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pattwtf · 10 hours ago

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Wow, I really can't wait for next part. Missed a dbf joel series I NEEDED to keep reading and reading and reeeeaading 🥹🥹🥹🥹 love these two, love your writing, love you and love your amazing and talented brain 😅❤️ thanks for sharing with all of us, cutie 🌹

to call you mine

chapter five: broken parts

masterlist | series masterlist

“I know, baby. Poor thing ain’t ya?” he pauses, breath shuddering as he works his cock a little harder. “Trust me, darlin’. Nothin’ I’d love more than to have my mouth on that sweet cunt of yours right now.”

Pairing: dbf!joel x female reader

Summary: Joel gets injured at work, and with it, so does his pride. A late night call to you fixes that, the sounds of you falling apart calling his name the perfect remedy for his ego.

Tags: *SMUT!! MDNI - age gap (24/45) dad’s best friend, cursing, injured and grumpy joel, *phone sex, *mutual masturbation, *mentions of bodily fluids

Wc: 4.3k

Authors note: this was a much longer chapter, but it just kept getting.. longer & longer, so i’ve split it into two separate chapters. the good news is you won’t have to wait long for ch6, bc it’s finished!! ENJOY! tysm as always for all the love, especially on the last chapter wowweee. pls remember to reblog and give me ur crazy wild thoughts!! love u all.

dividers by @saradika-graphics 🖤✨

It’s just past midnight when you finally switch off the flickering neon bar sign, signalling the end of another long, late running shift.

The place emptied out fifteen minutes ago, the floor still nauseatingly sticky with the remnants of spilled beer.

Your feet ache, head foggy from hours of noise and continuous motion, ears still ringing after too many overlapping conversations fighting against the music.

When you finally step outside, you tug at the bolt on the back door, rusted from its age, but you’ve done this a hundred times before. A little force, a sharp pull at just the right angle, and the bolt finally gives with a loud slam.

It feels later than it is, your body weary from another solid week of shifts that run well into the morning.

You slump against the heavy door for just a second, just to breathe, to hopefully leave your weariness here.

Behind you, Ethan grunts as he hauls the last few bags of trash into the dumpster, each landing with an echoing thud.

“That fucking crowd tonight, man,” he complains, dusting his hands off on his jeans. “If that bachelor party had stayed one more hour, I’d have quit on the spot.”

You groan in agreement, prying your apron from around your waist before folding it into your bag.

“I was one more round of shots away from pulling the fire alarm.” you laugh.

Ethan chuckles as he grabs his car keys from his apron. “You walking?”

“Was gonna.” you shrug.

He glances up to the sky, a thick smudge of black across the horizon before he stares at you blankly.

“Get in the damn car.”

You smirk, already walking towards the lot. “That an order?”

“It’s a kindness,” he says. “And a little selfish. I get bored driving alone.”

”Ah, you’re a goddamn saint.” you laugh as the headlights to his car flash, your hand reaching for the passenger side handle.

You slide into your seat as Ethan reaches straight for the air con, filling the stuffy car with a cool breeze after lingering in the heat all afternoon.

The engine stutters to life with a concerning amount of noise, your eyes flicking to Ethan’s with a grimace.

He just shrugs, turning up the radio, blissfully ignoring the glaring issue, and your head tips back against your seat with a loud laugh.

As he pulls out of the parking lot, he throws another quick glance your way, before pulling his eyes back to the road.

“So,” he starts casually, “where’s your usual ride tonight? Thought your dad or his, uh.. friend stopped by to pick you up?”

“They usually do,” you reply, ignoring his suggestive tone. “Didn’t hear from either of them so figured they got caught up with work or forgot.”

It’s not unlike your dad to forget, he has an unwavering talent for misplacing both time and his phone, but Joel?

He’s more predictable, thrives on routine. Even on the days he and your dad work way past their shift, he’d let you know with a simple text.

Can’t make it tonight, sweetheart. Stay safe. Let me know you’re home.

You glance at your phone again, but of course, no new notifications.

“It’s not a big deal.” you pause, tapping your thumb against the lockscreen to keep it alight. “It’s not like they owe me a ride.”

Ethan raises a brow, smirking at how you seem to be trying to convince yourself of that fact more than anything else.

The drive isn’t long, five minutes, if that, but it feels longer than usual. Maybe it’s the quiet lull that settles around you both.

Or, it’s the absence of a message you didn’t realise you’d been waiting for, and all the overthinking that comes hand in hand with that.

You let your head fall against the window, shifting your focus to the array of shadows that dance across the dashboard as you pass by the series of street lamps that line your neighbourhood.

When Ethan finally pulls up in front of your house, the driveway is empty, save for your beat up little car in front of the garage. Your gut twists a little as you notice that the porch light isn’t even on, the windows dark as they reflect Ethan’s headlights back.

You bite the inside of your cheek, pushing down the dread licking up your spine.

Ethan seems to notice, switching off the engine as he glances at you.

“You want me to hang out? Wait until someone gets home?” he offers, already reaching for his seatbelt.

You shake your head, forcing a smile that you hope looks convincing. “I’m good. But thanks - for the ride too.”

He nods once, lips pressing into a tight line. “Text me if you change your mind.”

You nod, stepping out onto the driveway, watching as he reverses around the corner before straightening up.

“Oh, and enjoy your fucking night off tomorrow!” he shouts out of the open window, his middle finger held up towards you before he drives off.

You laugh as you watch his car disappear out of the neighbourhood, the rattling noise of his engine slowly fading into nothing.

When silence finally falls again, you sigh, consumed by it immediately. You head towards the porch, the light flickering on as you slowly bound up the steps, fumbling through your bag for your key.

You make your way inside and shut the door gently behind you.

The house is dark, the only light coming from the soft orange glow of the microwave clock you can see from the kitchen. You don’t bother flipping on a light, pulling off your shoes by the door, dropping your bag to the floor with a soft thud.

You pace your way into the kitchen through the darkness, your fingers trailing along the countertop, cool beneath your touch. Your dad’s coffee mug from this morning is still sitting at the breakfast table, half full and long forgotten.

You grab a glass from the cabinet and fill it from the tap, taking a few slow sips before you place it on the counter in front of you.

They’re probably fine. After all, they’ve just picked up work on a new project, it’s no wonder they’ve potentially run into some trouble that’s kept them behind.

Still, you pull your phone from your back pocket, tugging down the notification bar just in case.

Nothing.

You unlock your phone, fingers hesitating over Joel’s contact. Your mouth twists as you mull over the idea of texting him, before scrolling back up to the text chain with your Dad.

Hey. Everything okay?

You toss your phone onto the counter, taking another sip of water like it will wash away the sickly unease swirling in your stomach.

Before you can even place the glass back down, the front door bursts open, your hands flinching, causing water to slosh over the rim of the glass onto the floor.

“Jesus, Joel - just lean on me, would you?” your dad grunts, audibly under some sort of strain.

“I am leanin’ on you goddamn it,” comes Joel’s reply, a sharp bite through gritted teeth.

You move over to the threshold of the kitchen with a racing thud in your chest, eyes fixed towards the dark hallway, watching as they stagger through the front door.

Your dad has one arm braced tightly around Joel’s middle, trying to keep him upright, Joel’s arm draped begrudgingly around his shoulder, grunting with every stiff, reluctant step.

He looks like shit, even in the darkness you can see the sweat clinging to his temples, glistening under the moonlight through the window.

“Didn’t need your damn help gettin’ outta the truck,” Joel grumbles, grimacing as he drags his boots over the hardwood floor. “And I don’t need it now.”

Your dad lets out a short, humourless laugh. “No, you needed it when you nearly ate shit in the driveway,” he fires back as he flicks on the hall light with his free hand.

The hallway fills with a warm light, both men jumping back as you appear in the doorway ahead of them.

“Fuckin’ Christ - the hell you doin’ lingerin’ in the dark kiddo?” your dad’s reaction comes off a little riled as he clutches his chest.

You ignore your dad’s theatrics completely, your eyes immediately falling to Joel under pinched brows.

“Shit, what happened?” you ask, eyes tracing his tense frame, the way his weight shifts on one leg as the other drags numbly behind.

Joel straightens at the sight of you, stubborn as ever, but even from across the hall you notice the way he winces.

“I’m fine.” he snaps, a little too defensively, only to suck in a sharp breath when the movement pulls on the pain in his lower back.

His eyes meet yours with a stern yet somewhat pleading expression, a front that you see right through, because behind the pain, there’s an embarrassment, an unwilling vulnerability.

“Ain’t fine,” your dad scoffs, adjusting his arm to better support Joel’s weight. “Idiot threw his back out tryin’ to lift more than he should’ve. Shocker.”

Joel’s brows pinch together as your dad helps him limp past you towards the living room. You fall in beside them without a second thought, rushing to slip a shoulder under Joel’s other arm to share the burden of his weight.

“Damn it, I said I’m fine,” Joel bristles immediately, attempting to shrug off both of your support as he stumbles forwards.

You scowl at him but don’t budge. “Stop bein’ such an ass, and let us help.”

Your dad chuckles at his other side, but Joel doesn’t share his amusement, refusing to meet your eyes. His jaw tenses as he exhales through his nose, his hand clenching into a tight fist above your shoulder.

Still, he lets you both guide him, however resentfully, towards the couch.

“Alright, buddy, down you go,” your dad groans, taking the brunt of Joel’s weight as he helps lower him against the cushions.

Joel grits his teeth as he braces a hand against the armrest, his knuckles whitening from the strain. “Shit,” he grunts, leaning back against the couch with a sharp hiss.

For a moment, nobody dares to say anything, you and your dad sharing a tense glance.

Joel leans his head back, eyes screwed shut, almost as if he’s trying to hide from the unwelcome worry that paints your face.

After an uncomfortable lull of silence , he exhales slowly through his nose and opens his eyes again.

“Thanks.” he mutters, not quite as graciously as you’d like. His eyes catch yours, a short nod of his head punctuating his somewhat reluctant gratitude.

Your dad pats him a little too roughly on his shoulder in response, wincing when Joel groans under his breath.

“Shoot - I’ll go grab those strong painkillers,” he remembers, already turning to leave the room. “Don’t move.”

Your dad gives you a tight lipped smile as he squeezes past you, shaking his head in exasperation before he disappears down the hall, his footsteps bounding slowly up the stairs.

Joel writhes on the couch, letting out a quiet grunt as he tries to find a more comfortable position, his eyes falling closed again.

You try not to wilt at the obvious tell of his discomfiture, his pride clearly getting in the way of his willingness to let you see him like this.

You scramble for something to say, anything to break the uneasy pause that has such a hold on you both.

“You uhh, make this whole ‘aging gracefully’ thing look real painful.”

Joel cracks one eye open just enough to squint at you, entirely unamused by the unwelcome jab. “Y’done?”

“Nope. Not livin’ this one down.”

He scoffs, arms crossing over his chest - but despite his aloof front, his mouth curls just slightly.

You cock your head with an accomplished smile.

“Did you at least hurt yourself doing something dramatic? Saved one of the guys from a fallen beam or some shit?” you tease, sitting at his feet with mischief written all over your face.

Joel groans, dragging a hand down his face. “Tried to move a goddamn pallet full’a concrete bags.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, fighting the pull of a smile that’ll only get you into trouble.

“That’s it?”

He glares down at you. “They were heavy.”

You try to suppress a laugh and fail. “Clearly.”

His head tips back against the couch again, eyes closing, but there’s less tension in his body now. You can sense that he’s still a little riled, but still, his knee brushes gently against your shoulder, a subtle need to be close somehow.

“Shouldn’t you be sleepin’ already, kid?”

You pout, resting your chin on his knee as you look up at him. “You tellin’ me you forgot about my shift?” you ask, feigning offence. “Huh, so that’s why I had to beg for a ride home from someone else.”

Joel’s brow tics upwards, his eyes opening again, giving you a firm, pointed look.

“Beg, huh?”

“Don’t worry,” you sigh softly, playing it up. “Ethan took pity on me.”

At that, something flashes behind his eyes, not quite jealousy, but a grudge nonetheless.

“Would’a picked you up if I could,” he grumbles, the resentment of missing out clear in his voice.

You laugh softly, placing a hand over his thigh. “Joel, I’m fucking with you - ”

“Got ‘em!” your dad calls from the hallway.

You pull back quickly, twisting to rest your back against the base of the couch, hugging your knees tight to your chest, just to ensure you look as uninterested in Joel as physically possible.

“C’mon idiot,” he grumbles as he steps into the room. “I’m drivin’ you home, should’a never let you drive your truck back here. Stubborn ass.”

Joel pushes up off the couch with a grunt. “I already told ya, I didn’t wanna leave it at the site.” he grumbles, his hand bracing against his lower back.

You stand quickly, your arm linking through his own without thinking.

“Need a hand?” you ask, brows pulled tight together.

Joel’s eyes flick down to your interlocked limbs, pausing briefly before he drags them back to meet your eyes, full of concern.

“Appreciate it darlin’, but I’m good,” he says a little apologetically, unhooking his arm from yours before resting a firm hand at your shoulder, squeezing gently. “Swear.”

He stumbles towards your dad who’s still waiting impatiently in the hall, ushering him forwards with a beckoning hand.

Joel pauses in the doorway to the living area, his hand resting on its wooden frame as he spares you one last glance. He gives you the faintest smile, but it’s warm - it’s your Joel.

“G’night, kid.”

You bite the inside of your lip, giving him a short nod, ignoring the pain that creeps beneath your ribs. It’s torture not holding him, not saying goodbye the way you wish you could.

He seems to understand, eyes falling to your feet, tapping the wood once with his hand before his fingers trail unwillingly away with the step he takes towards the door.

The playful bickering between your dad and Joel quickly resumes as he all but drags him into his truck, your throat tight as you hear the slam of your dads door closing.

His headlights flash through the window, your shadow hovering in front of you like a painful reminder in the silence that you’re alone again. These fleeting moments with Joel only make you miss him all the more.

You huff as you trudge towards the stairs, flicking off the hall light before you drag yourself up to your room.

