#fast and furious headers | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lillaydee · 5 months ago

Text

Shhh!!! Part 2

Celebrity!Joel Miller / F Reader

A reluctant celebrity contractor who has closed his heart for love meets a celebrity-hating Cafe on Wheels owner...

She HATES him. Thing is, he couldn't get enough of the coffee she makes...

Tag List:

@kirsteng42 @peelieblue @harriedandharassed @joelalorian @vickie5446 @inept-the-magnificent @maried01 @brittmb115 @peedrow @lovefreylove

Let me know if you would like to be added/removed from the tag list.

Dividers by the awesome @saradika

Header by Moi cause I learned how to use Canva! Yay me!

WARNINGS: Grumpy Joel (The Last of Us), Protective Joel (The Last of Us), Good Parent Joel (The Last of Us), Joel is Bad at Feelings (The Last of Us), Alternate Universe - No Cordyceps Outbreak (The Last of Us), Joel Needs a Hug (The Last of Us), Celebrity Joel Miller, Fluff and Angst, Eventual Smut, I'm Bad At Tagging, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tags May Change, Hurt Joel (The Last of Us), Jealousy.

SERIES MASTER LIST

Part 1

***Okay, I have zero self control, I know I said twice weekly... but knowing that I have 13 chapters ready... I just... so... here you go. Don't judge me. I might space out the posting if I need to, but until then... here... take it off my hands so the impatient little girl in me can sleep tonight. (Covers face in self-controlless shame). ALSO - I MADE A HEADER!!! I LEARNT TO USE CANVA! YAY ME!***

Joel couldn’t even answer. Ellie was attacking him with more and more questions. Her questions were fast, furious, demented, even, he would say. He couldn’t even gather his thoughts to formulate an answer before another one came flying out of her mouth.

“What exactly did you say to her? Did you raise your voice at her? How did she leave? Was she mad? Why wouldn’t she wait for me if she wasn’t mad? Do I still have a job? Fuck Joel! I just went to the bathroom. I wasn’t kidnapped. Ugh! Don’t you have any self-control? Sheesh! Wait ‘til I tell Sarah.”

Ellie went on and on in the truck on the way home. Dinner was quiet. She looked extremely worried. She had texted you, apparently, rows and rows of apologies and promises that Joel wouldn’t be bothering you again, just please don’t fire her. All you replied with was a quick ‘it’s all good’, and she hadn’t heard from you since. She did her chores, and shut her bedroom door behind her, leaving Joel feeling like shit outside her door.

Joel was trying. He really was. He knew he had a problem. Well… several problems, really. He’s angry at the world. Grumpy. Anti-social. But just his luck, he got embroiled in a world where being those things became public knowledge, and put him in the centre of attention, where he did not want to be. And he’d been doing much better, he thought. He smiled, every now and again. He smiled just this morning, in fact, after he dropped Ellie off and was finally able to enjoy that coffee, the best he’d ever had in his life, in the privacy of his truck, without the teenager mocking him or making a big deal about him smiling.

But then he got to work, and things just… that day… it was just not a good day.

He loved building things. He had been doing it since he was a boy. Built a recipe box for Christmas with the help of his Papa for his Mama, and he was hooked. She looked so happy he wanted to see that joy on her face again and again. So he learnt, got better, and became a carpenter, and later a builder.

He and Laura got married young, Sarah arriving just a few months after they tied the knot. Being in LA, he never wanted for a job, there was always a need for contractors, but there was no guarantee either. Competition was fierce and plentiful. The small company he and Tommy owned were getting by, getting jobs here and there, but being small, they didn’t always win a bid on lucrative contracts, the bigger companies got them instead. They stuck to smaller jobs, making enough, but money was tight. LA was not exactly a cheap place to live in. Laura was a stay at home mom, daycare a bit beyond their budget then. They could pay their bills, their mortgage, but even in the lower end, much less classy bit of LA where they lived, saving for rainy days was a big ask, much less Sarah’s college fund.

