep your mind from dwelling too long on Joel. And after tip out, you made enough to cover half your rent for the month. Awkward encounter aside, it was a good night, but you're bone tired and freezing your ass off as you shuffle to your car across the empty parking lot in just that stupid Santa skirt.
"Jesus fucking Christ," you whine once you're inside your car, teeth chattering and hands shaking. Once the engine starts, you blast the heat, but your car is old as dirt and you know better by now than to expect the thing to actually heat up in less than the fifteen minutes it takes to get home.
The roads are empty, like they usually are at this hour. It's usually calming but tonight your fingers grip the steering wheel as you desperately try to warm yourself up.
Taking the back roads is quicker, so you always go that way. Hardly anyone ever takes these streets, especially in the middle of the night, so when your headlights flicker dim for a moment followed by a loud sputter from your exhaust, you know you're absolutely fucked.
"No!" you scream when the engine dies. You're able to slow down and steer just off the road so you're safe, but you're freezing even more and now on the verge of tears.
Once you're safely in park, you pick up your phone and groan.
"No signal," you mutter, but you try anyway. After the third attempt you give up and let the tears flow. All you want to do is go home, get under your covers, and pray that look Joel gave you earlier doesn't haunt your dreams. Instead, you're going to freeze to death on the side of some country road wearing a tiny Santa skirt and matching hat.
After about ten minutes of feeling sorry for yourself, you stop crying but don't bother to wipe the dried tears from your face. You're already about to have the worst night ever, who cares if you have mascara streaked down your cheeks?
Just when you're thinking about using fast food napkins as a blanket, you spot headlights in your review mirror and you gasp.
"Oh, my god!" You're scrambling to unbuckle your seatbelt so you can flag them down, but it turns out you don't need to—the truck slows and parks behind you, already anticipating your cry for help.
"Oh, thank god," you mutter, watching with relief as the shadow of your savior steps out of the truck. You lean back in your seat with a sigh. "Yes, yes, yes, yes—"
But when the man's broad body blocks the bright headlights, revealing an all too familiar face, your joy vanishes.
"No, no, no, no."
Joel leans down with a friendly smile and lifts his hand to knock on your window, but when he sees you, he freezes. His face immediately falls into a scowl and with a defeated sound, you open your door.
"Just leave me here, I'd rather die," you say.
Joel scoffs and steps back. He tries to catch himself, but you saw the quick once over he gave you before angling his body towards the woods—and even though you've been cursing this skirt since you stepped out of the bar, you're a teensy bit grateful for it now.
"Fine by me."
"I'll wait for someone else."
"Yeah? Dressed like that?" Joel nods angrily towards your ridiculous get up. "Gonna freeze to death but be my guest."
Then he turns to head back to his truck, boots crunching loudly over the snowy ground. You shift your weight and anxiously chew your bottom lip before throwing your hands in the air.
"Wait!"
Joel stops but doesn't turn. You take a deep breath.
"Can you... can you help me?" You hear how pathetic you sound and can only imagine how pleased he must be to have the upper hand.
"Yeah? Why should I do that?" he calls over his shoulder. You think about it for all of two seconds.
"For old times sake?"
Joel huffs. His shoulders tense and he begins to walk away, then you try again.
"Joel, please! It's Christmas!"
He skids to a stop with his hand on the door of his truck. From here, you can see his jaw work as he thinks things over. You wrap your arms around yourself and bounce from foot to foot, legs practically made of ice at this point. Finally, he sighs and turns to you.
"Fine."
He moves to open the backseat of his cab and you crane your neck, trying to see what he's doing. He shuts the door and heads back to your car carrying a toolbox.
"Get in the truck."
You squeak happily, grab your purse from the front seat, and hurry past him to his truck. Warmth wraps around you like a hug when you open the door and you could cry you're so happy. Rubbing your arms and legs while hovering near the fans, you desperately try to bring life back to your limbs while Joel pops the hood of your car.
Ten minutes and some feeling in your fingers later, Joel returns.
"I'm gonna give you a jump but it takes some time to charge the battery," he says from the backseat. He's rifling around for something under the driver's seat and you nod.
"Thank you."