The space is washed with a dim blue light creeping through your blinds, drowning your sheets with an inviting, cosy allure.

After getting changed and going about your usual nightly rituals, you climb into bed, not bothering to wait for your dad to return before turning in for the night.

You settle on your side and close your eyes, but the effort proves futile despite the late hour. You writhe restlessly, shifting onto your back to stare blankly at the ceiling.

You’re not sure how long you lay there before you’re startled by the vibration of your phone against your nightstand.

“Who the fuck - ” you grumble as you reach for your phone, squinting in the darkness as you try to make out the name flashing across the screen.

Joel.

You answer before the third ring, pulling the phone tight against your ear.

“Hey.” you answer, a little out of breath.

“Hey, darlin’.”

He sounds tired, but his voice alone pours warmth back into the empty space between your ribs.

“Everything alright?” you ask with a sleepy yawn.

He lets out a soft breath that crackles through the receiver. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.. ” he pauses, words coming out a little heavy. “I uh, didn’t wake ya, did I?”

“No,” you laugh against your phone. “Couldn’t sleep.”

He hums knowingly. “Havin’ the same issue.” he agrees. “Look, kid. I - I wanted to say sorry. For bein’ such an ass today.”

The apology takes you by complete surprise. You shift up against your pillows, leaning on one elbow as you flick on the lamp beside you.

“Got nothin’ to apologise for, Joel.” you reassure while stifling another yawn. “Seen you way worse.” you can’t resist adding with a giggle.

“Yeah, well,” he mutters. “Still didn’t mean to snap at both of y’all. I just…”

There’s a pause, one that you let sit, you don’t push him to fill it until he’s ready.

“Didn’t like y’seein’ me like that.”

You wilt, the warmth in your chest twisting with a gentle ache. “Joel - ” you sigh, but he cuts you off.

“Hate feelin’ useless is all,” he says, like the lack of clarification could ever make you think any less of him. “Didn’t want you thinkin’ I’m…”

He trails off, but you understand his fear perfectly, you don’t have to pry it from him. This thing between you, whatever it is - it’s new, fragile.

The fear that comes with it is not only just the secrecy, it’s one that holds a mirror up to just how against the norm your ‘relationship’ really is, puts it on display to pull apart, criticise and judge all aspects.

The difference in your age is only one factor, one that clearly plays on Joel’s mind for reasons other than outside disapproval.

“Hey,” you say, lowering your voice. “I could never think that. Not for one second.”

There’s another pause, but this one doesn’t feel quite so heavy. After a moment, you hear Joel sigh on the other end of the phone.

“I missed ya,” he says finally, like it’s a quiet sin.

You press the phone closer to your ear with a smile, like it’ll play the words on repeat.

“Missed you too,” you whisper, your free hand curling in your sheets and tugging them higher.

“Keep thinkin’ about you,” he continues, his drawl a little deeper. “Sittin’ at my feet earlier, puttin’ your goddamn chin on my knee. Took everythin’ in me not to get hard.”

You fucking hate how easily he sends heat straight between your legs.

“Joel…” you sigh, shifting your thighs together uncomfortably.

“Miss your mouth, baby,” he says, a little bolder. “Miss your hands on me. The way you sound when I touch ya.”

You pull in a slow breath, eyes falling closed as every word lands hot and sticky between your legs.

“Miss the way you feel - ”

“You sure ain’t helping me sleep, y’know?” you whine quietly, unsure whether or not your dad’s home yet.

There’s a pause before you hear Joel’s low chuckle through the receiver.

“Didn’t call you to sleep, darlin’.”

That much is evident by the sound of his belt unbuckling over the phone, and the soft huff that leaves his lips shortly after.

Your stomach flips with anticipation, your own hand slipping beneath the sheets, hesitating just above your underwear.

“Are… are you touchin’ yourself?” you whisper, biting your lip to keep your breath from shaking.

“Mhm, ain’t nothin’ like the feel of you though, baby.”

You pant softly in response, the ache between your legs impossible to ignore as you arch your back a little, your hand sliding beneath your underwear.

There’s already a wet mess clinging to the lace, your fingers running slowly through your folds, dragging the slick of your desire over your clit.

You barely hold back a moan, writhing your hips in frustration. It’s too much, thinking of him in his own space, strong hand dragging over his cock while he thinks of you.

“Joel, I..” you whine.

“What is it, pretty girl?” Joel croons down the line. “Tell me.”

You circle your clit, eyes screwing shut as a searing heat ignites beneath your skin. “Need you.. need you to help me come.”

“Fuck,” he groans, right in your ear. “I’m here, baby. Bet you’re so wet for me already, huh? Touchin’ yourself nice n’slow.”

You nod your head despite the fact he can’t see, pressing your fingers a little harder. “Mhm - fuck, s’not the same, Joel.” you cry, “need you.”

The son of bitch actually laughs, a deep, condescending rasp against your ear.

“Shit,” you pant, thighs clamping together as your legs begin to tremble.

“Want that, do ya?” he drawls. “My tongue? Let me make a goddamn mess of ya while I stretch you open ready for my cock?”

“Yes, Joel - fuck,” you gasp, fingers slowly dropping to tease at your hole. You push two digits in, sighing as you lift your hips to meet the gentle thrust of your hand.

It’s nothing compared to him, but fuck, the slow drag of your fingers pushing to meet the tight knot curled warm inside of you as he groans against your ear is nothing short of euphoric.

“That’s it, good girl,” he groans, the slick of his hand running over his length sounding over the phone. “Keep makin’ those sweet noises. Fuckin’ miss hearin’ you fall apart for me.”

You work your fingers faster, chasing the pleasure that licks right at the base of your belly. You’re close already, pressing your phone flush against your ear to soak up every breathless groan that passes Joel’s lips as he pumps his cock with a tight fist.

It’s a viceral kind of intimacy, the laboured breaths you share as you both fuck yourselves to the thought and sounds of each other.

Your release is dangling just out of reach, so agonisingly close that you writhe against the mattress with a pathetic whine.

Your fingers work over your cunt with intermittent circles at your clit before pushing back into your opening, curling just where you need that last bit of pressure to push you over the edge.

“I’m - Joel, fuck, I’m so…” you trail off as your feet press hard into the mattress.

“Doin’ so good for me baby, that’s it, keep goin’.” he says, but it’s a plea. He’s so fucking close too, just needs your undoing to get him there. “Come for me, - fuck - my good fuckin’ girl.”

It’s a funny thing, the way you fall apart entirely at his command. It’s instinct, an obscene, unearthly desire he can bend to his will.

You flutter tight around your fingers, limbs flooding with a warmth that leaves you weightless against the mattress, crying Joel’s name like it’s the last thing that’ll ever pass your lips.

“Fuck, baby. Killin’ me not feelin’ you - ” he groans, but you can barely acknowledge the way he trails off, still lost in your own pleasure. “Gonna - mmh, gonna come.”

You lose yourself in the sound of him breaking, the primal way he grunts through gritted teeth as he spills over his fist.

You fuck yourself slowly, fingers curling just right to keep your orgasm from ebbing away completely, the heat under your skin pushing you down into a sleepy afterglow.

For a moment, the line is filled with nothing but laboured breath as you both come down, finding grip with reality again.

You pull your fingers from your cunt, rolling onto your front with a satisfied, sleepy sigh. Your cheek presses firm against the pillow, phone still flush against the other side of your face as your eyes flutter closed.

“All good over there baby?” Joel chuckles through the line.

“Mmm.” you manage, phone slipping an inch down your cheek as you fight the sleepy pull of post orgasm bliss.

He laughs again, and even in this state, god it makes your heart ache.

“Looks like I could help y’sleep afterall, hey darlin’?”

You let out a noise somewhere between a hum and laugh, straining to open an eye to stay awake.

It’s hopeless though, the comfort of having him talking in your ear only pushing you further into slumber.

You’re not sure how much time passes with him sitting on the line as you listen to his soft breath and gentle words that conflict far too sweetly with what just happened, but by the time he calls your name, you’re already gone.

He waits a moment, almost reluctant to hang up, not wanting the intimacy of the moment to end. When your gentle breath is the only thing filling the line, he laughs softly, an unfamiliar ache in his chest.

“G’night darlin’.” he whispers, his thumb hesitating over the little red button to end the call.

When he finally hangs up, the dull beep against your ear makes you stir, twisting in the sheets as you find a more comfortable position.

And somewhere, mere miles away, Joel lies awake a little longer, staring at the ceiling, already counting down the hours until he can make you his again.

@joeldjarin @bbyanarchist @cuteanimalmama @jovl-millvr @missladym1981 @mellymbee @picketniffler @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @pattwtf @ashleyfilm @goodvibesonly421 @justajoelsreader @pedritospunk @underchaos @shansphotos @rottingr4ven @cherrygirl19 @sophiabarber2001 @vickie5446 @sheweildsmjolnirs @fairylixie0915 @alfiestreacle @untamedheart81 @churchofjoemiller @morchilluv @ashhlsstuff @mysterialee @joshylanefleet @mani-pedro

#dbf!joel #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #the last of us fanfiction #series: to call you mine #fic rec #joelspeach

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pattwtf · 2 days ago

Text

to call you mine

chapter three: combing through the wreckage

masterlist | series masterlist

“You wanna touch yourself, huh? While I’m here to do it for you?” he scolds, his fingers rubbing slow, torturous circles over your underwear, just barely giving you relief.

“You that fuckin’ pent up?”

Pairing: dbf!Joel x female reader

Summary: Joel’s been avoiding you since things between you well and truly crossed the line. That is, until he shows up at your work, days later, acting like nothing’s changed. You’re rightfully pissed at him, but when Joel gives you a ride home after your shift ends, your ranting is soon silenced when his cock is buried warm in your mouth.

Tags: *SMUT!! MDNI - age gap (24/45), dad’s best friend, some angst, pining, cursing, serving and consumption of alcohol, unwanted drunk attention from a sleazy customer, protective/possessive joel, *female masturbation, *oral sex (m receiving), *fingering, *bodily fluids (good cowgirls swallow!)

Word count: 6.4k

Authors note: oh, here we GO. tysm for all the love here and on ao3, your feedback keeps me going and honestly means so much! pls remember to reblog if you enjoy! dividers by @saradika-graphics ✨

Work is the last place you want to be right now.

It beats the alternative, sure.

Much better than being at home, where your dad keeps innocently mentioning Joel in passing, completely unaware that every time he does, it feels like a knife twisting between your ribs.

Better still, than being alone with your thoughts, where there’s nothing to drown out the hollow ache of missing him.

It’s been three days.

Seventy-two hours since you last saw Joel, felt his touch, heard the heat in his voice brushing against your lips as his fingers stroked deep inside you.

The bar is far too busy for the middle of the week, filled with the kind of rush that should keep your mind too occupied to wander.

The rowdy patrons should be enough to keep you running on autopilot, pouring drinks, cracking jokes, throwing forced smiles at customers who get a little too comfortable when they’re three drinks deep, should leave no room for thinking.

But no matter how hard you try to push it away, no matter how much you attempt to put your focus elsewhere, your mind keeps circling back to the same thing.

Him.

You haven’t even heard from him since the morning you all left the cabin - unless of course, you count a measly thumbs up emoji over text, two days ago.

You’d been sitting in the back of the bar on your break, scrolling absently through your notifications, sipping a lukewarm can of lemonade.

Not expecting anything important, maybe some reminder from your dad about taking the trash out, or a picture of this week's job site.

But then you saw it.

A new message from your dad in the group chat, attached with a picture.

You’d opened it without thinking, completely unprepared for the sight that greeted you.

The picture from the hike.

The one your dad had insisted on taking of the two of you in front of the view, standing far too close, Joel’s arm draped around your form like it belonged there.

Seeing it took you right back to the ridge, remembering his warmth, his touch, the apprehensive tension before you knew what it was like to really feel each other.

Before you truly crossed the line.

Your dad’s caption had been simple, oblivious.

“Damn good view.”

And Joel’s reply?

A fucking thumbs up emoji.

Your fingers had hovered over your screen for a little too long, your chest tightening as you tried to make sense of the hollow feeling settling inside you.

Because the Joel you knew wasn’t impersonal like that.

The Joel you knew, who never hesitated to make some snarky comment, could never resist teasing you about anything, would’ve made a joke, at the very least.

Something about how ridiculous you looked, squinting because the sun was in your eyes, or the fact you look absolutely exhausted, that you clearly couldn’t handle the hike.

But instead, a thumbs up.

It shouldn’t sting as much as it does that this is the only contact you’ve had with him since the cabin.

He’s not even been to the house, the porch where he’d usually sit, beer in hand, joking with your dad after a long day's work suddenly feeling incomplete without his presence.

He feels absent from all the spaces he’s always occupied, the ones you took for granted, the ones you never thought about until they were suddenly empty.

It hurts, the way your stomach knots when you picture him.

The way your chest aches when you wonder if he’s just as tormented as you are, if he’s been haunted by the thought of you, the same way you’ve been entirely consumed by thoughts of him.

Maybe, you shouldn’t care, shouldn’t want him to reach out.

And yet, you do.

Because you’d felt the way he wanted you, needed you.

Felt the desperation in the way he’d touched you, the way he kissed you like he’d been holding back for too long.

You hate that it’s lingering, weighing on you like this, can’t stand that he has this kind of power over you.

More so, you can’t believe that you’re standing here, stewing over a man who hasn’t even had the decency to look you in the eye since he buried his hand between your thighs, moaning warm against your ear how much he wanted you.

But most of all, you hate how badly you still want him.

Click.

A sharp snap cuts through your spiralling thoughts.

Your head jerks to the side just as your coworker, Ethan, clicks his fingers in front of your face again, his expression half amused, half exasperated.

“Hey, trouble. You in there?”

You blink rapidly, pulling yourself back to the present, shaking your head like it’ll clear the mess still tangled in your thoughts.

“Jesus,” Ethan mutters, leaning against the counter. “Been calling your name for like, a full minute. Thought you were about to astral project or some shit.”

