nothing in particular but anything involving fluff and olderboyfriend!joel who begrudgingly picks you up from tipsy bison and walks you home (he loves it tho) and cute stuff like that
AN: hnggg okay wait i love this
You’re three shots deep and a mile away from sober by the time Seth cuts you off. You’re thirty seconds into arguing with him about why you deserve another shot, actually when he sends someone to find your boyfriend. And you’re one heartbeat away from reaching over the bartop and snagging a bottle of whatever you can grab when Joel shows up.
A warm hand curls around your waist, pulling you away from the bar before you can jump over it. “And just what exactly do you think you’re doing?”
You’re still not used to the whole boyfriend thing. It’s only been a few weeks, after all, and the two of you are still trying to find the balance point. It’s a little weird, sometimes, walking around Jackson, hand in hand, while everyone in the goddamn town stares you down. Stares the both of you down.
You can’t exactly blame them—not with how Joel acts around everyone else. Rough and mean and rude and surly. Of course, the rest of Jackson would assume he’s a dick. That’s all he ever lets them see. Because that’s all he wants them to see.
The rest of the town doesn’t see the way he pulls you close in the early morning hours, when he’s just starting to wake and needs to remind himself that you’re still there. The rest of the town doesn’t know how much time he spends reading books on astronomy and space, all because his kid likes astronauts and he wants to understand what she’s talking about. The rest of the town doesn’t know that you kissed him first, because he traded a fucking arm and a leg to get you a copy of your mom’s favorite book, just because you mentioned how much you missed her.
And the rest of the town definitely doesn’t fucking see the teasing finger he hooks into the waistband of your jeans, drawing goosebumps out along the sensitive skin of your hip. They don’t hear the subtle humor in his words. Notice the way his shoulders curl in toward yours, like he’s trying to wrap the two of you into your own personal bubble.
No, they see the way he entered the room and bitched at you for getting too drunk on a Thursday night.
You sway on your feet, glaring at the asshole behind the bar. “Seth’s being a buzzkill.”
No one else sees the way Joel’s hand flattens against your stomach, gently pulling you back against his shoulder for stability. The way he silently encourages you to lean on him, to trust him.
Joel’s lips brush against the shell of your ear. “I didn’t ask what Seth was doing—I asked what you were doing.”
And you lose focus, because his breath tickles against the back of your neck and his lips are warm and the whiskey in your veins is making you wanna do all sorts of things you can't do in public.
His finger traces along your hipbone, and the heat in your body moves lower, your muscles turning to putty under his careful hands. The asshole knows exactly what effect he has on you, and right now, he’s having fun.
Seth, annoying as ever, interjects, “She’s wasting all my good whiskey, that’s what.”
You want to argue that drinking whiskey isn’t wasting it—that that’s literally the whole point of a bar. But Joel tugs you closer and you lose the train of thought. Your head is spinning, and you’re not sure if it’s from the whiskey, or from him.
“Not sure why you had to drag me into this.” Joel slips another finger into your waistband. “You could’ve just cut her off and sent her home.”
“You know damn well why I called you in.” Seth slings a bar towel over his shoulder and points an accusing finger at you. “She don’t listen to anybody but you, and I ain’t interested in picking a fight with her about the rules.”
Well, maybe if Seth tried being less of a dick, you might be willing to compromise on the number of shots you were willing to settle for. Possibly.
He’d have to be really, really fucking nice about it, though.
Joel glances down at you, and damn it, there’s that smile you adore. The one the rest of the town can’t see, that makes his eyes shine and softens the hard edges everyone else hates. The one he saves just for you.
“Guess we’d better get you home,” he says, brushing a strand of hair away from your face with the hand he hasn’t managed to shove into your pants.
And when he traces his thumb up your cheekbone, lingering for just a moment, you forget every last bit of your irritation. “Fine.”
You give Seth one more you’re a fucking asshole glare over your shoulder as Joel pulls you outside.
The night is beautiful, all autumn coolness and shining stars. Joel pulls you close, pressing a chaste kiss to your temple. “You’re a goddamn handful, you know?”
