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joelsdagger · 1 day

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MIMIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

this was absolutely beautiful. i love them and their girls AND CLARA OH MY HEART she is a brave little bug. my goodness this was such a delight and so lovely to read, it warmed my heart. i'll read anything and everything you share with us mimi, it's always so so special.

lastly these were my favorite parts;

His hand instinctively slides over your tummy, his favourite place: chest pressed to your bare back, wedding band against your warm skin as he holds you.

w-wedding band......oh my god.

He plays with your wedding band absentmindedly as you lounge against his legs, digesting his words. “One day at a time, mama. You’re doin’ just fine,” Joel murmurs, and you look through your lashes at him, chewing your lip. He gazes at you imploringly, and you shrug, start to laugh. “If you say so.” “I know so.”

joel miller is a man who always praises his girl and it will never fail to make me weak.

thank you dearest, sweetest mimi!!!!!!

you’re gonna go far (joel miller x f!reader)

we ain’t angry at you, love, we’ll be waiting for you, love. and we’ll all be here forever. 📻✨

summary: your daughter needs her father — he’s never let her down before. and hell, if he’s about to start now.

warnings: age gap (sixteen years), no outbreak, fluff, husband!joel, insecure parenting, smutty happenings, cursing, alcohol, timelines all over the place, one (1) tiny mention of daddy kink, allusions to unprotected piv, mentions of babymaking & pregnancy, 18+ mdni.

notes: this has been languishing in my drafts for months now, so here it is! nothing special, just proclaiming my love for joel miller the father <3 i also promised a plushy-sized surprise for @hellishjoel all that time ago, and here it is! sorry it took so long 🥹

thank you, as ever, to my @macfrog for your eyes on this. i couldn’t do this without you. also, to @frannyzooey, who helped me navigate the trickier parts to get right! i love you.

“Joel.”

He groans, stretches out languidly in his sleep.

His hand instinctively slides over your tummy, his favourite place: chest pressed to your bare back, wedding band against your warm skin as he holds you.

It can’t be time for him to get up yet.

“Joel,” comes your voice again, more insistent this time. He feels you reach back and tap his hip, sheets pooled round your bodies.

“Phone.”

Joel blinks one eye open wearily. His iPhone flashes obnoxiously from the nightstand, rattling the smooth wood as it vibrates.

11:45pm.

A number he doesn’t recognise flits across the screen. A slight frisson of anxiety settles in his stomach, jolting him awake.

“Hello?” Joel answers cautiously, settling back into the pillows with the phone crooked under his ear.

“Dad?” comes a timid voice, whispering from the other end.

“Clara? Are you okay, honey?”

At the sound of your daughter’s name, you turn to face him, eyebrow raised uneasily.

“‘m fine,” she admits, and Joel waits for the inevitable whimper that he knows will come from his seven-year-old. He can picture her bottom lip trembling, and his heart wants to break for her.

“Baby?” he pushes, certain he knows what’s coming.

“Can you come get me, please? From Madison’s? I can’t sleep, daddy. I tried, but—” she sniffles, and Joel soothes her.

“Ssssh, baby. It’s okay, you don’t need to explain it to me. Is Madison’s mom there?” he asks, and listens for Clara’s quiet uhuh.

“Pass me over to her, honey. Jus’ wanna confirm everything, that’s all. I’ll be twenty minutes,” he assures her.

“She okay?” you ask when he’s done with the call, flicking the beside lamp on, both of you wincing at the sudden intrusion.

“Yeah, couldn’t sleep. Wants me to go ‘n get her,” Joel chuckles, hand squeezing your calf fondly.

He watches your features draw tight with anxiety, the way they do so often when it comes to the daughter you share.

“You think you could try to see if she’s alright? Y’know, with school and everything?”

Joel’s eyebrow raises, prompting you to continue.

“I just worry she’s not settled. I don’t want her being bullied, but I don’t want to be overbearing—”you start, pulling at your bottom lip with your teeth.

“Hey, hey,” Joel hushes, moving to hold your face in his hands. “Sweetheart, I’ll talk to her. I promise,” he adds, before kissing you gently.

“I mean, I don’t think she’ll tell me anythin’, but I’ll give it a shot anyway.”