You exhale, rolling your shoulders back, pasting a smile onto your face. “Yeah, well. Maybe I was trying to escape.”

Ethan smirks, crossing his arms over his all black uniform. “Wherever you went must’ve sucked, because you looked pissed.”

You scoff, grabbing a glass, reaching for the tap, focusing on the steady pour of amber liquid instead of the way your chest still feels too tight. “Just tired.”

It’s a lie, but it’s an easy one.

One Ethan accepts with a small shrug, because he knows just as well as you do that this job will run you into the ground if you let it.

The bar is in full swing, surprisingly crowded with a middle of the week rush that always takes you by surprise, setting a pace that keeps you on your toes.

Ethan slides past you, his shoulder brushing yours as he grabs two shot glasses, setting them on a tray before spinning effortlessly back around.

“You better wake up, loser,” he teases, nudging your foot with his own before grabbing a bottle from the top shelf. “We’re barely getting started.”

He’s right.

You envy these people for having so little to care about for them to be on some midweek, drunken push to get them through to the weekend, their biggest worry being a call to their boss, lying about a hangover in the morning.

It’s loud, voices overlapping, glasses clinking, the bass of whatever song is playing thrumming beneath your feet.

You try to lose yourself in the mundane rhythm of it, grateful for the constant motion, something to keep your thoughts focused anywhere but on the man who has occupied them for the last three days.

So you do what you do best. Pour, pass, fake a laugh.

You and Ethan work in sync, dodging around each other with ease.

“You’re slacking,” he calls over his shoulder as he hands off another round of drinks across the counter, folding a tip into his back pocket.

You scoff dramatically, tossing your dishcloth at him. “You’re so full of shit.”

He catches it easily, tucking it into his apron. “Hey, ain’t my fault I’m the faster server,” he shrugs with a grin.

You huff, shaking your head, the tightness in your chest loosening just slightly beneath Ethan’s familiar teasing.

You take a step back towards the bar, ready to serve the next customer as you hurl another insult over your shoulder.

“You’re lucky you’re funny, Ethan, ‘cause you sure as hell - ”

“Whiskey, neat.”

The rest of your sentence dies abruptly on your lips as a new voice cuts through, one that’s entirely too familiar.

You stiffen, feet stuck to the floor like glue, heart stuttering painfully in your chest. It’s a voice you’ve longed to hear all week, but right now, it knocks you completely off kilter.

You turn slowly, your eyes landing on Joel, sitting far too casually at the bar.

Your mouth goes dry.

He looks back at you, expression unreadable - calm, composed, maddeningly steady, as if the past three days of radio silence were all in your imagination.

He’s leaning forwards, forearms resting against the bar, fingers idly tracing the rim of a beer coaster.

You swallow hard, the shock of his presence genuinely rendering you speechless.

He’s here.

After three days of nothing, no messages, no calls, not even a glimpse of him - he’s right in front of you like nothing ever happened.

Ethan’s voice pulls you back, the sound barely audible through the roaring pulse in your ears.

“Hey, you good?”

You blink quickly, nodding as you force yourself back into motion, reaching mechanically for the whiskey bottle behind you.

Your hands shake slightly as you pour, enough that you have to tighten your grip on the bottle, before sliding the glass towards Joel with a little too much force.

Joel catches it smoothly, eyes never leaving yours.

“Thanks, darlin’.”

You nod stiffly, grabbing a dishrag and wiping down the bar with a little more force than necessary before you glance up to him with a neutral expression.

Joel takes a slow sip of whiskey, eyes holding the heavy weight of everything neither of you is willing to voice.

Your pulse is a frantic rhythm beneath your skin, your chest tight and uncomfortable as you fight the urge to demand answers.

Where the hell have you been, why haven’t you called, do you regret it?

The questions nearly burst free, but you bite them back, swallowing hard as you deliberately turn your attention elsewhere, grabbing an empty glass off the counter just for something to occupy your hands.

The moment stretches uncomfortably, tension hanging thick between you and Joel until you step away, forced to busy yourself with another customer.

Even still, you feel Joel’s eyes burning into you, heat crawling up the back of your neck as you fulfil another order, willing yourself to not be distracted by his persistent attention as you count out the change for the guy you just served.

A sudden presence at your side makes you jump, Ethan leaning in so only you can hear him.

“Who’s the guy?”

“Friend of my dad’s,” you mumble, too aware of how weak the explanation sounds. “They uh, work together.”

Ethan’s eyebrows lift, clearly sensing something you’re not saying, but he doesn’t press.

Instead, his lips curl into a knowing smile, amused, perceptive. “Got it.”

You shoot him a look that warns him not to pry, turning back to glance at Joel just as another man's voice cuts across the bar, slurred and overly confident.

“Hey, sweetheart, how ‘bout you bring that pretty ass down here and pour me another? Got a tip with your name on it.”

Your stomach knots instantly, dread creeping down your spine.

Irritation prickles under your skin, the familiar kind that comes with working in a place like this, where a forced smile is often mistaken for an invitation.

Before you can tell him exactly where to shove his ‘tip’, Joel beats you to it.

He moves, fast, body angling protectively as he pins the man with a sharp, heated glare, his forearm flexing against the counter as he cages him in.

“Think you better watch your goddamn mouth,” Joel warns, his voice low but dangerously calm.

The man scoffs, his bleary eyes flicking drunkenly over Joel’s form, sizing him up.

“Who the fuck are you, her daddy?”

A sudden heat crawls up your neck.

Joel’s jaw tightens visibly, his expression clouded with a barely restrained anger. “Somebody who thinks you better show her a little respect.”

The customer doesn’t take the hint.

Instead, he snickers, eyes darting from you back to Joel, clearly amused. “Oh, relax, old timer. Just havin’ a little fun.”

Joel huffs a humourless laugh, his head tilting slightly, a warning.

“Didn’t look like she was laughin’.”

The man scoffs, clearly emboldened now, leaning onto the bar with a smirk.

“What, she yours or somethin’?” he points a dirty finger between the two of you. “’Cause from where I’m sitting, she don’t look like she needs protectin’.”

There’s a dangerous beat of silence.

Your blood pumps erratic and uneven in your veins, your body betraying you with the way it reacts to the claim buried beneath the man’s presumptuous words.

Joel’s jaw clenches, his knuckles turning white around his whiskey glass.

Thankfully, before it can escalate any further, Ethan is at the other side of the bar, stepping between the two men.

“Alright buddy,” he says lightly, but there’s heat beneath it, a firm hand clamping down on the guy’s shoulder. “Think you better go have your fun someplace else.”

The man waits a beat, lingering just long enough to make a half-assed show of standing his ground, staring Joel down, whose eyes remain unwaveringly locked on his.

Joel takes a step forwards, his broad chest commanding the space, almost daring the man to challenge him with a tilt of his jaw.

Eventually, with a final sneer, he shoves off the barstool, knocking against Ethan’s shoulder as he makes for the exit, cursing the three of you under his breath.

Joel watches him leave, eyes stuck to his form, not breathing until the door finally falls closed on his sleazy ass.

He turns back to you, eyes still burning, a protective edge radiating from every tense muscle in his body.

You feel it in the air between you, the quiet anger still simmering beneath his skin.

“You alright?” he asks quietly, the softness of his voice at complete odds with the storm still raging behind his eyes.

You nod slowly, heart hammering violently in your chest. “Yeah,” you whisper. “I’m okay.”

Joel’s nostrils flare slightly as he takes a steadying breath, giving you a sharp nod, his jaw still tight.

You step away again, somewhat reluctantly this time, busying yourself with drying the glasses fresh from the small dishwasher tucked beneath the bar.

A sudden, low whistle beside you breaks through the rigid air.

Ethan lets out a slow, impressed exhale, shaking his head slightly as he steps in line beside you, grabbing a towel to help you dry up as he watches Joel from across the bar.

“Damn,” he mutters under his breath. “Seems a little intense for just a friend of your dad’s, huh?”

You tense, your stomach flipping uncomfortably at the way he says it, not really a question, just an observation.

You shove your elbow into his ribs, maybe a little a little harder than necessary.

“Shut up,” you laugh, pointing a warning finger at him with an uncontained smirk. “I mean it. I’ll cancel that shift I said I’d cover for you.”

Ethan howls, doubling over slightly, rubbing his ribs with an exaggerated wince.

Despite yourself, you fall into a quiet fit of laughter too, the strained atmosphere somewhat slackening.

The night drags on, but your mind stays stuck in that moment.

Stuck on the way Joel moved without hesitation, stepping between you and that idiot at the bar.

The prouder side of you wants to be pissed, to tell him he had no right to show up acting like he cares now, that you can handle yourself.

But honestly?

It felt fucking good seeing him be protective of you.

Possessive.

For the rest of the evening, you keep your hands busy refilling glasses, wiping surfaces, tossing casual smiles at customers that don’t quite reach your eyes.

But none of it matters, because Joel is still here, sitting at the bar nursing his whiskey like he’s got nowhere else to be.

And maybe he doesn’t, maybe, he’s just waiting.

It takes you longer than you’d like to admit to finally turn around and face him again, but when you do, he’s still watching you intently.

You approach slowly, the air growing heavier with every step you take towards him, fingers tightened around a cloth as you lean into the counter to keep yourself steady.

When you stop just short of him, you swallow hard.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you say softly, voice low enough that no one else can hear. “I deal with assholes like that every night.”

Joel’s jaw tightens, tension rippling down his neck.

“Yeah. I did.”

The answer is instant, firm with a tone of finality, like there was never another option.

He downs the last of his whiskey, sliding the empty glass towards you, his fingers brushing against the wooden bar as he retrieves his hand slowly.

You bite the inside of your cheek, toying with the glass between your fingers, your thumb sliding absently along its rim.

“You closin’ tonight?” he asks, his voice deceptively casual.

You can read between the lines of what he’s asking, but still, you nod slowly. “Yeah. Why?”

Joel pauses, eyes flicking to the bar, his fingers tapping against the wood once, twice, as he comes to some kind of decision.

“I’ll wait outside. Drive you home.”

You soften, shaking your head instinctively. “Joel, you don’t have to - ”

“Wasn’t askin’.” he cuts in.

His voice isn’t harsh, but it’s firm, leaving no room for argument.

It silences you, your lips pressing into a tight line as a faint, familiar lick of heat finds its way back to the pit of your stomach.

Before you can respond, he slides off his stool, dropping the payment for his drink onto the bar, and heads towards the door.

You reach out to grab the notes laying scattered on the counter, your stomach dropping as you mull over exactly what this means.

Tonight, neither of you are getting away without finally confronting what happened between you.

The rest of your shift passes at a painfully slow crawl.

It feels like an eternity before the last customer finally clears out, leaving the bar quiet and eerily still, an almost suffocating contrast to the chaos earlier.

You sigh, leaning against the bar, eyes fluttering closed as you drag your palms down your face, exhaustion slowly catching up.

Your fingers tremble slightly as you turn the key in the register, locking it up for the night.

You try to push away the nervous energy curling tightly in your stomach, but it proves useless, knowing what’s waiting for you outside.

But despite everything, the silence, avoidance, the hurt still festering beneath your ribs, you want it.

You need to see him.

You stack the last few glasses away behind the bar before shutting off the main lights, plunging the bar into darkness, save for the glow of the neon sign still humming softly above the entrance.

Ethan is lingering near the back door, slipping off his apron, stretching with a deep groan.

“Need a ride?” he asks casually, rolling his shoulders.

You glance at him, hesitating for a second too long.

For a moment, you consider it - almost say yes, almost take the easy way out.

Instead, you force a tight, practiced smile. “I’m good. Already got one.”

Ethan pauses, brows raising suggestively. “Yeah? Anyone special?”

You swallow hard, shaking your head quickly, hauling your bag over your shoulder like the weight of the conversation hasn’t just doubled.

“Knock it off,” you say with a laugh, an attempt to keep your voice level. “It’s just a ride.”

Ethan hums, unconvinced.

“Alright,” he grins, stepping towards the door. “See you tomorrow, then.”

You nod, watching him disappear into his car, waiting until the engine stutters to life and he slowly pulls away with an obnoxious honk of his horn.

You step outside, pulling the door closed, keys quickly finding the lock before your fingers punch in the code for the alarm.

Your palms feel too warm, the apprehension in your stomach making you feel a sickly kind of unease.

With a steadying breath, you push away from the door and head towards the parking lot.

Your eyes find Joel instantly, standing by his truck, arms crossed, head tilted slightly, watching you like he’s been waiting for this moment all night.

The air feels charged, thick with something more than just the summer heat as you slowly approach the truck.

He watches you carefully, his eyes darker than usual beneath the shadows cast by the dim parking lot lights.

“Hey,” he murmurs quietly, tense but gentle.

You swallow hard. “Hey.”

The word comes out smaller than you mean it to, like the air is too thick for your voice to travel properly.

Joel pushes off the side of his truck and opens the passenger door, waiting silently.

You climb inside, sliding onto the worn leather seat as he shuts the door firmly behind you, the sound reverberating through your chest.

He rounds the hood slowly, like he’s buying time.

Your hands rest in your lap, fingers twisting together as he finally settles in beside you.

Joel doesn’t speak.

Just shifts into drive, guiding the truck smoothly onto the road, the low hum of the engine filling the silence.

But it’s not enough to drown out the weight between you.

The weight of three days of silence.

Three days of questions, frustration, longing, not knowing where you both stand.

“You gonna say something?” you blurt, voice tighter than you want it to be. “Or are we just gonna go on actin’ like nothing happened?”

Joel’s fingers flex around the steering wheel, his jaw tight as he forces out a tired breath, his eyes remaining fixed on the road.

Avoidance.

Your stomach knots, irritation flaring hot beneath your skin. “You’re unbelievable.” you bite.

He scoffs, shaking his head. “What the hell do you want me to say, kid?”

You bite back a humourless laugh. “How about why the hell you’ve avoided me for three days?” you demand, frustration and hurt mingling in your voice.

“I wasn’t - ” he cuts himself off, rubbing a hand over his beard in exasperation, his voice tight with restraint. “I was tryin’ to stay away.”