He grunts and slams the door shut, and you watch as he takes jumper cables over to your car. He does something you can't see before he returns and hops behind the wheel. You sit in silence as Joel moves his truck then turns around so your cars are facing one another, then he slides back out to attach the cables to his own truck. The hood is popped so you can't really see him, but you can see his hands—the way they move, twisting cables, examining other foreign looking objects under the hood... he does it so smoothly, like he's done this a hundred times. He barely has to think about it. He's always been one of those men who learns things very fast. He's smart, you used to tell him so all the time, but he didn't think so, no matter how many times you pointed out what a remarkable memory he had or how he just had an innate ability to understand how something—or someone—works.
Heat flares between your legs and you quickly shut it down by forcing your attention elsewhere, but your mind wanders against your will, back to simpler times when you were young and in love, breathlessly telling Joel how amazing he was when he was making you fall apart with his fingers or mouth or—
"Alright. Got 'bout twenty minutes."
Joel climbs into the cab and shuts the door with a shudder. You watch as his hands cup the fans on his dashboard, capturing the heat between his palms before bringing his curled fists up to his mouth to exhale, warming them up faster.
You shiver and look away, then his gaze is back on you.
"You coulda died out here wearin' that."
"I know."
There's a pause. Then—
"What the hell were you thinkin'?"
You sigh and lean back into the worn grey fabric seat. "It wasn't my first choice. Your waitress dropped drinks all over herself so I gave her the clothes I was gonna change into after work."
You stare out the window as a thick silence settles between you once again. Just when you think this is going to be the longest twenty minutes of your life, Joel says something that surprises you.
"M'sorry, 'bout earlier."
Your brows shoot up in shock and you look at him, but he's staring straight ahead, like what he's saying is causing him actual pain.
"Shouldn'tve been rude. Just took me by surprise, is all."
You're speechless. The last thing you expected from him was an apology, you're not prepared at all, but you know you need to say something because too much time is stretching on and Joel is starting to shift uncomfortably in his seat.
"It's okay," you finally say. His eyes dart to lock with yours and in that moment you swear you can see the man you fell in love with all those years ago, buried somewhere underneath all that gruff. The longer he stares at you the faster your heart races and you can't stop the shiver that rolls down your spine. Joel sees it and frowns.
"You're cold, here," he says, shrugging off his oversized brown coat. Before you can protest he has it wrapped around your shoulders, and when you inhale his warm, comforting scent, your eyelids flutter shut and you shamelessly bury your nose into the collar.
The corner of his mouth lifts but he turns his face away before you see it.
"So, uh... how long you been workin' there?" He's staring down at the speedometer like it holds some valuable information—anything to find a reason to avoid your eye.
"Three years," you tell him. "But I also substitute teach for Oakmont Elementary."
Joel hums. "I can see you doin' that. You'd be good at that."
You grin, trying to hide it behind his coat. "It's fun, I don't mind it."
"You thinkin' 'bout doin' it full time? Bein' a teacher?" When he looks at you now it's so soft and sweet that you temporarily forget all the pain you went through together.
"I'd have to go back to school, I don't know..."
Joel shrugs. "You could do it. Always were good in school."
Your cheeks warm under the compliment. "It'd be a lot of work. Going to class during the day, working at night. That's hard."
"Yeah, but when you stick your mind to somethin', you just do it. Never let anythin' stop you before."
He graces you with a shy smile for the first time all night and you have to look away or else you're afraid you might say something stupid.
Change the subject, you think.
"Did Tommy have fun tonight?"
"Oh, yeah," Joel says, leaning back in his seat with a light grin. "Just dropped him off, as a matter of fact. Shitfaced like you'd expect. Almost wandered into his neighbor's house."
"Ah, so that's why you're out so late."
"Promised him I wouldn't drink so I could get 'em home."
"Well, that's nice, considering the shit he pulled for your bachelor party."
It's a risky move bringing up anything related to your marriage, you knew that. But he just seems so relaxed and you're finally getting the warmth back in your toes and feeling much better than you were thirty minutes ago, so you go for it. And Joel pauses, taken off guard, but then he chuckles low and deep, the sound causing a familiar pull between your legs.
"My god," he murmurs, then rolls his head to the side to give you a look. "To this day I ain't ever hear a woman bring a man to his knees the way you did to me and him that night. Never saw you so mad."
"I warned you—no strippers."
