ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Joel gets clingy in the kitchen while you’re making breakfast, and Sarah walks in just in time to be grossed out.
ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Joel Miller x reader
ᴀ/ɴ: no apocalypse au and break from the usual stuff, cause i’m getting burnt out on writing for YJ. 😔
The sun has barely made it past the horizon, peachy-pink light slipping through the cracks in the blinds and painting stripes across the tiled floor of the kitchen. The house is quiet, miraculously so, and you’re standing barefoot in front of the stove, flipping pancakes with one hand and nursing a cup of coffee in the other.
You’ve always liked the mornings. When the world’s still quiet and nobody needs anything from you yet. The house smells like coffee and butter and the faint trace of the laundry detergent Joel likes, the cheap stuff, fresh as mountain air or something corny like that. The pan sizzles as you pour the next circle of batter.
You don’t hear him at first, he’s too quiet for a man his size, but you feel it. The warm shape of him sneaking up behind you, arms sliding around your waist like nothing new. His chest presses into your back, solid and familiar.
“Mornin’ baby,” Joel mutters, voice still thick with sleep. “smells good in here.”
You smile without turning around, leaning into him just enough to feel how he exhales, slow and content. “Good morning to you too.”
“Was good ‘til I woke up alone,” he says, rubbing at his eyes with the back of his hand before tucking his chin over your shoulder. “Didn’t even leave a note.”
“You were snoring when I left,” you say, nudging him gently. “I figured waking you up would’ve been dangerous.”
Joel snorts. “I don’t snore.”
“You do. Loudly.”
“Mm..” His hands slide a little lower on your hips. “Can’t prove it.”
“I should start recording you.”
He huffs a laugh against your neck.
You set the spatula down and glance at him over your shoulder. “I love you. Even when you sound like a lawnmower in your sleep.”
That earns you one of his dry, lopsided smiles, the kind that pulls more on one side and softens the edges of him. He kisses your cheek, then your jaw, then behind your ear, unhurried.
You roll your eyes. “Joel. I’m trying to cook.”
“Yeah? Feels like you’re tryin’ to kill me,” he says, voice low. “Standin’ here wearin’ my shirt, smellin’ like coffee and sugar and whatever it is you put in those pancakes that makes em’ taste so good. It’s cruel.”
You glance down. It is one of his shirts, soft with age, oversized, and hanging low on your pajama-covered thighs. You stole it a long time ago and never gave it back.
“Pretty sure it’s just flour and butter.”
“Yeah, well,” he mutters, kissing your neck again, “I’d do anything to keep you right here.”
You’re about to make a sarcastic comment, something snarky, maybe flirtier than it needs to be, but then—
“Seriously?” Sarah’s voice cuts through the moment like a knife. “Do y’all have to be gross before 8 a.m.?”
Joel doesn’t even flinch. Doesn’t let go, either.
“Mornin’ to you too, sunshine,” he drawls, sounding entirely too pleased with himself.
Sarah stares him down from the doorway, hoodie swallowing her frame, hair a frizzy mess. “You’re disgusting.”
Joel raises his brows like it’s the greatest compliment he’s ever received. “Good. Means I’m doin’ my job.”
You stifle a laugh and slide a pancake onto a plate. “Pancakes?”
She trudges over like she’s doing you a favor. “You encourage him,” she mutters to you, grabbing a fork.
“I heard that,” Joel says, finally letting go of you as he makes his way to the coffee pot. “And I’m hurt. Deeply.”
“Yeah? You’ll live.” Sarah says, slumping into a chair.
You hand her the plate and slide into your seat, watching as Joel pours himself coffee with all the grace of a man who’s half-awake and irritated that he’s not still in bed.
Sarah’s gaze flicks to him and then back to you.
“Did you sleep okay?” you ask her.
“Would’ve been better if I didn’t hear Dad talking in his sleep through the wall.”
“I don’t talk in my sleep,” Joel says flatly, sitting beside you with a groan as he lowers himself into the chair.
Sarah doesn’t even look up. “You said ‘cordless impact driver’ four times. Real intense, too.”
Joel just shrugs, takes a sip of coffee and you snort, almost choking on your drink.
He shoots you a sideways glance and casually drops one hand to your thigh under the table, thumb brushing lazy circles over your skin. Always touching you, even if it’s just that.
The kitchen settles into that kind of soft, sleepy quiet, just forks on plates, the low hum of the fridge, and the comfort of shared space. You love mornings like this. Safe. Familiar.
Joel reaches out and tucks a piece of hair behind your ear, giving you his full attention.“You doin’ okay today?”
You nod, leaning into the touch. “Yeah. You?”
He grunts. “Better now.”
Sarah makes a dramatic gagging noise. You nudge her under the table with your foot.
“What?” Joel says, unfazed. “I can’t be sweet?”
“Not before breakfast,” Sarah mutters, but she’s smirking into her glass of juice.
Joel leans over and kisses your cheek. “Look away then. This is grown folks’ business.”
Sarah rolls her eyes so hard you can hear it. “Disgusting.”
You smile and curl your fingers around his on your leg. Joel gives you a look, half fond, half long-suffering. You lean in, whispering just loud enough for him to hear. “Just wait til she brings someone home.”
hiii you haven’t updated in a while!everything alright?🧡🧡 take care!
hello!! sorry to keep you waiting, I’ve been busy settling into my new course so it’s been hectic in life recently, a lot of new changes but it’s a new month which means new writing!! so hopefully I’ll be posting more regularly now :)