The words hit you like a slap to the face.

“Trying to stay away.” you repeat, your voice entirely hollow. “And that’s supposed to make me feel better?”

“Ain’t about makin’ you feel better,” he sighs. “It’s about doin’ the right thing.” He punctuates the last two words by rhythmically tapping a stiff hand against the steering wheel.

A bitter laugh escapes before you can stop it.

“The right thing? That’s bullshit, Joel. You can’t just put your hands on me, kiss me like that, say the things you did - then disappear, like it didn’t happen.”

His eyes flick to you for a split second, his expression tight, pained.

“It happened,” he says, nodding slowly. “Ain’t sayin’ it didn’t.”

“Then what?” you demand. “Why shut me out? You’ve not even stopped by the house.”

“You think I didn’t want to?” he raises his voice.

You frown, faltering slightly, not expecting the edge in his tone.

He lets out a deep sigh. “You don’t get it.”

You exhale a sharp scoff. “Then make me get it, Joel.”

Joel glances at you, rolls his eyes when he’s met with the disbelieving look on your face.

“Every day, I’m workin’ side by side with your dad, listenin’ to him talk, laughin’ with him, actin’ like - ” he trails off, shaking his head. “Like I didn’t have my hands all over his daughter three nights ago.”

His words land heavily, sinking into the space between you, wrapping around your ribs like a vice.

“Joel - ”

“I see him every damn day,” he interrupts, his grip on the wheel turning his knuckles white. “And all I can think about is you. About how wrong it all is.”

The words come out strained, like the guilt has been eating him alive, the weight crushing him.

All you can do is look at him.

You try to find the right words, ones that tell him you’re sorry he’s been feeling this way, but your own anger gets in the way.

You stare at him, watching his side profile, the furrow of his brow, the tight set of his jaw.

Your eyes burn. It feels fucking stupid.

“Three days, Joel.”

That's all you can say.

“It wasn’t easy for me either.” he says with a quiet exasperation.

“Then why the fuck did you do it?” you push, voice rising.

His control finally shatters.

“Because I thought it’d be fuckin’ easier for the both of us." Joel snaps, his voice sharp, heated.

The words are spat through gritted teeth, his frustration bleeding into every syllable.

Before you can fire back, he yanks the steering wheel, veering to pull up on the side of the road, tires kicking up gravel as the truck rocks slightly before lurching to a stop.

His chest is heaving, his breath hot and uneven, hands gripping the wheel like he’s holding himself back from reaching out for you.

“I thought if I gave us space, if I stayed away, maybe this,” he gestures between you both, “would all go back to normal.”

The words hang between you, heavy and hopeless.

You stare at him, anger curling tight around the longing you’ve been trying so damn hard to fight.

“And did it?”

Joel huffs a dry laugh, running a rough hand over his face, eyes burning when they meet yours again.

“No,” he sighs. “Not one damn bit.”

The admission softens your anger slightly, takes away the sting of rejection you’d been feeling.

You nod, the air between you shifting.

“So what now?” you whisper, your eyes dropping to your lap.

Joel doesn’t answer right away.

Instead, he moves.

Leans closer, reaches a hesitant hand out towards you, waiting for you to pull away, to tell him where the hell to go.

When you don’t flinch, don’t pull back, his rough hand curls gently around your jaw, tilting your face up until you have no choice but to look at him.

His thumb drags slowly along your bottom lip, like he’s mapping you out, committing you to memory.

“I’m done stayin’ away.”

Your brows knit together, not out of anger, but fear.

“Don’t fucking say that if you don’t mean it.” you plead.

He tilts his head, the look on his face begging you to relent, to stop reading into everything so much.

The truck is too quiet, filled only with the sound of your shallow, apprehensive breathing, your heart pounding mercilessly against your ribs.

You know exactly where this is headed.

Yet, even now, after everything, a defiant part of you still pushes back, still fights to keep control.

“Maybe it would’ve been easier if you’d actually talked to me, instead of just making decisions for the both of us.”

Joel’s eyes flash dangerously, the muscle of his jaw tightening as he stares you down. “Don’t start.” he warns.

But you can’t help yourself, the past three days of hurt forcing you down a path of reckless defiance.

“Or what? You’ll just disappear again? Keep ignoring me until - ”

Joel’s thumb presses hard against your lips, silencing you instantly, your protest dissolving into a shaky exhale through your nose.

Your pulse jumps.

You should pull away, but you can’t.

His touch is firm, possessive - dominant in a way that makes your entire body burn.

“You never fuckin’ stop, do you?” he growls. “Always got somethin’ to say.”

You jerk your chin away from his grip, glaring back at him, even as your body leans towards his touch.

“Maybe you’re just an asshole who doesn’t like hearing the truth.”

Joel sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose between thick fingers. “Goddamn it kid, you got such smart mouth, you know that?”

You cross your arms over your chest with a sickly sweet smile.

“Didn’t have any complaints about my mouth when you were sliding your tongue into it the other night.” you shoot back, ignoring how your blood thrums with heat, how badly you want him.

Joel’s eyes drop to your mouth, eyes narrowing slightly.

He drags his thumb slowly along your chin, pressing gently until your lips part under his touch.

“You wanna keep talkin’ back?” he murmurs. “Or you gonna shut the hell up?”

Your body tightens as he slides his thumb into your mouth, pressing firm against your tongue.

You close your lips around him instinctively, your tongue dragging along the rough pad of his thumb, obedient in a way that makes his nostrils flare.

Your eyes flick up to his, watching for his reaction as you suck slowly, hollowing your cheeks around his thumb.

Then, you release him with a soft, gentle pop.

“You gonna make me?”

Something dark flickers in Joel’s eyes, a low growl rumbling deep in his chest.

“Be a good girl,” he grits through his teeth, unbuckling his belt with one hand, eyes locked onto yours. “And show me you know how to behave.”

Oh.

Heat surges between your thighs, the need you feel to please him as instinctual as the air you breathe into your lungs.

You don’t even hesitate before pulling your knees up onto the passenger seat, slipping your legs beneath you.

His eyes darken, his breath rough and uneven as you reach out towards his lap, hands shaking.

“That’s it,” he encourages, his voice straining as your fingers brush against him, freeing him fully.

You pause briefly at the size of him, looking up at him with wide eyes.

“Joel - ”

He strokes his thumb over your cheek, the gesture unexpectedly tender given the intensity of the situation.

“You can take it, darlin’,” he says, gentler now, reassuring.

You nod, biting your lip as you lean further over the centre console towards him.

His hand moves slowly, tangling firmly into your hair, gripping tight enough to tilt your head back, exposing your throat to him.

“Open.”

You part your lips and he groans at the sight of you so pliant and willing to obey.

You let him guide you to his lap, edging his hard cock slowly past your mouth, feeling the hot, heavy weight of him on your tongue.

Joel moans above you, your cunt clenching around nothing just at the sound. He’s slow and careful at first, a shuddering breath escaping him as you get used to him, work yourself up to take him all the way.

His grip tightens on your hair as your tongue slides along the underside of his length, earning a low growl that vibrates through every nerve ending in your body.

“Fuck,” Joel hisses through gritted teeth. “That’s it baby, keep goin’.”

His praise sends heat flooding through you, fueling your determination, your head bobbing up and down like it’s your only purpose to make him feel good.

You’re wet and needy, desperate for more, to hear and feel the way his body responds to you.

Joel shifts his hips upwards, careful as he slides deeper, testing your limits, knowing exactly how far to push.

His cock presses hard against the back of your throat, and you accept it greedily.

“Look at me,” Joel chokes. “Lemme see you, darlin’.”

You lift your eyes as you continue to take him, watching his control shatter.

“Jesus,” he breathes, eyes dark with an unrelenting desire. “So pretty on my cock, huh?”

His fingers cradle your scalp, guiding you, working you slowly along his cock, your mouth stretching around him warm and tight.

You can still sense his restraint, feel the way he’s holding himself back, muscles trembling, trying not to push too hard.

And you don’t want that.

You press forwards, hollowing your cheeks, letting the tip of his cock pass the back of your throat. You groan softly, his hold loosening on your hair, but you diminish his worries with a defiant hum around his length, forcing him deep again.

Spit drips from the side of your mouth, your hand reaching to wrap around the base of his cock, stroking the slick over the parts of him you can’t reach.

The sound that rips from his chest is guttural.

His head tips back against the seat, one hand tangling back into your hair, the other gripping the steering wheel so tight his knuckles go white.

“Attagirl - fuck - just like that,” he groans, grunting as his jerks his hips upwards. “Knew you’d be good for me.”

His words send a lick of heat racing down your spine, pooling low in your belly, your own arousal growing unbearable. You let out a muffled sound of frustration, wanting more, needing more.

Joel chuckles breathlessly, noticing it instantly.

“Oh, baby,” he drawls, his tone teasing. “Ain’t enough for you, is that it?”

You whimper around him, the vibration making him hiss sharply through his teeth as you grind your hips pathetically against nothing.

”Goddamn it,” he pants, dragging your mouth down faster along his cock. “Wanna fuckin’ ruin you, you know that?”

That does it.

You press your thighs together, but it’s not enough.

You pull your hand back, slipping your fingers beneath your skirt, pressing gentle fingertips against your clit to relieve the impossible ache there.

“Oh, you like that, huh?” he chuckles through a dark, teasing rasp. “Like knowin’ how bad I wanna fuck you?”

You moan softly around him, your breathing pulling through your nose in quick, desperate inhales.

You can’t stop yourself, slipping your fingers deep into your cunt like it will fill the empty ache, like it will ever match up to how you need to feel his cock stretch you open.

He knocks your hand away, his palm falling flat over your thigh, firm and possessive. “That ain’t for you to do.”

Your sobs are muffled again, your frustration and desperation making you tremble.

Joel shifts, his hand sliding between your thighs, cupping you through your clothes, fingers pressing exactly where you need him.

“You wanna touch yourself, huh? While I’m here to do it for you?” he scolds, his fingers rubbing slow, torturous circles over your underwear, just barely giving you relief.

“You that fuckin’ pent up?”

He pulls you from his cock, saliva dripping over your chin as you suck in a sharp breath, his hold on your hair forcing you to sit upright.

His eyes lock onto the swell of your lips, rubbing a gentle thumb over your mouth, using it to wipe the spit away from your chin before pressing the digit into his mouth, sucking it clean.

“Words baby. You want me to touch you?” he murmurs, kissing the corner of your mouth.

You nod your head desperately. “Please, Joel, need to feel you,” you mewl, lips trembling with need.

He hums thoughtfully, pressing his thumb hard against your clit. You grind your hips forwards with a sharp gasp, your hands reaching to grip his shirt tight between your fists.

His thick fingers bypass your underwear, not even attempting to get you used to him before he pushes into your cunt, curling to meet the desperate knot of desire wound tight in your abdomen.

“Should’ve known you’d be this wet, just from havin’ me in your mouth,” he drawls against your ear. “Such a dirty girl.”

Before you can react, before you can even moan his name, he's pushing you back down onto his cock, guiding your mouth back along his length, matching the rhythm of his fingers curling into you.

“You gonna come just from this, baby?” he murmurs, slipping in a third finger, stretching you open for him. “From my fuckin’ fingers? Suckin’ on my cock?”

“Mhmm,” you manage, your body burning, so close to release already that you can’t even think.

Your hands grip at his thighs, nails digging into the denim of his jeans as you continue to work your mouth along his length.

His breath is laboured, muscles tense, holding onto his resolve just enough to keep himself from falling apart completely.

He’s waiting for you to get there too, you can feel the way he’s barely holding on in the way he’s bucking his hips upwards involuntarily, any kind of rhythm lost.

The idea of him coming undone for you is enough to make you roll your hips against him, coaxing his fingers deeper, harder into your cunt.

“Look at you,” Joel laughs, voice dripping with satisfaction. “So fuckin’ needy for me, ain’t ya?”

The words alone nearly send you over the edge.

You nod as well as you can with his cock lodged in your mouth, swirling your tongue around him to pull him closer too.

Joel watches you intently, voice lowering to a deep, ruined rasp.

“Go on, baby,” he urges, his fingers curling just right, his other hand pressing against the back of your head, still guiding you over his cock. “Come for me.”

And just like that, you fall apart in his hands, thighs pressing together around his wrist, riding the wave of sharp, blinding heat that wrecks through your limbs as he keeps his fingers moving, letting you take everything he’s got to give.

“That’s my girl,” he breathes, his body straining beneath you.

The sounds you make are barely audible, but still, they’re enough to have him cursing under his breath, pushing him over the edge.

“Fuck,” Joel grunts, his hips bucking, thighs flexing beneath your palms. “Goddamn - baby, I’m gonna come, you can - shit, you can pull off.”

You tighten a hand around the base of his cock, unwilling to let a single drop of him go to waste, head moving up and down in defiance, a silent plea for him to give in to you.

He grunts, hands reaching to grip the steering wheel, his entire body going tense as he finally gives in, finally lets himself fall apart.

He pulses hard on your tongue, spilling himself into your mouth with a strangled, breathless groan, your name tumbling from his lips, head tipping back against the seat.

You swallow instinctively, warmth flooding your throat as you ease off him slowly, carefully, your body still humming with need.

Joel’s hands immediately cup your face, tilting your chin upwards, his thumb wiping the slick from your swollen bottom lip.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” he breathes, chest rising and falling fast beneath the hand you rest against him.

His eyes search your face, still warm with desire but softened by something else, something tender. “You alright?”

You nod weakly, leaning into his touch, your breaths shaky. “Yeah,” you whisper.

Joel leans his forehead against yours, his nose nudging yours gently as his fingers stroke carefully through your hair as you both come down.

Eventually, he leans back, looks out of the window at the deserted road, running his hand over his beard like he’s trying to force himself back to reality.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he murmurs softly, adjusting his jeans with a faint, tired smirk. “Let’s get you home, before your dad starts wonderin’ where the hell you are.”

You hum in response, smiling faintly as you sit back into the passenger seat.