"And I told you I didn't touch any of 'em."
You throw your head back and laugh, missing the way Joel's gaze lingers on the curve of your neck, the plushness of your lips, the smoothness of your skin.
"Bullshit, Joel Miller! You can tell me the truth, we're not married anymore."
When you find his eyes again, there's an energy that pulls between you and it suddenly feels like no time at all has passed.
"I ain't lyin'," he swears, palms up in the air. "The other guys did but I didn't. Scout's honor."
"Yeah, okay," you say, rolling your eyes, but you can't erase the smile he put there a moment ago.
"I didn't need another reason for your old man to hate me, I did what I was told," he says, hand over his heart. You giggle and shake your head.
"Oh, I don't think that would have mattered much. He never liked you."
Joel grins and lets his gaze drift as a comfortable silence settles in the cab.
"I heard he passed a few years back. M'sorry," he says softly, and you meet his eye once again. He looks genuinely sympathetic, despite everything your father did to tear you apart.
"Thanks."
"What was it?"
"Cancer," you tell him, then shrug one shoulder like it didn't mean anything when you both knew it did.
"Ah, shit," he sighs. "You livin' in that house?"
"Nah. Couldn't do it. I sold it," you say, staring down at your hands tangled in your lap. Joel makes a sound like he understands and he lets it go, lets the quiet envelope you once again like he knew you just needed a few minutes to think. He was always good at reading you, you never forgot that.
"I'm sorry, too," you tell him. You hear him twist his head to look at you but you keep your face angled down. "For the way he treated you. He was never good to you, Joel, and I'm so sorry."
"Hey, it's alright. No need to be sorry."
You sniffle and finally raise your chin with glassy eyes. "It's not alright. He said some horrible things to you—"
"He was just scared for his little girl," Joel says, extending a hand across the seat to rest carefully on your knee. "Didn't like some guy six years older than her sniffin' around, had you sneakin' out and shit... hell, lookin' back, I don't blame 'em."
"Well, I do. I blame him," you mumble. Then, to your dismay, one lone tear streaks down your cheek when you add, "Am I horrible? For not forgiving him for what he did to us?"
Joel's eyes widened and his hand instantly lifts from your knee to cup your face. "No," he breathes with a light shake of his head, "No, you ain't horrible. Don't think that."
His thumb brushes over your cheek and you close your eyes.
Well, there's no going back now, you figure. Might as well go all in.
"Why didn't you fight for me, Joel?" you whisper, lower lip trembling. Your eyes slowly open and two more tears fall. "Why didn't you—"
"'Cause I couldn't come between you 'n your family," he says urgently, his own eyes darting back and forth across your face like it was of the utmost importance you understood. "He was gonna disown you. Said he'd never speak to you again unless we got a divorce. And I couldn't be the reason that happened, honey, I just couldn't—"
"But you were my family," you whimper. "I only wanted you."
"I wanted you, too," he says back, voice strained like he's holding back tears. "Thought I was doin' the right thing by lettin' you go. I was young and dumb and scared, I just wanted you to be happy."
"Well, I wasn't," you confess, and one of your hands comes up to curl around his, still pressed gently against your cheek. His hands are big and a little rough, just like you remember, and you close your eyes, leaning into his touch. "I cried for years over you, Joel," you whisper, "Every time I'd hear someone mention your name or I'd see a sign or truck for your business I'd get so fucking angry. Do you know why?"
You force your eyes back open and through the unshed tears, you see him shake his head.
"I hated the idea of you out there, living your life, meeting new people, meeting new girls and forgetting all about me when I could hardly get out of bed most days."
"You meant everythin' to me," he says, jaw tight as he leans closer across the seat. "Still do."
A sob lodges in your throat, but you swallow it down and force out the question that's been on your mind for years.
"Then why are you always so fucking cold to me whenever I see you? Like tonight?"
"'Cause seein' you reminds me of the biggest mistake I ever made, and I fuckin' hate myself for lettin' you go."
The confession falls from his mouth like it had been waiting there for years to be said. No hesitation whatsoever. Just raw emotion packed behind years of regret. You don't know what to do with it, what to say. You just stare at one another, searching each other's eyes like you could find the answers to your problems right there until it dawns on you at the same time—that maybe you never really had any problems at all, aside from meeting a little too young and moving a little too fast.
