#dbf joel

[bunnnycore]

house tour!! dbf joel miller and his sweet neighbour's daughter

joel miller x innocent! reader, 18+ mdni, big fat legal age gap between reader and joel (reader is 24, joel is..in his late 40s, you decide) FUN DYNAMICS!!! innocent reader. virgin reader. reader just wants to be taken care of. so bad. joel calls reader a slut....she likes it. piv sex, f!ngering, you're staring at him through the window, he's staring at you through the window...there's yearning in here. thank you for the support on the draft....this is the longest thing i've ever written. so much plot.... pumpkin pie and cookouts.... w.c 5.5k this is pure self indulgence if anyone wants i'll write a sequel.

DESCRIPTION: you’ve always been sheltered, a little too sheltered. straightlaced, no parties and certainly no boys. you graduated with a 4.0 and as a virgin, to your embarrassment. you come back to your hometown with flowers in your hair and a newfound crush on your father’s best friend and neighbour. sweaty, hot, your eyes wander when he’s working on his car, that you can see from your bedroom. you always don’t realise he looks back. on your 24th birthday, your friends get you a cutesy little lace set to wear, pastel blue, for your “husband” they say, whenever you find him.  it is sort of your fault for wearing it with no curtains closed. and it isn’t joel’s fault for seeing...

you have flowers twisted into your hair, that’s what he sees first. little buttercups twisted into the braid in your hair, chin tucked over your knees. you’re wearing a summerdress, the sort of gingham he’s seen you in all the time when you came back from college. 

it’s a bright day in early september, too early that summer still lingers, but late enough that the party was almost rescheduled because of a shower. 

he doesn’t really know you, hasn’t ever really known you. he’d moved in the year you left for college, and he’s only seen photos of you in his neighbour’s house. grinning achievements, awkward family photos. your father’s a lovely man, someone he can play pool with and talk cars about. there’s not much else to talk about, the neighbourhood full of WASP moms and dad’s that were always on business trips – but your dad is there, a wave whilst mowing the lawn, a chat over the fence. 

you’re back from college, and it’s your 24th birthday today. and you’re not off in tampa partying with your friends, you’re here in texas, in your hometown, watching your father flip patties on his barbeque whilst your mother pours jugs of lemonade. sipping your glass timidly. your hair is loose, and there are flowers in the braid, like you’ve lovingly placed them there, a decoration given to you by nature herself. 

it’s a simple neighbourhood barbeque, and of course joel’s there too. why wouldn’t he be there? your dad makes amazing burgers, and there are some perks to living in this neighbourhood after all.

the other perk is you, waving to him politely as he walks in, something strained in your smile behind your glasses. he takes a cup from your mother, the lemonade sweet and tart. and then takes in you, sweet in your gingham dress, but never tart. it flowed down to your ankles, the checks sweet againt your skin.  joel’s eyes linger on the locket on your neck, a small silver heart that’s tarnished with wear, always seen you wear it in every photo in the house, every time you’ve come to visit. a silver heart that’s beautiful, just like you.

“guess i should say happy birthday.” he nods at you, and you see his brown eyes sparkle. delightful, with his crows feet creased around them. he looks rather handsome, he always has, from all the days you’ve spent back home from college, gazing at him through your bedroom window as he worked on his car. a dreamboat, a man. one that would always treat you right, stop you from falling with his broad shoulders and big arms. 

you stand up, brushing your knees. crumbs from the burger you ate. you blush, it’s ridiculous how someone like joel – your neighbour joel, your dad’s friend joel could make you blush this easy, but you blush anyway. 

you look into your cup, and miss the way his eyes linger on your neckline too long, frills and a square, enough to show enough, but not enough to show quite nearly as enough as he wanted to see. you’re pretty, pretty in a way that doesn’t seem real. hazy like summer afternoons, hazy like a memory joel thinks.

“thank you.” you say quietly, looking back up, seeing his eyes again. he sees yours, wide, like a deer. doe eyed, looking up at him like his compliment means the world to you. 

he shifts on a foot, he feels like a blushing teenager again but he’s pushing fifty.. “so, any plans?” he means any plans for your birthday, anything that you’ll do with your friends, things a 24 year old should be doing. getting drunk at a bar, having a one night stand, not standing here in her parents’ backyard, making small talk with an old man like him.

your nose twitches like a little bunny, and you tilt your head at him, “yeah, of course, the phd programme starts in mid september, now that the holidays are nearly over.”

it’s pitying, the look he gives you. but maybe there’s something else, awe. he remembers 24, or more like he doesn’t remember it. blackout drunk in a bar, and a hookup in the bar’s bathrooms. you are standing here, lemonade in hand, smiling shyly up to him behind your glasses like he hangs the moon. 

your dad walks over, and claps you on the shoulder, “ain’t i just proud of her, 24 and already in a phd programme.” a wince, his voice is so loud, his hands are so heavy. joel laughs with him good naturedly, friends, that’s what they are. they’re equals and you with your head behind a book, are not. 

“not in the phd programme yet,” you raise an eyebrow, “i’ll be in  phd programme when i move in, when it’s all confirmed.” voice small, slow and careful, like your steps are, like your smile is. his eyes linger on your chest again, the swell of your breasts under the gingham dress, cut modestly so that it’s innocent, you’re barely ever looking to impress anyone anyway. but he gets impressed, bubbles in his stomach where he wishes he could gently pull the straps down, and worship you. 

you don’t catch his gaze, silly and innocent as your eyes linger on the grass too long. when you look up, he’s already looking away, you two are like paralell lines that never meet. home, life, everything suffocates you - there is a pressure to be perfect in the eyes of everyone you meet, a pressure to perform like they want you to be. your father with his kind eyes and strict rules, grad school, college, the phd. he’s proud of you, you can hear it drip from his voice, “proud of my girl, doing so well for herself.” 

you aren’t proud of yourself. not a single party, not a sip of alcohol, never a smoke from a friend however many times they offered. no boys, no dates, just sitting behind a desk and working. working in high school, working in college, working through grad school, and then your damn phd. your mother always told you the best things happened to those who wait, but there was never a good thing that happened with you. 

“thanks dad.” you smile, a lie. for some reason, joel can hear it. your hips curve in your dress, he can see them as the window blows, making your dress flutter against you like a butterfly’s wings. there’s a misery in your eyes, one he can feel, “enjoy the party joel.” you smile at him. your smiles are always freely given, all soft and sweet with your plush lips curving upwards. he can see the lip gloss glisten in the sunlight, pink and pretty. just like you. 

he tears his eyes from your lips, forcing himself to imagine anything but his best friend’s daughter’s lips ghosting over his neck. pouting at him as he leaned in for a kiss, the pink tinted lipgloss leaving kiss marks on his shirt, marking him as yours, “thanks.” he clears his throat, “you too.”

“you want me to get anything for you?” you ask, because of course you do. however hard you worked in college, you had always been taught to serve, quietly and sweetly. there was nothing wrong in being a good host, and you always saw your mother being gracious with serving your father. it was an act of love, drilled into you that a woman must serve her husband. joel wasn’t that, but your heart beat faster when you spoke to him, and in your life with no boys and no dates, that was enough. 

“yeah, okay, i’d like a beer, if that’s okay?” he asked, and you nodded, dress swishing around your legs as you walk to the cooler. you’ve always picked up beer bottles for people, never asked for a sip though, the smell makes you feel heady, it tastes disgusting, and you don’t know why anyone would put themselves through that.

the condensation on the bottle is dripping when you hand it to him, your hands touch, almost. his big fingers brushing against yours, a spark. you swear you felt a current jolt through you, but it might have been the coolness of your fingertips against his warm ones. 

the party is nothing much, grill burgers and pickles and onions. you help out your mother plate the food, graciously, like some angel feeding the hungry in a gingham dress and bright eyes. the good daughter, the good wife. that’s what you’d been taught, to study, but to serve. but he remembers the brush of your fingertips, and hopes you do too.

it becomes a thing, afterwards. his eyes seeking you out in the early days of september. you’re often on your porch, reading about your subject. it’s ridiculous how much time you pour over it, and he runs a business, a whole business. when he leaves for his office in the mornings, he waves at you. you always wave back, nose still buried in your book, glasses slipping off your nose. 

plain, ordinary. he’s dated a string of women before, but you’re shy and sweet. always politely calling out, “good morning mr miller!” over the fence when he walked to his car. wearing your shirt and sweatpants, always a little baggy so your right shoulder slipped off. and he always noticed the bra strap against your skin. pointelle blue, velvet green, flower patterned white. your knees up under your chin in the swinging porch chair. book laid in front of you on the table, that you go back to, again. 

one night, when summer doesn’t seem to be slipping away, you knock on his door. his house is silent, his old house was filled with the ghost of his daughter’s laughter, but this new house is silent. he doesn’t speak much to people, but he opens it to you.

you wear another dress, this time blue, with white polka dots and puffed sleeves. the square neckline stays modest, the silver heart still resting delicately against your collarbone. you’re nervous, he can smell that on you. the way your eyes dart back to your house, like this is a wolf’s den. 

24 and you shouldn’t be acting like this, not really. but you’ve never knocked at a man’s door before. no boys, no boyfriends, no nothing. that was the rule your dad gave you when he agreed to pay for your education, you’d never had a chance to between lectures and studying and exams. not a single date, not a single party. being a blushing virgin at 24, something so embarassing. 

and here you were, blushing as you waited for your dad’s best friend and neighbour to open the door for you, calling out from somewhere inside the house to “yeah yeah, wait a minute f’me!”

his voice, was so low. it made you want to clench your thighs, cross them pathetically. you needed him like plants needed the sun, dreamed about the few moments you’d seen him when you came home from college over the years. he opens the door to you, all grizzled, in grey sweatpants and a tight black tshirt. your eyes can’t help but shift below to see his bulge against the grey sweatpants. it’s just a quick look, but god does it make you wetter. 

he’s big in there, in those unassuming sweatpants, and your shy eyes move back to the glass tupperware in your hands. “here, i made pie.” you hold it out to him, and he stares at you like you’re the prettiest thing in the world. the moon glows behind you like a halo, your dress’s neckline has slipped slightly to show the dip of your breasts, and you hold out the box to him. “we have leftovers, i felt like you should have it.”

“jee, thanks, y’gonna make an old man like me blush.” he rubs his neck gently, and you laugh at that, your other hand going to cover your mouth.

“i don’t think you’re that old.” the words slip past your tongue, and you shut your mouth after that before you make a fool of yourself. he doesn’t want you, couldn’t want you. you were too young, too fucking stupid about love, too naive about sex, and you weren’t even here that often, “not as old as my dad anyway.”

the words are heavy between you, and then he takes the box from your hand, “glad i got someone in my corner at least.” he gives a small smile, and you swear you can see something twitch in his loose grey sweatpants. 

“heat it up before you eat it, mr miller.” you say, all polite again, like you didn’t just see the imprint of his cock inside his sweatpants. 

“ ‘course i will.” he says, swallowing, watching you walk away, your pert ass against the cotton of the summerdress, one that flowed to your knees. he wants to hear you talk again, “what pie is it?”

you turn back, and tilt your head, “pumpkin, made it myself using mom’s recipie.” 

when he closes the door, his cock is half hard, and he jerks off at night to the thoughts of you. you in your pretty dresses, looking like sin, your eyes focused the pages of a book. he imagines his cum spurting inside you, fucking you so hard the ache that sits behind your eyes vanishes in a haze of pain, cockdumb and drooling.

he’s working on his car when you see him through your bedroom window. your next door neighbour, your father’s friend. joel miller is working on his car, half in and half out of the garage. he’s sweat through his shirt, the outline of his muscles imprinted on the grey fabric. your chin is propped up on your hands, and you can see him through the window, back against you as he bends down to work on the engine. 

grey sweatpants, he wears grey sweatpants, and you can feel your heart quicken in your chest. after the night when you gave him the pie, you’ve been looking at him more, daring to look at him more. he’s working on his car, and you can see it from your bedroom window, making grunts as he bent over the hood of the car, rumaging around in it.

a distraction from your book, making you drool a little as he looks so damn good. distraction from studying, distraction from worrying about your phd. he looks so. damn. good. working on his car or leaving for work in the mornings, or even walking out in his backyard without his shirt on, after his shower. he looks good, too good to be true. 

a man. you don’t know anything about men, kept as far away from them as possible. your dad’s rules, your mom’s warnings. not a single party, not a single nightclub. your roomie used to laugh at you, invites fell through, you were frumpy and that was that. you didn’t even touch yourself, couldn’t bring yourself to. the shame of wanting to touch yourself, the shame of not being the good girl you’d spent your entire life being. 

but joel, he made you want to cross and uncross your legs, clench weakly against nothing. you needed him, desperately. and there was never a reason to look at you. 

yet your panties get damp, and your hips buck at the air, at nothing, at the thought of him shirtless, sweaty, with his grey sweatpants on. you need him.

the box arrives at your house a week after your birthday, a little brown box with your friends’ handwriting on it. sophie and alexa from los angeles, you’d been the odd one out of the three, but they liked you, parties or no parties. you’d missed them in grad school, one of them taking a job as a PA in LA and one a housewife, missed them because they made you feel whole. never made you feel bad about abstaining from boys and parties, waiting for the one. waiting for marriage, like a ‘good woman’ should.

a box in your hands, and your father asks who it’s from. “from sophie and alexa!” you shout back, opening it softly in your room. 

a package falls out, wrapped in wrapping paper, ome cute pens that you liked from that one stationary shop you saw when you went to visit sophie last, and a crochet frog that alexa made you. then a note. 

“happy birthday baby, can’t believe you’ve hit 24 now. 24 years old, and nearly a PHD GIRL! we’re so fucking proud of you, always knew someone like you could do it. you sacrificed so much, drove us out of so many clubs. we’re so proud of you for getting into that phd programme, and finally realising how damn cute you look in those summerdresses. now you need to get dicked down, where’s the husband girl, where’s the wedding invite!!! i hope it’s soon, and to sweeten the deal, we pooled our money together to get you something cute for you and your husband, whenever you find that special guy. i hope you like it, hope it fits."

love you so much girl, sophie + alexa

the package. you feel for the package. soft, small, and you open it to reveal a set of blue lingere. a lace set, pastel blue with roses stiched onto the center. plain in a way that fitted you so dearly, but lacy on the trims. you’ve never had any fancy lingere, never a reason to be cute, nobody was seeing you like this, were they? and you could imagine the heartbreak on your mother’s face if she found anything like that in the laundry, the shame on your father’s. no, you could never get somehting like this, but they’d thought it would be nice for you. 

it’s cutesy, all pastel like the clothes you usually wear. you put it on with shaking hands, fastening the ribbons on the hips.your hands pull your shirt and bra off, and slip the top on, it’s a simple cami top that cups your breasts and cuts off halfway through your stomach, leaving the curve of your waist bare. 

it’s funny, you look good. all sweet like this, but it feels weird on you, like a costume you’re wearing. you don’t look anything like this person. you’re not this person, you’re still you. 24, grad school, your eyes are still behind your glasses, hair still in that sloppy ponytail, but god does it fit you well. at least sophie and alexa meant well and did well — not that it would be used anytime soon.

you look at yourself in the mirror, a little strange, a little awkwardly. the  one man you wanted to see look at you like this barely cared, barely looked at you when you’d been dreaming about him for years.

meanwhile the man you want, joel miller, forty seven, working on his goddamn car, looks up. he’s looking at the clouds, hoping that the grey passes over soon and the clear skies shine through. he’s looking at the clouds, then his eyes skirt over your window.

he sees you in the lace, and his mouth goes dry. you with your soft curves and those doe eyes, looking at yourself in the mirror. the lace bralette on you, fitting your breasts well. 

fuck. you looked good like that, all lace and pastel blue that looked so pretty against your skin. you turned from side to side, and he could do nothing but watch, eyes moving before his brain did. but not before his dick.

he could feel himself getting hard in his jeans as he kept watching, sure it didn’t seem right, but you looked so pretty. like a sin he was willing to indulge in over and over again. he couldn’t look away, couldn’t look away from the show he was seeing behind the glare of glass and the sunlight. 

your curtains aren’t closed, they’re wide open, and you’re admiring yourself from your window, turning and twisting, adjusting the lace so it looks half decent on you. you hear a toolbox drop, and so does your fucking heart.

you shut them suddenly, and the show is over. there’s an embarrassing wet patch on his jeans from where his cock has leaked precome, and he walks inside. he’s seen you, all soft and pretty, in something soft and pretty again. ribbons on your lace, hot hot, and the memory will stay etched in his mind.

your breath hitches, and you pray he didn’t see. he probably thought you were some sort of slut, prancing around in your lingerie, hoping someone would see you. fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck….you can’t stop swearing, pulling your jeans up your legs and throwing a shirt on. 

he’d tell your dad, and you’d loose everything. the money your dad was giving you for the phd, the shit you’d worked so hard to get. 

worse still, joel saw you like that. all stupid and silly looking, ugly even, in something that didn’t even suit you. 

your heart thuds out of your chest as you run downstairs, out the door, down the porch steps, and into his garage. 

closed. it’s  closed now, but you knock on it with tentative hands. to plead, desperate. to tell him you aren’t like that, to tell him- to tell him. 

it opens as you press your hands against it, and you hear grunts. heavy, breathy grunts. the rhythm of his hand, the slick sounds filling up the room. it sounds like what your roommate’s boyfriend did in the bathroom that one time in senior year, when she was asleep and you were unfortunately awake. 

a pause as the door creams, and then he continues, moaning, desperate. your footsteps against the wood, a pause.