Joel puts the truck into gear, pulling back onto the road as he fastens his seatbelt.

He glances at you from the corner of his eye, expression softening when he notices your quiet stillness.

“We’re gonna talk more about this,” he says, voice firm but reassuring. “But not tonight.”

You nod slowly, resting your head back against the seat, exhaustion threatening to pull your eyes closed.

“Okay.”

He reaches over the centre console, his palm gently covering the hand resting on your lap.

His warmth comforts you in a way that makes those worries fade into the background.

For now, this is enough.

@alfiestreacle @joeldjarin @bbyanarchist @cuteanimalmama @jovl-millvr @missladym1981 @mellymbee @picketniffler @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @pattwtf @ashleyfilm @goodvibesonly421 @justajoelsreader @pedritospunk @underchaos @shansphotos @rottingr4ven @cherrygirl19 @sophiabarber2001 @vickie5446 @sheweildsmjolnirs @fairylixie0915

#dbf!joel #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #the last of us fanfiction #dbf!joel miller #joelspeach #series: to call you mine #fic rec

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pattwtf · 3 days ago

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Where I do sign for mornings like this?

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pattwtf · 3 days ago

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“Fuck it if I can’t have him….”

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pattwtf · 4 days ago

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HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELP OMG, I need to keep reading, bye

to call you mine

chapter two: upper hand

masterlist | series masterlist

“Gotta keep quiet, baby.”

Baby. Oh, you’re so fucked.

“Your daddy’s only down the hall.”

Pairing: dbf!Joel x female reader

Summary: Your dad decides dragging you and Joel on a hike in the sweltering sun is the perfect way to spend the day. Of course, he has no idea that’s not the only thing prickling your skin with an uncomfortable heat - because things between you and Joel.. oh, they’re about to take a turn that there’s no coming back from.

Tags: SMUT* MDNI- age gap (24/45), dad’s best friend, consumption of alcohol, more unbearable tension and flirting, cursing, kissing!!!, *fingering (oh boy), guilt

Wc: 7.5k

Authors note: let’s kick it up a notch, shall we? 😎 as always, reblogs and feedback are always so appreciated and make my day entirely!! enjoy my loves! 🖤✨ dividers by @saradika-graphics

The fire had burned out by the time you finally turned in last night, the flames reduced to nothing but dim, glowing embers.

Joel hadn’t said a single word about what had happened between the two of you in the kitchen.

No sly comment for you to read between the lines of while the three of you spent the night drinking, your dad getting looser with every beer.

Not a single snide remark aimed your way when you played a few rounds of cards, despite the amount of times you lost that provided him with plenty of opportunity to tease you the way he usually would.

Even when your dad sleepily slumped back against the sofa, the warm haze of alcohol having softened his edges just enough for him to announce he was heading to bed, he didn’t say a word.

Joel just carried on like nothing had happened.

Like his hands hadn’t lingered on your skin only hours earlier.

Acted like he hadn’t purposely lured you into the kitchen alone, leaned in too close and let his words wrap around you like a slow pull of heat - hadn’t left your body restless, wanting.

Maybe, you should be grateful.

Perhaps, you should have found some relief in the fact that he’d kept it casual, never let his gaze linger too long, never let his smirk give him away.

And yet, you were somewhat disappointed.

Confused.

Because you felt it still, that pull between you both.

Felt it in the subtle brush of his fingers when he passed you another drink, fresh from the cooler, the cold glass against your skin still doing little to curb the heat running through your veins.

You’d felt it in the shift of his knee beneath the table, just barely brushing against yours, but still enough for you to have to hide the catch of your breath behind a cough, taking long swigs of your drink to numb the conflict between your head, and your body's reactions to his touch.

There were a few times you’d caught him looking at you when he’d clearly thought you weren’t watching.

Times when your dad was mid sentence of some story you’d both heard a hundred times, laughing with his head thrown back, eyes heavy lidded from too much beer.

There’d be a trace of something in his expression, something a little tortured, reserved, before he dragged his gaze away again.

Almost as if, maybe, he hadn’t been quite as unaffected as he wanted to let on.

Now, in the stillness of the morning, it’s all you can think about.

The porch steps are warm beneath your legs as you sit basking in the morning sunshine, fingers curled tightly around the mug in your hands. The coffee inside is strong and slightly bitter, with just a hint of the cinnamon creamer you always insist on bringing for trips like this.

The world outside the cabin is already thick with warmth, the sticky edge of summer lingering even in the shade, though the morning still holds a hint of last night’s cooler breeze.

To say you’re tired is an understatement - it’s far more than that.

It’s the kind of exhaustion that comes from too much overthinking.

A night spent staring at the ceiling with your pulse skipping every time you’d allowed your mind to drift back to the way Joel’s words had stirred something deep inside you, the memory only more intense in the dark.

You sigh, stretching your legs out, your muscles still stiff from twisting and turning all night on such an uncomfortable mattress.

To your dismay, the door creaks open behind you, interrupting your escape into the quiet solace outside.

You tense slightly but don’t turn. You don’t have to.

You can feel that it’s him - can hear it in the hesitant step he takes forwards, his weight creaking the wooden floor beneath his boots.

Your eyes flicker closed briefly, an attempt to steady yourself before you acknowledge his presence.

His steps continue forwards, closer, closer until he’s lowering himself onto the wooden step beside you, holding a steaming cup of coffee in one hand.

“Didn’t realise you were out here.”

His voice is deep, gruff in a way that makes something flutter deep in your belly.

You hate how much you notice it.

The way the sound rumbles through his chest, the faint rasp in his drawl, like he hasn’t fully shaken off sleep yet.

Your fingers tighten around your mug. “Got sick of your snoring.” you smirk, nudging his side with your elbow.

“That’d be your dad.” he knocks your knee with his own in retaliation, your coffee almost spilling over the rim of your mug. “Ain’t slept a goddamn wink” he laughs with a shake of his head.

Your mouth pulls up into an involuntary smile, the unexpected ease between you providing you with a sense of comfort. It’s enough for you to let your shoulders drop, the tension in your posture subsiding for now.

A comfortable, unrushed silence settles between you both, a quiet kind of peace you only find in mornings in the wilderness, the distant rustling of leaves in the warm breeze, birds singing their morning song somewhere far off.

Annoyingly, it leaves little room for you to think about anything else but the man sitting right beside you. Suddenly, you’re far too aware of yourself, how you must look after little to no sleep.

You reach up without thinking, fingers smoothing through your hair, trying to tame the wild mess it must be, seeing as you’d not even thought to drag a brush through it yet. You even rub the sleep from your eyes, just in case he’s looking at you in any kind of detail.

Which is dumb.

So dumb.

Because this is Joel. A man who’s seen you in far worse states, too many times to count.

He’s picked you up from the bar at ungodly hours, your dad blissfully unaware, long into the depths of sleep at the time of your drunken calls.

Dealt with your slurred rambles after one too many drinks, listened to incoherent stories interrupted by tipsy laughter as your head falls back against the passenger seat of his truck.

Not to mention the times he’s pulled over on the side of the road while you hang your head between your knees, trying not to throw up, his hand solid between your shoulder blades as you mumble complaints about how you’d never drink again, all while he just shook his head, amused.

And yet, here you are, suddenly self conscious about how you look to him now.

Joel sips his coffee slowly, before his eyes drop to you, his brow raising.

“How’d you sleep?”

There’s something about the way he says it, the knowing edge to his voice, like he’s already well aware of the answer.

He knows damn well you spent half of the night turning over his words in your head, over analysing the way it felt when he crossed this invisible line between you both.

You bring your coffee to your lips, buying yourself a second before answering.

“Fine.”

Joel hums softly, a sound that shouldn’t make your stomach flip the way it does.

“That so?”

You swallow, your focus still locked on the trees straight ahead.

“Yep.”

Joel chuckles knowingly, the sound sliding down your spine like warm honey. His hand lifts to rest against your knee, lingering longer than it should.

“Figured you might’a been out here so early ’cause you couldn’t sleep.”

You turn to face him, your eyes narrowing. “Any particular reason I should be losin’ sleep?”

His gaze lifts from his hand on your knee to meet your eyes. “You tell me, darlin’?”

The warmth of his fingers still presses against your skin, your eyes flitting between each of his own.

You try to form a coherent sentence, to shrug off his comments with a witty comeback.

But you don’t move, don’t say anything at all. You sit there, coffee slowly cooling in your hands, pliant and willing as Joel pushes further, testing the waters as he trails his fingers down your leg.

Your eyes stay firmly fixed on each other as you fight to keep your breath in your lungs.

“Joel - ” you breathe, the noise barely making its way through the tightness of your chest.

As smoothly as he’d first touched you, he pulls his hand back. There’s a brief moment that his face washes with a faint trace of concern, perhaps wondering if he’s pushing too far.

But the pace of your breathing, the way your eyes fall to his lips, the tight grip of your fingers around your mug - it’s almost as if he can see the way your stomach drops at the loss of his warmth on your skin.

He hums thoughtfully, stretching his legs before he stands. He turns to head back inside, your eyes stuck to his form, the loss of his presence next to you leaving you cold despite the sun glaring down at your feet.

As he reaches the door of the cabin, his hand hesitates on the handle. He turns to look at you, his lips curving when he catches you watching him, a lost look painting your features.

“Be a good girl and keep those eyes to yourself,” he murmurs as he nods towards the cabin door.

“Your daddy’s watchin’.”

And then, he’s gone.

The cabin door creaks shut behind him, leaving you sitting alone, heart hammering, coffee long forgotten thanks to the swirling heat in your abdomen.

Joel might be gone, but his words linger, yet again.

They maybe shouldn’t hit as hard after everything that happened last night, but there’s still a huge part of you that’s struggling to catch up with this change between you.

This feels different though, even from last night's antics. It’s more obvious, maybe less of a test and more of a confirmation.

A silent exchange that tells you he’s done holding back, knows you are too.

You let out a slow exhale, forcing yourself to relax.

You need to pull yourself together.

Joel is just seeing how far he can push you, that’s all this is.

If you let him get in your head, let him know just how much he’s affecting you, then you lose.

And you really, really don’t want to lose.

You stand, rolling your shoulders, setting your still full mug of cold coffee down on the porch railing before heading inside.

The cool darkness inside the cabin provides a bit of relief from the already humid air outside, also serving as a distraction from the needy heat still prickling at your skin.

Your dad is already up.

He’s standing by the small kitchen counter, pouring himself a cup of coffee, still in his old t-shirt and sleep trousers looking as relaxed as you’ve ever seen him.

He glances up when you step inside. “Mornin’, kiddo.”

You force yourself to shake off the strange weight in your chest, offering a small smile. “Hey.”

He lifts his mug towards you slightly. “Joel up?”

Your stomach tightens. Why is he asking you?

You nod, hoping your face doesn’t give anything away. “Yeah. Just saw him outside.”

Your dad grunts in approval, taking a slow sip of coffee. “Good. Thought maybe I’d rope him into goin’ on a hike with us.”

You blink. “A hike?”

Your dad raises an eyebrow. “Yeah. Somethin’ wrong with that?”

Nothing’s wrong with it.

Except that you’re going to have to spend the entire morning pretending that Joel fucking Miller didn’t just wreck your entire nervous system with a single sentence.

You shake your head quickly. “No, that’s fine.”

Your dad gives you a knowing look. “You sure? Thought you might be too tired after stayin’ up all night drinkin’ with us old men.”

You scoff. “I had like, three beers. You’re the one who was downing it like water.”

“Birthday privilege.” he grins.

You roll your eyes, moving past him to grab a bottle of water from the fridge, just as the door to the kitchen pushes open again.

Joel steps inside and your body reacts before your brain can intervene, your pulse skipping.

“Good, you’re up,” your dad says, turning towards him. “Thinkin’ we head out for a hike. You in?”

Joel doesn’t hesitate. “Yeah. Sounds good.”

Of course it does.

You exhale slowly, bracing yourself.

This is fine. It’s just a hike. Just a morning in the woods.

Just you, Joel, and your dad.

Nothing to worry about, right?

The three of you move around the cabin, readying yourselves for what should be a relaxed, unrushed day in the warm sun, resetting and de-stressing before you head back to reality tomorrow.

You move like you’re on autopilot, grabbing an extra water bottle from the fridge for your dad before pulling on your hiking boots near the door.

All the while, you’re trying to act like your thoughts aren’t still tangled up in Joel, all consuming.

He’s acting far too normal again as he pulls on his own boots, adjusts his watch, rolls up the sleeves of his shirt.

You look despite knowing better, eyes trailing over his arms - tanned and strong, veins wrapped thick beneath his skin thanks to the warm air.

Your dad claps his hands together, pulling your attention away from Joel. “Alright, you two ready?”

You nod, clearing your throat. “Yeah.”

Joel hums, standing as he reaches for his bottle of water before his eyes flick to yours.

You drop your gaze, pushing past him towards the door before he can see how much he's affecting you.

The door slams lightly behind you, the warmth outside hitting you instantly, thick air pressing against your skin the second you step onto the porch. It’s not unbearable, but it’s the kind of heat that sticks, clings to the back of your neck, warms the skin behind your knees.

You take a slow breath, willing it to steady you.

The cabin door swings open again behind you, the sound of boots against the wooden floor making you turn.

Joel steps out, adjusting the strap of a small backpack over his shoulder. You don’t look at him, don’t acknowledge him as he steps down onto the dirt beside you.

Your dad is close behind him, locking the door before shoving the keys into the pocket of his cargo shorts.

“Alright, let’s get movin’. Sun’s only gettin’ higher.”

The three of you set off down the narrow dirt path leading from the cabin to the main trail. The trees press in around you as you walk, the forest thick and full of life, the occasional flicker of movement in the brush.

You focus on the rhythmic crunch of your boots against the sunbaked earth as you walk, Joel just a step behind you, ignoring the way his shadow stretches beside yours as the sun filters through the trees.

The trail winds deeper into the woods, your dad confidently taking over the lead, his voice carrying over his shoulder as he recalls stories of past hikes, mis-remembered adventures that seem to change slightly every time he tells them.

