fucking LOVE your writing like omfg teach me your ways!!😭😭 i was kinda hoping you’d be willing to be writing miller!reader x jesse?🌝🌝 maybe it’s like joel being woken up at like 2 am by noises coming from reader’s room so he goes to check up on reader and then just catches reader sneaking jesse into their room😭😭
caught in the act | jesse x reader
✧.* author's note : hiii guys !! i’m so sorry, but i will be busy today so i am only putting 2 fics out. i will try to put more out tomorrow !! tysm, inbox + requests are always open !
✧.* summary : when joel hears suspicious noises at 2 am, he catches his daughter sneaking jesse into her room, leading to a tense but heartfelt reckoning between an overprotective father and the boy who loves her. through awkward dinners, quiet conversations, and a carved wooden horse, joel ultimately gives jesse his blessing — in his own gruff, joel miller way.
✧.* word count : 2.8k
2:04 am – jackson, wyoming
joel miller was a light sleeper these days. the world didn’t give him the luxury of deep sleep, not after everything he'd seen, done, and lost. so, when a floorboard creaked down the hall, his eyes snapped open instantly.
he laid still, listening.
another creak. quieter this time. then—something muffled. like a whisper. like a giggle.
his jaw clenched. slowly, joel sat up in bed, his hand instinctively reaching for the revolver resting on the nightstand. but this wasn’t the sound of danger. it was softer. familiar. young.
coming from your room.
joel’s daughter.
his biological daughter.
you’d come to jackson nearly two years ago, a girl hardened by the world but still carrying that spark in your eyes—so much like sarah’s it hurt sometimes. it had taken time, but the two of you had carved out something real. quiet dinners. shared patrols. sunday mornings fixing fences together.
he was protective of you. maybe too protective. but he didn’t care.
and now, at two in the goddamn morning, someone was in your room.
he stood slowly, silent as death, padded barefoot across the hardwood. your door was closed. but the light from your lantern was flickering under the crack. and then—another sound.
a breath.
not yours.
joel’s nostrils flared.
he knocked once, hard.
you yelped. “shit—uh, just a second!”
joel opened the door anyway.
and there he was.
jesse.
half-kneeling on your floor, frozen like a deer in headlights. his hair was a mess, lips red, a guilty look painted all over his face. his boots were tucked beneath your bed. your shirt was crooked. the window was open.
joel blinked. once. twice.
you were already rushing forward, hands up. “dad—wait—this isn’t what it looks like—”
jesse coughed. “okay, it’s exactly what it looks like.”
joel glared. “you better be real proud of that answer, son.”
you froze, heart slamming in your chest so loud you were sure your dad could hear it. jesse was still crouched on the floor like he hadn’t figured out how legs worked. the room smelled faintly like the two of you—sweat, heat, something a little sweeter and messier—and the open window gave away everything joel needed to know.
his eyes flicked over the scene with slow, terrifying precision.
the window. jesse’s boots. your wrinkled shirt. the slightly tousled bedsheets. jesse’s flushed face.
and then, his eyes landed back on you.
“want to explain,” joel said, low and gravelly, “what the hell is goin’ on here?”
you opened your mouth, but nothing came out. you couldn’t lie to joel. you had tried once when you were fourteen, and he didn’t talk to you for a week. not out of anger—but disappointment. that was always worse.
you exchanged a look with jesse, who winced like he’d rather face a clicker naked in the woods than meet joel’s gaze again.
you swallowed hard. “i invited him over.”
joel blinked. slowly. “through the window?”
“i didn’t want to wake you up.”
he stared at you for another long moment, then turned to jesse.
“and what, exactly, was the plan here, jesse?” joel asked. “you were just gonna sneak in, spend the night, and sneak back out like some kind of goddamn teenager?”
jesse raised both hands like he was being held at gunpoint. “sir, i—i swear i wasn’t trying anything bad. we just wanted to spend time together, that’s all. talk. hang out.”
joel’s eyes narrowed. “hang out? at two in the mornin’? you got a curfew i don’t know about?”