“fuck.” he swears.

“mr miller?” you call  out, still polite, then, swallowing, “joel?”

“fuck!” he runs into the garage, forehead sweaty, hair sticking to it, on shaking legs and a stricken expression on his face. his mind is screaming a thousand thoughts a second, but you can smell him, manly and musky, and something in your brain just cracks.

“joel, please—“ you reach out to him as his expression panics, falling to your knees in front of him, “i wanna help you.”

“you don’t.” he says, swallowing. he’s older than you, lived a life before you, you’ve got the world ahead of you, phd, research, bright eyes and beautiful smiles. a soft wedding in white, petals being thrown in the air.

your hands clutch at the denim of his trousers, “please joel, i do.” and you’re fumbling with his zipper like you’ve dreamed of, your pussy slicking with arousal and need, but you’re laser focused on his letting his half hard dick out. and it does, springing out with beads of precome on top, red and angry.

your hands fumble at it, and there’s nothing more you know to do. fingers shaking, this is the first time you’ve seen a cock. ever. it looks beautiful, his is so big, you wonder how it’ll fit in you, if he ever does that. you feel too old to never have done something like this, embarrassed you’ve never done anything with a man before. 

tentative hands grip his length, and slick with the precome beading out, and you rub it awkwardly.

“y’acting like you’ve never seen a cock before.” he laughs as you touch it like you would pet an animal, and you look up at him. with your doe eyes. there’s disappointment in them, and then you let go to show off the lace top you’re wearing underneath the tshirt. the one he saw through the window, is better up close, all fitting to your curves, and it makes his breath quicker. 

you cough, and then try touching it again, “my friends got this for me, think it’s good?” he lets out a moan, but your angle is all wrong, the grip too loose. 

“look beautiful baby,” he lets out a sigh, “y’technique needs a little fixin’, all that time in college and you haven’t even figured out how to do this?”

you blush, closing your eyes as he steps closer to you, boots heavy,, then his breath hitches. “so you’re sayin’…” he starts, his mouth dry, voice rough. a virgin, you were a virgin, that’s why you had no idea what to do after you fumbled pathetically with his zipper. 

fuck, of course you were. 24, college degree, 4.0 gpa, grad school lined up. no parties, no boys, you with your smile and a head stuck in books, you. you, shy eyes behind glasses, you who waved at him through on the porch when he mowed the lawn. you, the daughter of his best friend he barely saw. no one that felt you up, no stupid frat boy that got to take what was in front of him. lace blue, a ribbon’s rose stitched onto the straps, a silly gift from some silly friends. kneeling in front of him on wobbly legs, hands hovering over his half throbbing cock.

“no.” he shakes his head, and holds your arm, hauling you up so you see a little more eye to eye, “not gonna do it like this.” he pushes his dick back into his underwear, then zips up his fly. “not here in the garage, not with someone like you.”

“not with me?” you ask, voice all small. rejection. like you’d seen this before, your hands shaking for your shirt.

“no babygirl,” he smiles, a little wry, “not here, not with someone like you.” he places a firm hand on your ass, you can feel it through your thin sweatpants, “c’mon, let me give you the house tour, i gotta bedroom for nice girls like you.”

“you listen to sabrina carpenter?” you look at him, tilting your head.

“...who?” he looks at you, squinting, crows feet around his eyes. handsome.

“i’ll show you, after.” you can’t wait. nor can he, with how quickly he leads you to his bedroom, the first floor, wooden, mahogany. it smells of him, flannel and softness, and he has a hand on the little of your back the whole time.

“you really want f’me to be your first?” he says, in the quiet, and when you breathe you smell him. 

“dream about you in grad school,” your hips buck against him, cunt desperate and drooling, “remember the time you were washing your car with no shirt on.”

he smiles at that, and pushes you onto the bed, “you could have anyone. pure as a lily you are.” your lace lingerie is doing nothing to hide the swell of your breasts, the way your nipples pebble at his touch. 

“i only want you joel.” you pout at him, fuck you’re beautiful. your legs buck into the air again, like you don’t know how to relieve yourself, and then his body is there, and you’re grinding against him. desperate, so so desperate to get rid of the itch between your legs.

“come here my girl, i’ll be soft f’you the first time.” he gently pulls down your jeans, and then sees the lace panties that were part of your set. you look so good like this, shy and sweet up from your hair and so sinfully real. 

“all this, f’me?” he grunts, feeling the stickiness of your arousal, the damp of the lace, and he pushes it down too with two thick fingertips.

“always, only for you.” you let out a sigh as he circles at your clit with his thumb, and it’s true. it is only for him, the only man to ever see you like this, and it makes his cock leak harder. you were so…untouched, a flower nobody had crumpled yet. 

he pushes a finger inside you, and your cunt takes him in almost immediately, sucking at his finger with greedy lips. you’re desperate, so desperate but his fingers make you so full. it’s so slow as he does, his finger stretching your tight hole out. 

you grind against him again, and he laughs — “ ‘s it too much?” he asks, all worried. you shake your head, and he adds in another finger, the stretch is almost painful, but it burns in a way that feels so good. you need him, more than body and soul. you need him in you.

“need - ah -  you.” you gasp out, between breathy moans, he’s pumping his fingers in you to a steady rhythm he curls his fingers inside you, to hit that one spot that felt so good you saw stars. but you needed him.

“ already got me.” he whispers into your ear, and you could almost come like that, with his voice in your ear and his fingers in you. your cunt drools more, sloppy, tight. “this cunt’s got me forever, if you’d take me.”

declarations of love? two fingers in? god he was in deep. 

you whine as he takes away his fingers out of you, sticky with you and brushing against your clit to make your toes curl. “no joel, i want you in me.”

he laughs, “you’ve seen how big it is,” a frown, “i doubt she can take it.”

“i can.” you look up, pleading, but with that firmness in your voice that lets you win debates in college. firmness or not, he’s a sucker for your doe eyes, and so he unbuckles his trousers, leaking cock jumping out again.

“ s’bigger than my fingers.” he grunts, jerking it once or twice to have it hard again, “are you sure?” and he’s worried, worried about you. 

“i’m sure.” you want him to ruin you. and he parts your thighs gently. he doesn’t even need to push the way your virgin cunt sucks him up, inch by inch until he’s half buried in you. 

he rolls his hips slow, and your eyes roll back into their head, you can barely form words as you’re impaled by his cock, each thrust rougher and rougher. “like being filled huh?” he asks, a little unkindly, but you’re too far gone to care. your cunt is choking him so tightly, that he’ll loose his mind if he doesn’t orgasm. 

your walls throb, squeezing him, wringing him as he thrusts into you. you can feel his pubic hair graze against your clit, and you let out a loud moan, “y’like being filled only by me.” he growls into your skin. he’s possessive, and a wave of pleasure passes over him knowing that he’s who’s making you feel this way.  

your eyes roll in pleasure as he bottoms out, and he has to let out a laugh at that. so smart behind all those books and so desperately dumb with his cock in you. your legs jerk in such a pathetic way, it’s embarrassing, twitching with overstimulation. he rubs at your swollen clit one last time, and you’re coming on his cock, gushing, sticky, all on him. 

“you okay?” he asks, looking down at you, but you can’t form words, heady pleasure in your eyes as you look up at him.

“ cockbrained,” he laughs, “ cockdumb slut.” he taps at your cheek and you let out another moan, it’s so desperate, so whiny that he barely remembers to pull out before he’s cumming all over you, all over the pretty lace set you got, painting your breasts with ropes of his thick cum. 

your chin is covered with his spend, some of it even on your lips, in your mouth from how much you’d been gasping. he pulls out of you with heavy breaths, and you choke on air until you blink back to him.

“fuck.” you look at him, “been missing out on all this?”

“only with me.” he gathers you up in his arms, and you two sit there, watching the sunset. 

“should’a seen you there, all dumb with a cock in you.” he laughs, after a few minutes of silence, with his cum drying on you like a brand. like he’s marked you as his.  

virginity, you’ve given your virginity to him, that might be the biggest brand yet.

you were supposed to save that, this felt right, having him call you a slut, it felt like the weight of academic being lifted off you. 

“i liked it.” you lick your lips, tasting him, salty and musky. it’s good, he’s good, “felt nice being taken care of.”

“mmm.” a beat, “felt nice taking care of you, all soft, though your pussy’s a treasure, eh?”

you poke him in the stomach, “ain’t letting anyone else see it.” you mumble, tired from your orgasm, you could nuzzle on his chest and sleep like this, having him hold you all tight and warm, “ only for you.”

“better be.” he squeezes your ass playfully, “ i don’t want my girl being a slut f’anyone but me.”

“course joel.” maybe you’ll let him kiss you, one day. your virgin cunt his now. 

endnotes: i need him. desperately. i need him pumpkin pie and all. tagging people who were interested @itsjustemilygrace @millerlowlite @armandispunk @prettyferalphilosophy @isimpforfictionalmen @lovelyladiess @shesservingcvnt

[joeldarling]

this grandpa could bend me over the kitchen table and i would be grateful

[spoiledboys]

glory days (dbf!joel x m!reader)

pairing: dbf!joel miller x m!reader

summary: After a brutal soccer practice your dad’s best friend Joel Miller picks you up. Surrounded by old trophies and championship photos, the older man opens up about his own soccer past and shows you little tricks from his playing days.

tags: soccer jock!reader, soft dom!joel, age gap, praise kink, first time, tender smut, frotting, blowjob, handjob, cock warming, rimming, cum swallowing, sightly body worship, breeding kink, masculine mentorship and raw lust collide in the warmest way possible.

word count: 5,9k

a/n: the title is a reference to glory days by springsteen but joel is not a nostalgic old man, ok? also, think of the verse "my boy's a winner, he loves the game" off diet pepsi by addison rae while reading. it is sexy that way.

you were still in your soccer uniform. grass-stained shorts clinging to your thighs, jersey soaked dark with sweat down your chest and back. your hair was damp, skin sticky, legs aching from practice.

your phone buzzed. it was a message from dad: stuck at college helping a student. i asked joel to come and pick you up, he’s on his way.

when the familiar truck pulled up, joel was smiling through the window. that warm, patient smile you’d known for years.

you climbed into the passenger seat, suddenly hyper-aware of how gross you smelled. joel, on the other hand, smelled like cinnamon and beautiful dreams.

“thanks, joel. sorry you had to come out for this.”

he gave a low chuckle “ain’t a problem, bud. i don’t mind.”

the ride was comfortable, windows cracked, radio playing low. after a couple minutes joel glanced over you, eyes flicking down to your dirty legs.

“watched your game the other day with your dad,” he said. “you looked real good out there. fast on the wing, solid passes. that goal in the second half? clean as hell. you’re gettin’ better every week.”

“you really think so?”

“i know so,” joel replied, smiling gently. “i played a lot of soccer back in the day, too. wasn’t half bad either. used to play striker mostly. had some speed on me before these knees started complainin’.” he let out a soft laugh. “you remind me of myself a little. quiet on the field but always thinkin’. that’s the best kind of player.”

“i still get nervous sometimes…” you bit your lip.

joel nodded understandingly. “that’s normal, bud. nerves mean you care. just keep doin’ what you’re doin’. you’ve got real talent.” he paused for a second, then added with a playful smirk, “your dad ever tell you i almost went pro? tore my acl senior year of college. but it worked out alright. i still have some championship trophies i can show you. might motivate that hardworking ass of yours.”

you smiled shyly, glancing at him. “yeah… i’d like that.”

“sure” joel said, warm affection in his voice. “but first, let’s get you a good shower, dirty little soccer boy.”

you both laughed, joel turned toward his house instead of yours.

when he pulled into the driveway he killed the engine and looked at you.

“wait here.”

he came around, opened your door, and before you could protest he scooped you up like you weighed nothing — one thick arm under your knees, the other around your back. you instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck.

“joel— you don’t have to—”

“shh. i ain’t lettin’ you track mud and grass all over my carpet,” he murmured against your hair, carrying you inside like it was the most natural thing in the world. his body felt so warm and solid against your sweaty one.

“c’mon. you’re filthy. let’s get you cleaned up.”

you didn’t argue.

he took you straight upstairs to his bathroom, still holding you until he set you down on the tile. then he started the shower, letting the water heat up while he slowly peeled your jersey off your body. his big hands lingered on your damp skin.

“arms up, buddy.”

you obeyed. he stripped you down piece by piece. he helped you to get off your grass-stained shorts and socks next, leaving you in just your white underwear in front of him. your cock twitched under his gaze and you had to fight the urge to cover yourself.

joel’s eyes dragged over every inch of your sweaty, grass-stained body. you were still breathing a little hard from practice.

then he started undressing too.

he shrugged off his shirt, revealing a broad, solid chest dusted with dark hair that trailed down over a strong stomach. his arms were thick from years of real work, shoulders wide and powerful. boots came off next, then his jeans, sliding down his strong thighs...

by the time he stood there in just his boxers, the thick, heavy outline of his cock was impossible to ignore.

joel was mature and undeniably masculine.

“you can get in” he said

you stepped into the shower, groaning as the hot water hit your sore muscles. a second later joel crowded in behind you, completely naked now, his chest pressing against your back. he crowded behind you, soaping his hands up before running them over your shoulders and down your chest.

“gotta get you clean”

he soaped you up slow and thorough. rough palms slid over your chest, thumbs circling your nipples until they hardened without him noticing. then down your stomach, then between your legs.

“feels good?” he asked quietly, lips close to your ear.

you nodded, too shy to speak properly. “y-yeah…”

he smiled against your skin and kept going, washing every inch of you with patient hands. when he reached between your legs, he was gentle — carefully cleaning your cock and balls, stroking you with just enough pressure to make your breath hitch. then he turned you around, so your back was to the water and gently spread your cheeks, washing your hole with the same tender attention.

you whimpered, forehead resting against the cool tile, embarrassed by how good it felt. you could feel that his hands were firm.

eventually he turned off the water. joel stepped out first and grabbed a big, fluffy towel. he wrapped it around you with so much care, pulling you close as he dried your shoulders, your chest, your back. his movements were slow and gentle, almost reverent.

he knelt down in front of you, carefully drying your thighs and wiping away every drop of water. when he reached your knees, his eyes lifted and landed on your aching, fully hard cock standing right in front of his face. a soft smile tugged at his lips as he continued drying your shins and feet with the same patience.

“so much better,” he murmured, voice low and husky as he rose back to his full height. he pulled you against him, letting the towel fall open so your bare, clean body pressed against his still-damp skin. “all cleaned up…”

the moment he stood, you felt his thick and heavy cock, now fully hard, resting warm and heavy against the curve of your ass. the weight of it made you shiver. joel wrapped his arms around you from behind, pulling your back flush against his chest. his cock nestled perfectly between your cheeks as he held you close.

the scent of fresh soap mixed with his natural warm smell filled your lungs.

he breathed you in slowly, nose brushing along your wet hair.

“god, boy” joel whispered, voice low and rough with want. “you smell so good now.”

every time he breathed, it twitched against you, making your hole clench with nervous excitement.

you whimpered softly, embarrassed by how desperately your body was reacting. joel noticed immediately and pressed a gentle kiss to the side of your neck.

“shh, it’s okay, bud” he murmured soothingly. “you don’t have to hide how you feel. i’m right here with you…”

he rolled his hips slowly, dragging his thick length up and down between your cheeks in a lazy, teasing grind. the heavy weight of his cock felt comforting. joel turned you around in his arms so you were facing him.

his eyes were dark but incredibly soft as he looked down at your flushed face. one of his hands reached down to wrap gently around both of your cocks, pressing them together.

“you see how good it is, huh?”

you both stood there, bare and warm from the shower, hearts beating against each other. joel’s hand kept your cocks pressed snug together, the steady heat and weight of him making your breath shaky.

then he leaned in.

his kiss was slow, almost careful. his lips were warm and surprisingly soft for such a rugged man, brushing yours once, twice, before settling in with quiet tenderness. there was no rush. he tasted faintly of mint and when he tilted his head just a little more, the kiss deepened by degrees— but still gentle, still patient. his tongue traced the seam of your lips until you opened for him, then slid inside to stroke against yours in long, lazy glides that made your knees feel weak. it wasn’t hungry or demanding.

it was warm. and so delicate, so gentle, so patient.

when he finally pulled back just enough to speak, his forehead rested against yours, breath mingling. “your lips are so soft” joel says with his thumb swept across your bottom lip, eyes half-lidded and dark.

he kissed you again, just as tenderly, swallowing the tiny sound you made. this time one of his big hands slid down your back, cupping your ass and pulling you tighter against him so your cocks rubbed together between your stomachs.

after a long moment, joel turned you gently in his arms until your back was pressed to his chest. his thick cock nestled hot and heavy along your spine. he pressed a slow kiss to the side of your neck then slowly dropped to his knees behind you.

you felt his warm breath before his tongue gently licked over your hole. the sensation made your knees weak. joel gripped your hips firmly as he licked you with unhurried devotion — long, languid strokes that explored every delicate inch. every so often he gently dipped inside, tasting you deeply, like he couldn’t get enough.