He presses his lips to your forehead, thumb stroking across your skin.

“You’re forgetting she’s a daddy’s girl, Joel,” you tease quietly, pushing at his chest.

“Makes two of ya, then,” he smirks, eyebrow raised.

You roll your eyes; slide back beneath the covers, breathing a little easier. He knows you’re anxious about Clara, you both are.

But it’s not his first rodeo.

Nineteen years separate his daughters, but Joel relishes fatherhood and all the trials and tribulations that come with it, knows he will for the rest of his life. Lessons learned and repeated, a cycle he’s grateful for. Both kids so different, but their hearts the same.

“Drive careful,” you mumble, after he’s pulled on sweatpants and an old shirt.

“Always.”

He switches the lamp off again and bends to kiss the tip of your nose, ignoring the creaky protests of his knees. The house is quiet as he moves through it soundlessly; photos of the women in his life grinning at him as he heads downstairs.

Sarah: freshly graduated from college, working as an accountant in Houston. The earliest years of being her dad were the hardest; getting to know her, raise her, round her out. But holy shit, was it worth it; even through the hardship of doing it alone.

His beautiful baby girl.

He thinks of her, now, making a note to call her tomorrow. Sarah still has a room here, Clara gazing at her with starstruck eyes whenever she visits.

Joel rummages through the chipped trinket dish by the front door, searching for his truck keys. Typical family detritus litters the space around him; individual declarations that show love is well-known and nurtured in those four walls.

His work boots lie abandoned in a heap, your sneakers and sandals stored away neatly, Clara’s favourite plushie left behind on the tabletop: Grogu’s big eyes watching him make ready to leave.

Joel sticks the toy carefully in the crook of his arm, sliding his own battered sneakers on as he scrubs his free hand over his face. Cicadas sing as he makes his way to his truck, moonlight casting silver shadows over the front lawn as he deposits his green friend in the front seat beside him.

“Alright, pal,” Joel yawns, turning on the ignition. “It’s time to go.”

There’s no traffic, and Joel finds himself thinking of a time he’d been here before: on the same stretch of road, years earlier. Sarah had called him from a friend’s house; said that some of the girls had teased her for being a tomboy with unwashed ketchup stains on her shirt, and Joel remembers the burning shame sticking to him like slime.

Trying to make it as the sole parent, and failing at it.

Working all the hours he could, roping in a young Tommy to take care of Sarah when he couldn’t, going without so she could have more. When he’d picked Sarah up that night, though, she wasn’t upset. She just wanted her dad, asking if Joel could stop for pizza for them to share on the way home.

The memory makes him smile. Sarah’s toothy grin told him everything he needed to know, soothed away all his doubts.

He was enough.

Joel grew confident in his abilities, watching his baby stretch up and out into the arms of happiness and security in herself, chasing her college dreams.

Then, you came along.

Joel had been feeling the stretch of the long days without his daughter to fill in the gaps, his not-so-little brother moved out to his own apartment. He felt unsure about the stage in his life he was settling into, had been pondering it one day when he got home with a smaller grocery haul than he was used to.

He hadn’t noticed the moving truck next door, but he’d noticed you.

The Adler’s eldest niece, he found out later. Denim cut-offs and a snug baby tee, smile bright enough to light up the neighbourhood. You were fresh from a bad breakup, younger than him by sixteen years. You’d moved in with Danny and Connie for a new start, looking for some stability in your life.

It happened faster and more perfectly than he ever could’ve predicted.

Joel was asked to remodel the kitchen, and he couldn’t turn the Adlers down. You made him lunch, hung around him whilst he worked; asked questions that would’ve been irritating, had it been anyone else.

You told him you’d never really settled; not at home, not at college. Always searching for something else, something more. Never feeling like you fitted in.

“Seems like you’re doin’ a fine job of that here, sweetheart.”

That smile: so captivating, entrancing, striking Joel dumb every time he saw it.

“You think so?”

“Neighbourhood wouldn’t be the same without ya.”

He loved the way you looked down at your feet, like you couldn’t believe what he was saying. He wanted you to know: wanted to show you, push you down into his sheets and make you certain of it.

You’re so fucking sweet.