But nothing is holding you back anymore. You're not freshly out of high school marrying a guy who was struggling to start a construction business with his baby brother. You both have five years of wisdom now, and even after all that time, those feelings you have for Joel still burn hot under your skin.
And that has to mean something.
"Joel?" you whisper, and his brows pitch up ever so slightly in response. His shoulders still like he's holding his breath, waiting for you to say it. So you do.
"Kiss me."
A breathless sound slips past your lips when his mouth presses firmly over your own, but just as quickly as you feel him, he pulls back. His eyes find yours and he searches, like he's looking for an answer to a question he's too scared to ask. You gaze back at him with tear soaked cheeks and a trembling lip, hoping he sees what you feel. Then his throat bobs and his shoulders sag like a weight has been lifted and his mouth finds yours once again.
Desperation fills the cab of his truck. Your mouth falls open and his tongue slides smoothly against yours, never missing a beat. His fingertips dig into your cheek and you pull him forward by his flannel, searching for more. The sharp brush of his beard rubs into an upward motion against your lips and you know he's smiling at your eagerness.
"C'mere," he mumbles before both his hands find your waist and he leans back, hauling you over the seat and into his lap without breaking the kiss. He pushes his coat past your shoulders and tosses it behind him, giving himself better access to your body.
It's all happening so fast that when his hands skate slowly down your sides to curve and cup your ass under your skirt, you jump like a frayed wire. Every nerve ending is alight, as if your body has been waiting all these years to be brought back to life by his touch.
"Easy," he chuckles in between kisses, "it's just me. Just me, baby."
It nearly destroys you. Joel—your first and probably only real love is right here, back in your arms. You kiss him harder and he groans, needy tongues swirling together like you may run out of air.
"Joel—" you gasp, but he cuts you off.
"Christ, I missed you." His mouth sloppily sears over yours with a groan before separating again. "Missed you so much. Then I finally see you and..." His gaze flicks down but you're too busy trailing a path of wet kisses down his neck. "And you're wearin' this slutty little thing. Couldn't stop thinkin' 'bout it... c'mere." His chin drops to seek out your mouth and you let him, moaning softly when your lips reconnect. He kisses like a madman, you always loved that about him. Every kiss feels like it's important, like he needs to show you how he feels because there are no words in existance that do it justice.
"You should see what I wear to work on Valentine's Day," you giggle when he gives you a second to breathe.
"Can't wait."
Then he quiets you with another deep kiss.
Can't wait. Can't wait. Two simple words that hold so much meaning. Two words that assure you whatever happens tonight won't be a one time thing. It sets your heart on fire and you whine into his mouth when his hands dig into the curve of your hips, pulling you down harder into his lap.
Joel leans back with a filthy grin so he can watch you drag your hips back and forth, over his cock straining against his zipper.
"Shit. Christmas came early," he mumbles in a daze as he continues to watch you move.
"That better be the only thing that comes early," you tease before clutching his face in your hands for another lust soaked kiss. And even though there's no real rush, your hands move hastily anyway. They slip between your bodies as your tongue dips into his mouth and he groans when your palm presses over his aching cock. His own slide back under your skirt to wrap around your underwear and he tugs, growing frustrated with the thin piece of fabric.
"Take these off," he demands roughly.
"There's no room," you say, biting at his scruffy chin. "Your steering wheel is digging into my ass."
With one harsh, loud tear, your underwear fall loose. You gasp and open your heavy eyes to watch him pull the black shreds from between your legs, then he tosses it somewhere behind his seat.
"Joel! I already hardly have any clothes as it is!" you exclaim, but he shushes you with a quick kiss before his mouth drops to your throat.
"Don't worry. I'll warm you up," he grins before his hands make their way up your skirt once more. He moans against your neck as his palms glide over your soft skin. Desperation claws at your throat when his fingers glide through your folds, dragging your arousal up to circle your clit. You curse his name and press your body tightly against his chest.
"Please, Joel, please," you beg as you rub the outside of his jeans. His jaw falls open and his head rolls back against the seat before he pulls his hand from between your legs. You whimper at the loss, but then his fingers slip into his mouth with a rough noise and you fall silent, watching him greedily taste you with heavy lidded eyes.