“fuck… joel—” you moaned, embarrassed by how needy you sounded as he licked you slow and sweet — long, patient strokes of his tongue, occasionally pressing inside just a little, savoring you.

he hummed softly, the vibration sending sparks up your spine.

after a few more slow, worshipful licks, joel stood up again. he pressed his broad chest against your back and wrapped one arm around you. you felt his thick, hard cock resting heavy against your ass as he kissed the side of your neck.

“you want this, baby?” he asked, voice rough with want but still so gentle. “we don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for.”

“i do.i-i-want you. just… be gentle with me?” your voice dropped, you were feeling vulnerable at that moment. “i trust you.”

he smiled tenderly and reached for the small bottle of lube he kept in the bathroom drawer. the room was still warm and steamy from the shower, the mirror lightly fogged. the only sound besides your shaky breathing and joel’s low and soft voice.

then he lined up, pressing the blunt, slippery head of his cock against your hole, slowly starting to pushing in.

“breathe for me, bud” he whispered “that’s it… good boy. just relax and let me in.” the stretch burned, but joel never rushed, murmuring soft against your neck the entire time as he gradually sank deeper.

your breath hitched sharply, a mix of discomfort and deep, aching pleasure flooding through you. it wasn’t easy. your body instinctively tensed around the sheer size of him.

“i know, big guy. i know… easy now,” he soothed, voice low and warm. “you can take it. you’re doin’ so good already.”

joel paused and pressed gentle kisses along your shoulder, holding perfectly still while you adjusted.

“there you go” Joel whimpered as he sank another inch, the fullness overwhelming.

the burn gradually started melting into a heavy, throbbing pleasure deep inside you.

“my sweet boy… so tight and warm around me. gonna stay right here for a minute and let you get used to it, okay?” he whispered, lips brushing your skin. one of his big hands rubbed slow, comforting circles over your stomach while the other stroked your cock with gentle, encouraging touches.

“you feel incredible… so perfect wrapped around me.”

you could only nod as your breath was shaky. the feeling of him was overwhelming in the best way. joel’s broad, hairy chest was pressed flush against your back, his warm, damp skin radiating heat that sank straight into you. every slow breath he took made his chest expand against you, grounding and steady.

you felt so full it was dizzying — he was touching parts of you no one else ever had.

“joel…” you whimpered softly.

“shh, i know, bud” he murmured, pressing a slow kiss to the side of your neck. “just feel me. feel how deep i am.”

your own cock was leaking steadily in his fist, the pleasure building low in your belly.

“feelin’ better now, huh?” he gave the smallest, gentlest roll of his hips, barely moving, just enough to nudge that spot deep inside you.

a broken moan slipped from your lips as sharp pleasure shot up your spine.

“good boy,” he groaned quietly, lips against your ear. “so good for me.”

joel’s control began slipping. his hands gripped your hips a little tighter, fingers digging into your soft skin as his thrusts grew deeper, hungrier.

“baby boy… ” he rasped against your neck, kissing and sucking lightly at your skin. “so soft….”

his pace quickened, still careful but losing restraint. he fucked you with long, powerful strokes, groaning every time he bottomed out. one arm wrapped around your chest, pulling your back flush against him so there wasn’t a single inch of space between your bodies. his other hand stroked you faster, perfectly in time with his thrusts.

“your hole… fuck, it’s too good,” he groaned against your neck, voice wrecked. “so tight and warm… i can’t hold it anymore, baby.” he said pressing tender kisses to your shoulder. “f-fu-ck…”

with one last deep thrust, he buried himself into you. a raw, broken moan tore from his chest as thick, endless ropes of warm cum flooded into you. he kept pulsing, spilling load after load deep inside your body, filling you so full you could feel your insides getting wet with his seed.

he was panting against your neck, chest heaving, almost dizzy from how intense it felt. nothing had ever felt this good. not even close.

“fuckkkkk… baby boy… ” his arms stayed wrapped tightly around you the whole time, “look what you did to me.”

he stayed buried deep inside you, gripping your ass with both big hands to hold you firmly in place. his thick cock continued twitching as he savored the warm, slick mess he had made. he could feel his own cum leaking around his shaft, making everything slippery.

“god, i love this” he said as he stayed buried deep for a long, indulgent moment, lazily grinding into your cum-filled hole like he couldn’t bear to leave it.

with painstaking care, joel eased his still-thick cock out of you. the drag was slow and deliberate, and the moment his swollen head popped free, a thick rush of his warm cum leaked out of your used hole. you whimpered at the sudden emptiness, feeling his load drip steadily down your thighs in heavy, messy streams.

“fuck… look at that, baby” joel breathed, voice rough with satisfaction.

the way your hole fluttered and clenched around nothing, the deep satisfaction of being so full of him… it made your own cock throb painfully, rock-hard against your stomach.

joel noticed immediately how desperate you were.

“jesus, baby boy,” he murmured, voice rough and warm.

he turned you around with big, gentle hands, then dropped to his knees on the damp bathroom floor without a second of hesitation.

the sight of joel — a broad, manly, salt-and-pepper father figure that was supposed to give you a ride home — now kneeling in front of you with hungry, reverent eyes made something deep in your chest twist with heat.

his eyes were full of hunger as he looked up at you. he took your aching, leaking cock into his warm mouth in one smooth motion, moaning around you like he’d been dying to taste you.

his hands gripped your hips gently as he sucked you with slow, devoted strokes — tongue swirling around the head, then sliding down your shaft. he took you deep, eyes fluttering shut, clearly loving every second of it.

“fuck, you taste so good” he groaned, pulling off just long enough to catch his breath before diving back down. “give it to me, buddy”

the pressure built fast. his hot, relentless mouth made it impossible to hold back.

with a broken moan, you came hard down his throat.

joel didn’t pull away. he moaned loudly in satisfaction as thick pulses of your cum filled his mouth, swallowing every drop with hungry, rhythmic pulls, his throat working around the head of your cock.

he kept sucking you through it, gentle now, milking every last tremor until you were spent and trembling.

only then did joel pull off with a wet pop. he rose to his feet, towering over you again, and before you could catch your breath he cupped the back of your neck with one big hand and pushed you back against the cool tile wall.

his mouth crashed into yours in a deep, messy kiss. you could taste yourself on his tongue — salty and warm — as he licked into your mouth with filthy, possessive strokes. the kiss was slow and claiming, full of affection and raw need all at once.

joel groaned softly into it, pressing his still-half-hard, cum-slick cock against your thigh like he couldn’t bear any distance between you. he cradled the back of your head with hand, thumb stroking your hair as his tongue gently swept against yours.

his forehead rested against yours. his voice was low and rough, but incredibly tender.

“c’mere, tiger” he murmured. “let’s get you comfortable.” he reached for a soft towel and gently wiped you down with careful strokes, then cleaned himself just enough before taking your hand.

the once-neat bathroom was a complete mess — clothes scattered across the floor, damp towels bunched up, and your soccer uniform lying rumpled near the sink where joel had stripped it off you earlier. the air smelled like sex and soap.

he guided you down his bedroom. the room felt very him — simple, masculine, with dark wood furniture and a big, comfortable-looking bed.

joel opened a drawer and pulled out a pair of clean white briefs. he held them out to you with a soft smile.

“here, big guy. these should fit you. i want you to be comfortable in my house.”

you slipped them on while he watched with quiet appreciation. his eyes lingered on your body, tracing the lines of your toned chest, the definition in your abs, and the strong muscles in your thighs and legs — clear evidence of all the years you’d spent playing soccer. he didn’t hide how much he liked what he saw.

“come here,” he said gently “been meaning to show you these for a while.”

he led you out of the bedroom and into the room across the hall — his old study. the walls were covered with framed photos from his playing days: younger versions of joel in soccer fields, celebrating with teammates, and a few action shots that showed just how powerful he used to be on the field. you noticed a couple of old trophies on a shelf.

“state champions, junior year.” you read.

“yeah, i was a cocky little shit back then.” he said with a warm, nostalgic smile. “you know how it goes,” he continued, voice low and easy. “that feeling when everything clicks on the field. the way your body just… knows what to do.” joel looked at you for a moment, his expression softening. “i see it in you every time you’re out there. the way you move, the discipline… it’s damn impressive..”

he leaned in and pressed a slow kiss to your shoulder, then another just below your ear.

“i’m proud of you,” he murmured against your skin. “always have been.”

his hand slid up your back in a gentle caress, holding you close in the quiet warmth of the study. the contrast felt intimate — you standing there in nothing but his white briefs, surrounded by pieces of his past, while he touched you like you were something precious.

“tell me about your season,” he said softly, genuinely interested. “how’s the team looking this year?”

you told him about the current season — the tough matches, the chemistry finally clicking with your teammates, and how you’ve been playing more as a winger lately, using your speed and footwork to create chances. joel listened attentively, nodding along, his thumb still tracing slow circles on your lower back.

“i used to drive my coaches crazy,” he continued, voice warm with nostalgia. “i’d rather nutmeg a defender than make the safe pass. spent hours after practice just messing with the ball… no cones, no drills. only creativity, only joy.”

the more he talked, the more excited you looked, eyes sparkling, lips slightly parted, giving him those enthusiastic puppy eyes that made his chest feel tight.

joel’s smile widened, clearly enjoying your reaction. he brushed his thumb along your jaw.

“keep playing like that, you’ve got that same fire. i can see it when you play — that little burst of speed right before you cut inside, the way you use your body to shield the ball. it reminds me so much of how i used to be… except you’re faster than i ever was.” he said, a fond smile tugging at his lip.

he leaned in and pressed a slow kiss to your temple before whispering against your skin. “when the season’s over, i’ll take you to the old pitch i used to train on. i’ll show you some of those dirty brazilian tricks your coaches would hate.”

“and you know what? i’ve got something i can show you” he gently squeezed your hip. “wait here.”

he disappeared for a minute and returned with an old vhs tape in his hand.

“come on, bud”

joel led you to the living room. the lights were dim, and the big tv cast a soft blue glow as he put the tape in. he lowered himself onto the thick carpeted floor, leaning back against the couch.

you lay on your chest, stomach flat against the soft rug, chin resting on your folded arms as you faced the tv. the position naturally lifted your ass slightly, the white briefs hugging your curves. joel had a perfect view.

the old footage started playing — a much younger joel flying down the wing, pulling off flashy moves, nutmegs, and quick bursts of speed that made the small crowd cheer.

your eyes were glued to the screen, wide and sparkling with pure excitement, lips slightly parted as you watched every move he made. you looked completely captivated.

joel tried to focus on the screen at first. he pointed out a few plays, laughing softly at his younger self’s cocky celebrations. but his attention didn’t last long.

his eyes kept drifting down to you — lying so sweetly on your chest, ass gently raised toward him, wearing nothing but his briefs. the sight was too tempting.

one of his hands slid slowly down your back and settled on your ass. he started massaging you with deep, appreciative squeezes, kneading the firm muscle through the thin fabric.

“you’re really into this, huh?” joel murmured, voice low and warm with amusement. “getting all excited watching this old man’s glory days…”

your eyes were glued to the screen, wide and sparkling with pure excitement. as you watched him dribble past defenders with quick feints and creative touches, your mind began racing. you could already imagine yourself doing the same things — that sudden change of direction, the way he used his hips to sell the fake, the burst of acceleration afterward. you studied every movement intently, trying to burn the technique into your memory, lips slightly parted in concentration.

he kept massaging you steadily, strong hands working your ass with deep, loving strokes, occasionally letting his fingers slip under the leg bands to touch bare skin. the warmth of his palms, the gentle possessiveness… it made it nearly impossible to ignore how turned on you were getting, even as you continued watching his younger self pull off move after move on the screen.

you could feel yourself getting harder inside the white briefs, your cock thickening and pressing uncomfortably against the soft fabric. every squeeze of his hands made you twitch, causing your growing erection to rub against the carpet and the front of the briefs. a quiet, shaky breath escaped you.

joel noticed immediately.

“aw, baby boy…” he said softly, voice dropping lower.

suddenly, he moved, shifting forward and carefully lowering his big, warm body over yours. his broad chest pressed against your back, caging you gently between him and the carpet. the weight felt comforting. he brushed your hair aside and started pressing slow kisses along your spine, savoring every inch of your skin. each kiss was warm and lingering, growing lower as he worked his way down your back.

when he reached the waistband of the white briefs, he tugged them down just enough to expose your ass.

you felt the heat of his breath first, then the slow, deliberate drag of his tongue across your used hole. he could taste himself, an evidence of his earlier load still deep inside you. the filthy realization made him shudder.

“tastes so fucking sweet… jesus christ.”

his cock, which had been half-hard against your thigh, swelled rapidly until it was rock-hard and throbbing, pressing insistently between your cheeks. joel let out a shaky breath, grinding once against your slick entrance.

“i need you one more time.”

he gripped your hips with one big hand, steadying you as he lined up. the slippery head of his cock pressed against your cum-wet entrance and slowly pushed inside in one long, smooth thrust. because you were still loose with his load, he sank in much easier this time but the feeling of being filled again drew a broken whimper from your throat. every inch stretched you open again, the slick sounds obscene as his thick cock pushed through the warm mess he’d already left inside you.

joel moaned deeply, the sound vibrating against your back as he bottomed out, hips flush against your ass. he buried his face in the crook of your neck, breathing hard, almost trembling with how good it felt.

“that’s it, big guy …” he whispered against your skin, voice rough with pleasure. “god, even better the second time.”

he stayed buried deep for a moment, savoring the tight, silky heat wrapped around him, then started fucking you with deep, unhurried strokes right there on the living room carpet. each thrust pressed you harder into the soft rug. one strong arm wrapped around your chest, holding your body tight against his, while his other hand gripped your ass, spreading you open so he could watch every inch of his thick cock sliding in and out of your creamy hole.

each time he sank in completely, you felt the thick warmth of his cock stretching you wide, filling you so perfectly that it made your head spin. the head dragged deliciously against that sensitive spot inside you on every stroke, sending waves of heat rolling through your body.

the heat of his body and the slick warmth of his cock made everything feel hazy and intimate, like you were melting under him.

it made it feel like he was completely surrounding you — protecting you and claiming you all at once.

with gentle but firm hands, he turned you over onto your back on the soft carpet.

he hooked your legs over his broad shoulders, folding you beneath him and took a moment to just admire you — flushed, hard, and breathing heavily.

you gasped as he sank deep, the angle now hitting even deeper, pressing right against that sensitive spot inside you

now you could see everything: his salt-and-pepper hair slightly messy, the focused warmth in his eyes, the way his jaw tightened with pleasure, and the soft, affectionate expression on his face.

he was watching you and studying every little reaction on your face like a patient couch.

one of his big hands came up to cup the side of your face, thumb brushing tenderly over your cheek while he kept thrusting.

“you’re doing so good for me,” he praised softly, eyes never leaving yours.

your whole body was trembling. the pressure inside you kept building higher and higher, joel’s cock dragging perfectly against your prostate while his fist worked you closer to the edge.

“joel—” you gasped, voice cracking.

“i know, buddy. i know,” he breathed, forehead pressed to yours. “you’re close, aren’t you?”

his strokes on your cock sped up, thumb pressing firmly under the head as he fucked you a little harder, deeper, losing the last threads of his control.

you cried out sharply as your orgasm slammed into you. your cock pulsed violently in joel’s tight fist, shooting thick, messy ropes of cum all over your abs and chest. at the exact same moment, your hole clenched hard around his thick cock.

“fuck— that’s it— that’s my boy” joel groaned, his voice cracking with raw disbelief. the scene of you feeling that much pleasure was too much for him to handle.

he buried himself into you and came again with a deep, shaky moan.

you felt every single powerful throb as he pumped you full again — thick, hot surges of cum flooding deep into your already sloppy hole. he just kept cumming, long heavy spurts that made your insides feel even warmer and wetter, the sheer volume of it pushing some of his previous load out around his shaft with every pulse.

joel sounded almost overwhelmed, like he couldn’t believe his own body. this kind, steady older man who used to pat your back after games was now shaking on top of you, panting like he’d never felt pleasure this intense in his life.

your strong jock legs trembled around him as he kept stroking your cock through every aftershock, milking you completely dry while his own cock continued twitching and leaking inside your cum-drenched ass. the wet, filthy sounds of his load squelching with every small movement made your face burn and sweat with pleasure. your hair was glued up to your forehead.

when the waves finally slowed, joel carefully lowered your legs and collapsed on top of you, both of you breathless and trembling on the soft carpet. his heavy, warm body pressed you down into the rug, his cock still buried inside your cum-filled hole, twitching with aftershocks. he gives you sweet kisses on your lips and mouth and face and everything.

“jesus christ, baby” he whispered, voice hoarse and full of affection. “you're so good.”

his cock stayed buried deep inside your overflowing hole, still twitching with aftershocks, plugging all that warm cum inside you. you could feel every tiny movement as he lay there panting against your sweaty neck.

both of you panted quietly on the living room carpet, wrapped in each other’s arms. joel’s heavy body still covered yours, protective and grounding

he kissed you slowly — soft, lingering presses to your lips, then your flushed cheeks, your forehead, the corner of your mouth. each kiss was tender, like he was trying to memorize the taste of you.