When his wife passed, he agreed to take on a contract with a studio to build sets, mainly because it allowed him to have more stability. It offered a steady stream of income, on top of the jobs they already had. He had Sarah to think about. He had to do this, the long hours, the toll the jobs were taking on his body, all became worth it when he could come home to a healthy, happy, clothed and fed little girl with a stable roof above her head.

Tommy’s good looks and charm gave the producers some ideas. He was reluctant, knowing how the industry worked. But he agreed, it was just a small 15 minutes slot for the morning show at first. The extra money meant he could start a college fund for Sarah. Tommy did the talking and peacocking, he did the work. Small stuff, how to fix a leaking faucet, oiling squeaking doors, sanding and repainting a cabinet. Simple. Easy. They were at the studio for an hour, tops, then off to the next lot to build. Sometimes, they even had time to go do other projects around town. And then the slots began to turn episodic – five fifteen minutes slots weekly on how to fix something bigger, all shot beforehand.

Then, they started doing builds for talk shows, the ones where his team was sent in to remodel a house for some unfortunate families. Tommy was the face, he was the contractor. Next thing he knew, the studio began receiving phone calls, mails and emails asking for the Miller brothers to have a show of their own. The money, even the initial offer, was good. It would mean he could pay off his mortgage, one thing less off his mind. He could begin to save some money, Sarah could attend any school of her choosing, he could retire early. So they signed a contract – just five episodes to start.

The show was an instant hit, and their contracts were quickly renewed for more episodes. People started recognising him around town. It wasn’t too bad at the beginning. He managed to ignore most of it. He was too focused on Sarah to care. He did get less and less patient with people coming up to him for construction advice. Even getting after work drinks with Tommy became a chore after a while. Nary a day went by where some drunks were not talking his ears off about lying contractors and some lady offering a peek of her boobs at him for five minutes alone in the bathroom. It was all beginning to get too much.

As the show got more and more successful, what he called the ridiculousness began. His schedule would involve going on promotional photo shoots, where he had to sit on a make-up chair for hours getting layers and layers of make-up applied on his face, his hair teased to the heavens. He was made to wear fancy clothes and pose like an idiot for magazine covers and interviewed for articles. When he voiced his distaste for such atrocities to his agent, Angela shrugged and said he signed a contract, waving that binder in his face. So he put up with it for a couple of years. He finally drew a line when he was made to pose topless in a pair of jeans slinging a massive hammer over his naked shoulder with construction gloves and a hard hat on. To this day, even the thought of it made him cringe. He made sure his involvement in such promos and advertising was removed from the next contract by a very reluctant Angela, who moaned about the missed opportunity to sign a very lucrative modelling contract with a very popular jeans company – all that money... she had sighed. He didn’t care. He didn’t even care when the studio threatened to cut his pay for his reluctance to become a proper celebrity. He had enough to make sure Sarah was taken care of. No more posing, he said.

That topless magazine cover proved to be his biggest nightmare. That magazine flew off the racks so fast they had to reprint. The show got even bigger. People actually started following him around, paparazzies snapping pictures of him and Sarah at the park and ice cream places. He was losing privacy. He was starting to fear for Sarah’s safety. But when he woke up to a woman he had never seen before in his kitchen, dressed like some 50s housewife, merrily scrambling eggs for him and Sarah one morning, for the first time in his life, he was legitimately scared. He couldn’t rough her up, not knowing her mental state of mind, surely someone who could see nothing wrong with breaking into someone’s home to make them breakfast was deranged on some level? So he had to stand calmly while he waited for the cops, Sarah held tightly to his chest, his whispers of assurance endless in her ears as she shivered against him, trying hard not to cry, scared out of her mind.

He wasted no time at all after that, immediately getting a more secure place for him and Sarah. Gated community. High fences. Security system. Cameras. The lot. He started being deliberately rude to those approaching him, pushing cameras away from his and Sarah’s faces when someone tried to take photos of them.

The press started calling him the grumpy Miller, but the attention didn’t cease. They got worse, in fact. Photos or videos of him pushing cameras away and shouting at the paparazzi sold well. Finally, when Tommy, the more easy-going of the two, the one who at one point was enjoying the attention he got, got into a scuffle with a particularly feisty pap over him trying to get a picture of Sarah during one of their weekly dates at McDonalds, people began leaving Sarah alone, for the most part, or at least, they were keeping their distance whenever she was around. No one messes with Joel and Tommy Miller’s little princess.