“no, sir. but—uh—i mean, we’ve been seeing each other for a while now, so…”
you let out a little breath like he’d yanked off the bandage for you.
joel stiffened.
“you’ve been what?”
you took a step forward. “we’ve been… dating.”
joel’s jaw worked. he didn’t yell. he didn’t cuss. he didn’t storm out. but the quiet—that bone-deep silence that came only when joel miller was trying very hard not to explode—that was somehow worse.
“i see,” he muttered. “and how long’s this been goin’ on?”
you hesitated. “four months.”
that did it.
“four months? you’ve been sneakin’ around for four months under my nose?” he turned to jesse. “and you—you thought it was a good idea to crawl through my daughter’s goddamn window in the middle of the night?”
jesse stood up slowly, hands still raised in peace. “i didn’t want to disrespect you, sir. i—i was gonna tell you. we both were. i just… we didn’t know how.”
joel stared at him for a long moment. then turned back to you.
“bed. now.”
“dad—”
he pointed. “now.”
you opened your mouth, then sighed and dropped into your bed with a groan. jesse gave you an apologetic look, then turned to joel.
“i’ll leave. i’m sorry.”
“you bet your ass you are,” joel said, stepping aside to let jesse pass. “next time you wanna see her after dark, you knock on the goddamn front door. you understand me?”
“yes, sir.”
joel followed him all the way to the front door, where jesse slipped out into the cold without another word. joel locked it behind him, then turned back toward your room.
you were sitting up now, arms crossed over your chest, jaw set.
“can we talk about this?” you asked quietly.
joel came back in, slower this time. he sat down on the edge of your bed, ran a hand through his graying hair, and sighed like the weight of the world had settled back on his shoulders.
“you’re my kid,” he said, finally. “i already lost one daughter. you think i’m gonna just sit back and watch someone crawl through your window like this is high school?”
“i know you’re just trying to protect me,” you whispered. “but i’m not a little kid anymore.”
“you’ll always be my little girl.”
you looked away, throat thick.
“i care about him,” you said. “he makes me feel safe. and seen. and he’s… he’s good to me, dad.”
joel’s expression softened just a hair. “he better be.”
you offered a small smile. “he is.”
joel stood. “no more sneakin’ around. you wanna see him, fine. but he comes through the front door. with respect.”
“yes, sir.”
he reached out, brushing a hand over your hair. “get some sleep.”
7:41 am – jackson town hall, front porch
jesse was already awake.
scratch that—he hadn’t slept.
after joel miller stared him down like a man deciding whether or not to bury a body, jesse hadn’t dared close his eyes. instead, he’d sat on the edge of his bed in his shared house, heart hammering, hands still trembling slightly.
now, he was standing outside town hall with two mugs of coffee—one for him, one for maria.
she eyed him over the rim of her own mug as she stepped outside. “you look like hell.”
“i feel worse,” he admitted, handing her the cup anyway.
maria raised an eyebrow. “let me guess—this has something to do with joel storming past my house at two in the morning like a man on a mission?”
jesse winced.
“yup.”
maria took a long sip. “so. what did you do?”
he rubbed the back of his neck. “it’s more about what we did.”
maria’s brows lifted slightly.
“i was… uh… sneaking into her room,” jesse confessed. “and joel caught me.”
there was a beat of silence. then maria burst out laughing.
“you tried to sneak into joel miller’s daughter’s bedroom? are you out of your goddamn mind?”
“in hindsight?” jesse muttered. “yes.”
she leaned against the porch post, shaking her head. “you’re lucky he didn’t put a bullet through your thigh.”
“i thought about jumping out the window.”
“you should’ve.”
jesse groaned, rubbing his face. “he looked at me like i’d burned down his whole world.”
“because you’re not just dating any girl,” maria said gently. “you’re dating his girl. his biological daughter. he doesn’t have a lot of people left, jesse. you know that.”