“shit” he lifted his head and glanced toward the clock on the wall “it’s later than i thought. i was supposed to have you home almost an hour ago…”

he let out a low, guilty breath, but his cock gave one last involuntary twitch inside you, clearly still reluctant to leave. slowly, carefully, joel eased his thick length out of your used hole. the moment his cock slipped free, a thick rush of warm cum poured out of you, dripping messily down your crack and onto your thighs.

joel stared down at the creamy mess between your legs, almost mesmerized.

“gonna send you home full of my cum,” he said, voice low and rough, a hint of guilty excitement in his eyes. “you’d like that, right, champ?”

you nodded, too blissed out to speak properly.

joel smiled, soft but wicked, and pressed one last kiss to your lips before sitting up.

“c’mon, let’s get you cleaned up” he helped you sit up, then noticed your grass-stained soccer clothes were still in the bathroom. “and don’t worry about your uniform. you “forgot” it here,” he said with a knowing little smirk. “i’ll wash everything, get it nice and clean for you. can bring it over tomorrow.”

he ran a gentle hand through your sweaty hair, pushing it off your damp forehead with tendernes as he helped you up from the carpet on shaky legs. he kept one arm around your waist as he led you upstairs to his bedroom.

he rummaged through his drawer and pulled out a pair of his own gray sweatpants and an old, soft flannel shirt. he helped you step into the sweatpants, then buttoned the flannel over your bare chest with gentle fingers. the clothes were big on you, loose and warm, carrying joel’s natural scent.

he stepped back and looked at you, a slow, affectionate smile spreading across his face.

“damn… you look real good in my clothes, bud,” he murmured.

joel got dressed himself and pulled you in for one last deep, slow kiss before grabbing his keys.

the drive home was quiet but charged. joel kept one hand on the wheel and the other resting on your thigh, gently rubbing circles with his thumb. every so often he’d glance over at you, eyes dark with satisfaction.

when he pulled up in front of your house, he leaned over and kissed your forehead.

“text me when you’re in bed, alright? and be careful tomorrow… you’re probably gonna be sore. and i am not talking about practice.”

later that night…

you lay in your bed, staring at the ceiling in the dark.

your bedroom was the typical jock’s haven — dimly lit by the warm glow of your bedside lamp. soccer trophies and medals lined the shelves above your desk, catching the low light. a couple of posters of messi were taped to the walls, and your soccer bag was still half-open on the floor, dirty cleats and socks spilling out from practice. your jersey from earlier today was crumpled on your chair.

you lay on your back in bed, still wearing joel’s oversized flannel shirt. the soft, well-worn fabric smelled like him — woodsy, warm, and masculine. it made your stomach flutter every time you breathed in.

no matter how hard you tried to fall asleep, your mind wouldn’t shut off.

you kept replaying everything.

every time you shifted under the sheets, you felt it — the warm, sticky remnants of joel’s cum. you were so full of him. two thick loads deep inside your ass, warm and filthy. you clenched around nothing and a fresh trickle slipped out, making you quietly moan into your pillow.

you were used to your body being sore — bruised shins, tight hamstrings, aching muscles after tough games.

but this was a completely different kind of sore.

a deep, intimate ache in your ass that pulsed every time you moved. it felt good. the kind of ache that made your cock twitch under the covers even though you’d already cum twice tonight.

you kept wondering if he was lying in his own bed right now, thinking about you too when your phone lit up on the nightstand.

the screen showed a new message from joel:

make sure you stretch real good tomorrow before training. can’t have my champ limping on the field because of me.

[munsonstorm]

Who We Are

pairing: fem!reader x dbf!joel miller

description: when your father falls ill, his patrol partner and best friend, joel miller finds a way to aid in his recovery. but this solution is complicated and requires you to take on a week-long hunt for supplies and resources. being stuck on the road with an older guy you've been crushing on for ages won't be so bad, right? wrong. because he's been pining after you, too. and one of you will have to give in evenutally.

word count: 17k words. this one is a LONG ONE. get a snack.

warnings: MINORS DNI! this is 18+, post!outbreak joel, age gap (reader is in her 30s, joel is in his mid 50s), i don't describe the reader all that much, consumption of alcohol, illness that requires medical intervention, blood, guns, killing of infected, forced proximity, joel is kinda pervy?, talks of loss of family members, joel lies about his past, oral (f receiving), face sitting, unprotected p in v, overstimulation, dirty talk, creampie, after care.

author's note: ... hi folks! this one is a long one, so like I said, grab a snack and get comfy! I was going to make this multiple parts but I'm eager and unhinged. to be honest, this story is better as one big one shot anyway. I had a very intense time editing so I know I probably missed some things. I may write little branch off stories if you guys enjoy it enough. anyway, enjoy! <3 lemme know what you think!

“Didn’t know you were workin’ tonight, darlin’,” Your father’s Southern drawl brings you out of your daze. You had been cleaning glasses for the last hour and a half. Surprisingly, the Tipsy Bison wasn’t busy on a Wednesday night. You had been keeping busy by cleaning and serving two visitors. 

You look up, noticing your father and his patrol partner wander into the bar. They find a seat at the bar, right in front of you as you dry some whiskey glasses. 

“I work every night this week, Pops,” You mutter, turning back to the liquor bottles to grab his favorite bourbon. You knew exactly what he came here for. He wanted to pester you on your shift and watch you write under his partner’s gaze. He thought your little crush was entertaining. You have made comments to your dad in the past about how you thought Joel was nice to look at and your Dad would just laugh. He would jokingly wiggle his finger at you and tell you to find someone your age. 

Little do you and your father know, Joel feels similarly about you. The first moment he saw you, he thought about how if he was a young buck, he’d lock you down as soon as he could. The age held him back initially, never even entertaining your subtle glances or welcoming smiles. Then when he realized who your father was, he immediately shut down all thoughts like that in his head. You were strictly off-limits.

“Well good, keeps you busy.”

You did not enjoy the idea of working every weeknight with a bunch of drunks, but this job was a bit better than constantly shoveling horse shit. Instead, you got to mingle with the locals. Maybe find yourself a man, since you were in your early thirties and unmarried.

Joel loved coming to the Bison when you were here. It meant he got to drink a whiskey neat and watch you twirl and rush around the bar. Tonight was slower, though, so he got the privilege of speaking with you, which was rare. 

You pour your Dad his bourbon, finally glancing up at his partner who’s practically ogling at you. You made a conscious effort to avoid his piercing brown eyes. 

Joel Miller was a dream boat, god damn. Every time he glanced in your direction, you would freeze up and stutter out a very jumbled “hello”. He was quite guarded, never much to talk. When he did finally speak, you found yourself reeling over his deep voice. 

“Whatcha want, Mr. Miller?”

His lips twinged, his eyes flicking up to yours. He loves hearing you say that, he thinks to himself.  You hand off the bourbon to your Dad, waiting for a response. 

“Whatever he’s having is fine, sweetheart,” He says plainly, nodding toward the half-empty bottle. Your knees could buckle at the nickname, but you keep your composure. You can’t crumble that easily. 

You three slide into a conversation about their patrolling, what they found that day, and the game plan for tomorrow. You make a sly comment about how they needed to find some meaning in life other than patrol. Your dad laughs, and Joel just stares blankly at you. You instantly want to take back the comment and never speak again, ever. Instead, you just continue drying the glasses you just washed. 

When your dad finished his bourbon, you noticed his expression change from relaxed to pained. 

“You okay there?” You ask, grabbing his glass and placing it in the sink below the counter. He rubs his chest, letting out a deep guttural cough. Joel looks perplexed while you get closer and notice the blood splattering into your dad’s palm. 

“It’s nothing, just a cough,” He manages to say, his voice hoarse. You scan his face, knowing immediately that he’s lying.

“Bullshit, you’re coughing up blood,” You reach towards some towels, tossing them on the counter in front of him, “You should probably go get checked out, Dad.”

Joel quips, “Yeah, don’t need you getting sick when we are out tomorrow. Why don’t you stop by the infirmary before you go home?”

Your Dad just shakes his head, “You two are being dramatic. It’s nothing, I promise.”

Your Dad was known for downplaying his pain and sicknesses. You remember being a little girl traveling with him across the country and every time he got hurt, he’d just suck it up. He shattered his left pinky years ago and he resolved to just chop it off. So that’s what he did. He was lucky it never got infected. But he was known just to blow off all his ailments, reminding you he’s beat all the other odds. 

So instead of fighting with him, you just nod all the while, stealing a long glance at Joel. He’s finishing his drink and you can’t help but watch his neck. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows and you fixate on it for a bit too long. 

You’re brought out of the trance when he slams the glass down, his dark brown eyes drooping. Joel always looked tired, but you knew after the day they had, he was actually tired. 

You had a couple more hours at the Bison before you had to close up, so you bid them a farewell, reminding your Dad that you’d be home before he stumbles off to bed. He never slept much, he would just read in the living room until you got home usually. 

Joel waves you a farewell, thanking you quietly for the drink. 

“Don’t be a stranger,” You say as he turns his back to you to head for the door. He turns a bit, giving you a slight smirk as he reaches for the door. 

You spend the rest of your shift daydreaming about what it’d be like to be with a man. You spent most of your time in Jackson without giving much of the men your age a thought. More than half were taken, anyway. While you let your mind wander, you realize your imagination is placing Joel in the spot of all the made-up situations with this said man. 

-

You lock the bar door behind you, tugging on it to ensure it’s snug in the latch. The air was shifting, the cool warm summer turning into a slightly chilly fall. You wore a long sleeve today, luckily, or else you’d be shivering on your way home. The walk home wasn’t a long one. 

When you reach your front door, you realize the living room light is on. Dad’s awake.

But as you reach to turn the knob, you hear ghastly breathing from the other side. When you swing the door open, you see your Dad in his recliner, his hand over his chest. He’s dry heaving, trying to get out a cough. 

“Hey, hey,” You quickly race to his side, “Are you okay? What’s happening?”

He breathes in deeply, “I just can’t seem to catch my breath. Something isn’t right.”

You have never seen him so panicked. You nod, understanding that your next step is to get him to the infirmary. He should have gone on his way home. You didn’t know if anyone would be there and you surely didn’t know if they would be able to treat his symptoms. 

“Are you in pain?” You ask, grabbing under his arms to lift him out of his chair. He’s wobbly, so you keep your hand under his armpit and use your other free arm to balance him. He shakes his head. 

“Just weak.”

Your heart sinks. Never in your life has your father admitted to feeling weak or sick. It was like as soon as he got home, his body just gave out. You help him into his shoes and start your trek back towards the middle of town. You wish you didn’t have to walk him so far because it felt like with every 5 feet, his lungs were giving out and sending him into a coughing fit. You probably woke the entire town trudging him through the streets. When you get to the front step of the infirmary, you knock as loud as you can. Usually, they had an overnight shift nurse helping, having them watch over whoever was dragged there during the day. Dispensing medicine if need be. You knew a couple of the nurses, most of them your age or a bit older. 

When a familiar face opens the door, you feel a sense of relief. 

“Hey Sidney,” You greet her, sort of pushing your Dad into the room, still keeping your hands wrapped around his center, “Something’s wrong with Pops.”

She reaches out to help you with him, “Oh no, what’s going on?”

“Can hardly breathe,” Is all he can muster out. You look at Sidney, concern spread across your face. She nods, knowingly. 

Sidney was one of the nurses you trusted the most. She gave you stitches when you sliced your hand open on a glass bottle a couple of weeks ago. She was patient and gentle, always checking to see if you were doing alright as she sewed your skin together. She’s a former Firefly, probably in her 40s. She got trained by some doctors years ago so she knew a decent amount about all sorts of medical treatment. 

She takes hold of the situation completely, grabbing your Dad and walking him to a free bed near the door. She gets him to lie down and she starts scrambling for some supplies to do a quick once over of him. He looks pale and for some reason, very small, in the hospital bed. 

“It’s gonna be alright,” You say, poking his arm. You say it for him, but you mainly say it for yourself. He closes his eyes and nods. 

“Always is, kiddo.”

-

The news was not ideal. After observation and some tests, Sidney decided your father probably has pneumonia. The problem was, that Jackson was low on antibiotics and they would have to decide if your Dad’s case was urgent enough to give him some. 

It pissed you off, but you had to hold back your anger. This situation was out of Sidney’s control, but you knew exactly who to raise your voice to. Sadly, the city council was asleep in their beds, as it was 4 a.m. Sidney reassured you that she would ensure your father was looked after until the morning when they could discuss with everyone if it would be okay to give him some of the highly sought-after antibiotics. 

But for now, you should get some rest. 

Your father fussed at you while he was in and out of sleep, telling you that you needed to go home and sleep. Your body was plagued with exhaustion and your brain was hardly functioning. You would need to plead a good case, so even a couple of hours of sleep would do you good. You ask if you could occupy a bed nearby and Sidney agrees with a sympathetic smile. You curl up, trying to clear your brain of your racing thoughts. 

You can’t lose your father, he’s all you have. 

You need to remind the council of all your father does. 

You need him to get better. 

You need him. 

-

“We only have 4 vials of antibiotics,” Maria states, trying not to look you in the eyes. She feels horrible, but she knows deep down the rest of the council will probably reject your father using any. It was going to be a tough decision like this that made most of the people in the council think they were playing God, but it was real life. Would they give your 60-something-year-old father antibiotics for pneumonia or give it to a young child suffering from an infection? They had to think ahead and supplies were scarce. 

You cross your arms, waiting for the next shoe to drop. “And?”

Tommy stands up, knowing you will not like the next sentence. He practically guards Maria with his broad frame. He resembled Joel, with his dark hair and stern eyes. His were a bit softer. 

“We are low on resources, hun. We need to think ahead and ensure that the pros outweigh the cons of giving him one of those vials. You understand?”

“Why was this not a thought in the summer? When it was a good time to go seek some out? I just don’t under-”

“We had that sickness going around over the summer. Lots of people getting fevers. Before we knew it, Dr. Peters realized we were low. I had intentions to get out and try to find more, and trade with some people, but we just haven’t discussed it all yet. There’s a process. It was in the works.”

Your blood is boiling and your patience running out. Each second of arguing was another second your Dad could be closer to death. 

“Well, it’s a shitty fuckin’ process. Where can I go to get more, then? Is there another community we can trade with? A hospital we can scavenge? You guys can’t expect me to sit around and wait for him to get worse.”

Maria looks to Tommy, trying to wrack her brain for a response. Tommy’s lip twitches, knowing exactly what to say. He did not want you to do it, but he knew how you were. You’d do anything for your family. 

“There’s a hospital in Salt Lake that I’ve heard is practically untouched. Fireflies used to reside there and do tests. They probably left behind some supplies.”

You narrow your eyes, “Salt Lake? Isn’t that a whole week away?” 

You start to pace the room, trying to console yourself. You can’t just leave for that long and assume that everyone will take care of your Dad. Tommy places his hands on his hips, trying to figure out a resolution. He liked your Dad, always going to him if he needed help around the commune. Your Dad is always one to offer a helping hand and give solid advice. He didn’t want to watch him die, either. 

“How about this,” Tommy huffs, “How about we give him one of our vials and you and Joel head out to Salt Lake to scavenge that hospital? If we are right in our assumptions, there’s probably a lot of resources there. And Joel’s been there before.”

“Why are you roping Joel into this?” You press, crossing your arms. 

“Joel knows where to go. He can get you there in one piece.”

“Where am I going,” Joel’s presence takes you by surprise. You turn back at the front door of the infirmary, seeing Joel’s disheveled hair sticking up in every direction. He had red cheeks, probably from the jog he did to get there. As soon as he heard about your father, he booked it from the stables to his side. 

Tommy shoots Joel a knowing look, “You and her are gonna go back to Salt Lake. You think they have antibiotics at that hospital you took Ellie to?”

Joel’s visceral reaction sends you. His heart practically stopped when Tommy brought up the hospital. 

You start to sweat when he does, realizing you would have to travel that far with Joel Miller. 

He swallows, shifting his weight to his other leg. “Probably. Why can’t ya just give him what we have?”

Maria shakes her head at his response, “We have a long winter ahead of us, Joel. We have four vials left. This saves us from a council meeting where they shoot down everything. They won’t approve it. If I reassure them that you are going to get some more, they won’t mind if we give him one.”

He huffs, scratching his chin in contemplation. You knew this would not be ideal for him, but you’re willing to do anything, even if you had to do it alone. The four of you stand in silence while Joel wracks his brain for an excuse to say no. None comes to him. 

It’s not that he did not want to help you, he just does not want to relive some trauma with you by his side. He would have to swallow back all his emotions, all the while you would be posted up right next to him. He does not want you to see him falter under pressure.

“She can’t go alone, Joel,” Tommy quips, gesturing towards you. You were shaking, your body reacting before your brain even could. Your nerves were shot.

He shakes his head, “And if they don’t have the supplies?”

You didn’t even think that far. 

“They will,” Tommy says, matter-of-factly, “It’s our best bet. The Fireflies disbanded, there has to be stuff left behind.”

You don’t know how Tommy knows all this, but he must have good sources to know all these things. Joel nods at him, accepting his response. He looks back at you, trying to figure out how you feel about the proposition by reading your face. 