“I know.” You tilt your head up. “But that’s why you like me so much.”
He snorts, shaking his head, then kisses your forehead, sending butterflies skittering through your chest. “No, that don’t sound like me.”
“Hmm, let’s see.” You hold up a hand, ticking off your fingers as you list, “Grumpy as shit, old as shit—”
“I ain’t that old.”
“—Shit taste in music, shit taste in women—”
He cuts you off with a kiss. It’s soft and sweet, but it still makes your knees go weak and you have to grab onto his waist to stay upright. His fingers twine into your hair—not enough to pull, just enough to keep you in place, to let him kiss you slow and deep, until the world spins and heat builds in your core and you think you might combust.
He doesn’t relent until you’re a quivering, wobbly mess who can barely keep your feet under you. “How’s that for shit taste in women?”
“I thought you said you didn’t like me?” You try to smile like the cat that caught the canary, but you’re dizzy and leaning against him, trying to catch your breath, so it probably comes out a little more teenage girl with her first crush.
He tilts your chin up, pressing another soft kiss to your lips before whispering, “I don’t like you—I love you.”
It’s said like a joke but… it’s also the first time he’s said it out loud. You’ve known for a while—why else would he have put in so much fucking effort to get that book for you? But knowing it and hearing it are two very different things.
And yeah, you’re a little drunk right now, but who fucking cares? “I love you, too.”
For once, you're glad the rest of the town doesn't see Joel for who he really is.
Because the smile on his face when you tell him you love him? That belongs to the two of you.
Well, I got tagged in this WIP challenge (thanks @neutronstarchild and @vitya-z ) so here we go I guess!
WIP CHALLENGE
Rules: “post the names of all the files in your WIP folder regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it! And then tag as many people as you have wips. (You can make your own post or reblog this one!) I have deemed that this isn’t just for writing either. Sketch titles? Comics? DND campaigns? If you have an unfinished project, it counts!!”
I'm actually sort of astounded by how many WIPs I have, like I knew it was bad, but also.... OOF. So here we go!
After the Hot Springs Tour
Antigone in the Spotlight (Again): Phantom Overcoats
The City of the Stupefied
The Eight Happy Ones
Exceptional
Find Me With A Word
Karurusu Claims His Throne
The Murder of Josiah Holloway
Olympics Meet-Cute
One Last Gold
tonight: BONUS SCENES
Untitled Big Bang Fic
Viktor Nikiforov, Compulsive Planner
Ahhhhh I have sorted these alphabetically but I'll tag all the fandoms. Good luck. Also I definitely will NOT be tagging this many people but I'll give @scorchrev specifically a hard time, I'll check in with @petrichorandpilots, and also see what @balladoftime is up to. Love y'all :D
✨🌸Spring is coming🌸✨ Go out on cute lil dates with your mutuals. Tag one for each and tell them why you chose them. (coffee date, concert date, hiking date, amusement park date, picnic date, blind date with a mutual you don't know well but want to get closer with)
Oh boy ok 😆
@jfc-max I hope you like coffe cause I’m taking you on a coffee date ☕️💕
I feel like @brattyboytaehyungie would be super fun to go to a concert with so I’m taking you on a concert date 💞
@babybluetae we’re going to an amusement park because I haven’t been to one in ages and we’re gonna have hella fun and eat our hearts out (side note: I’m not good at carnival games so don’t count on me winning you a stuffed animal)💜💜
A picnic date with my girly @taesbabygirl96 because she’s super chill and I’d love to sit and chat in a park with her!
@yoongi-mingenius I hope you brought your hiking boots cause I’m taking you on a hiking date 💖
Blind date with @tony-montana-shit because I don’t know her very well but she seems hella sweet and cool from the brief time we talked! 💗
being joel's gf/situationship that turns into more pre outbreak sdjaklndjlkwnbajdk
AN: okay writing this version of joel was something new for me! he's so... not grumpy lmao. anyway, this reader is a little different than my usual spitfires. i felt like i needed a little gentleness in my life rn
The Texas sun set hours ago, but the heat lingers in the humid air. You lounge on your porch swing, legs tucked up under you and a good book cracked open on your thigh. On the railing, a cup of sweet tea sweats, droplets trailing down the glass and pooling on the painted white wood. Between the rising and falling hum of the cicadas, the distant sounds of people laughing drift on the lazy breeze, keeping you company as you turn another page. Down the street, someone’s holding a bonfire, and the whole neighborhood’s gathered to enjoy the party.