But then, the age of social media began. The show got bigger and bigger, and Joel found himself to be in the spotlight a lot more. He did try to ignore the cameras that everyone seemed to have handy, and his life seemed to calm a little, seemingly unbothered by pictures of him buying socks and underwear or filling his truck being posted all over social media.

And then, a boy Sarah dated posted a selfie of the two of them, only for the post to be made viral.

The public was brutal. Sarah was criticized. Her hair wasn’t styled enough, her skin wasn’t flawless enough, her clothes not stylish or expensive enough, her body not skinny enough. She came home crying, the poor boy stood trembling in front of Joel and Tommy apologizing for his oversight. It took everything in him not to punch this scrawny kid in the face.

But they rode the storm out, and things seemed to calm down.

When Ellie came into the picture, it all started again. Someone who knew Ellie’s mother gave an interview detailing her horrific past, and the story was everywhere. And suddenly Joel Miller came back into focus, the saviour Daddy every woman was lusting for. How noble of him, taking in a kid in need like that. Suddenly the outlets that were once criticizing his grumpiness and overprotectiveness back when Sarah was still a kid were now openly discussing how admirable he was, protecting his kid like that, reputation be darned. The fact that he was a single father, a widower no less, came back up. Never remarried, never dated anyone, well, none that was confirmed, as far as anyone was concerned, drove the ladies crazy.

Aww, he was so in love with her he never let go of her memory. Swoon. Oh, does Daddy need a wifey to help him take care of his children?

Young ladies, young enough to be his daughter, were posting about bearing his children. Shockingly detailed fan fictions about him taking their virginities on his kitchen table were written and spread. He could only hope the people who wrote them were of age and made sure neither Sarah nor Ellie ever got a hold of them.

Angela told him all this with pride. You’ve made it, Joel. You’re a Daddy. They all want you. Take in in, Joel! Take it in!

He wanted to disappear into the wilderness and never return. Pictures of his were posted daily, his crotch zoomed in. People were openly questioning whether he had been celibate all this while – was that possible? Surely he got his rocks off somewhere? Why was no one coming up to share what was behind that fabulous bulge? They would shout it from the rooftops if they had the good fortune of a peek.

This was probably the one aspect of having Angela around that he was thankful for. She was adamant every single lady he had a dalliance with signed an NDA. Heck, even she signed one. He was just not interested in relationships anymore. Not after Laura. And he was too wary for one night stands with random ladies, not that he had many opportunities for such indulgences. His life was Sarah, work and home. So he made do with a few regular ladies who were willing to be his… friends… ones with benefits, so to speak. Just a few ladies on the team that he knew well and felt he could trust. Some had even moved on and gotten married, still friendly with him. There were of course, a few disgruntled ones, those who openly got angry once he made it clear he wasn’t going to take their arrangement further than just sex. He wouldn’t even let them come over to his house. Always at the set, in the privacy of his office. He wouldn’t go to theirs either. No intimacy, just sex. To fulfil a need. They were clearly not happy, those few hopeful ones, but the NDAs should keep them quiet.

The last signed NDA happened just a few months before Ellie came into his life, four years ago. He had just turned 40 then. Having decided to take Ellie in, he put more stipulations in his contract. Local gigs only, he needed to be home by a certain hour, with very few exceptions, weekends were off limits. He wanted Ellie to have a normal life at least. Sarah was already away at college then, so he didn’t want Ellie to be raised by strangers, not with the life she had. He focused on her. His sex life took a step back. He wasn’t interested anyway. Ellie should come first, with the hard life she'd had.

Joel officially gave up. He had no idea why his life was so interesting to these people. He had hoped that if he ignored the publicity, kept his head down and just went about his life, it would all die down. He hoped that the fame would subside, and he could have some semblance of a normal life. But every now and again, something always came back up, and he was all over social media again.