“Does that work for you?” His deep voice isn’t meant to be intimidating, but you flinch anyway at the question. 

“I don’t have much of a choice. My Dad needs the medicine. If you guys think we can make it there and back in one piece, I’ll do it.”

“We will leave tomorrow morning. In the meantime,” Joel waves over Sidney, who’s still sitting by your sleeping and dazed father, “Give him one of those vials.”

-

Joel sacrificing his time and effort for your father was unfathomable to you. Sure, Joel was a great friend of your Dad’s, but he truly didn’t owe you two anything. It made you enamored with him even more. 

As the day shifted into the evening, you sat by your Dad’s bed and waited for the antibiotics to kick in. His body needed rest, you knew that much because he slept more than he probably ever had in his lifetime. 

He was sweating out a fever, so every so often you’d pat his head with a cold rag. He would mumble a quiet “thank you” and then return to snoring. As the sun sets, you welcome Sidney back for her night shift. She checked your Dad’s vitals, telling you his lungs are already sounding a bit better. You stretch and yawn, cracking every bone in your body while you do. You were stuck in the same position for so long, elbows on your knees, your chin propped up by your hands. 

You had a long trip ahead of you, and you couldn’t lie, you were scared half to death. You did not want to come back and find your father dead. You were also terrified about going back outside of Jackson. You spent most of your last 20 years living in the wild and shitty QZ’s. You were always on edge out there, and then you found Jackson. Ever since then, life has been a little more hopeful. You were able to form relationships and have some simple enjoyment, after all this time. 

Your Dad finally wakes up when you start stirring more. His one eye opens first which makes you crack a smile. 

“Mornin’ Pops,” You joke, grabbing his warm hand, “That antibiotic should start working soon. You’ll be better in no time.”

“Yeah,” He croaks, “But I heard you’re going somewhere.”

You bite your lip, afraid to stress him out. You knew he would worry about you, he always did.  

“Yeah, me and Joel are going to get more supplies. Nothing too drastic,” You lie, brushing your thumb over his scarred knuckles, “You trust Joel enough to take care of me?”

It was the first time he laughed in the last 24 hours, “Course he will. He knows how much you mean to me. If he fucks up, he will get a load of me, that’s for sure.”

His voice was reassuring to hear, especially since he’s joking with you. 

“Okay, I believe you,” You mutter, “We leave tomorrow morning, so I need you to be good and get all the rest you can. I want you up and moving when I get back, you hear me?”

“Roger that, kiddo.”

-

“Mornin’ sunshine,” Your tone is sarcastic and Joel can tell. You did not expect to be stuck with Joel Miller alone for a week, especially outside the walls. 

He clears his throat as he finishes packing up his horse. 

“Mornin’,” He grumbles, patting his horse’s mane, “Let’s get you all set up. You’ll be takin’ your Dad’s horse, Ranger. He is already saddled up, just need to get your stuff on there.”

Luckily, you packed light. You brought a couple of changes of clothes, some food, some camping gear, and of course, your gun. 

Joel helps you tie down your bag and ensures all the straps he just put on are tight enough for you. You just watch him, enjoying how just takes control of the situation. He had the father instinct, always making sure everything would be safe and secure for the girls he loved. Or liked. Whatever.

You thank him, grabbing onto the saddle and flinging yourself up onto the horse. Ranger was truly your favorite horse in all of Jackson. He was the best behaved and the biggest. His mane was long and black and he loved to be brushed. You spent a lot of evenings riding him for fun, just enjoying his company. 

Joel gets on his horse, adjusting how he sits before he takes the reigns and guides you towards the main gates of Jackson. 

“You still sure you’re ready for a run like this?”

He’s giving you a chance to back out. But this was now an obligation. If you didn’t do this, you would indebted to everyone. You would be the person to blame if someone’s loved one died. Not really, but you felt that guilt. 

“Readier than I’ll ever be, Joel.”

-

“How is Ellie doing?”

You were burning to make conversation. You needed to rid your mind of all the anxiety surrounding your own life. Joel was too quiet, it made you feel queasy. He was too wrapped up in his thoughts. You were about 20 miles outside of Jackson, the sun was coming up through the foliage. 

He inhales sharply, “She’s a teenage girl. She’s grumpy.”

You grip onto the reigns of your horse, your body swaying back and forth with the trot. 

“I remember being that young and being constantly annoyed by my Dad’s nagging,” You chuckle, remembering the days of angst, “Are you annoying her, Joel?”

Joel scrunches his face at such allegations. If anything, Ellie was annoying him. 

“Course I’m not! Just… want to make sure she’s doing good. Which she is. Everyone tells me ‘bout how helpful she is.”

You think back to the last interaction you had with Ellie. She had been helping out at the stables when you were in charge of feeding and cleaning the horses before you got the job at the Tipsy Bison. Ellie wanted to know everything you knew, pestering you with silly questions like what their names were and why they were named what they were. 

“She’s very helpful,” You acknowledge, thinking about how enthusiastic she always was about learning, “You raised her right.”

He huffs, “Was hardly me. She’s just smart and raised herself.”

You did not quite understand the history between Joel and Ellie, but you knew Joel was not her biological father. You had no clue how they found each other or when. But you could see the love Joel had for Ellie. You remember him lighting up when he explained to you and your dad how she was the best shot amongst the recruits. 

Joel will probably never indulge you in the specifics of his relationship with Ellie, simply because it’s complicated. He never felt the need to explain himself to anyone but Tommy. 

“You had a hand in some of it, Joel. Give yourself a little credit.”

But Joel was never good at that. He was hard on himself, weary to accredit any of Ellie’s behavior to himself. 

The rest of the ride was occupied with the sound of leaves rustling. Joel spots a fallen tree that he says would be a good eating spot. You agree, hopping down off your horse with ease. You tie his reins up on a nearby branch and start digging through your saddle bag for the apple you packed for yourself. You were sick with unease all day. With everything going on in your life, the last thing on your mind was hunger. Plus, you were alone with a man that you had to put all your trust in. 

You pop a squat on the chipping bark and get out your pocket knife to start cutting the red fruit. Joel gets out a bag of jerky from his pack and finds a spot next to you. He looks over at you, perplexed at your food choice. 

“Just some fruit?” Joel interrogates, instantly knowing your hunger cannot be satiated by apples. No one can be satisfied with only fruit. 

Your stomach churns at your first bite, “Just not that hungry.”

That’s all the explanation he needs. You watch as he starts to munch on his bagged meat, cringing at the sound of his mouth. You try to block it out, but it’s eating away at your brain. You hated the sound of chewing, it was such a stupid pet peeve, but you couldn’t help yourself. Joel is oblivious, probably not even hearing how loud he’s being. You smack his arm out of instinct, something you did to your dad when he was being too obnoxious. 

He looks down at you with furrowed brows and annoyed eyes. 

“You’re eating too loud,” You say, wanting to smack yourself at how stupid it sounds out loud. 

He looks away, completely flabbergasted at the reaction. “Eating too loud? Really?”

You feel embarrassed for letting your brain get the best of you. So you just cut more of your apple off and slowly crunch on it. You try your best not to hyper-fixate on your chewing. When you’re in a trance, lost in your thoughts, Joel nudges you back. He’s getting you back, now. 

“Now you’re chewing too loud,” He jokes, popping another piece of his jerky in his mouth, “Should probably keep it down. So loud you may attract some infected.”

You can’t help but smile at his stupid rebuttal. You give him props for making you feel less foolish. 

“Sorry,” you mumble, eating another slice intentionally loud, “Can’t help myself. They are just so crunchy.”

You hear him giggle, his smile easing your churning stomach. 

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I’ll forgive you this one time.”

-

You knew the ride to this hospital would be long, but you didn’t realize how barren the landscape would be. You also didn’t realize how bad your ass would hurt. You and Joel finally pull off into some woods when the sun starts to set. Joel acts like he knows exactly how to navigate the woods, guiding his horse deeper and deeper. In between some large trees, you spot a lake. 

“Wanna go swimming?” You question after hours of no conversation. He glances back at you with a sly smirk on his face. When you look to your right, you notice a small path. Joel clicks his tongue for his horse to follow it. You two trot through the leaves, before coming upon a small decrepted cabin.

“This is us,” He states as he halts his horse. 

He had secretly always pictured taking you out here. He could not help but insert you into his small fantasies. Some nights he would imagine what it would be like to have you stick by his side forever. He always felt guilty afterward. 

You look at the building in wonder, completely speechless. You assumed you would be camping on the forest floor, not in an intimate cabin by a lake. You swing your leg over and slide off your saddle. Joel starts to tie up his horse nearby and you follow suit. You continue to look at the cabin, curious as to who kept up with it. It looked well maintained, besides some cobwebs at the peak of the roof. 

“Is this yours?”

He shakes his head, “No. Technically Tommy’s. He goes this way to get to another settlement about 50 miles south. He found this place on a whim and cleaned it up.”

You look around the area, seeing there’s even a fire pit right by the water. It had chairs and stones to outline the charred wood. You could not help but imagine what this place was before Tommy found it. How many fun nights were probably spent here by the original owner? If you had no one to go back to, you would just live here. But the more you think about that scenario, you think about how lonely you would probably get. Maybe if you had someone to stay with you. 

You finally look back at Joel. He’s standing on the stone path with his eyes locked on you. You get self-conscious for a moment, realizing he probably noticed how entranced you were with the surroundings. 

That’s exactly what he was thinking, too. How beautiful you stood in the shadows of the trees, your eyes curiously glancing around like a kid in a candy shop. You had him wrapped around your finger without even knowing it. 

“You good if we stay here overnight? Get back on the road tomorrow?”

How could you ever say no to an offer like that? 

You nod, swallowing back your insecurity, “Yeah, for sure.”

-

Joel could build a good fire. Watching him gather all the wood and place them into a perfect formation. As soon as he lights it, it builds and builds. When the warmth envelopes you, you start to finally feel at ease. Joel sits down with a stick, nudging the fire every so often.

He felt guilty. He felt like he was betraying your father, a man who was trusting him with his daughter. He should not be imagining how a little life in the woods would look like with you. He should not be picturing how beautiful you would look underneath him. He should not be having these devious thoughts about you. His eyes are trained on the flames as they build, trying to push those daydreams away. 

When his sleeve lifts as he toys with the charred wood, you notice the watch on his wrist. It looks ancient, the face of it shattered. You don’t realize you’re staring at it until he snatches his hand away from your view. 

“Sorry,” You retract, sitting further into the chair, “Your watch is broken.”

He places the stick next to his foot, finally out of his head for a moment, “Yeah, I’m aware.”

You were so stupid. You know not to pry further, knowing there’s probably a story and you don’t feel like you’re at a stage with Joel Miller to dive deeper. He notices how small you making yourself, and it makes him feel bad. He never wants to make you insecure. 

“Your necklace,” He starts, trying to place your mind somewhere else. It was a feature on your body that he noticed ages ago, but he never tried to beg the question, so this seemed like a great time to move the subject along. “Is it a moon?”

You reach up to your throat, feeling for the necklace you never took off. It feels like he almost wants to see if you will spill your story first. He is bad at reading women, sometimes. Most of the time. 

“Yeah, it was my sister’s.”

He feels stupid, instantaneously. As soon as those words fell from your lips, he put his face in his hands. 

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

Your feelings towards what happened 20 years ago were drastically different than how you feel now. You could still feel the horror and the pain you felt, but it wasn’t so gut-wrenching anymore. It honestly doesn’t even feel like it happened to you. 

You drop the crescent moon charm from your hands, “No, it’s okay. She died on outbreak day. She was a bit older than me, her name was Reagan.”

He looks up at you and just nods, taking in the information. You don’t know if it’s a gesture for you to continue to talk, but you take it as just that. 

“Her and my mom were at one of her soccer games when all hell broke loose. From what I heard, she was bit by one of her teammates and when me and my Dad were packing up our things to get out of there, I grabbed some of her stuff. A necklace, a sweatshirt, and her favorite pair of sneakers. I don’t know why. But yeah, this necklace is the only thing that survived 20 years. Sweatshirt got too small, shoes got too torn up.”

You don’t even notice the tears pricking in your eyes until you blink. You don’t even remember what she looks like, her face is kind of jumbled in your memory. You remember her hair though, long and brown and super curly. Joel just listens, his eyes trained on your hands as you nervously rub them together. When you peer up at him, you see the mutual pain written on his face. 

He thinks to his beautiful Sarah. His eyes fall to his broken watch. The pain is still very palpable. 

“‘m glad we have somethin’ from our people. Somethin’ to remember them by, ya’ know?”

You scan his broken watch and nod timidly. “Yeah, something to remember them by.”

-

You stand up after eating some more food you packed, ensuring you’re somewhat nourished before you go to sleep. Joel stares at the fire, his eyes heavy with exhaustion. He knows he has to sleep, but he knows you need it more. He’s willing to give up his hours for yours. 

“You want me to do first watch?” You quiz, hoping to get the answer no. Instead, he just shrugs. You cross your arms, a cool shiver going down your back as you step away from the fire. 

“I’ll start first,” He mumbles, grabbing his poking stick, “There’s a bed in there all ready for you. Get some rest, we got a long day tomorrow.”

You respond with a slight wag of your head, “Okay, goodnight, Joel.”

You turn on your heels and head towards the front door of the cabin. You creak the door open. It’s pitch black so you step back onto the small porch to grab the lantern Joel lit a while ago. You slowly creep through the one-room cabin, placing the lantern on the small table by the door. It lit up most of the room so you got a great look at the wooden framed bed, waiting for you to lay upon it. 

You feel a pang of guilt making Joel sit outside to guard you as you slept. You knew you needed rest. You also knew it would start getting colder and colder and that fire would die eventually. 

Joel could handle himself, after all. You would just have to push your worry aside. When you curl up onto the hard mattress, you think back to the last time you were left to trust another man to look after you as you slept. It was a traumatizing night, so instead of worrying yourself, you close your eyes and remind yourself that Joel is safe. Dad trusts Joel. Joel is a good man. 

Sleep eventually takes over, your soft snores rattling off the wooden walls. 

After a couple of hours, the shivering takes over Joel’s body, so he creeps into the cabin. The lantern is dimmer, slowly running out of fuel. He shakes his head, smiling to himself at your disregard for resources. He walks over to the small wood-burning oven, opening the door to it as quietly as he can. You don’t even stir. You’re a deep sleeper, he would remember. 

He starts a fire with the old coals, warming up the small space. Once he stands up from his squat, he hisses at the crack of his knees. He glances over at you, making sure he did not wake you. Nothing. 

You were a peaceful sleeper, your mouth slightly ajar. To Joel, you were always so beautiful. Not even just your looks, but your kind and reserved nature. You always gave him a delighted smile when he looked your way. You were dedicated to always being there for your father, which would always melt his cold heart. He would always watch you with a careful eye, praying that you would somehow get older or him, younger. He hated himself for admiring you so often, especially since he respected your father so much. But you were right there. 

He sat himself in the old recliner chair near the door, peaking out the window every so often. He would always find himself training his eyes back on you, watching your chest rise and fall slowly. 

It takes everything in him not to curl up next to you. 

-

The second day starts off a bit rough. 

When you wake up in the early morning hours, you take notice of a sleeping Joel in the corner of the room. You spring up, loudly rattling the bed frame. It sends Joel jumping out of his skin, his eyes flying open to look at you.

You are panting like you just ran a mile. 

“Jesus Christ, girl,” He barks, his tone tired but also vicious, “Thought someone had you at gunpoint.”

“You were sleeping!”

“Shit, yeah I was, wasn’t I?” His tone is more relaxed, sort of annoyed. He rubs his eyes, glancing outside. Your horses were still there and it doesn’t seem like you guys have been ransacked. 

You clench your fists, “You’re lucky we didn’t get shot in our sleep or something.”

He rolls his eyes, slowly rising from the chair he took over, “That’s a little dramatic, sweetheart. We are fine.”

After that comment, you did not want to talk to Joel Miller. 

You also start to question if you can trust him. He should’ve woken you up to take charge of the watch, but instead, he ignorantly fell asleep and risked your life. 

When you pack up to leave, he realizes how rattled you are. He wants to apologize, but he’s too stubborn to do so. You were being dramatic. But he shouldn’t have said that. He should’ve kept that comment to himself. He was never really good at holding his tongue, always saying the first thing on his mind. 

-

When the sun sets on the second day, Joel promises you two should be in Salt Lake the next afternoon. The whole day pretty much consisted of you two bickering about state capitals. He swears the capital of Pennsylvania is Philadelphia. 

“It’s not, it’s Harrisburg,” You would say. 

You also talked about times before the Infection. He mentions his daughter, Sarah, telling you about how she used to play soccer and she loved going to the Texas State Fair. It makes your heart happy to hear him light up about her, but it makes you want to cry hearing a father talk about his dead child. You can’t imagine that type of pain, and you hope you never do. He doesn’t even know why he’s suddenly baring his soul to you, but he starts to feel like his walls are falling away and he’s comfortable around you. 

He tells you about how he plays the guitar, which you lock onto quickly. 

“You’ll have to show me how good you are,” You smile, imagining Joel Miller strumming along to some folksy song you request. He can only imagine what type of music you would want to hear from him. 

“When we get home,” He mutters, “I'll give you a performance.”

“I cannot wait.”