The whole neighborhood—except you, and your book.
“Good read?”
Strike that. The whole neighborhood, except you, your book, and your next-door neighbor standing at the base of your porch stairs.
God, he’s handsome. Soft, brown eyes and hair that’s just a touch too long, flopping down into his eyes. Tall, solid. Dependable. Always there when you need a favor. Always ready to help. Always willing to offer a strong, steady hand.
Of course, he’s also completely uninterested in anything beyond your bedroom. Y’all have never talked about the massive elephant dangling over your… whatever you call it. Not relationship. Not friendship. Something halfway in between, that’s better than nothing, but leaves you wanting more.
But more is the one thing he can’t give. You don’t have to ask to know he’s too busy for a relationship. A young dad, with a little girl to look after. A job that keeps him busy from sun up to sun down. A brother that’s in and out of jail. He’s got too much shit on his plate for you to bother asking if you can add yourself into the mix.
It doesn’t matter how much you want something more—he spends so much of his time looking out for everyone around him, the least you could do is help him out a little. By keeping your thoughts to yourself. By letting yourself be content with what little he can give. By giving him what you can in return, even if it means never getting what you really want.
You dog-ear the page and set your book aside, swinging your legs down. The chains holding the bench up creak with your movement. “Hey there, cowboy.”
Joel’s got one foot on the bottom stair and a hand on the railing. He smiles up at you. “Everyone’s wondering where you wandered off to.”
When you stand, the wooden floor is warm against your bare feet. You lean an elbow on the railing and snag your tea, taking a small sip. “Sorry, I didn’t think anyone would notice if I left.”
He climbs the steps, settling next to you along the railing. Nudges your shoulder with his. “Sarah sent me to come find you and drag you back.”
Sarah. Joel’s kid. Lord knows why she likes you so much, but she does. On the nights Joel gets stuck at work too late, she’ll knock on your front door, carrying some VHS tape or other, demanding a movie night. And you always make a show of hemming and hawing, before eventually giving in and tossing a bag of popcorn in the microwave. Y'all will settle in to watch the movie, laughing at the terrible special effects all night. By the time Joel shows up, she’s usually fast asleep on the couch and he has to pick her up and carry her home.
More than once, you’ve wanted to offer to let her stay. To leave her undisturbed. Every time, you bite your tongue.
Down the street, cheers and laughter erupt, but the noise is muffled by the distance. You hook your thumb nail into a crack in the railing’s paint, prying at the chip. “I’m assuming she tacked the phrase ‘kicking and screaming’ onto that request?”
Joel kisses his teeth with his tongue, dipping his head to the side in consideration. “I figured I’d try a different approach.”
“And what would that entail?”
“Well,” he says, twisting to face you and tilting your chin to him. “Figured I’d start with this.” He kisses your temple, soft and sweet.
You lean into his touch. “Mm, gonna have to try harder than that.”
His skin is soft and warm, damp from the humidity. He tugs you around, facing him. “Like this?”
Lips press against your forehead.
Your heart skips. You clear your throat. “Getting closer.”
The tip of your nose.
“Almost there.”
He leans down, his lips just a hair’s breadth away from yours. “You drive a hard bargain, ma’am.”
You’re dizzy. “You gonna kiss me or not?”
“Only if you promise to go back to the party with me.”
In moments like these, it’s so fucking easy to pretend y’all are something more. That you’re not the only one who wants something real. Something that’ll last.
And every single time he does this—pulls you close, makes you think maybe—it breaks your heart.
“Quit teasing.” You slide your hands up onto his chest. “It’s not nice.”
He’s so close. So warm. So tempting. You could close the gap and seal the deal with a kiss. But you want him to kiss you. Want him to want you.