You feel dizzy, short of breath and aching with need when your fingers find his zipper. Pulling it down while he works on the button of his jeans, you moan a little when his cock is finally freed, all thick and heavy between you.
"Sit on it, baby," he pants while watching you lift onto your knees. He pushes up your skirt so he can see you notch the thick head of his cock at your opening and he feels drunk, his brain a cloudy, needy mess at the sight he's dreamt about for years.
Every day that passed without you, the memory of how you felt faded against his will. But having you on his lap now, your scent invading his senses as you slowly sink down on his cock, all those memories come flooding back: your warmth, the tightness of your pussy, the fucking noises you make from your pretty mouth... it's enough to bring him to tears.
One falls and you see it. You're holding your breath, still impaling yourself on his cock and reveling in the stretch, but you still cup his cheek and wipe the tear away. The sweet gesture just makes another one fall and when your hips finally grow flush with his lap, he releases a strained, choked sob, unable to look away from the depth of your gaze.
"Fuck, I missed you," you whisper, pressing your forehead against his.
"I know, baby, I know," he murmurs, blinking away the tears and wrapping his arms around your waist. The tip of your hat gently taps his cheek and he grins when you lift it off your head just to drop it on top of his messy curls.
"There you go," you say with a slow, deliberate roll of your hips. "Now you've got the Christmas spirit."
"Already got what I asked for, anyway," he chuckles before the palm of his hand cracks lightly across your ass. You yelp and giggle, falling forward to bury your face in the crook of his neck.
"And here I thought you had a permanent place on the naughty list." You begin to move with more purpose, moaning softly against his collarbone as the tip of his cock catches just right inside you.
"You oughta talk," he scolds with a small smile. It's equal parts frustrating and relieving to have this with him again. Had you just talked things out instead of snapping at each other every time you crossed paths, you would have saved so much time, and yet you can't be mad because you're too grateful to have him at all.
It's so easy to fall back into the familiar rhythm. Just like muscle memory, you both remember what the other likes. Without being asked, you tug your black shirt up and over your head so he can bury his face in your breasts as you ride him. His hands grip and pull you, helping you move and deepen the angle until your thighs start to shake. When his lips suction over your nipple, you arch your back with a sweet moan. His tongue is so warm and wet against your skin so you chase it, bouncing on him a little faster and he rewards you by switching to the other one.
"Yeah, baby, just like that," he pants, warm breath fanning across your wet skin. "Oh, fuck—ju-just like that."
You're stuck staring down at him, at the way the shadows stretch across his face, at the softness around his eyes, at the way he struggles to breathe. A sound catches in your throat and his dark eyes find yours before your mouths crash together in a hungry kiss.
"So good," you whisper against his lips. "So, so good."
He groans and lifts his hips, snapping them up into yours, driving himself deeper. You gasp and one hand reaches out to scramble for leverage, but your fingers just slide down the foggy window next to you. The Santa hat askew on his head falls off somewhere behind him but you're both too soaked with desire to notice.
Your legs shake as you work to keep up with his pace but your whole body is shuddering in his lap and for once, it's not due to the cold. He's slamming into you, pushing mercilessly against a sweet spot hidden away deep inside, and it's tearing you down.
"Oh god, Joel," you cry through clenched teeth, then your head tips back and your eyes squeeze shut and his mouth is on your throat, then your jaw, then your face—quick, urgent kisses that desperately try to make up for lost time.
Joel feels your muscles tighten and he grips you harder. He groans into your skin and fucks up into you, moaning about how good you feel and how tight you are and how he wishes he could have gotten his mouth on you, if only for a few minutes.
"But next time, I'm gonna eat this pussy til you're screamin', hear me?" He's grinding into you, forcing you to take him as deep as you can and stealing all the air from your lungs. "Never gonna let you go after this. Not gonna—shit—not gonna fuck this up again, okay?"
Tears slide down your cheeks and you nod before you gasp sharply and your body spasms with relief on top of him. He groans around the squeeze of your cunt and fucks you faster.
"M'sorry," he whispers over and over. But you're in a love drunk haze, you can barely hear him. Your body slumps forward to rest against his shoulder and a moment later, he comes with a rough curse in your ear. You sigh, pressing your cheek against him as he floods your pussy. He's holding you close to his chest and filling you up until he has nothing left to give and his body sags into the seat.