To top it all off, he found no joy in the work anymore. It had all gotten so TV. Everything was planned, faked, rehearsed. He didn’t even have much say as a contractor anymore. It was all about looking good for the cameras, practicality be darned. It was all pretend. That joy on the homeowner’s faces was not even genuine, nothing compared to the joy on his Mama’s face when he presented her with that wonky recipe box he made, one that even his extremely handy Papa couldn’t fix. But his Mama treasured that wonky box to the day she died, and now, that box was Sarah’s pride and joy, her Nana’s recipes still in it, locked away to pass on to her children one day.

He longed to find that joy again. That satisfaction of building something genuine, something real, something that would make someone happy. He just wanted to feel the way he felt when his Mama opened that wrapping paper that Christmas morning.

So that evening, after a long, frustrating day where nothing went their way, but of course, made for great TV, he had a talk with Tommy and Angela. Sarah was coming back to do her internship in town, and then she would be graduating. Ellie was 16 now, she would be graduating high school soon. He had more money than he could ever need, than his girls could ever need. He wanted to retire from the showbusiness. He had one year left on his contract, and then he was done. No more. Tommy could go on should he wished, but Joel was done. He wanted to settle down. Move somewhere quiet and just live out his life. Keep sheep. Shovel shit. Anything but this.

Angela looked at Tommy, exasperation clear across her features. Talk to your brother, Tommy. You guys are in your prime, you can make so much more. Five more years, tops. Just one more contract. The show just got picked up by Netflix. Come on, we have to take advantage of this! Tommy agreed with Angela. Come on, brother, just one more round. And then we retire.

What followed could only be described as a screaming match, two against one. The yelling only stopped because his phone beeped, it was time to pick Ellie up. He left in a huff, his head replaying all the shit that he had hated about this much too exposed life he was living, the invasion of privacy, the gossip, the lewd comments, the threat to his girls’ safety. He had had enough, and of course his fame hungry brother and his greedy agent would find ways to prolong this hellish life for him, all in the name of fame and money.

And when he got to the rec centre, Ellie was not where she usually was. And she didn’t pick up his calls. He panicked, and yelled at you, thinking you were just another pesky fan wanting a selfie.

When he told Ellie what had happened, the teenager had literally taken him down with one sentence before shooting more words at him as he laid dead from that first exclaim.

“Oh my God, not everyone recognizes you, Joel, who do you think you are, Beyonce?”

He wanted to bang his head on the steering wheel, face red from embarrassment. Had he gotten so high and mighty and vain that he thought everyone who approached him was just a swooning fan? He worked hard to stay humble, and yet he had just yelled at his daughter’s boss, on her first day of work, for simply approaching him to tell him where she was, all because he had it in his over-inflated head that he was a celebrity, and anyone who approached him must surely be a swooning, fangirling groupie.

“Woman doesn’t even watch TV, Joel. I doubt she had ever heard of you. Not like I’ve ever told her who you were. Sarah certainly didn’t. God! I can’t believe you yelled at Lily, who, by the way, is the coolest, nicest person I know. How the fuck am I going to face her tomorrow?”

So there Joel stood, right outside his teenage daughter’s room, trying to figure out how to make up for his behaviour the next day.

You went home fuming at this old man of Ellie’s. So rude. So rude! And you were quite sure he was deranged as well, and deaf, to some level. Who the fuck said anything about pictures? Who barks at people they didn’t know like that in public? You were so done with men thinking their own thoughts and comfort matter more than anyone else’s. So done.

This was all Ellie and Sarah’s fault. They had made him out to be this great, caring father who worked hard to raise them both. You actually admired the man, going by the stories they told you about him. Your own Mom died giving birth to you, and your Dad did just about everything he could to raise you. He didn’t fuck around looking for someone else to replace her, he took care of you. He became a Dad, the way a man should. Not just an earner. He was your Dad. He did everything a Mom would, save for breastfeeding. He strapped you onto his chest as he served his customers. Heck, half the town knew you just from being the toddler who grew up in the café. That was your normal, until he met Jenny when you turned five. Their old man, apparently, left Sarah with his neighbour when he’s off to work, but other than that, it was all him. You liked the sound of him. He sounded like a great father figure. You hoped to meet him one day. Tip your proverbial hat at him. Congratulate him for raising such great young ladies.