You find yourself nodding along, humming quietly, but your thoughts aren’t entirely focused on the conversation.

Not when Joel’s presence feels so close behind you, heavy in every step, every sound he makes as you move further down the trail.

You know you shouldn’t be this aware of him.

Shouldn’t feel your pulse quicken every time the path narrows or the terrain grows uneven, forcing him close as the trail ahead pinches tightly between a cluster of trees and a steep incline, your pace slowing as you edge along it.

“Careful,” Joel murmurs softly, his hand settling firmly at your waist. His touch is warm, fingers pressing gently into your side.

You swallow hard, eyes darting ahead cautiously, but your dad doesn’t even glance back. To him, it’s nothing. Just Joel being careful, looking out for you, like always.

“Thanks.” you mumble quietly.

His palm remains at your waist even after the trail widens again, fingers sliding slowly, almost reluctantly away.

Joel nods. “Don’t mention it.”

You exhale shakily, forcing your focus ahead as you lift your foot to step over a tree root jutting from the ground. Of course, you fucking stumble.

Joel laughs quietly behind you.

“You always this bad at watchin’ your step?” Joel says, hiding his chuckle behind a hand that swipes over his beard, arms crossed over his chest.

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “It’s an uneven trail, Miller. It’s not like I’m tripping over my own feet.”

Joel hums, unconvinced. “Could’a fooled me.”

You shoot him a glare. “You gonna keep hovering over me, or you gonna let me walk in peace?”

He grins. “Now, what kinda friend would I be if I let you roll your ankle out here?” he asks, his tone mocking, playful.

You narrow your eyes at him, tilting your chin upwards as you size him up. “Sure you’re not just looking for an excuse to put your hands on me?”

It’s meant to be a joke - kind of. A small push back, a way to throw his teasing right back at him.

But for the first time, you’ve got him.

Can see he’s at a loss for words in the way his jaw tenses, the way his fingers twitch like he’s resisting the urge to do exactly what you’ve just accused him of.

For a small moment his expression is unreadable.

Then, just as smooth as ever, his smirk returns, his voice a low, slow drawl as he steps past you, brushing close enough that his shoulder touches yours.

“Keep your eyes on the trail, sweetheart,” he murmurs before pushing ahead. “Wouldn’t want you to trip.”

Joel glances back just once, meeting your eyes briefly before he turns forwards again, his steady stride slowly catching up with your dad.

You bite the inside of your cheek, silently smug at your ability to clearly get under his skin too, before quickening your steps to join them.

“Almost there,” your dad shouts over his shoulder as he notices you approach, excitement in his voice as the trees begin to thin out. “Just over this ridge. Hell of a view.”

You squint, catching glimpses of bright blue sky between the branches, the promise of an open view stretching beyond the dense woodland.

Joel falls in line beside you again, his steps sure and steady, meanwhile you’re feeling sweaty, flustered, your legs aching, heat prickling your skin in a way that has little to do with the blazing sun.

The three of you eventually crest the ridge, and your dad lets out a satisfied sigh, stopping at the edge where the trees break open, revealing the valley below.

“Here,” your dad says, stepping up onto a flat, rocky overlook. “Take a look at this. Breathtakin’ view.”

You climb up after him, boots scraping against the stone as you reach the top - and you have to admit, he’s right.

For the first time all morning, your thoughts go quiet.

The ridge stretches open wide, the landscape unfolding beneath you. A thick sprawl of trees leading into rolling hills, the shimmering ribbon of a creek cutting its way through the valley below.

The wind moves warm across your skin, carrying the scent of sun-warmed grass and water, cutting through the heat just enough to make it bearable.

For just a moment, you actually stop thinking about Joel.

“Worth the walk, huh?” your dad asks, glancing at you with a wide grin.

You nod, a genuine smile of your own tugging at your lips. “Yeah. It really is.”

Joel steps up beside you, exhaling a quiet breath.

“Not bad,” he murmurs.

You glance at him, catching the way he squints slightly in the sunlight, his fingers resting on his belt, chest rising slow and steady with his breath. The sweat at the base of his neck glistens faintly, dark strands of hair curling from the humidity.

Fuck, he looks good.

You tear your eyes away, unscrewing the cap of your water bottle before taking a long sip. The water is lukewarm, but refreshing, the taste sharp against your tongue.

Your dad stretches his arms above his head, before rolling his shoulders. “Well, I ain’t movin’ for a while. My knees need a damn break.”

Joel smirks, shaking his head. “Guess that new decade is catchin’ up on you.”

Your dad waves him off, already lowering himself onto a large boulder. “Nah, it just means I know how to pace myself.”

Joel snorts, tipping his head towards you. “What about you, sweetheart? Feelin’ alright?”

His voice is casual to the likes of your dad, but you can read the edge that’s laced with something smug, like he knows exactly what kind of heat has been building between you both all morning.

“I’m fine,” you say, keeping your tone even. “But if you need a break, old man, don’t let me stop you.”

“Less of that damn cheek.” your dad cuts in.

Joel huffs a quiet laugh, unscrewing his own water bottle, tilting his head back slightly as he takes a long drink.

You watch him without thinking, eyes glued to the flex of his throat, the slow drag of his thumb over his lower lip as he wipes away a stray drop of water.

That goddamn prickle of heat beneath your skin is back, forcing you to look away.

You jump at the sound of your dad clapping his hands together, before urgently patting his pockets. “Hang on a sec, I almost forgot.”

You watch as he pulls his phone out, unlocking it, squinting as he taps carefully at the screen.

Joel raises an eyebrow. “You losin’ signal again?”

“Nah, just want a damn picture of y’all before we head back,” your dad says, already standing and stepping back to frame the view behind you. “Can’t come all the way up here and not get at least one.”

“Dad - ” you hesitate, glancing at Joel, but he’s already pinching the bridge of his nose, clearly resigned to obeying your dad’s request.

Your dad gestures impatiently towards the overlook. “C’mon, ain’t got all day, kiddo.”

Joel moves first, stepping into frame.

“You gonna make me pose all alone, darlin’?”

You force yourself to move, to ignore the heat curling in your stomach at the sound of his voice, at the casual way he stands, waiting.

You step up next to him, standing stiffly at first, planting a little space between you both. Your dad waves his hand at you both exasperatedly.

“For Christ’s sake, get closer. Y’look like strangers.”

Joel steps closer, his presence solid at your side. The weight of his arm settles around your shoulders, warm and heavy, pulling you against him gently.

He’s done it a hundred times. But it’s never been like this, fingertips brushing against your bare arm, heat flaring across your skin, slipping down your spine.

“Smile, you two,” your dad calls, utterly oblivious to your inner turmoil.

You force a smile, the corners of your lips trembling slightly as Joel’s thumb shifts subtly against your shoulder, a purposeful gesture hidden beneath a seemingly innocent touch.

“Relax,” Joel murmurs, lips barely moving. “Ain’t gonna bite.”

Your dad counts down from three, but you hardly hear him, focused on the silent tension rolling between you. The camera clicks once, twice, before he inspects his handiwork.

He grins, shoving his phone back into his pocket. “Damn, that’s a good one. Gonna send it to you both later.”

Joel clears his throat lightly, nodding. “Appreciate it.”

He releases you slowly, his arm sliding from your shoulders, leaving behind a strange emptiness.

Your dad shifts his weight from foot to foot, gearing up to get moving again. “Y’all ready to head back soon?”

Joel glances towards your dad, eyebrow raised. “Tired already?”

Your dad scoffs. “You already made it clear I ain’t as young as I used to be. ’Sides, I got beers back at the cabin callin’ my name.”

Joel chuckles, nodding. “Now that, I can get behind.”

You roll your eyes, taking another sip of water, grateful for the distraction.

“Gimme a minute,” your dad mutters, stretching his back out. “Nature calls.”

He steps away, disappearing into the trees, leaving you and Joel alone again on the ridge. The sudden absence of your dad’s presence leaves room to notice the tension between you, too loud, too thick.

You turn slowly to face Joel, biting your lip, trying to think of something safe to say, but Joel beats you to it.

“You’ve been awful quiet,” he murmurs, eyes narrowing just slightly, studying you. “Somethin’ wrong?”

You exhale, shaking your head softly. “No. Just thinking.”

“Dangerous habit,” he teases gently, mouth twitching into a faint smirk. “Care to share?”

Your eyes flicker to the thicket of trees, ensuring your dad isn’t coming back just yet, before you dare meet Joel’s eyes again.

“Just wondering if this is how it’s gonna be now.”

Joel tilts his head, considering your words carefully. “How’s that?”

You swallow the lump in your throat, heart pounding.

“Pretending.”

Something shifts in Joel’s expression, the teasing slipping away, replaced with something more serious, more intense.

“You think I’m pretendin’, darlin’?”

Your pulse stutters, mouth suddenly dry. “Aren’t you?”

He’s quiet for a beat, exhaling slowly, his eyes holding yours intensely.

“You know damn well I ain’t.”

Before you can respond, your dad’s footsteps crunch back up the trail, breaking through the charged air.

Joel pulls back as soon as he reappears.

“Y’all ready?” he asks brightly, clearly unaware of what he interrupted.

“Yeah,” Joel answers, his eyes lingering unwaveringly on you. “Think it’s about time we head back.”

The walk back passes in a blur, the promise of cold beer seemingly leaving your dad’s aching knees long forgotten as the two men set a pace that you struggle to keep up with.

By the time you step inside the cabin, the late afternoon sun is low in the sky, the temperature much more tolerable.

Your dad immediately heads to the fridge, pulling out a handful of beers, passing one to you and Joel before stepping back outside to fire up the grill.

“Gonna get dinner started,” he calls back through the open door. “Y’all stay outta trouble.”

Joel smirks, twisting off the cap from his beer. “No promises.”

You shoot Joel a sideways glance, a small smile curling your lips despite your better judgment. You take a sip of your beer, savouring the cold bitterness.

“You wanna play?” Joel asks, nodding towards the deck of cards laying discarded on the small coffee table beside the fire.

You shrug, feigning indifference, though your heart quickens at the thought of sitting alone with him.

“Sure.”

Joel settles into the worn leather couch, shuffling the cards with practiced skill. You join him, pulling your knees up beneath you as he deals two cards each.

“Texas hold ‘em?” you guess.

Joel nods, eyes glinting with amusement as he lifts his cards, studying you thoughtfully. “Unless you wanna play somethin’ else”

You raise an eyebrow. “Think I can handle it.”

He chuckles quietly as he sets the first three cards face-up on the table.

You study your cards with furrowed brows, willing it to be a good hand. Losing to Joel is the last thing you need right now.

He clears his throat after a few seconds.

“You gonna raise, fold? Or just stare at your damn cards all day?”

You look at the table dumbly, eyes flicking back up to him. “We don’t even have any chips.” you complain.

He chuckles, grabbing the discarded cap from your beer and flicking it to you with his thumb. You catch it, hissing at the sharp scratch it leaves on your finger.

You grin, raising a brow. “Oh, real high stakes.” you scoff.

“Figured I’d give you a chance” he smirks. “Of course, we could play for somethin’ else?”

You roll your eyes, ignoring his comment. “I’ll raise.” you mumble, throwing the cap into the middle of the table. “Happy now?”

“Thrilled,” he replies dryly, matching your bet without hesitation, his own bottle cap making its way onto the table.

The first round is spent testing each other. You know how Joel usually plays - steady, patient, always watching.

But Joel knows you too, knows when you bluff, when you’re trying to outthink him.

You play cautiously, watching him out of the corner of your eye, studying the way he handles his cards, the way his fingers tap absently against the table when he’s thinking.

Joel plays like he always knows something you don’t. Like he’s waiting for you to make a mistake, and you refuse to give him that satisfaction.

“You always this quiet when you play?” he muses.

You hum, considering. “Only when I’m winnin’.”

Joel chuckles, shaking his head. “Hate to break it to you, darlin’, but you ain’t winnin’ yet.”

You arch an eyebrow. “Yet.”

Joel grins, tipping his bottle towards you in silent challenge.

The second round is tighter, slower.

Joel leans forwards, elbows resting on his knees, his attention fixed on you.

You try not to squirm under his scrutiny, try not to pay mind to the way his fingers absently drag across the rim of his beer bottle, how his shirt stretches across his forearms when he moves.

Like he’s playing dirty on purpose.

“Sure you don’t wanna fold?” Joel asks.

“Why? You nervous?”

Joel’s lips twitch, like he’s fighting a smirk. “Not even a little.”

You hold his stare a second longer, before laying your cards down.

Joel’s eyes drop briefly to your cards, then back to you.

He exhales through his nose, shaking his head, throwing his cards onto the table.

“Shit.”

You pout, dragging the bottle caps towards you. “Huh. Looks like I’m winnin’ now.”

Joel sighs, sinking back into the couch, beer resting on his knee. “Don’t get used to it.”

You open your mouth to tease him further, but you’re interrupted by the swing of the cabin door opening.

You tense slightly as your dad steps inside, carrying a plate piled high with food.

“Alright team,” he says. “Hope y’all are hungry.”

Joel clears his throat, his expression smoothing into something neutral.

Your dad eyes the game setup, setting the plate down before grabbing his own beer.

“Poker?” he asks, already moving towards the table.

Joel nods, perfectly at ease.

“Kid was just about to lose everything,” he announces with a smirk.

You glare at him. “What the fu- I was not.”

Your dad chuckles, reaching for the deck of cards. “Well, guess I’ll have to put both of you to shame, then.”

You huff, shaking your head as the game resets, your dad dealing a fresh hand.

The night stretches on, the rounds only getting more heated when there’s three of you involved.

Your dad drinks beer after beer, throwing in his bottle caps like he’s got nothing to lose.

And Joel?

He’s relaxed as ever, settled against the couch, one arm stretched across the backrest, his fingers absently toying with the bottle cap between his fingers.

Your dad sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. “You two are ruthless.”

You laugh softly, dragging the pile of bottle caps towards yourself again. “Don’t hate the player.”