Your lips seek out the sweaty skin of his throat and you leave little kisses there while he catches his breath.
"Can you come over for Christmas Eve?" he asks suddenly, and you giggle before straightening your spine and leaning back. His eyes are deep and warm and he's giving you that sexy smirk you remember all too well. Your heart flips and it feels like you're falling in love with him all over again.
"Are you sure?"
He nods. "'Course I'm sure. So long as you're ready, 'cause Tommy's gonna give us a lot of shit."
You laugh and his face softens at the sound.
"Okay. I think I can stop by."
Joel smiles and looks down at your skirt fanning over his lap, hiding where you're still connected.
"Can you wear this?"
You smack his shoulder and he laughs. It's so lighthearted that you can't remember any of the heartbreak. You card your fingers through his sweaty hair and he gazes up at you sweetly as his laughter dies down, both of you staring at one another with matching smiles.
"Battery's probably good by now," he finally murmurs, still looking at you with stars in his eyes and a goofy smile on his face.
"Oh, shit, I forgot," you say, glancing over your shoulder at the steamy windshield. Joel fishes around to find your discarded shirt and hands it to you before helping you off his lap. You both groan, muscles aching, then you swing your leg back over to the passenger side. When you slip your shirt back on, you squeeze your thighs together, cheeks burning when you catch his sticky release dripping down your leg.
"You good?" he asks. He's already done his jeans back up and his hand is on the door. He's got his coat back on, ready to finish fixing your car, and your chest aches for him.
Typical Joel. So good at taking care of you.
"Come here," you whisper, then the corner of his mouth lifts before he releases the door handle and he stretches across the cab to press his lips softly against your own.
"Merry Christmas, Joel," you say, kissing the tip of his nose.
He smiles warmly before coming in for one more kiss.
"Merry Christmas, baby."
so many people hating on steve but if i was trapped in indiana, my son was grieving and i had to be away from my emotional support lesbian i would be bitchy too
He’s got those big wet eyes and you DONT wanna see him on his knees crying??
in fanfiction we must sometimes ask ourselves not if he would do that but under what conditions would he would do that
Pedro Pascal as Joel Miller in The Last of Us (1x01 When You're Lost in the Darkness)
marvel fans: wow, I guess Joseph Quinn was hot enough to play Johnny Storm after all, who could've known that?
eddie munson fans:
it’s hot girl summer. we are reading. we are seeing movies with our friends. we are eating the good butter. we are being productive when we want, but also allowing laziness. we are floating in the cool water for hours. we are letting our hair go wild. we daydreaming about nasty shit and treating ourselves with kindness and getting the ingredients to make our favorite drink at home. we are dressing up to feel pretty or we are spending day three in pajamas or doing both because it’s whatever makes us feel good. we are being indulgent and grateful and laying on the couch in our underwear with our phones and the fan pointed between our thighs because it’s hot. we are slothing, we are reading outside in the dark by the light of the deck, we are doing whatever we want. we are living ❤️
Pedrotonin to survive thursday
As a feminist, l want this man to ruin my life…
I need him in my bed tonight…or for the rest of my life.
A Quiet Kind of Want - dbf! Joel Miller x Reader : PART THREE
Pairing: dbf! Joel Miller x Reader
Summary: The bakery’s quiet. The storm’s getting worse. And when he shows up—soaked, silent, standing in your doorway—you’re not sure what you’re more afraid of: that he came back, or that he might leave again.
Warnings: 18+ only. MINORS DNI. Emotional tension, soft intimacy, rain-soaked Joel Miller.
Word count: 1.7k
A/N: this was requested a few times so I hope it lived up to the expectations! Also, huge shout out for the divider by @saradika-graphics !
It’s been a little over a week.
Since the muffin. Since the coffee. Since the almost-touch across the counter and that look he gave you before walking out—like there was more he wanted to say, and he nearly did.
But nothing after that.
No texts. No visit. Not even one of his usual sarcastic jabs about you overcharging for muffins.
You keep telling yourself it’s fine. You’ve been busy. You’ve got enough going on. It wasn’t anything serious, anyway.
Still—your eyes flick to the front door more than they should. You keep making too many raspberry cream muffins, even when you know you’ll end up bringing half of them home. And sometimes, when the place is quiet and still, you catch yourself replaying his voice in your head—soft and low, like it only belonged in candlelight.