And then you met him.

Talk about never meeting your heroes.

Never had either of them said he was a grumpy, self-important, delusional and deaf man. They must know he was like that, surely? They were great at keeping that bit of him a secret then, bravo girls for wanting to keep the fact that your Dad was an asshole to yourself. You were shaking when you drove off. You were glad the door hit him on his shoulder as you closed it. How you wished it was his face.

No one should mess with you these days. You were no longer the impressionable young woman you once were. You just turned 40. You literally did not have the time to give a shit. And no, you didn’t have any more fucks to give to anyone, let alone accept treatment like the one he gave you. It was amazing when it finally happened. You had heard rumours of women turning 40 and just said fuck it. You woke up at 4.30 am on your 40th birthday to your neighbour screeching in the shower, yet again. You had been too polite to say much before, simply asking her to keep it down whenever your paths crossed, which she decidedly ignored. That day, like magic, you decided enough was enough. You recorded that off-key screeching and sent it to the chat group for the whole apartment, telling everyone whose lovely voice that was, and which unit she lived in.

The less than flattering replies that resulted ensured that neighbour of yours, a young, vapid little thing, never sang again. Good for you, and everyone else in her vicinity. You did everyone a service that day. You actually came home to a basket of exotic fruits and flowers the next week, the bliss the silence had brought was more than enough for people to chip in and splurge on you.

You liked this new you. You’re old. Your hair hurt. You threw your back out sneezing. You needed a pee every hour. You were miserable, the world owed you one, so fuck everyone else.

And yes, fuck this man who barked at you as if you were begging him for scraps at his table. Maybe the next time you saw him you should give him a coffee ground shower, accidentally, of course. Let him scrape and dig for errant coffee ground from the crevices of his person. That’ll serve him right. Bastard. If only you were classless enough to spit into his coffee next time. The only saving grace the jerk had was the horrific thought that your Dad would roll over in his grave if you did that…

By the time you got your truck washed, you checked your phone to see about 20 texts from Ellie begging you to forgive her old man and asking if she still had a job. Your heart immediately softened. You told her it’s all good, and then your Uncle Bill called. You spent the rest of the evening hanging out with him, going home only to faceplant into your pillow, forgetting to text the worried teenager back.

Ellie walked up to you slowly. You were already entertaining your long line of customers, all in a rush to get their morning coffees to get to work. You basically didn’t have time to stop in the mornings, working alone. You could manage, of course, but having Ellie to help with the cleaning in the evenings did help a lot. At least you could put your feet up a bit, and the clean up took half the time come closing. She waited until you were readying the to go cups for the pouring espresso before meekly asking you if she still had a job. You rolled your eyes an gave her a playful ‘what do you think’ look, to which she gave a huge sigh of relief, climbing in to make herself a cup of iced tea before running off to class.

You went about entertaining your next few customers, the line usually endless at this hour, chatting with them as you readied their much needed morning dose of caffeine. They were mostly your regulars, and these five minutes on a weekday were all you had with them. You asked them about their sick child, that promotion they were hoping to get, that car they had to send to the shop, the vacation they were looking forward to, that date they were dreading, the presentation they were not quite prepared for, somehow making the wait less arduous, a smile on your face the whole time.

Someone finally paid using cash, so you focused on the till for a bit, until a clearing of a manly throat made you look up, a smile at the ready for his order.

Oh. It’s him.

Your smile disappeared. A stern, stone-face met him instead. What can I get you, sir?

His face, the hesitant one that you saw when you first looked up, turned into a flustered one. Words tried to escape his lips but mumbles were all that came out, him panicking and trying hard to tell you his order but nothing coherent came out.

“What, you couldn’t speak? What happened to the fluent spewer of hatred I met yesterday? Cat got your tongue? It’s a simple question. What. Can. I. Get. You. Sir.”