“i know,” he said softly. “that’s why i feel like shit.”
“you should.” maria patted his shoulder, then offered a hint of a smile. “but i’ve seen the way you look at her. and i’ve seen the way she looks when you’re around.”
he glanced up, hopeful. “yeah?”
“you’re not going anywhere. joel will see that eventually. just don’t sneak in through any more damn windows.”
“message received,” jesse muttered.
10:00 am – your house
you emerged from your room like you were stepping into a war zone. joel was already up, sitting at the kitchen table with a mug of coffee and a hammer in hand, fixing something small and wooden—probably one of ellie’s broken carvings.
he didn’t look up when you entered. just nodded toward the counter.
“there’s food.”
you grabbed a piece of toast and buttered it in silence. the room felt heavy. like you were both pretending last night hadn’t happened.
but you were tired of pretending.
“i meant what i said,” you said, voice barely above a whisper.
joel’s hands slowed. he looked up.
“i care about him. i’m not just… messing around. jesse’s not like that.”
he met your eyes. “you think i don’t see that?”
you blinked. “so… you’re not mad?”
“oh, i’m still mad,” he said, setting the hammer down with a clunk. “mad that he disrespected the house. mad that you kept this from me. but i’m not mad that it’s him.”
you stared.
joel leaned back in his chair, sighing. “i may not act like it, but i pay attention. jesse’s a good kid. one of the only ones who stood by you when things got hard. when you came back from that rough patrol with ellie… he was the first one at your bedside. i remember.”
your throat tightened.
joel continued, quieter now. “he’s got a good heart. loyal. quick on his feet. just—next time? tell me. don’t make me find out by walkin’ in on you two.”
“i wanted to,” you whispered. “we just… weren’t sure how.”
joel’s voice softened. “you don’t have to hide from me. i’m your dad. i might be a grumpy son of a bitch, but i’m always in your corner. you hear me?”
you nodded, eyes burning. “i hear you.”
he stood, ruffled your hair gently, and muttered, “now go tell that poor boy he’s not banned from the house.”
you laughed, relief bursting like light through a window. “really?”
“don’t make me regret it.”
1:12 pm – jackson garden area
jesse was halfway through stacking crates of produce when he heard your voice behind him.
“hey, trouble.”
he turned, eyes wide—and then softened with the smallest, most bashful grin.
“you’re here. that’s a good sign.”
you walked up and wrapped your arms around his waist without a word, just buried your face in his chest. jesse pulled you in instantly, arms tightening like he thought you might disappear.
“i thought he was gonna kill me,” he mumbled into your hair.
“he almost did.”
“i deserve it.”
you looked up. “he said you’re not banned.”
jesse blinked. “seriously?”
you nodded. “he’s mad. but not about us. he knows you’re good to me.”
jesse softened. “i love you, you know.”
you swallowed. “i know.”
you pulled him in closer, hands gripping the fabric of his shirt.
“i love you too.”
6:28 pm – your house, jackson
jesse stood outside your front door, holding a small paper bag in one hand and nervously tapping the fingers of the other against his thigh.
he looked like he was about to walk into an ambush.
because, in a way, he was.
inside was joel miller. the same joel miller who’d caught him sneaking through a second-story window like a hormone-drenched raccoon just twenty hours ago.
the same man who could clean a rifle blindfolded, break a man’s nose in two seconds, and give silent disappointment like a death sentence.
the door creaked open, and you peeked out.
“hey,” you whispered with a crooked smile. “you’re early.”
“i wanted to prove i know how to use the front door,” jesse said, holding up the paper bag like a peace offering. “i brought wine. well… it’s not really wine. it’s that fermented berry stuff maria makes.”
you giggled and stepped aside. “come in. he’s—uh—on the couch.”
jesse’s posture tensed immediately. “great.”
“relax,” you said softly, squeezing his hand as he stepped inside. “he’s trying.”
joel didn’t get up when jesse entered. he was sitting on the couch, carving something into a piece of wood, glasses perched low on his nose. the fire crackled softly in the hearth.
he glanced up. then back down at the carving.