He caved one day; too tempted by the soft curves of your body and the lingering glances he felt from you whilst he worked.

He asked you on a date, feeling like a fool, fumbling his words and carding a nervous hand through his hair. His earlier bravado deserted him - surely he was being foolish. A beautiful, young butterfly like you?

Joel didn’t have much to offer, he knew that: a bad back from too many years on site, not a lot of spare cash, weekends spent woodworking, a slow, steady way of living.

But he had to try, and to his delight: you said yes.

You were waiting for him that night on his doorstep, pretty sundress floating round your thighs. The bodice lifted your breasts towards him, smooth skin dewy along your collarbones, eyes bright with excitement.

Goddamn. An absolute dream.

Joel knew he was late — fuckin’ Tommy, getting the wrong size for the headers — but you laughed his apology off, said you’d wait for him to take a shower.

He offered you a beer in his kitchen, joined you for one after he’d towelled off. One beer turned into two, into three, into a slow kiss that became something deeper: wandering hands, breathy groans, forgotten insecurities.

“We’ll miss our reservation,” Joel gasped, when your lips left his to take a breath.

“I don’t give a fuck,” you giggled, eagerly pulling his shirt over his head, sliding your panties down your calves. Hearing you curse spurred him on, filth falling from that sweet mouth.

Joel wanted to hear it again, pull it from you as many times as you’d let him.

You didn’t even make it upstairs.

You both collapsed naked on his couch, and Joel held you there till dawn broke, the skies pink and rosy.

You’d hardly been apart since.

He was insatiable for you.

You kept him laughing, made him feel younger. Joel wanted to be with you, around you, inside you, as much as he could. He’d never have called it a missing piece as such, but he felt whole. For the first time in his life.

You’d done that for him, without even trying.

Joel Miller was only human. He had a feeling you, however, were not.

You were married after two years. Joel watched you love Sarah like she was your own, despite you not even being a decade older. The two of you were thick as thieves whenever she was home, and Joel remembers the tears of joy when you told her she had a baby sister on the way.

Joel’s younger daughter was the light of his life: unexpected, but loved unconditionally. Everyone who knew Clara doted on her - she had a face you couldn’t help but fall in love with.

Yours.

Joel knocks on the door as quietly as he can.

Madison’s mom is endlessly kind, waving away Joel’s sympathetic smile. His daughter’s shoulders droop as they head back to the truck, holding Grogu close as she leans her head against the window.

“Y’okay, bug?”

Clara sighs, scrunches her brow in frustration. The streetlights illuminate tear tracks on her cheeks, Joel’s heart shattering a little to see it.

He knows he can’t keep her this close forever.

He remembers when Sarah stopped needing him for grazed knees and scary dreams; came to him to help assemble her bed frame instead, to check the tyre pressure on her car.

He feels grateful to be able to do it all again, even if it hurts him to see his daughter like this.

“They’ll all think I’m a baby,” Clara confesses, screwing her fist up to wipe her eyes. Joel tuts quietly as he spins the wheel, wishing he could gather her in his arms.

“What makes you say that?”

Another drawn-out sigh, wobbling bottom lip, downcast gaze.

“‘Cuz I wanted to come home,” she sniffs. “I - I missed you, and mommy. The sheets smelled all different, and I didn’t like it.”

Joel reaches out a hand, his daughter wrapping her smaller one in his. He squeezes tight, feels his own heartbeat thrumming right back at him.

“But that’s okay, baby. Y’know what? I actually think you’ve been really brave.”

Clara plays with Grogu’s ears, making a dissatisfied noise that tells Joel she doesn’t believe him. At all.

Tough gig, kids.

“Takin’ yourself out of a situation - or place - where you don’t feel comfy or happy is very brave, sweetheart. You might not think so, but grown-ups do it all the time.”

She releases his hand, turns to look at him. Joel flashes her a smile, happy to see one in return. Not quite her trademark toothy grin, but he’ll take what he can get.

“You remember Sarah’s boyfriend, Jake? How we don’t see him now? That’s because he wasn’t makin’ your sister happy anymore,” he tells her, Clara silent as she digests his words.