The conversation with you was easy. You could get anything out of him, pretty much. You were a lot like your father, but softer. He enjoyed your company a bit more. Your laugh was infectious and you were a lot easier on the eyes, of course. When you two stop for a break, he watches as you look for four-leaf clovers on the forest floor. When you find one, you pick it up and bring it over to his hunched-down frame. 

“My mom used to say they were for love and luck,” You explain, “Think you need it for both.”

He knew you were joking by the way you giggle and return to your spot on the ground. He just shakes his head and sticks the clover in his jacket pocket. 

-

He was dreading being back in Salt Lake. He doesn’t want to relive that day when Ellie was practically ripped from him. It sent him spiraling just thinking about all the outcomes that could’ve transpired that day. 

He contemplates telling you for a few brief seconds. 

He wouldn’t have much to lose, especially now that everything is said and done. But then fear takes over and he wonders, would you judge him for it?

He imagines how you would react. How your nose would probably scrunch up, how your disposition towards him would soon contort into horror. You would probably call him a monster. You would probably never look at him the same way, with that beautiful smile and attentive gaze.

“You okay, Joel?”

You two were positioned on the edge of some woods off a dirt road. Joel didn’t want to attract anyone with fire, so you two decided you would just camp on the ground near the highway you would end up following to get into the city. 

“‘M all good,” He practically whispers, “Just tired. You mind gettin’ first watch?”

You just silently nod, watching him rise from his spot and move over to the sleeping bags you two had set up when you arrived. You watch as he awkwardly wiggles his large frame into a small sack. It makes you giggle a bit. He positions himself with his back to you, his front facing into the woods. He can’t spend his time staring at you like he would like to, he needs to sleep. 

You realize he has a leaf stuck on the back of his head. You couldn’t help yourself, it was going to bother you for as long as you were awake. You stand up and slowly creep up to him. 

You squat down and pluck the leaf out of his thick curls. His head snatches back at you, knitting his brows together in confusion. 

Secretly deep down, you just wanted to find a reason to touch him. 

“Can I help you?”

You give him a shit-eating grin, “Yeah, you just got leaves in your hair. It was going to bother me if I didn’t get it out. You’re very, very welcome.”

He rolls his eyes, “Can I sleep now?”

“Don’t know, I’m already getting bored without you glaring at me.”

You were now on a mission to annoy him, he guesses. 

Without thinking, he responds with a comment that would stick with you all night. 

“Yeah, you like it when I look at you, don’t ya?”

-

The homestretch was only about another 20 miles. You and Joel had made good time, only taking about three days to get to the hospital. After the subtle flirting with Joel the night before, you got a little more ambitious with your advances. 

Before you two took off to get to your destination, you asked Joel if you could change your clothes. You had mud all over your jeans and your shirt was reeking of body odor. The natural deodorants that were handmade in Jackson only did so much. 

“Yeah, make it quick,” He orders, pointing to a more private area of the camp, “There’s some bushes over there.”

“I’m not getting dressed in a bush, Joel. Just look away,” You test, already shrugging off your flannel. He notices your bold move, instantly peeling his eyes away from your direction. This can not be happening to him right now. 

“What the hell,” He murmurs, his hands propped up on his hips, “You’re doin’ this on purpose.”

You feel your cheeks heat up, “Doing what on purpose?”

“Testin’ me. Me and my patience.”

You throw your shirt over your head and grab one of your spare ones from your pack, “Well, if it’s a test, you’re passing with flying colors, Miller.”

He glances back at you without even really thinking, spotting you in your bra with a shirt covering your eyes. It’s almost like when you tell a child not to press a button, and it makes them want to do it even more.

He wanted to keep looking. 

“Fuck,” He says under his breath, trying to push those types of thoughts out of his mind. 

You shimmy off your pants, folding them as soon as you get them off your legs. You needed a shower so bad, you felt so filthy. 

“You think we could stop back at the cabin on the way home? I want to bathe.”

Thinking about you naked and taking a bath made his dick hard. 

“Yes,” He manages to say, “Hurry up, please!”

You grin at his frustration, “Fine, fine. I’m almost done.”

-

You and Joel trot along an abandoned highway, cars littering every lane. It was nothing new to you. You have seen plenty of cities in your lifetime. Each time was a bit different, but for the most part, they were all the same. Riddled with infected and bombed to shit. 

You think back to when Tommy said Joel had been here before. Your mind starts to wonder, and being that you still had a couple of hours before you got to see the actual hospital, you decide to speak up and ask. 

“When was the last time you were here?”

He thinks for a second. He was waiting for these questions. 

“Over a year ago.”

You shake your head, “Was there a reason?”

You had no business prying into Joel’s life, but you felt like after spending days with him, there was some kinship. Maybe even a friendship.

“Ellie’s mom was a Firefly. They had a base camp out here,” He explains, but would he go further? Would he spill all the beans?

It’s technically not his story to tell. But then again, Ellie didn’t even have the truth, so it was a story only he knew. 

You wait before responding, “Did you find her?”

“Who?”

“Ellie’s mom,” You press, glancing around some cars. You are trying to act like you didn’t care, but you could tell from the moment you entered the outskirts of the city, Joel was plagued with the weight of the atmosphere. His shoulders got heavier, his eyebrows further knitted together. He was tense. 

“No, she’s dead. So I brought her home,” He says, half-bending the truth. He’s lying, but not really. Ellie’s mom was dead but that was never the reason they came out here. He just wants to say it, but his chest feels like a weight is pushing down, almost cracking his ribs. He swallowed the guilt. 

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”

You didn’t have much else to say, letting the silence eat away at the prickle of your arm hairs as they stood up. You try to relax, but now that you are in the city, it feels real. You traveled all this way for medication so Jackson would not shun you. It sounded kind of stupid, coming all this way in hopes of a stocked Firefly hospital. 

You also traveled all this way with Joel Miller. You managed to speak to him without tripping over every word and poking fun at him. You watched him sleep at night, looking so peaceful in the woods surrounding him. You try to think about the last time you saw him smile. You saw him differently, now. He came all this way to help you and your dad. He is risking a lot, disregarding his duties back home, just so he can be with you and protect you. 

You ponder if things will be different when you get home. Maybe he would talk to you more when he came to the Tipsy Bison. Maybe he would wave back at you when you saw him around town. 

You secretly hoped being next to him for so long would change your relationship with him. 

Joel starts to ride next to you, studying your face as you stare forward. 

“What are you thinkin’ bout so hard over there?” He poses, watching your face twist when he speaks up. 

You lick your lips, “Thinking about what it’s gonna be like when I get home.”

“What do ya’ mean?”

You halt your horse to look over at him. He does the same. 

“We came all this way and I am scared when we get back, you won’t want to talk to me anymore.”

He shakes his head, a slight chuckle escaping his lips, “Kiddo, your dad’s my patrol partner. ‘Course, I’ll still talk to you. You’re always around.”

The nickname makes you cringe. You don’t want to be a kid to him. 

“Right, of course.”

-

When you get to the edge of the city, Joel starts explaining the game plan. How you will get to the hospital, do your sweep as quick as you can, and don’t meander around. He also explains how the exit plan is to drop everything, no matter what, and return to the horses. You see someone? Run. 

You want to say you know how to handle yourself, but you resist and just nod in understanding. 

To your surprise, you two do not run into any hoards. You turn a corner and spot a couple of infected twitching near an old school, and you two carefully back up and go up another block to avoid them altogether. You two don’t say anything to each other as you spot the hospital in the distance. Joel just points forward, having you trot at his side. 

You pull out your gun when you start to hear some clicking nearby. Joel gestures to you to be quiet and continues to the front of the hospital. You two ride your horses to the ambulance drop-off, parking them there. When you jump down, you start to grab your pack so you can fill it with whatever supplies you find. Joel does the same, throwing his leather backpack over his shoulder. You check the magazine of your gun and take off the safety. 

“Okay, we stay close to each other,” He explains in a hushed tone, “Grab whatever you think we need.”

You wiggle your head in agreement. He raises his rifle as you two enter the side door. The hospital is quiet besides the wind blowing through some shattered windows. You click on your flashlight that is attached to your backpack, making sure it’s pointed forward. The main corridor leads you down to some triage rooms and nurse's stations. Joel gestures to you to check out some triage rooms. You find some bandages and some tongue presses. You grab the entire box of bandages and stuff them in your bag. When you return to the hall, Joel is stuffing some of his finds in his pack. 

“No meds yet,” He grumbles. You two press forward, keeping your steps silent. You find some lab rooms off the main hallway and you two scope out each room carefully, your guns still drawn and at the ready. You find more items; some gloves, masks, and some scissors. You pick them up, stuffing them in your back. 

You hear movement from behind you and quickly spin. It’s just Joel, holding a couple of vials of medication. You rush towards him, using your light to see what the vials read. 

levofloxacin 

amoxicillin

“Jackpot,” You murmur, “Any more?”

He grabs a baggie sitting on a table nearby, “Not that I saw.”

You continue searching, not finding much of anything in the drawers. A lot of the stuff is picked through. 

You point to a central staircase, “Wanna go up?”

“Yeah, right behind you.”

Joel was reeling, spotting some areas where blood was splattered across the walls as he walked through the hospital. It was terrifying to put himself back in this exact spot. It felt like a fever dream. Now he had you with him, another person he cared too much about to admit to anybody, let alone himself. He cared about you in a whole different way than he cared about Ellie. 

You trail up the stairs, finding some old labs and nurse's stations. All were picked through. You couldn’t help but notice the blood all over the floor in some areas. You try to figure out what could have transpired here, but you don’t even try to beg the question to Joel. With the look on his face, you are afraid to say much of anything. 

Something bad happened here and he was a witness to it. 

It made you want to hurry up and spare his feelings. Instead of taking careful and methodical steps, you run room to room searching drawers and counters for anything of value. You find some alcohol swabs, safety pins, and some wrist splints. When you get to the last room in the hallway you’re in, you hit the jackpot. It’s a cabinet with some vials. 

You start to quietly read them off to Joel who’s standing on the threshold of the room. 

“Grab them all,” He says, pulling his pack off his shoulder so you can put some into his, “We can find use for ‘em.”

You also find some sutures and unopened syringes. You wish you could get down on your knees and thank whatever god is up there for blessing you with everything. You don’t believe in that though, so instead you excitingly grab Joel’s arm and shake it. 

“Let’s get this all home,” You smile, pressing your fingers harder into his bicep, “Maybe celebrate with something strong from the bar.”

Then you hear it. 

Click. Click. Click. 

Joel grabs your arm back, shoving you behind him. He slings his pack over his shoulder and you do the same. You never had many issues with killing infected, but you did not know what you were dealing with. It was dark and all too quiet for too long. Joel creeps forward, his gun drawn forward to peek out the door. When you do the same, he tucks you back behind him. 

Lining the hallway is about 3 clickers. Your stomach drops as they slowly make their way to the sounds you two made seconds ago. Joel glances back at you, his face very serious and stern. 

You can read the look on his face and being that you dealt with these fuckers before, you know that you need to be silent. He looks back down the hall, spotting an exit in a staircase that’s slightly blocked by one of the clickers. He waves you along as he slowly tiptoes down the hallway. You get closer and closer to the first clicker and your gun is trained right at them as you keep your distance. You can tell by the clothing that it was a woman at one time, the infection growing out of every crevice of her body. 

She clicks and clicks, but does not attack you. You and Joel continue, not making a sound as you shuffle past the next one. But once you get close to the one closest to the door, something snaps and it’s like they all realize exactly all at once. One squeals and the others follow suit. Joel yells for you to run, but you don’t budge, emptying your gun into the closest one. It crumbles to the ground. With that one down, Joel grips your wrist tightly and flings you towards the door. You two rush out as Joel lights up the hallway with gunfire. 

You now know that you’re attracting every infected in a mile radius so time is of the essence. You practically fall down the stairs trying to get to the bottom. Joel does not like how fast you moving, pressing you to run faster. You two sprint down the hallway as two runners come full speed at you from an opposing hallway. You try to shoot but your gun is empty. You scream for Joel to do something and he puts them down expertly. He’s spot on even with the adrenaline coursing through his veins. You find the door you came in from and quickly make your way to Ranger. He seems sort of spooked so you try to gingerly climb up him, grabbing his reigns from the pole you tied him to. Joel is quick to mount his horse. He pulls his horse back, guiding it to head back the way you guys came. 

You follow suit, hearing stirring from all around you as your hair whips in the wind. You are not worrying about the noise you two are making now, galloping down the once-busy streets of Salt Lake City. 

“Don’t stop til’ I say so!” Joel calls out. You can hardly hear with your heartbeat in your ears and the wind against your ear drum. 

You get to the edge of the city after about 20 minutes of dodging left-behind cars and random barriers. You get to the point where the foliage takes over and the infected taper off. You don’t realize it until you start slowing down and your heart gets back to its normal pace, you’re freezing. 

You yell out for Joel, who’s still going quite fast. He halts completely, letting you catch up with his step. 

“We have to stop, I’m freezing.”

You weren’t wearing all your layers and you knew it would be detrimental if you didn’t stop to wrap up before you two continued your journey. Joel nods, trotting off the main part of the road into some woods. 

When you get off your horse, you can feel Joel’s eyes lock onto your vibrating body. 

“Jesus, girl,” He dismounts, wrapping his reigns around a nearby branch, “The wind do you that much damage?”

You can’t help but laugh as you rifle through your pack to find your extra layers. You can remember packing two thermals, but with the way you’re shaking, you can’t even grip onto the clothes to move them around to search. You don’t even realize Joel has come to your side, you only notice when he nudges your side with his three fingers. You move out of his way so he can look, but you can’t help but feel the warmth his gentle touch gives you on your hip. 

He pulls out a thermal, handing it out to you. 

“Just put it over your other long sleeve,” He instructs, digging for another layer for you. You take his advice and throw it over your head. When your head pops through the neck hole, you spot him smirking at you. 

“If you don’t warm up soon, I may have to share my body heat so we can get back on the road,” Joel jokes, watching you pull your hair out of the back of your long sleeve. You didn’t hate the sound of that, truthfully. 

“Guess I will try my best not to warm up then.”

He shakes his head, grabbing onto your other thermal, “You can’t say stuff like that to me, darling.”

“Why not?”

Joel has slipped up a couple of times already, he wasn’t planning on giving in. But the teasing was fun and light-hearted. He knew in his heart it was not going to turn into anything. 

Right?

“Because I don’t think it’s a very good idea for us to talk like that to one another,” He explains, stepping back as you add the other shirt onto your already warming body, “May lead us somewhere we can’t come back from.”

You swallow, “Maybe I’d like that.”

-

It takes you a day and a half to get back to the cabin. Joel promised that you two could spend a whole day there if need be. You two were physically and mentally exhausted. The horses needed rest too, you could tell Ranger was beat. 

When you arrive on the property, Joel makes sure to scope out a radius before you two settle in. Ever since the sly passes you made at him, he’s been more quiet. You can tell he’s deep in thought. Maybe it wasn’t about you, but he had something on his mind. 

You use the fire stove to warm up some water from the lake to give yourself a quick “bath”. You just used an old rag and some bar soap to scrub your limbs, trying to get off all the caked-on dirt. Joel stayed outside by the fire, cooking up some squirrels he was able to trap. You stood in your undergarments, lathering your skin, watching him from the window as he poked at the fire. 

You felt a bit better once you were clean. The growl in your stomach was dull and kind of painful. You needed to eat, so you got your dirty clothes back on and headed outside to prop yourself up next to Joel. 

When you open the cabin door, his head snaps over to you. 

“Howdy, cowboy,” You gleam, walking down to the stump next to him. You couldn’t help but flirt now. It was funny to watch him squirm, the glint in his eyes not hard to notice. 

“You all clean?”

You nod, giving him a cheeky smile. “Yeah, now you go get yourself all cleaned up.”

He grabs his stick poker, “Don’t got any soap.”

“Use mine.”

Joel stops his motion immediately to train his eyes back on you. “You want me to smell like you?”

“Well, I smell delicious, so why not?”

He scans your body with his eyes, “Cause if we get home and your Dad smells your soap on me, he’ll put it bullet between my eyes.”

You know he’s being dramatic, finding any excuse to opt out of using the soap you just used on your body. 

“So, what you’re saying is,” You clear your throat before continuing, “If my dad wasn’t your friend, you’d lather yourself with my soap?”

He contemplates for a moment, “Yeah, and other things.”

Your heart stops beating for a second. Joel can not help but smirk at your reaction. He was playing with fire, literally and figuratively. The tension between you two was so heavy, that you do not think you could even take a deep breath in. 

He stands up from his spot next to you. “Why don’t ya eat, sweet thing? I have to clean myself up, I guess.”

-

Joel can not do this. 

You were his friend’s daughter. Sure you were grown, beautiful, strong-willed, and everything he could want and more but he could not take advantage of you. The only way he felt this way right now was because tensions were so high back in Salt Lake. You two have spent a lot of time together, the hormones… what the fuck is he thinking?

You sit by the fire, your stomach doing back flips as you think about Joel in the cabin, by himself, practically half naked. 

Why were you doing this to yourself?

Your heart is racing faster than it ever has. No clicker, no stranger, nothing has made you this nervous. Your hand reaches for the door handle, but before you can turn it, Joel rips open the door. 