“jesse.”
“mr. miller.”
the air went tight. for about three seconds.
then joel sighed and gestured to the table. “food’s gettin’ cold. sit.”
jesse blinked. “wait, really?”
joel looked up again. “you want me to change my mind?”
“no, sir.”
he scurried over.
you sat between the two men like a human buffer zone.
dinner was stew—hearty, warm, and made with actual fresh potatoes tommy had bartered for. you’d helped cook, which you hoped might earn you some daughter-points if things went sideways.
the first few minutes were silent. forks scraped. fire popped. jesse looked like he was calculating every move like it might trigger a landmine.
then joel finally spoke.
“so,” he said, not looking up. “you two… serious?”
you nearly choked on your bite. jesse froze with his spoon halfway to his mouth.
“i mean,” jesse said carefully, “i’d like to think so. i care about her. a lot.”
joel slowly raised his eyes.
jesse sat up straighter. “i’m not playing games. i don’t want anyone else. just her.”
you glanced at joel, who studied jesse for a long, hard moment.
then he hummed. “good answer.”
jesse blinked. “really?”
joel chewed, then nodded. “you got guts, i’ll give you that.”
jesse visibly relaxed. “thanks.”
“i still don’t like the window thing.”
“understood.”
joel took another bite. “you ever sneak into this house again, i will break your legs.”
“yes, sir.”
you sighed. “dad…”
joel smirked faintly. “kidding.”
“are you?”
“mostly.”
7:18 pm – after dinner
you were washing dishes at the sink, joel drying. jesse offered to help, but joel grunted something about “earning your keep next time” and waved him to the couch.
he stood awkwardly for a second before walking to the fireplace, staring at the wooden carving joel had left on the mantle.
it was a horse. roughly shaped, but detailed. the mane curled just right.
jesse picked it up.
“this is beautiful.”
joel looked up. “not finished.”
“i didn’t know you carved.”
joel shrugged. “only when i got somethin’ on my mind.”
jesse turned the horse over in his hands, then looked at you.
“you still have that little owl he made you?”
“of course i do,” you said, smiling. “it’s on my nightstand.”
joel’s ears turned slightly red. “didn’t think you kept it.”
“i keep everything you make me,” you said softly.
he didn’t say anything to that. but the tiniest flicker of something passed over his face—something softer. pleased. almost bashful.
8:00 pm – the couch
you and jesse were curled up together under a blanket. joel sat in his chair with a half-empty glass of that berry “wine,” legs crossed, his eyes flicking between you and the fire.
jesse had his arm around you, and you were nestled against his chest, legs folded beneath you. the fire was warm. the room smelled like cinnamon and old wood. and, miraculously, joel hadn’t kicked jesse out yet.
joel finally spoke again.
“you ever hurt her,” he said calmly, “i don’t care how long you’ve been in this town—i will send you packin’.”
jesse nodded solemnly. “i’d let you.”
you poked him in the ribs. “that’s not the right answer.”
“it’s the safe answer.”
joel cracked a grin. “smart boy.”
you looked up at him, a slow smile forming. “you like him.”
“don’t push it,” joel muttered.
jesse tried to hide his laugh in your shoulder.
8:37 pm – porch
jesse stood on the porch, your hands in his, moonlight brushing the tops of the trees behind him.
“i still can’t believe i survived dinner with joel miller.”
“i think he likes you,” you whispered.
“he threatened to break my legs twice.”
“yeah,” you said with a grin. “but that’s basically his way of saying ‘welcome to the family.’”
jesse leaned in, his voice softer now. “then i’ll take it.”
you kissed him slowly, sweetly, right there on the porch your dad built with his own hands.
inside, joel watched from the window—eyes narrowed, but not angry. not anymore.
there was a little peace in his expression. a little quiet pride.
and maybe—just maybe—a little trust.