“She was brave and made a decision, one that sure as hell wasn’t easy. We all liked him, right? But Sarah had to do what was best for her, just like you did tonight,” he tickles her under the chin, hears her giggling.

“‘s there anythin’ else, baby? Anything on your mind, like school or your friends?” he prompts gently, and is met with silence, knowing his daughter is thinking it through.

“Can I call Sarah? I want to tell her I’ve been brave. And if she’ll come over and help me finish my Lego,” she adds, crisis averted, face set with fierce determination.

She reminds Joel of you when she does that.

“In the morning, bug, we’ll call her. ‘s gettin’ late now, and we need to get you in bed. Mom’s waitin’ up to give you a hug,” he tells her, pulling round the bend to the cul-de-sac they call home.

Clara nods, yawns gratefully. Joel already knows he’ll be shaken awake before 7am, mobile stolen so Clara can call her big sister. Sarah’s her hero - always has been, always will be.

Nothing makes him happier.

An hour later, and you close the bedroom door behind you. Joel’s in bed with a book, propped up against the pillows, soft lamplight spilling out across the room.

“She okay?”

“Out for the count,” you smile, hanging your robe up on the hook he made. “She told me what you said — that she’s brave, about Sarah. Nothing seems to be bothering her about school, either, from what I can tell.”

“Told ya. She’ll come to you if she needs you, baby. I promise,” Joel smiles. You sit down by his side, reach out to take his hand. He brushes his thumbs across your knuckles, lifts it towards him and kisses your palm.

“I know I’m overreacting. It’s just, you get to know ‘em - or think you have - one day, and by the next week, they’ve changed. Our little person.. Always growing, having new interests, new fears.”

He nods sympathetically.

“Sometimes I feel like I can’t keep up, y’know?”

“I know,” Joel agrees, because he does know, hates to see you doubt yourself.

“It’s not just you. Hell, parenting doesn’t come with a manual. It’s one of the scariest things you can do, and everybody’s wingin’ it.”

He plays with your wedding band absentmindedly as you lounge against his legs, digesting his words.

“One day at a time, mama. You’re doin’ just fine,” Joel murmurs, and you look through your lashes at him, chewing your lip. He gazes at you imploringly, and you shrug, start to laugh.

“If you say so.”

“I know so.”

He opens his arms, beckons you towards him.

“C’mere. I’ll prove it.”

Your eyes roll again, but nevertheless: you slip your panties down your thighs, just like the very first time, and toss them in the hamper, grinning shyly.

He helps you to sit astride him, hands planted firmly on your ass. “I ever tell you you’re the best daddy?” you whisper, bending to press your lips to his. Joel anchors you to him, thumbs rubbing circles across your flesh, inching beneath your nightgown.

You start to rock your hips slowly against his belly and the coarse hair that lives there. Joel feels you on his skin: already so slick and soft for him; groaning as he slides the thin straps of your dress down your arms.

“It’s all teamwork, sweetheart,” he tells you between kisses, welcoming your tongue in his mouth. He squeezes and pinches you softly, fingers eager for any skin he can find, claim as his own. You’re so goddamn responsive to his touch: tugging at his hair, nails drawn across his chest.

“What if I said I wanted another, one day? Another baby?”

Joel stills for a moment, peering up at you. Your chest is heaving; breasts spilling out over the flimsy material, lips bitten, eyes narrow and full of longing. You’re still grinding against him, all worked up - he knows you can feel it, feel what you do to him.

You’re incredible.

Joel flips you over as you squeak in surprise, pulling the dress over and off your head so you’re finally bare beneath him. He searches your face, kisses you softly. He remembers your first pregnancy: how beautiful you were, round with what the two of you created.

“I’d say.. Okay. I’d say, let’s try.”

You wrap your legs round his waist, work to push his boxers off together. Joel pins your hands above you in one of his, teeth scraping in the column of your throat, dragging the scruff on his jaw between your breasts, just the way you like.

He teases you, touches you till you’re ready; breathless and downright impatient for him. Before long, Joel’s sliding into the warm, wet heart of you — his wife, his forever.

#now im gonna go cry myself to sleep #the wedding band mention took me the fuck OUT #i'm yearning so bad again its so joelver for me #noelle's recs

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