Joel chuckles, lifting his beer to his lips, eyes flicking towards you over the rim of the bottle.

“You just hate that you’re losin’, pal.” Joel mumbles, tossing in his bottle cap for another round.

Your dad groans, shaking his head. “Damn. Maybe I really am gettin’ old.”

“Nah. You were just never that good.” Joel bites back, lips stretching into a smirk.

Your dad barks out a laugh, kicking Joel’s foot under the table. “Y’know, I should’ve known you’d get cocky, Miller. Ain’t never been able to shut your mouth for long.”

Joel just grins, settling back against the couch again.

You throw in another cap. “C’mon, old man, don’t give up now.”

Your dad groans, rubbing at his eyes. “Hell, I dunno, kiddo. Feelin’ my age tonight.”

“Yeah, yeah. Excuses.” you laugh.

Your dad shakes his head, chuckling, before stretching his arms wide, a deep yawn escaping his chest. “Think I’m callin’ it a night. Y’all go easy on each other though.”

You shouldn’t feel your stomach flip at that.

Shouldn’t feel your breath catch slightly as your dad pushes back from the table, standing, rubbing a tired hand over his jaw.

It was always going to happen, him turning in eventually.

But now, it’s actually happening, the last piece falling into place, the final barrier between you and Joel sliding away.

Joel shifts beside you, fingers tapping idly against his knee.

You don’t dare to look at him, because if you do, if you see that same knowing look in his eye, you’ll fold.

Completely.

Your dad pauses at the bedroom door, glancing back. “Don’t stay up too late now. And don’t go cleanin’ up without me. We’ll sort it in the mornin’.”

You nod tightly. “Yep, got it.”

Joel lifts his beer lazily. “G’night.”

Your dad mumbles his goodnights before disappearing into his and Joel’s shared room, the door swinging shut with a quiet click.

And then, it’s just you and Joel, alone again.

The silence that follows is thick, suffocating. So heavy that it feels as though it wraps around your ribs, makes it so much harder to breathe.

Joel clears his throat softly.

“You tired yet?” he asks quietly.

You shake your head slowly, not trusting yourself to look at him.

“You?” you finally manage, breathless in a way you hope he doesn’t notice.

Joel shifts closer, his voice low. “Nope.”

The silence settles again and it’s agonising.

“Joel, I -” you breathe softly, finally turning your head towards him, your heart racing.

He’s watching you carefully, expression unreadable, save for the dark glint in his eyes, something that promises trouble, steals the words from your throat.

You’re slowly realising that, fuck, you want all sorts of trouble if it’s with him.

“Ain’t supposed to want this,” he murmurs, his eyes dropping to your lips. “But I do.”

You swallow hard, lips parting to say something - anything - but your words are lost the moment his hand moves.

It’s deliberate, a slow slide of his hand against your thigh, his touch gentle, but filled with intent.

Your throat feels dry, heart hammering wildly as his thumb drags slowly across the inside of your thigh, just enough to steal the air from your lungs.

He leans closer as he watches you, his focus unwavering, drinking in every little reaction you give him.

“Tell me you want me to stop.”

He’s so close, his face just inches from yours, so close that you can see the tension in his jaw, the barely restrained control he’s holding onto.

“I don’t,” you whisper, shaking your head. “Don’t want you to stop.”

Any last shred of restraint, any lingering hesitation, all of it vanishes the second Joel’s mouth presses against yours.

The kiss is urgent, nothing soft or tentative about it, your whole world narrowing only to him, how he feels, how he tastes.

His tongue slides against yours and you melt helplessly into him, your fingers tightening in his shirt as you lean in even closer.

Joel breaks away just enough to press his forehead against yours, his breathing uneven.

“Been wantin’ this,” he rasps. “You don’t even fuckin’ know.” His voice is rough, edged with a hunger you’ve never heard from him before.

You whimper softly, body thrumming with heat, with want, an undeniable need for more.

“I’ve got some idea.” you whisper, lips brushing against his.

Joel groans softly, his mouth capturing yours again, rougher this time, strong hands sliding down your sides, brushing over your hips, gripping your waist and pulling you closer until you’re in his lap.

You gasp against his lips, warmth prickling your skin, your heart racing so fast you feel it pounding in your ears.

He kisses along your jawline, his mouth finding your neck, his beard scraping lightly against your skin.

“Joel,” you whimper softly, tilting your head to give him better access. “Fuck, please - don’t stop.”

His breath is hot against your ear. “Ain’t plannin’ to, darlin’.” he murmurs.

He drags his lips lower, pressing heated kisses along your collarbone, his hands sliding under your shirt to settle at your waist, fingers warm and calloused against your bare skin. You arch towards him instinctively, your breath hitching.

“Been drivin’ me crazy,” Joel growls. “Knowin’ you felt it too.”

You nod breathlessly, fingers threading into his hair, tugging gently, drawing a soft, deep groan from him.

The sound is fucking heaven.

“Couldn’t stop thinking about you,” you confess, your voice trembling. “Shit, Joel, been thinking about you like this - ”

The admission feels like a release, like you’ve finally let yourself breathe again after holding your breath for too long.

Joel responds instantly, his kisses more intense, more possessive, as though your words have ignited something even deeper in him.

His hands slide boldly over your ribs, thumbs brushing just beneath your breasts, making you shiver beneath his touch. He pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, his own filled with a heat that sends desire pulsing straight between your legs.

“Tell me you want this,” he demands softly, his voice strained, chest rising and falling rapidly. “Need to hear it from you.”

You cup his face in your hands, your thumb tracing over his jaw, your eyes locked on his. “I want you,” you breathe softly. “So damn bad, Joel.”

That’s all it takes.

Joel captures your mouth again, kissing you hard, his hands sliding over your hips to pull you tighter against him.

You gasp as you feel his own desire pressed firmly against you, your body instinctively rocking into him, needing more.

Your thighs shift, parting just enough, and Joel notices instantly.

His hand slides up your bare thigh, fingertips teasing just beneath the hem of your shorts.

Your breath stutters, a soft moan slipping past your lips.

“Gotta keep quiet, baby,”

Baby. Oh, you’re so fucked.

“Your daddy’s only down the hall.”

Your nails dig into his shoulders, trying to ground yourself, trying not to fall apart completely.

His fingers slide beneath the fabric of your shorts, teasing over the thin lace of your underwear, just barely pressing where you need him most.

You tremble, biting back a moan, burying your face against his neck as your hips shift, rocking into his touch without thinking.

Joel hisses, his breath uneven, his body tensing beneath you as his fingers move your underwear to the side, slipping to rub gently through your folds.

“So goddamn wet,” he mutters, breath catching. “Shit. Bad fuckin’ girl.”

You whimper, back arching, your nails dragging over the skin at the back of his neck. “Joel - ”

He shushes you gently, kissing the corner of your mouth, lips dragging across your jaw, down the slope of your throat.

“I got you, baby. Let go. Trust me.”

His fingers press higher, sliding against your clit, his breath warm and heavy in your ear.

You bite your lip, struggling to hold in the sounds building in your throat.

You can’t be loud. Can’t get caught. Can’t make any kind of noise that risks your dad interrupting, just in case you never get to feel Joel this way again.

But fuck, you want him, and Joel wants you just as bad.

His fingers move in slow, deliberate circles, hot pleasure coiling tight in your belly, your hips grinding instinctively, desperate for more friction, more pressure.

Joel presses a kiss to your throat, voice low and demanding. “Tell me what you need.”

“More,” you gasp, your voice needy, desperate. “Need you to touch me, need - fuck - need you inside me.”

He groans against your neck, the sound enough to cause the desire twisting in your abdomen to simmer even further.

“Yeah? Gonna be a good girl and fuck my fingers while your daddy’s sleepin’?”

Joel's hand slips further down, teasing two thick fingers at your hole before he pushes in, curling into your heat with no hesitation.

“Fuck,” he grunts, his thumb reaching to circle at your clit, your hips jerking as a quiet gasp spills over your lips.

Joel hushes you, his free hand sliding up your back, pulling you closer.

“Shh, baby,” he breathes, his mouth brushing against yours. “Gotta be quiet, yeah? Gotta be good for me.”

You bite your lip so hard it almost hurts, your body aching, trembling, but you nod, letting yourself fall against him, letting yourself drown in the way he touches you.

Joel curses softly, his fingers stroking deep inside you with slow, agonising precision, his eyes locked onto your face, drinking in every reaction you give him.

“Goddamn it darlin’. You’re so fuckin’ perfect like this.”

You whimper, your breath catching as your body shakes against him. It’s all too much, the feeling of his fingers inside you, his strong hand against your back, his scent, warm, woodsy, a hint of sweat - Joel.

Your cunt flutters, your thighs tightening around his hips as your lips part on a silent cry. Joel takes it as an opportunity to kiss you again, swallowing down every sound you make.

“Shit, Joel,” you grind your hips against his hand. “I’m - fuck - I’m close,” you pant against his lips.

“That's it. Lemme feel you, baby. Let me take care of you.” he moans against your lips, his fingers still pressing inside you, stretching you open.

Joel groans, watching you fall apart, watching the way you react to him, the way you give yourself over to him so completely.

“Good girl,” he whispers, “That’s my good fuckin‘ girl.”

Your head falls down against his shoulder, muffling the quiet, desperate noises you make, your whole body shaking as his fingers work you open, filling you, pushing you higher, higher -

And then, you break.

It crashes over you suddenly, violently, pleasure ripping through you in sharp, shuddering waves.

Your muscles tense, your fingers digging into Joel’s arms, the sound of his name spilling from your lips silenced against the strong muscle of his shoulder.

Joel curses softly, holding you through it, his lips pressing against your temple, fingers stroking you through your pleasure with moans of your name, drawing it out, letting you ride it for as long as possible.

And when it finally ebbs, when you slump forwards, boneless and shaking, his arms wrap around you, holding you steady.

For a long moment, neither of you moves, you don’t speak.

Because there’s nothing to say that could change what just happened.

Joel’s hands are still on you, still firm against your waist, grounding you, breath still warm against your skin, lips close enough that you can feel every slow, uneven exhale.

Your fingers stay curled in his shirt, like if you let go, this will all slip away.

But it won’t, it can’t - there’s no coming back from this.

Not when you can still feel the press of his fingers inside you, still hear the tortured way he whispered your name, still taste him on your lips.

The urgency is gone now. Not the heat, not the ache still pulsing low in your stomach.

But reality, the here and now, it’s slowly setting in.

You can feel it in the way his body tenses, in the way his fingers twitch against your waist like he’s fighting the instinct to pull away.

When you finally find your voice, it’s barely a whisper.

“Joel, we - what just - ”

His hands tighten against your sides, his thumbs brushing small, absent circles against your skin, like he can’t stop touching you, even now.

It should feel wrong, hell, maybe it does.

Maybe that’s what’s twisting in your stomach now, a different kind of heat, the first creeping licks of something like regret, guilt.

Not for this, not for him, but for what it means.

The fact that your dad is just down the hall, the fact that Joel is his best friend - the fact that there is no undoing this.

You don’t voice it, and neither does he, but it’s there, thick in the space between you.

Joel draws in a long breath, like he’s trying to steady himself, trying to convince himself that this isn’t as big as it feels.

You reach out, fingers brushing his jaw, trailing down the side of his neck.

Joel tilts his head slightly, leaning into your touch for just a second before his eyes flick up to yours.

They’re dark, searching, and fuck, you think you see it there too, that same confusing mix of want and fear, lust laced with something dangerously close to guilt.

Joel sighs, dragging his knuckles across your arm.

“Ain’t no takin’ it back now.”

And yet, even as that quiet dread settles in your chest, Joel draws you closer, his embrace protective, almost defiant.

He doesn’t say another word. Neither do you.

But you both know, there really is no coming back from this.

And deep down, despite everything, you can’t help but wonder if either of you truly wants to.

#dbf!joel #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #dbf!joel miller #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joelspeach #series: to call you mine #fic rec

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pattwtf · 4 days ago

Text

Ok, I read first part. Now I CAN'T stop and I'm so happy I wasn't able to read it sooner, so I have some chapters already released AAAAAH OMG, Elle, you're the fucking best

to call you mine

chapter one: kindling

masterlist | series masterlist

“Y'know,” he murmurs slowly, eyes holding yours with deliberate intensity, ��you keep givin’ me that look every time I get close like this… I'm gonna assume you're imaginin' the same kinda trouble I am.”

Pairing: dbf!Joel x female reader. No outbreak AU, no Sarah

Summary: You and Joel have planned the perfect off-grid, surprise getaway for your dad's 50th birthday. With your dad running a little later behind, you and Joel are left alone to set up. Lingering looks and touches quickly shift the dynamic of your relationship into something that's not so easy to return from. Too bad your Dad shows up right before things get interesting.

Tags: age gap (24/45), dads best friend, lots of flirting and physical contact, joel being a menace, the beginnings of their relationship shifting to something inappropriate, mentions of alcohol.

Wc: 4k

Authors note: howdy 👋🏻 i fell in love with dbf!joel and reader when writing my one shots.. SO. here is the start of it all - the lies, deceit, the undeniable chemistry and lust.. what could go wrong right? if you enjoy, please remember to reblog or give feedback, it means so much! dividers by @saradika-graphics 🖤✨

The sharp crack of an axe splits the silence hanging in the air, scattering birds like a gunshot through the trees.

Joel exhales heavily, steadying his grip as he splits another log clean in half, the wood groaning under the sheer force of his swing before it tumbles towards the growing collection by his feet.

The air smells of old pine and warm earth, damp from a recent, rare spell of rain. The stifling heat of an Austin summer has done a pretty good job at drying out most of the wood regardless, the sun cutting through the canopy of trees, warming his neck as it begins to set lower in the sky behind him.

He rolls his shoulders, flexing his sore, stiff fingers before he reaches for yet another log.

It’s quiet out here.

The kind of quiet that somehow soothes the aches in your bones, allows your shoulders to drop, the tension to ease. It’s isolated, but not lonely, a nice change from the hum of the city.