You want him to want more, too. Want him to want to walk you back to the bonfire, arm slung around your waist and declare to the neighborhood that you’re his girl.
It’s just as much of a fantasy as the book sitting on the swing behind you.
“If this ain’t working for you, I could always throw you over my shoulder.” His breath tickles your lips. His hand under your chin slides up to cup the side of your face, thumb stroking your cheek. “Carry you back to the party.”
“Sarah would get a kick out of that.” Because she would. And you would ham it up for her, pretend to be annoyed at Joel for interrupting your evening. Y’all would make her laugh, and she’d spend the rest of the night glued to your hip, not letting you sneak off again.
“She likes having you around.” His arm around your waist slides lower until his hand rests against the small of your back.
“And her dad?” It takes everything in you to not rise onto your toes and end this here and now. It hurts too much, and it doesn’t hurt enough. “How’s he feel about me?”
He shrugs, his eyes lighting up with good humor. “He thinks you’re alright.”
“Just alright?”
“Better than alright.” He changes tactics, lifting your chin up and sliding his lips along your jaw until they land on the soft spot below your ear. “Please come back to the party. Don’t make me beg.”
Oh, Lord.
Heat flashes low in your core as he mouths his way down your neck. You bite back a moan. “If you keep doing that, the only place I’m going is upstairs.”
You can feel him smile against the hollow of your throat. “Too much?”
“Not enough.”
He kisses your collarbone. “I’ll give you whatever you want, if you promise you’ll come back. I can’t spend the rest of the night moping because my date left.”
What the hell? You pull away from his warm mouth, staring at him in shock. “Date?”
He straightens up, pulling back just enough to stare at you with a confused expression of his own. “Shit, I thought… was tonight not a date?”
What on God’s green earth is happening? Your mind buzzes like the cicadas up in the trees. “Since when are do we go on dates?”
“I…” He swallows, and the hand he’s got under your chin falls away. “Fuck, I—shit.” The hand on the back of your waist tenses, like he doesn’t want to pull it away. Then, it’s gone, and he’s stepping back. No, scrambling back. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“You thought tonight was a date.” Your voice sounds distant to your ears. You want to reach out and pull him back to you, but you can’t move. “Why?”
“Because I was under the impression that we’ve been...” He scratches at the back of his neck with an awkward, uncomfortable hand.
He’s—huh? “We’ve been hooking up.”
“Oh.” There’s a flash of something that almost looks like hurt in his eyes. “Alright, then.” He coughs. Clears his throat. Looks away. “Well. Date or not, Sarah was hoping you’d come back.”
Fuck, he'd thought tonight was a date. That what y'all have is a lot more straightforward than you'd thought. Hope swirls in your mind, amidst the confusion.
“And her dad?” Hope is a bitch, because she decides to settle in your chest and whisper maybe. “What’s he hoping for?”
Your nerves roil as Joel’s foot takes a tentative step forward. As his hand reaches for yours slowly. “He’s hoping you don’t think he’s an idiot.”
“If you’re an idiot, then you’re in good company,” you say, grasping for the fragile threads of hope, "because I'm pretty sure I'm right there with you."
He laughs, and the tensions melts away, slipping into the humid evening air. His arms slip back around your waist. He pulls you close, kissing your temple. Your forehead. Your neck. He slides his lips up the soft skin, across the plane of your jaw, until they hover right in front of your own.
“Will you be my bonfire date?” he whispers the words. “Please?”
Your chest flutters, heart ticking up a notch. “Of course.”
He closes the distance, pressing his lips to yours. You lean into him, deepening the kiss with a swipe of your tongue, drawing a deep, aching groan from him.
“We’re not gonna make it back to the party if you keep going like that.” He murmurs against your lips, trailing his fingertips across your collarbone, down your arm, back up again.
“Guess I’ll have to drag you back, kicking and screaming.”
“Smartass.” He kisses you again, then sighs and pulls back. “C’mon. I wanna show off my date.”
He slips his hands into yours, and together, y’all head back to the bonfire, smiling the whole damn way.