“What do you think you’re doing?”

You stand there, dumbfounded. “I-I don’t know.”

He’s standing over you, his chest rising faster the more you keep your eyes trained on him. He has a green flannel on, the top couple of buttons undone. You lift your hand to touch the skin peeking through, but he stops your movements before you can make contact. You note the scent of wood burning in the cabin and it’s a lot warmer than you left it. Joel must have started the stove again. 

“We can’t.”

You shake your head, “No, we can’t, can we?”

You two know better. You know better. You know better. 

You are breathing in each other’s spaces. You don’t even want to look him in the eyes. His arm snakes around your midsection, pulling you forward into the cabin. At that moment, you knew that you two didn’t know any better. 

It’s almost like you two silently made the decision. 

“We can’t tell anyone about this, sweet girl,” He whispers, his hands still firmly on your back. You could not resist this temptation anymore. He was right in front of you, wanting you just as badly as you wanted him. 

Your eyes glance up at his dark sultry gaze, “It’s our little secret.”

His hand reaches up, gracing your chin with his touch. When he dips down to meet your height, you finally get bold and extend your hand up and around his neck. Your lips connect and you feel like a million little butterflies explode in your stomach. You had never desired a kiss from anyone as much as you did with Joel. 

He’s eager and impatient, though. He’s not as soft as you imagined for a man who hardly spoke. He just wants to feel you everywhere, all at once. His mouth melts into yours, his tongue exploring every inch of yours. He’s moving you around the room, stumbling over furniture and shoes as he backs you into the large wooden bed frame. 

“So fuckin’ perfect,” He mumbles into your lips as soon as he lifts you up onto the mattress. It catches you by surprise, mainly because you never expected him to manhandle you in this way. He’s hungry for every inch of you. After all these months of secretly pining for him and him not giving you any positive response, you never anticipated something like this happening. Especially at a time like this. 

“Joel,” You whine, pulling him down on top of you as you fall back into the flannel blankets, “I need you everywhere.”

He grins peppering kisses down your neck, “Don’t worry, I will treat you so fuckin’ good. Been wantin’ you for so long.”

It was so filthy and hot. Your dad’s patrol partner, his best friend. Keen to make you feel good? And wanting it for a while? You must be imagining his words because you can’t even comprehend the situation. 

But it’s true. Joel’s secretly been watching you when you’re not looking. When you sling drinks on Friday nights, he watches you from a booth in the corner. Tommy’s caught him a couple of times, smacking him and reminding him that you were off limits. When you came to his house with extra pot pie or soup, he would watch you walk away from his house from his living room window. 

This taboo yearning kept him up at night. But now, he has you alone and he needs a taste. 

He pulls back to look at your face, “Are you sure you want me?”

You can’t help but giggle a bit. 

“Joel, I’ve been wanting you for longer than I would like to admit,” You purse your lips as you bring your hand up to trace his collarbone, “Think about you all the time.”

It was the truth. Your mind was taken up but all his little sly comments. The way he would drop anything to help you or your dad. His beautiful brown eyes didn’t help one bit either.

“My god, girl…Gonna have me cumming in my jeans like a teenager.”

He returns to laying kisses all along your body. It started with wet kisses down your neck, only for it to trail right where your shirt begins, right below your collarbones. You push him back for a moment, taking your shirt off over your head. He watched you carefully, ensuring there was no hesitancy with your actions. He wanted to be absolutely positive that this is what you wanted. 

As soon as you reach for the clasp of your bra, Joel grabs your arms away. 

“Let me,” He mumbles, letting his fingers trace along the seam of the black fabric before using his right hand to undo the back. With him this close to you again, you inhale sharply, catching the scent of your soap. 

“See you took up my offer,” You tease, letting your bra fall down your shoulders, “Did you get clean just for this, Miller?”

He catches a glimpse of you under the bra and his mind goes blank. You notice his change in disposition and decide it’s best to discard every other article of clothing completely. You struggle to get your jeans off, so he helps by practically ripping them off your legs. He can’t help but spot the soak undies attached to your jeans. When you are bare under him, he gawks at you for a moment. 

“A beautiful woman like you,” He shakes his head, biting his lip. He unbuckles his pants before he stands and shoves them down his legs. While he’s making an effort to get as naked as you, you start unbuttoning his flannel. He watches you take your time, thumbing each button slowly. He tilts your head back up, his eyes leering at you for a moment. “And you want someone like me?”

You know he’s probably in his own head, so you feel the need to prove to him, that yes this is what I want. 

You grab onto his neck and pull him back down into a passionate kiss. When you notice him give in, you use all your might to push him sideways and onto his back next to you. You mount his lap immediately, holding him down with your body weight. Your soaked slit trudges over his large hard-on while you dip your head to capture his lips. You feel his hands trail up the sides of your body, leaving goosebumps in his wake. He finds your boobs, palming them with his warm calloused hands. You were extra sensitive so as soon as his fingers find your nipples, you’re moaning into his mouth. 

When your hips jet forward, his tip slides between your pussy lips. The sensation sends him into overdrive, his grip on your waist getting tighter. He’s so fucking big. 

“No foreplay, you just wanna grind your pussy right onto my cock?” His question sends shockwaves through your body and you raise your hips up off his crotch. You kneel over him, anticipating to rotate your pelvis back onto him, but he has other ideas. 

Because Joel has been thinking about what you taste like for too long. He can’t just fuck you. He lays back, all the while, dragging you up to his chest so your pussy is hovering over his pursed lips. 

“Joel, what are you doing?”

You feel his hot breath huff onto your slick center, “I’m gonna devour this beautiful pussy, first. Need to get you warmed up.”

Without any warning, he wraps his arms around your thighs and pushes your center closer to his outstretched tongue. You gasp when he starts to run his tongue up and down your slit. You can’t help but settle around his face, your knees feeling like they may already give out. 

You’ve never sat on someone’s face and watched them eat you out like a starved man. But Joel is precise with his motions, his mouth wrapping around your clit. When he starts to suck, the suction noise makes you whimper and shake. You have only ever cum by your own hand, so when the familiar heat rises in your stomach, you know instantly this is going to be the best sex you’ve ever had in your life. 

Joel is a very easy man to please. He thoroughly enjoys watching women crumble above him, their orgasms surging through their bodies while his tongue is pressed into them. But with you, he wants to drudge it out of you over and over again. You’re so magnetic on top of him, your head thrown back in pleasure. Your hands rest on your shoulders as you grind down on him, your peak teetering the edge. He shimmies his hand in between your thighs and begins to use his fingers in you, just to drive you crazier. He’s fucking up into you with his pointer and middle fingers, managing to latch onto your clit while he does. 

When you tumble into bliss, Joel moans into you, egging on your spasms. You lurch forward, dragging your center off his drenched lips. Your legs are limp as you try to crawl up the bed. Joel rolls over, creeping up the bed with you. You lay on your back, propping yourself up onto some of the pillows. 

“Do you need a break?” He asks, his hands feeling up your bare, still kind of shaking, thighs. You shake your head “yes” and breathe out loudly. Your body is covered in a light sheen, the sweat pooling around your hairline. Joel lets you take a moment, making sure you are completely ready for him. 

When you finally meet his eyes, your stomach fills with butterflies. He’s admiring you from his position, his eyes not finding yours until he’s done checking out your bare chest. You giggle, tugging on his wrists. He takes up your advances, positioning himself above you. He’s caging you in with his tanned strong arms, only allowing you to really move your upper body. You tangle your hands through his messy dark peppered curls, which makes him sigh. He secretly loved it when women felt through his hair. 

“Fuck me,” He groans as he reaches down between you, grabbing ahold of his hard member. You watch as he drags it through your heat, gathering all your wetness before teasing your entrance. 

“Joel, please.”

He smirks, pushing in just his tip, “Please what, baby girl? You want me to give you all of it?”

You are already overstimulated after your last orgasm and you are a bit nervous to imagine what all of it is. You nod, though, because the stretch is already so delicious. 

“Please, Joel, please. I need it,” You whine, knowing how desperate you sound. It’s music to Joel’s ears. 

“Shh, baby,” He eases in further, “I told you I’m gonna treat you real good. Gonna treat this pussy, so fuckin’ good.”

When he’s fully sheathed in you, your nails are digging into his shoulders. When he eases back to pull out some to ensure you can take it, you’re a moaning mess. It only eggs him on, feeling how slick you are and how tight you are around him. 

“That’s right baby, take all of me,” He says as he lifts himself off you. You have nothing to grip onto now, except the sheets that line the queen-sized bed. Joel wants to watch himself slip out of you and go back into you with ease. You love the friction, but you know you need more. 

You don’t know how, but it’s like he reads your mind. He starts to increase his pace, holding onto the back of your thighs as he drills into you. The curvature of his dick hits exactly where no man could ever reach. 

“Oh my god, fuck Joel! Fuck!”

Your words only encourage him to go harder and faster.

“Keep screamin’ my name, baby doll.”

The sweat is dripping down his face with how much effort he’s putting into fucking you. You’re floored at how quickly your orgasm builds again, the sounds of him plowing into you alone sends you into overdrive. 

As soon as you start to vibrate under him, Joel takes that as a great time to start thumbing at your clit. You feel every one of your nerve endings burning with such rapture, that you can’t even say anything. You’re just howling, no coherent words even coming out. Your vision goes white.

The scene is something out of the old pornos Joel used to watch. You’re writhing under him, the orgasm practically sending you cross-eyed. You reach up to anchor yourself down and the only thing you can find to grab is Joel’s forearm. 

“Yes, Joel!”

His hips continue to snap into yours as you squeeze his cock with your gyrating hips. He’s fucking you through it, watching your face contort. Your grip on his arm hurts, but he does not care. It’s unbelievably hot to watch the girl he has adored from afar cumming around him. Over and over. 

The scene is enough to have him chasing down his own high. The feeling of your cunt gripping onto him so tight, while his name is chanted from your lips, the cum practically shoots out of him before he has time to grab his shaft and pull out. He does not empty himself in you though, quickly prying himself out of your weeping hole and spilling out the rest onto your stomach. 

“Shit.”

You don’t even realize what happened, not caring about really anything except for how wonderful and high you feel. Joel tumbles onto his side, half of his body resting on yours. His mouth is close to your ear so he whispers it to you, his voice shaky. 

“I came inside you.”

You lick your lips, trying to regain some saliva in your mouth, “I do not care, Joel.”

He does not prefer that answer, but he accepts it for the time being. You could not feel your face at the moment, you did not have time to worry yourself over Joel cumming inside you. It was not the first time someone did that. 

Joel rolls off the bed, his legs feeling wobbly with his first steps. He’s still half hard and stumbling over to the bowl of water he just used to clean off himself. He grabs a clean rag and soaks it in the soapy water. The least he could do was clean up his mess. 

You watch him trudge over to you, the cum still pooled on your stomach and a bit in your belly button. 

Joel places the warm towel on your lower tummy, wiping up his mess. 

“Thanks,” You manage to say, your post-orgasm haze wearing off a bit. Now you’re just cold and exhausted. You shiver as soon as he removes the towel from your buzzing body. He notes it immediately and grabs the blanket that had been kicked to the floor. He lays it over you, making sure your full nude body is covered by the chilly air. 

“I need to go take a leak, I’ll be right back.”

You try to stay awake. But as soon as he gets some clothes on and heads outside to relieve himself, you’re lulled to sleep by the sounds of the rustling woods that surround the cabin. 

-

When you slowly open your eyes, you instantly notice how dry your mouth is. The itchy fabric of the blanket is tickling your bare limbs as you shift. Joel’s not beside you. 

You sit up, glancing around the cabin. His stuff is still here, but he is not. You keep the scratchy blanket wrapped around you as you plant your bare feet on the wooden floor. As soon as you take your first step forward towards the front door, it slowly swings open. 

Joel stands there, fully clothed, cheeks reddened from the cold outdoors. 

“Mornin’,” He says with a sleepy voice, “Got up early to get the horses fed and saddled up.”

All you remember is him going to pee outside last night, right before you fell asleep. “Did you ever come to bed last night?”

“Yeah, only got a couple of hours of sleep. You took up most of the bed.”

You clear your throat, becoming hyper-aware suddenly that you are very naked under the blanket. Joel tries not to notice your natural sensuality when you wake up. Sleepy eyes, swollen lips, slightly tangled hair. Even if last night never happened, he would be completely enamored by you. 

“Oh, okay,” You mutter, trying to act natural about the fact that you slept with Joel fucking Miller last night. “We all set then?”

He shuts the front door, cutting off any more cold from slipping in. You watch him slowly start to invade your space. He feels pulled towards you, the gravity overcoming every sense he has. He needs to be close to you, touching you, feeling you. 

“Yeah, we are all set.”

Chills run down your spine when his cold hand reaches out and grazes your cheek. You flick your eyelashes towards him, not knowing what to say next. He dips down to your height, kissing your lips carefully. He is nervous you will back away from him, but you don’t. You lean forward into him, the weight of your entire body pressing into him. 

He is the first to pull away, but you swear you could be latched onto him forever. His big brown eyes are lasered in on your eager lips, but in the back of his mind, he knows that you two need to get back home soon. He promised Tommy four days, nothing more. And you needed to get home to your Dad. Fuck. Your Dad. His fuckin’ friend. 

“We have to get home,” Is all he says. 

And then he’s gone. It’s like he blipped out of the room. You blink and the door slams and you are alone again. 

-

You stumble out of the cabin with your backpack on, your eyes adjusting to the sunshine between the falling away leaves. Winter creeps in so quickly in Wyoming, you think to yourself. 

Joel is already posted up on his horse, waiting for you to hurry along and join him. You pet Ranger for a moment before you hop up onto his back. He can’t help but realize how perfect you seemed in the sunlight. Your face hasn’t aged with time like his. It makes sense because you’re so much younger than him. You’ve lived a very full and traumatic life, sure, but you still had a lot more energy to live. He couldn’t picture that you’d want to spend the rest of it with an older guy with maybe 20 more years left in him if you’re lucky. 

The thoughts start to eat away at him as you two make your way through the forest. 

You assume he’s just tired from not getting a lot of sleep, so you just keep your lips sealed until you make it to the main trail back home. 

“So, when we get home,” You break the quietness with your open-ended statement. Joel doesn’t know what you’re insinuating, so he just keeps his head forward. “What happens, then?”

He pulls back his horse's reins to position himself looking directly at you. 

“What do you mean?”

You look at him suspiciously, “Do we tell people?”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Joel thinks. 

“Tell them what?”

He has to be messing, right? You think. 

But no, he’s deadly serious. 

“About us,” You remark as Ranger trots a bit closer to Joel. He shakes his head and your heart sinks. He can’t do this, not after you two slept together. 

“There is no us,” He grumbles, unable to look you in the eyes anymore, “We can’t do that. You’re too young.”

If you weren’t on a horse, you would’ve already smacked him. “What the hell, Joel? What if you get in my pants and make me feel special and now we are nothing? Because I’m a little bit younger than you?”

“No, it’s not like that-”

“Well, it seems like it is like that,” You bite the inside of your cheeks, holding back every instinct to burst into tears, “Fuckin’ asshole. I should’ve known better.”

-

When the walls of Jackson come into your line of sight, you could cry with excitement. Your hands were shaking, not only from the cold but the nerves. You had been silent the entire ride back. Your only desire was to get home to your Dad and ignore Joel Miller for the rest of your life. 

You can only hope and pray that your father is on the mend. To keep on track and not let panic take over, you’ve tried to put your mind on other things this whole trip. Most of those things you wish you’d forgotten, already. 

The doors open when you two get close. When the crack is big enough to see through, you spot some familiar faces waiting for you. Tommy, Maria, and even your father. He’s standing up straight, wrapped in layers of jackets and blankets. You tap Ranger with your foot, getting him to speed up. When you reach about 30 feet away, you practically fall off him to get your arms around your father. 

A sense of relief floods your body. A tidal wave of happiness and solace. He’s okay. He’s alive. 

When his scent reaches your nose, it triggers your tear ducts. After years of never having to really worry about him, knowing he can handle himself, you have felt this constant state of uneasiness the last week. 

“My baby is back,” He grumbles into your hair, his arms locking around you, “I knew I could trust that Joel.”

You don’t have time to feel guilt over your actions, you’re just so happy he’s upright. You also don’t want to hear his God-forsaken name from your own Dad. When you pull back to inspect his face, you note the tiredness in his eyes. He looks better, but not his normal. You grab each end of the blanket that’s slowly slipping off his shoulders and bundle him tighter. 

“Let’s get you back in the warm, how ‘bout it?”

You glance back at Joel who just nods, knowingly. You remember that you still have your backpack on, so before you stroll away, you shimmy out of it. Tommy watches you carefully as you hand it off to Joel. 

“Get those meds to the infirmary,” You whisper to no one in particular. Joel studies your face, waiting for you to say something else. You do not. As he grabs your pack, you feel like Maria and Tommy are gawking at you two. Like they know something was left unsaid. 

You two move differently around each other. When you shift one direction, Joel follows suit. 

Joel feels like every eye in Jackson is on him. Tommy’s being the most piercing, watching him like a hawk as he grabs his horse and guides him towards the stables. While you stroll away with Maria and your father, Joel and Tommy bring the horses and supplies to the stables. 