The storm shows up on a Thursday.
Late. You’ve already closed the bakery. You’re just finishing up—wiping down the counters, dragging your feet about turning off the lights. The radio’s playing something slow, the kind of song that makes your chest ache without really knowing why.
Mid-verse, the power cuts.
Just like that.
You let out a frustrated breath and crouch down behind the counter, rummaging under the sink for the emergency candles you haven’t touched since last winter. The air’s thick now. Heavy. You can smell sugar and lemon and the sharp, wet scent of the storm pushing in through the cracked window. It feels like the weather’s pressing up against the walls.
You light a few candles and place them around. It doesn’t do much, but it helps. The flicker of them makes the bakery feel less hollow.
The storm keeps going. Loud. Rain coming in sideways against the glass, wind slamming through the alley. Somewhere outside, something metal clatters and skids across the pavement.
You grab your phone.
One bar.
You open your dad’s message thread and type: power just went out here. you still have it?
A couple minutes pass before he replies: Yeah, we’re good. Need me to come by?
You hesitate. Your thumb hovers.
Before you can type anything, another message pops up: Joel’s already heading your way.
Your chest does something weird—tightens, maybe. Just for a second.
You set the phone on the counter and stare at the door. The bakery’s quiet now in a way that feels… not eerie, but expectant. No machines running. No lights buzzing. Just the sound of candle wax popping and the storm trying to get in.
You should be irritated.
It’s been a week of nothing, and now suddenly he’s coming back? Like it’s routine. Like he didn’t leave you hanging in that quiet, humming space where something could’ve happened.
You try to keep your hands busy—adjust a tray, wipe the same stretch of counter again. You’re not pacing. You’re not waiting.
Except, yeah. You are.
When the bell over the door finally chimes, you don’t even try to hide how fast your head snaps up.
Joel stands in the doorway, rain still clinging to his shoulders even though he must’ve parked right out front. His hair is damp, his flannel wrinkled, sleeves shoved up like he got halfway through something and didn’t bother to finish it before grabbing his keys.
He doesn’t speak right away. Just looks at you standing there in the candlelight like he wasn’t sure what he’d find.
“Didn’t mean to barge in,” he says, voice rough and low.
You blink. “Jesus, Joel.”
You glance toward the windows. The rain’s still going hard—nothing but gray and wind and water.
“You drove in that?”
He shrugs. “Didn’t want your dad thinking you were stuck here alone.”
You narrow your eyes a little. “So… he sent you.”
“Yeah. I volunteered.”
Something about the way he says it drops straight into your chest. Of course he did.
You nod slowly. “Well. You’re here.”
He steps inside and closes the door. The storm muffles a little, but your pulse doesn’t.
You turn away before you start staring. “I’ve got a towel in the back.”
Joel doesn’t say anything, but when you return, he’s taken a few more steps into the room. Standing now beneath the warm gold of a candle on the corner table, casting soft light up the sharp line of his cheekbone, the slope of his neck. There’s a faint puddle growing around his boots.
You hold the towel out to him. “Here.”
He takes it, but doesn’t do anything with it. Just watches you, like he’s trying to read something you’re not saying.
After a beat, you reach for the edge of the towel again.
“Let me,” you say, a little quieter this time.
He doesn’t move. Doesn’t object.
Your fingers find the edge of the towel, and you bring it up gently—press it to his forehead first, then slide it along the side of his face, careful around the stubble that’s already catching the candlelight. Your hand grazes his temple, and his eyes flutter shut.
He doesn’t lean into the touch.
But he doesn’t lean away, either.
Your breath feels thin.
The towel moves slowly—across his brow, along the curve of his jaw. You sweep a few stray raindrops from his cheek, fingers brushing too close to skin. When you pass beneath his chin, his throat moves on a swallow.
“You’re soaked,” you murmur.
Joel lets out something like a half-laugh. “Didn’t plan on gettin’ outta the truck.”
You glance up. His eyes are already on you.
You don’t drop the towel right away. Don’t step back either. Your hand rests lightly against his neck, and for a second it’s like the air around you stops moving.
Neither of you says anything.
Then, quieter than before: “I almost texted you.”