“Erm… I don’t know the name… my daughter… she…”

You rolled your eyes and turned, getting him the Americano Ellie ordered yesterday. But suddenly a thought came to you. Why don't we give him a ridiculous amount of caffeine today? Get him jumping from a caffeine high. That ought to ruin his day, at least the way he ruined yours yesterday.

You smirked as you poured in another espresso shot in his cup, and then another, and then another. You stopped when the cup was halfway full, about six shots in all, before topping it off with hot water. This should teach him. Have a great day today, sir.

You plopped the cup on the sill, your eyes lasering on him, and immediately turned to your next customer, your smile automatically back on, greeting the older lady by name, asking her if you should make her usual? She nodded, placing her card on the reader and waited for her cappuccino patiently. When you gave it to her, he was still standing there, the cup now in his hand. Your smile disappeared yet again, asking him if there was something else he wanted.

“Erm… I haven’t paid, I don’t know how much…”

You kept staring at him, not saying a word. The look you gave him silenced him. You didn’t really want to tell him you were not charging the man who raised Sarah and Ellie any money, but at the same time, you wanted to be petty and not give him any satisfaction today. “Just go, it’s on the house,” you fired, annoyance so prominent coming from you he looked taken aback. He mumbled a hesitant thank you, and awkwardly turned and walked away.

Immediately, you turned to Frank, the professor who was teaching Ellie for the summer, giving him your usual smile, turning around to get his latte.

“What did Joel Miller do to you that you were so angry at him?” he asked, a very interested smile on his face.

Oh, was that his name? You scoffed. “He was a jerk, he was looking for Ellie yesterday and snapped at me when I tried to tell him she was in the bathroom.”

Frank’s face turned into shock. “That’s Ellie’s old man? Ellie’s old man is Joel Miller? The Joel Miller?”

“Yeah, I thought you knew him. You named him. I didn’t even know his name until you told me.”

“I know him from that show, Build with the Millers. I didn’t know Ellie’s old man was a celebrity! Damn!” he placed his card on the reader, taking his coffee, telling you he would see you after class.

Oh, he’s a celebrity huh? No wonder he’s such an ass.

Oh shit. You just gave a celebrity six shots of free espressos.

Damn it.

This was perfect. Now you had more of a reason to hate the guy.

Joel closed the door to his truck, his head spinning from the encounter. You hated him. It was so clear you hated him. He stood in line for a bit before his turn came, watching you work, a sweet smile on your face. He was awestruck. How did you do that? You were so friendly with every single one of your customers. You knew the smaller aspects of their lives. You clearly paid attention. And all of them clearly liked you a lot, talking to you like you were old friends.

He watched you the entirety of his wait, and when your smile snapped shut upon realizing he was there, he panicked. His mind went blank. He had a script and everything, complete with an extremely sincere apology that he rehearsed over and over in his head since he woke up that morning, all the way to the front of the line. It all just went out of his head the moment your eyes lasered in on him.

What the fuck happened to him? He spent years memorizing lines. He could do it without much thought, and he got tongue-tied? What the hell?

He took a sip from the cup, eyes immediately closing at the potency of his coffee. He was wrong yesterday. This was the best cup of coffee he had ever had. He had always preferred strong coffee. But the ones he made himself was always too bitter and burnt, thanks to the broken, ancient coffee machine he had stubbornly refused to get rid of. This was… perfection. Strong, bitter, but there was a tinge of sweetness to it despite the fact that he didn’t add any sugar to it. Your smiling face flashed before his eyes as he took another sip and his heart suddenly felt a bit heavy at the thought that you served everyone before and after him with that dazzling smile of yours. He couldn’t get the image out of his head. Your overalls underneath your apron, the kerchief you had tied on your head, the ponytail peeking at the back, your dimples gracing your cheeks as you spoke, smiled and laughed with your customers, the last two of which disappeared from his view once you realized he was there. As he shifted into drive, for the first time in forever, Joel longed for something. He longed that someday, he would be on the receiving end of that dimply smile too.

He’ll come back tomorrow. His coffee machine was broken anyway.

Part 3

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller #tlou fanfiction #joel miller x you #Celebrity!Joel Miller

81 notes · View notes