As you walk, you listen to Maria explain your father’s steady recovery. She mentions how Ellie has been keeping a careful eye on him. After she heard you and Joel were going to be gone together, she asked Maria if she could help him somehow. Once your dad got well enough to walk, she got him settled in your house. She’d go over there for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, just to help. It makes your heart swell when you hear your dad say how kind and generous she was, just like you. 

-

Joel starts to unpack your bags from your horse first when he gets the horses parked. 

“Somethin’ happen out there?” Tommy presses, noticing how odd you and Joel moved in front of him, “With her?”

“No, nothin’,” He lies, placing your bags on a table near Ranger. When he lifted the first duffle bag, he got a whiff of you and it made his stomach sink. “We just had a rough spot in the hospital. Clickers and shit. Nothin’ too crazy-”

“Joel, I know when you’re lyin’ to me,” His eyes are shooting daggers now. Joel was too old to be pestered by his little brother. He groans in annoyance but Tommy does not give up, “What did you do?”

“I didn’t do nothin’, Tommy.”

“Bullshit,” He grumbles, grabbing one of your bags, “Want me to ask her?”

“You won’t get anythin’ out of her. She’s mad at me, okay? She is pissed I won’t…”

He feels humiliated, his stomach twisting into knots. He would never intentionally hurt you. He just put his foot in his mouth when he realized how much your actions would change everything for him. He could not just be someone you slept with. He could not just leave it. 

“You won’t what, Joel?”

He bites his lip, not wanting to say it out loud. 

“I won’t let her ruin her life for me.”

Tommy’s eyebrows furrow, not completely understanding what he’s droning on about. 

“What?”

“Jesus Christ, Tommy!” Joel wasn’t anticipating a shake-down when he got home. You two really didn’t help with those looks splattered across your faces when you rolled into Jackson.

“You slept with her, didn’t you?”

Joel shakes his head, peeling his eyes away from Tommy. Joel knew nothing could get past him, so he is practically surrendering. Tommy knew then. 

“You dumbass,” He whispers, getting closer to Joel, “You slept with her when her daddy is your patrol partner? After I told you to stay away?”

Joel clenches his teeth, “I don’t need this right now. I’m gettin’ these meds to the infirmary and then I’m takin’ her stuff to her.”

“Joel-”

“Just fuckin’ drop it, Tommy. I ain’t doin’ this.”

-

Your Dad has a nice setup, thanks to Ellie. She has transformed the downstairs guest room into a wonderful stay, with tons of pillows and bedside service. When you get inside the house, Ellie is there. She stands in the corner of the living room, timidly, as you guide your dad back to his warm bed. Maria and her wait for you to handle getting him back to his bedroom. Even though his recovery has been a steady incline, he’s very weak and exhausted all the time. It’s his body’s reaction to fighting a rough illness, but he made sure to reassure you that Sidney told him it’ll be a couple of weeks before he’s 100% back to normal. 

You get him back in bed, his eyes already drooping to find slumber again. You manage to get his shoes off and help him under his covers. Once his head hits the pillow, you stand by the bed for a minute to ensure he’s actually sleeping. You slip out of the room, and the sudden rush of comfort of being home takes over your senses. To hear the crackling of the fireplace, and the smell of your homemade candles. While you enjoyed every moment spent with Joel, there’s nothing like home. 

For a second there, you thought you had that same feeling being next to him in bed. But maybe you were wrong. 

You walk out to where Maria and Ellie stand. They are mumbling to each other while you kick off your boots by the door. 

“Hey, Ellie,” You catch her attention, her freckled face down turning with concern. You smile, trying to ease her, “Thank you for all you’ve done here. I am glad he had someone like you looking after him.”

She nods, her lips twitching, “It’s no problem at all. I know how much you two mean to Joel and I just wanted to do what I could.”

Hearing his name sinks your heart, “We owe ya one.”

Because you did. No matter what would eventually transpire between you and Joel, you owe him your father’s life. His idea saved him. With how sick he was, Joel’s quick plan was enough to bring him home. Then for Ellie to spend her days looking after him while you two were gone? You were forever indebted to them. Sadly. 

“Well, we should leave you to get settled. Let us know if you need anything at all,” Maria gestures to Ellie towards the front door. Their footsteps trail around you, heading to your front door. Before Ellie can reach for the handle, there’s a knock. You nod your head, letting her know it’s okay to open it. 

Joel stands there, your bags in his hands. 

You honestly just left your belongings for him to deal with. Joel looks down at Ellie, his eyes lighting up at the sight of her. She’s not as impressed, initially. 

“Hey kiddo,” Joel acknowledges, before spotting Maria, “Mrs. Miller.”

“We were just heading out,” Maria says, pushing the door wider so she and Ellie can slip by his large frame, “Give the girl her things and let her settle back into her life, huh?”

Joel was already annoyed at the narrowed eyes and judgemental jabs. It’s like everyone somehow knew he fucked up. 

You two watch Maria and Ellie leave, their breaths forming clouds in the cold sharp air. Jackson’s weather changed overnight, you think, remembering how it was more tolerable before you left. 

“Can I come in?” Joel ponders, still holding your backpack and duffle. 

It was cold and while you wanted to slam the door on him, you know you can’t. You move away from the threshold, gesturing for him to come in. His footfalls are heavy and drawn out. You shut the door, waving him towards the living room so your voices don’t carry down the hallway to your father’s newly set up bedroom. 

He places your bags on the couch before he stretches his shoulders in discomfort. Your stuff was not that heavy, but Joel could not help but try to draw your attention. He glances around your living room, taking in some of the artwork and photos that line the walls. Some are old photos of you and your father, in which you don’t really resemble him at all. 

“Back to how things were, huh?” You remark, bitterly. You wanted to attack him with every mean thing plaguing your mind, but you don’t. You were tired from all the travels but you were also tired of the idea of fighting for someone who does not care to fight for you back. You had done that for years with pointless boys. 

The whole walk to your house, Joel’s thoughts were moving a million miles a minute. He did not want you to live your life resenting him. He cared for you deeply, but he did not want you to miss out on all the wonders of life. Joel could not give you kids. He could not give you 40 more years of happiness. He would be an elderly man before you could even reach menopause. He does not want you to regret things when you’re old and gray. 

“I don’t want that. You know damn well I don’t want that.”

You could scream. But you stay even, not giving in to the temptation to just rip him a new one. 

“I don’t know what you want, Joel. One minute you’re kissin’ me and begging to be with me, the next you’re telling me you can’t be with me because I’m too young.”

“Baby-”

“No! Don’t you dare? You had no intention of making this a thing, yet you played into it and got exactly what you wanted. I’m just another notch for you, ain’t I?”

Your hands are clenched, waiting for his delayed response. You are embarrassed and humiliated that you were delusional enough to let Joel toy with every one of your emotions. 

“You know that ain’t true, girl. I just don’t want you to live your life regretting that I was a part of it, okay? You want to spend your days with an old man who can’t give you everything you want? ’m not good for you.”

He can’t let you make this mistake. 

But you’re not easing up. 

“What do you think I want? Kids? A simple life? A picket fence? Joel those are things I wanted when I was living in a world that didn’t have a brain-eating infection that’d turn people into zombies,” You’re huffing and puffing, trying to understand why he thinks he can tell you what you need and want. 

“I spent years of my life wishing I could get those things, but I gave up a long ass time ago. I don’t want those things nearly as much as I want you. I fuckin’ want you, okay?”

You realize you’re not being quiet and your Dad could probably hear every word falling from your lips. He can hear you desperately plead with Joel Miller to be with you. 

Joel is shocked you’re laying all this out. He can’t believe his ears when you say you want him. A man like him being wanted is quite unbelievable, especially by a woman like you. 

You could hear a pin drop with how silent your house is. You fold your arms, trying not to give into the nausea you feel from spilling your soul to him. 

“I just…” He fidgets with his hands for a minute before those puppy eyes glance up at you, “I don’t want to ruin your life.”

You step closer to him, your face inches away from him. You train your eyes on his mouth, unsure how to respond to such blasphemy. 

“I have spent so many days thinking about what it’d be like to live in a world where the Joel Miller would even glance in my direction. I imagined what it’d be like to kiss him,” You’re whispering now, making sure this revelation is for his ears only, “I imagined what it’d be like to have a man who’d treat me well and look… Exactly like you. I have dreamed of you.”

Joel would have never guessed such a statement fall from your lips. 

You breathe out, relieved it’s finally off your chest.

“I just don’t want to leave ya worse than I found ya,” His softness instantly makes you crumble into his arms. He holds you tight, before pulling away to search your face. You teeter forward on your toes, pressing a firm but attentive kiss to his lips. 

When you draw back, “I’m not givin’ you up, Joel.”

The tension is shattered when you hear your Dad yell your name from down the hallway. You snap out of your trance of staring at Joel’s beautiful lips and dart toward the voice. 

“Yeah?”

You open the door and see him, his eyes wide open and focused on the door. 

“Who you talking to out there? Is that Joel?”

Suddenly you’re hyper-aware of every word you just said, scared half to death that your Dad would get out of bed and beat some sense into you. Joel follows you down the dimly lit hallway, but you don’t even hear him, too rattled by your father’s question. 

“Yes, it’s me,” Joel speaks up, coming forward to meet your Dad’s confused expression, “How you feelin’, man?”

“I’m feelin’ like I’m hearing some odd things from down the hall. You two fighting?” His voice is breaking a bit. 

The silence after he asks the question is deafening. You glance over to Joel whose mouth is slightly ajar, unable to move with an answer. You bite the inside of your cheek, wishing you could disappear into the wall nearby. 

Joel cannot lie to his friend. He certainly would never do it with you right beside him. 

“Yeah, you uh, heard us?” He barely manages. 

“Yeah, I sure as hell heard my daughter beggin’ you to take her on, is that true?”

“Dad-“

“My daughter wants to date a man that’s 10 years younger than her own father? Kind of twisted.” He snaps, shoving the blankets off his legs. “But, I am gonna be honest… I expected this.”

You can hardly breathe with the tension in the air. 

“Sorry?”

Joel’s tone is dry, and he’s unable to fully form a coherent thought. 

Your dad coughs before he starts, “Well, I could tell by the way you looked at her that you had a thing for her, Miller. Didn’t think you’d be dumb enough to entertain it.”

“Dad, he’s not dum-“

“And I thought you’d get over this little schoolgirl crush, but I was mistaken, I guess.”

You were used to your Dad’s sarcasm and upfront jabs. You spent a lifetime throwing them back at him, but this time you had nothing to say. You watch as he settles back from obnoxiously tearing off his blankets. 

You fiddle with your fingers, trying not to show your internal anxiety-riddled monologue. He thought you’d get over your crush. He always noticed how Joel looked at you. How did he look at you? How did you never notice?

Joel is spiraling, reverting to his original conclusions. He knew this was a horrible idea. He should have never stepped over the line. He’s a horrible man. You don’t deserve someone as awful as him. 

He smacks his lips, making you and Joel come back down to Earth and out of your heads. 

“Whatever is happenin’ between you two, I probably will never fully understand it. But you are adults, you do whatever makes you happy,” He says with both hands up in surrender, “I am too old to bother with my daughter’s love life. She’s a big girl, I trust her. But Miller, if you hurt her-“

“I’m a dead man.”

Your father laughs which in turn makes you smile crookedly. 

“Just one thing,” He points to you, “I don't want to hear or see anythin’-”

You nod, cutting him off immediately, “Deal.”

Joel catches your eye when he smiles in your peripheral vision. You look over at him, a grin plastered to your face. 

You can’t believe you’re actually going to do this. 

And Joel can’t believe your father somewhat agreed to let it happen. He was sure he would have a gun in his face before he could even mutter a word. But instead, your Dad is receptive to him being with you, which is all you can ask for. 

“Well, get along now, I wanna get back to sleep. You two were keepin’ me up,” Your dad grumbles, readjusting his frail frame to get comfortable in bed. You just nod, pointing at the door for Joel to exit. You follow suit, closing the door behind you tightly, making sure it clicks. Joel stands in the darkness of the hallway, waiting. He is in disbelief. 

You just take one of his hands and bring it to your lips, softly pressing a kiss into his knuckles. 

“Let’s go get cleaned up and take a nap,” You murmur, walking him to the end of the hallway to the bottom of the stairs. He accepts the offer, trailing behind you like a lost puppy. 

You were not sure where this was all going to end up. Neither of you did. But you could not wait to carve the way with him, bringing every last one of your daydreams to life.

THE END

or is it? I have started writing snippets to go along with this story- if you want more, here's the link:

No One Fucks With My Baby

[sugarcoated-lame]

You’re telling me that this isn’t dbf!joel at the very end of a wedding reception, tipsy enough that he lost his suit jacket and his tie a whileeee ago and has started to forget that he’s not meant to be looking at you like that??

AAAAAAHHHHFJEIGJEJGHH!! KATIEEEEE !!!!

he may be tipsy, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t noticed the way you’ve been staring at his chest in that unbuttoned shirt with a glazed over look in your eye for most the night, when you think he’s not looking. but he’ll definitely play up the tipsy card when he asks you to “help him” find his jacket in coat check, which may or may not end with your back pressed up against the wall in the dimly lit room, engulfed by a soft sea coats, a stark juxtaposition to Joel’s rough hands grasping your cheeks as his lips press to yours in a bruising kiss. and if he asks you to help him find his room afterwards, well who are you to say no? 🤭

god I’m never going to stop thinking about this

[hotgirlbedtimescenarios]

Series Masterlist

Before the Sun Rises

(In progress)

Main blog Masterlist

Pairing: dbf!Joel Miller x reader (age gap)

Series summary: Back in your hometown, most things haven't changed. You arrive fresh off your college graduation, and the walls start closing in. Your parents' expectations weigh down on you, and you struggle to find your place in the world. You find comfort in the only man who's ever taken the time to listen, Joel Miller. Only this time, the girl who runs into his arms isn't a girl at all, but a woman he finds himself falling for.

Vibes: friends to lovers, slow burn, pining, yearning, tension, fluffy, angst, romance

(Warnings listed on each individual chapter)

Chapters

Night Changes (pt.1)

Push and Pull (pt.2)

Unheard (pt.3)

Fresh Start (pt.4)

Days in the Sun (pt.5)

Appearances (pt.6)

Boys, boots, and Broken Hearts (pt.7)

Over Getting Over You (pt.8)

Vows (pt.9)

Daydreams (pt.10)

Wild geese pt.11)

tbd

[folkloric04]

summer heat ⋆☀︎｡ preview (edit: part one is out now!)

summary: you’re home for the summer after graduating college, reconnecting with your roots and your hometown. some connections are old, familiar…some are new.

cw: dbf!joel, some tension, some explicit thoughts, nothing nsfw!

Joel's still facing the counter, dumping the extra tacos into a Tupperware container. You stand awkwardly in the middle of the kitchen, shifting on bare feet and shivering from the AC.

When he turns, it's with a strange, concentrated effort. He's still not looking at you, but he holds out the tacos all the same. "Tell your old man to check his email; I forwarded some paperwork he asked for."

You take the container. "Okay."

Through the screens of the open kitchen windows, crickets chirp to the disconnected harmony of the cicadas buzzing in the oaks. The AC clicks and hums.

"Joel, I-"

"Kiddo-"

You both stop. Joel finally looks up at you. "Thanks for taking Sarah today," he says. He rubs the side of his cheek, then the back of his neck, searching for words. For a minute, you're not sure he's going to say anything else, but then he adds, voice low, quiet, tired: "I've been takin' on more shifts lately. This pre-college summer thing," he gestures in the air. "Even with scholarships, it's gonna take a toll. So, really, I appreciate you helpin' her out."

You heard him and your dad talking about it, trying to figure out how Joel can take on extra work.

"It's no problem, really," you tell him. He fiddles with the Tupperware clasp, the click echoing in the kitchen. Your face is still warm. "Thank you for...for last night. I shouldn't have drank that much, I didn't mean to burden you-"

"It ain't ever a burden," he interrupts. "Takin' care of you."

His dark eyes meet yours and your stomach swoops. His pupils are so wide, blown out as they scan your face and dip to your collarbone. You feel completely naked in front of him, like he can see everything, inside and out, like he's stripping you down to your skin.

And it turns you on, so much more than it should.

"Did anyone see?" you ask.

You're sure he knows what you mean: did anyone see you nearly hurl in the cul-de-sac? But you also know he understands the whole meaning: Did anyone see him take you to your room?

"Nah," he mutters. "Pretty sure your dad was makin' one of his speeches."

You nod, your muscles loosening.

Joel nods to the hall. "I'll walk you out."

He ambles past you, boots slow on the tile. You pad behind him, grabbing your bag and shoes on the way out. Flipflops in hand, you step onto the porch as Joel leans on the door, forearm braced on the frame. He holds out the tacos, and you take them, trying not to shudder as his fingers graze yours.

"G'night," Joel says, face shadowed under the porch light.

"Night, Joel."

part of a much larger fic I’m working on! very inspired by the dbf!joel genre and about a quarter the way written rn! thinking about sharing my dbf!joel pinterest board as well if anyone is interested in that! ( also, leave a comment to be added to the taglist for future chapters! 💗 )

[serenequeendarling]

okay prince eric from little mermaid