Joel’s brow tics slightly. “Why didn’t you?”
You shrug. “Didn’t wanna make it worse.”
He nods, slow. “It wasn’t worse. Just… quieter.”
You drop your hand.
He still doesn’t move.
“Should I go?” He asks.
You shake your head. “No.”
He breathes out through his nose. Something eases in his shoulders.
Then he steps a little closer.
His hand rises—hesitates—then settles lightly against the curve of your arm, fingers brushing your elbow. Just barely there, like he’s still asking.
And you answer without speaking. You turn, step around the puddle at his feet, and nod your chin toward the small table tucked beneath the window.
He follows.
The candlelight dances across his face as he sits. His hair is still damp, curling a little at the edges, and a single drop of water slides down from his jaw to his collarbone. He wipes it away absently, then rests his hands on the table, fingers curling slightly against the wood.
You move to the other chair. Not across from him—beside him. Close, but not quite touching. The storm outside has dulled to a steady roar now, a wall of sound that presses in around the windows like a blanket pulled too tight.
You sit there for a long moment.
Then, softer: “I thought maybe you weren’t coming back.”
Joel’s quiet. Then he shifts his gaze toward yours.
“I wanted to,” he says. “Every day.”
“Then why didn’t you?”
His jaw works. “Because if I saw you again… I wasn’t sure I’d stop myself.”
That pulls something tight in your chest.
He looks at you and doesn’t look away this time.
“I haven’t stopped thinkin’ about you,” he says. “The way you looked at me. The way you said my name.”
He doesn’t say it like a confession. He says it like fact.
You reach for him without really thinking. Your hand finds his and settles there.
He stills.
Then he shifts, turns his palm over and links his fingers through yours.
“I wasn’t sure you felt it,” you whisper.
“I felt it.”
He says it as if it’s a promise.
You look at him then, really look, and it’s all right there in the soft curve of his mouth, the wrinkle in his brow, the way he’s looking at you like you’re the first breath he’s taken all day.
And maybe it happens all at once, or maybe it was always going to happen this way.
When you step toward the back wall of the bakery—into the space where the candlelight doesn’t quite reach—he follows.
Your back meets the cool stone. Then he’s there.
Joel’s hands brace on either side of you, palms flat against the wall, chest barely touching yours. You can feel the heat of him. The damp fabric of his shirt. The breath he takes before he speaks.
“You sure?” He asks, voice almost hoarse.
You nod.
And that’s all it takes.
He leans in, slow—so slow—eyes on yours like he’s watching for the flicker of a no. But it never comes. You’re already rising to meet him when his mouth finally brushes yours.
The first kiss is soft.
Wetter than you expected, his lips still rain-damp and warm. His nose bumps yours. Your fingers curl in the damp fabric at his sides.
It’s not careful for long.
Joel exhales sharply through his nose and presses in—deeper, needier. One hand cups your jaw, thumb brushing the curve of your cheek, the other sliding down to your waist, anchoring you against him. You gasp into his mouth and he swallows it like he’s starving.
The wall is solid behind you, but all you feel is him.
He exhales, deepens the kiss. His hand finds your waist, the other cupping your jaw. You breathe him in. You don’t realize how close he is until there’s no space left.
You kiss him back harder.
Your fingers slide into his hair. He groans when you tug it, and you laugh—breathless, giddy.
It’s a little messy. A little desperate. All the waiting you didn’t let yourself feel comes pouring out all at once.
When he finally pulls back, just enough to breathe, his forehead rests against yours.
“You don’t know what you’re doin’ to me,” he says, breath ragged.
You smile. “Somethin’ good, I hope.”
He huffs against your mouth. “Fuckin’ perfect, sweetheart.”
Tag list: @glitterspark, @lysistratablogs , @christinamadsen, @kaseynsfws, @pixieeee101, @reidswifeyyyyyy, @kyloispunk , @annulmaelae, @swagdaddy04, @sadgirlcait , @musiclvr2010, @shadowybasementmiracle @thinkinggumballmachine, @nettleandmilkweed
he’s so cute i love whatever is wrong with him
sorry but someone assuming you have "left a fandom" when you don't post about it a lot anymore feels like bilbo coming home to the sackville bagginses having him presumed dead and selling all his stuff. girl i was just on a little quest????