Joel adjusts his grip on the axe, but before he can swing again, the low crunch of tires against gravel makes him pause. He turns, glancing towards the winding dirt track that leads up to the tree lodge, watching a familiar car approach.

He knows it’s you before you even step out.

Your wheels skid a little across the loose stones as you brake to a stop, stretching your fingers before you release your grip on the steering wheel, killing the engine.

The drive took far longer than you expected - not because you got lost. You’re braced, ready to fight Joel’s teasing on that one already. It’s not your fault that the roads wind and twist in ways that make you second guess every damn turn.

Who’s idea was this stupid off-grid location?

You sigh softly before pushing open the door of your car, stepping out into the fresh air. Your eyes fall to the lodge, a sturdy, wooden little place, nestled between thick trees, their edges painted with the golden glow of the setting sun.

“Sure took your time, kid,” a homely, southern voice drawls, edged with amusement. “Thought you got lost.”

There it is.

You roll your eyes, slamming the car door shut. “Not all of us have a built in compass, Miller.”

He huffs a laugh, swinging the axe down into the stump in front of him. The sleeves of his flannel are pushed up, forearms coated in a dusting of wood splinters, a light sheen of sweat across his skin from working in the sun.

You try not to let your eyes linger too long.

Instead, you walk towards him, nodding to the stack of firewood at his feet. “I see you got a head start, anyways.”

“Figured I’d be settin’ up this place alone,” he mumbles through a smug smirk, thick arms crossing over his broad chest. “Didn’t think you’d be showin’ up anytime soon.”

“Yeah, well sorry to disappoint,” you flick his arm with your fingers, earning a chuckle deep from his chest. “Someone had to make sure you didn’t burn the whole party down before my dad even gets here”

Joel scoffs. “Ain’t even lit the fire yet, smartass”

You smirk, kicking one of the chopped logs with your foot. “Yeah? Better get a move on then.”

“Don’t remember you gettin’ this damn bossy,” he grumbles, but you don’t miss the faint curl of his lips. “C’mon. I’ll show you how it’s done.”

He doesn’t wait for your response, just grabs an armful of chopped wood like it’s nothing, hauling it towards the lodge. You shake your head and grab the remaining four logs and saunter quickly behind him, stepping into the dim warmth inside.

It’s rustic, but inviting, wooden beams spanning the ceilings, a well used log burner in the centre of the main room, a long couch pulled up right in front of it. The wooden structure clings onto the heat of the day, so much so that you doubt the fire’s all that much needed.

It adds to the allure you suppose.

Your dad will love it, it’s the kind of place that’s all rough edges and no-nonsense charm.

Joel drops the logs near the burner, pulling your attention away from the ceiling as he brushes his hands off on his jeans before crouching to open the iron door. He glances over his shoulder towards you.

“Well?” he says. “Gonna stand there, or you gonna come learn somethin’?”

You nod as you kneel down next to Joel, handing him the logs and watching closely as he begins stacking them carefully, leaving little gaps for the air to flow through freely.

You’re not all that sure why you’re paying such close attention, but there’s something captivating about watching Joel work, something comforting in the calm, practiced way his strong hands move.

He catches your stare, raising an eyebrow with an amused smirk. “Y’know, if you pay attention instead’a just leerin’ at me, you might be able to do it yourself next time.”

Your cheeks heat, surprised by his callout, but you act unphased, unsure how else to play it. “I am payin’ attention,” you shoot back, rolling your eyes. “Show me your ways, wilderness expert.”

Joel shakes his head, chuckling softly under his breath as he strikes a match, the small flame catching the dry kindling tucked between the wood.

You watch, mesmerised as the fire slowly builds, licking up the sides of the logs, glowing orange and gold. The heat pushes outwards, warming your knees where you’re crouched too close.

Joel glances at you, smirking faintly. “You just gonna watch?”

You blink, tearing your gaze from the flames, staring at him beneath furrowed brows. “What? Am I supposed to clap or somethin’?”

He exhales a soft laugh, shaking his head as he reaches for the metal poker leaning against the hearth. “You ever tend a fire before?”

You look at him pointedly. “I work in a bar, Joel. Closest I get to fire is some drunk guy ordering a flaming shot at two in the fucking morning.”

Joel snorts. “Yeah, well. This is a little different.” He grips the poker, adjusting it in his hand before holding it out towards you. “Here. Try it.”

You hesitate, but he doesn’t give you much of a choice. Before you can reach for it, he takes your hand in his, wrapping your fingers around the cool metal and guides it towards the fire.

Joel’s palm is broad, warm where it covers the back of your hand. His grip is firm, but not forceful, just enough to steer you. His fingers curl around yours, thumb resting against your knuckles as he helps you angle the poker towards the logs.

“Just like that,” he says quietly. “You don’t gotta stab at it. Just shift it a little, give the flames a lil’ breathin’ room.”

You nod, but you barely hear him. All your focus is on the weight of his hand over yours, the heat of his skin.

It’s casual. Should be casual, but something about it stills you, heats your blood.

The weight of his chest is close behind your shoulder, his breath ghosting over your ear. You focus on keeping your breathing steady as he continues to carefully guide your hand, painfully aware of every inch of space - or lack of it - between you.

“Attagirl. Just like that” he hums against your ear.

Shit. Did your stomach just flip?

He eventually lets go, and you slowly withdraw the poker, your hand feeling strangely empty without his palm around it. You take a breath, brushing your hair away from your face in an attempt to ground yourself.

Joel chuckles quietly as his eyes fix on your cheek, a hint of amusement softening his voice. “You got a little somethin’ there, sweetheart.”

“What?” you blink, confused.

“On your face,” he murmurs, leaning closer without hesitation.

Before you can react, he reaches out, thumb brushing softly against your cheek. You freeze as his thumb wipes gently across your skin, warmth spreading through your chest.

His eyes linger on yours for a moment too long before he clears his throat, pulling his hand back quickly, like he just touched something too hot.

“Sorry. You had a little.. uh, soot.” he holds his thumb up, showing you the black streak coating his skin.

You force a casual shrug, even though your skin still burns where his thumb brushed your cheek. “No big deal.”

The fire crackles between you, a white noise that fills the silence that stretches on a little too long.

Joel shifts his weight on his knees, glancing at you for a second before turning his attention back to the flames, adjusting one of the logs with a little more force than necessary.

You exhale slowly, hands smoothing over your thighs as you will yourself to stop thinking about how close he just was.

You need a distraction.

“You done playin’ with fire?” you ask, hoping to shift the mood.

Joel huffs a quiet laugh, standing up and dusting his hands off. “For now.” He nudges the poker back into place, glancing around the cabin. “Should probably get this place set up ’fore your dad gets here.”

Right. The reason you’re here in the first place.

Your dad has no idea about any of this. That’s the fun part.

You and Joel had planned it all together, a little weekend getaway for his 50th birthday, a chance to get him out of the city, away from work, just to enjoy something for once.

He thinks he’s driving out here to meet Joel, to check on a potential job for their construction company, completely unaware that instead, he’s walking into a place to put his feet up, kick back and drink beer with his buddy by the fire and forget about the worries of the world.

And yet, despite all the planning, you’re the one feeling caught off guard now.

You push yourself up, dusting off your knees as you glance around.

Joel rubs a hand over the back of his neck, eyeing the small pile of supplies on the table. “Alright. Where do you want me?”

The question shouldn’t make your abdomen tighten, but it does.

You swallow, pushing past it. “You can start with the banner.”

He glances at the bundle of decorations, one eyebrow ticking up. “A banner? You make it yourself?”

“Yeah, it’s a big one. Happy Birthday, old man! - the whole deal.” you grin, crossing your arms.

He begrudgingly obliges, on the condition you guide him through the whole thing.

You watch him struggle for a while, standing back, squinting.

“Higher.” you say.

He raises it an inch.

You shake your head. “More.”

He lifts it again, the muscles in his forearms flexing slightly, and you have to force yourself to focus.

“Little more,” you murmur.

Joel sighs. “You just gonna keep makin’ me hold this damn thing up, or you gonna pin it in? Some time this century?”

You smirk, stepping closer. “Maybe.”

His lips quirk, but he doesn’t look at you, just keeps his eyes on the banner, fingers straightening the fabric. “You’re a pain in the ass, you know that?”

You hum, pretending to think about it. “Mmm. Yeah, I’ve been told.”

Joel shakes his head, muttering something under his breath. You move to secure one side of the banner, stretching up onto your toes to pin it against the wooden beam.

“You got it?” Joel asks, eyes flicking down to you.

“Almost.”

You try to stretch higher, but your fingers just barely graze the edge of the banner.

Before you can adjust, you feel Joel shift behind you.

Then, a warm, steady hand finds your waist.

Your breath stutters, pulse hammering as Joel wraps his arm around your centre, lifting you off your feet just enough to reach, his other arm still effortlessly holding the banner in place.

You freeze for a second too long, barely able to focus on what you’re doing. Joel’s arm is strong, holding you like it’s nothing.

Like it isn’t something that’s currently turning your brain into static.

Your blood is thrumming hot and heavy, your hands unsteady as you fumble with the banner. You’re too aware of him, the heat from his skin, the rough strength of his grip.

You don’t dwell on the thought that he could have just as easily pried the thumbtack from your hand, made some crack about you not being able to reach and handled it himself.

But he didn’t.

And that in itself feels like something all too telling.

“Go on, kid,” he grunts. “Get it up there before I drop your ass.”

The rough drawl of his voice against your shoulder sends a surge of warmth through your veins, heat curling low in your stomach.

Your fingers tremble as you press the thumbtack into the wood, trying to steady yourself, trying to ignore the way your body’s reactions feel traitorous beneath his touch.

This is stupid. It’s stupid.

It’s just Joel.

A man who’s been around for as long as you can remember - watching football in your living room, throwing back beers with your dad after long shifts, grumbling about work over the rim of a coffee mug at your kitchen table.

It’s nothing. He's just holding you, just helping you reach some stupid banner.

You let out a shaky breath. “Okay. Okay - I got it, lemme down.” you yelp, tapping his wrist in urgency, desperate to put some space between you before your body betrays you further.

Joel lowers you, slowly. His hands linger just a second too long, his fingers smoothing gently along your waist before he finally pulls away.

You step back quickly, searching his face for any sign that he felt the same shift too.

And that’s when you see it.

The dark and heated glint in his eyes, the way they trace tentatively over your features, the way his jaw tenses like he’s forcing himself to step away.

You’ve never looked at each other this way before, it’s all wrong - and maybe that’s exactly why an uncertain sense of desire unfurls deep in your stomach.

This weird shift you feel? Yeah. He’s feeling it too.

The fire crackles in the background, the room too quiet, too warm.

Joel clears his throat, dragging a hand over the back of his neck.

“Banner’s up.”

You nod, swallowing hard, but it doesn’t do a damn thing to steady your nerve. Because you can’t ignore it now.

This is Joel, your dad’s best friend - yet your body is reacting to him like he’s something else entirely.

Your skin still burns where his hands have been, the feeling seared into you.

Joel sighs, the sound somewhat pained as forces his eyes away from you and stalks over to the table, hands toying with the few supplies still sprawled out.

“You’re really gonna make him wear this?” Joel scoffs, holding up the party hat you’d picked out for your dad.

The shift in tone is a relief and a fucking curse.

It gives you something to latch onto, something to drag you back to the surface before you drown in whatever this is that’s happening.

But at the same time, the way he pushes past it like it’s nothing makes you question whether you’re reading into everything too much.

You force yourself to breathe, plastering on a smile. “Damn right. He’s not gettin’ out of it.”

Joel huffs, shaking his head, but when he turns away, you catch the slight twitch of his lips, the smile he’s trying to bite back.

Your eyes are glued to him, pulled to every detail as you over analyse his every move, desperate for an understanding as to what exactly is happening here.

Of course, you’re entirely too distracted by the stretch of his shirt over broad shoulders, the way his forearms flex as he fiddles with a piece of tape, the curve of that smirk still lingering on his face.

It’s not fair, and it’s not right, the way you’re pulled to him now, but fuck, it’s happening anyway.

He lifts his eyes to meet yours at the wrong time, catching the way your longing expression betrays every single thought in your head, lets him see the wires in your mind desperately trying to revert to default settings, back to when you could look at him and just see plain old Joel.

Not someone you feel a twisted sense of desire for.

The asshole actually chuckles. Crosses his arms over his chest and grins. Like he’s enjoying it.

“You keep lookin’ at me like that, sweetheart,” he says, the deliberate heat to his voice enough to make your breath hitch in your throat. “I’m gonna start thinkin’ you mean somethin’ by it.”

Your stomach tightens, your hands pulling into tight fists at your side, nails digging into your palms just to keep yourself from spiralling. Because this - this isn’t some simple teasing.

Its entirely too risky, crossing some invisible line.

The words make your mouth go dry, your pulse thunder in your ears, makes you feel like the ground beneath your feet isn’t quite stable anymore.

You inhale sharply, but it’s like you can’t breathe.

Because what the fuck is this? What is he doing? And why does it make something twist deep inside you in a way that feels impossible to ignore?

Joel lets the words hang in the air for a second, just long enough for your mind to reel, before he pushes off the table, stepping away like he didn’t just throw a lit match into dry grass.

You open your mouth - whether to fire back or to completely fall apart, you have no idea, but then -

The door of the cabin swings open.

“Goddamn service out here is useless,” your dad grumbles as he steps inside, dusting off his jeans. “Drove in circles ‘cause my damn phone wouldn’t load the map - ”

He stops short when he sees you.

The heat that had been simmering low in your stomach, crawling under your skin, is gone in an instant, doused like a fire dumped with water.

You barely manage to pull yourself together before your dad’s eyes widen in surprise.

“What the - ” he starts, struck with confusion. “What the hell are you doin’ here?”

Your stomach lurches, because for one terrifying second, you’re still standing in the previous moment. Still caught in the way Joel looked at you, still reeling from the way he spoke to you.

But your dad, blissfully fucking oblivious, is giving you a perfect out.

And you take it.

His shock at seeing you here keeps his focus off the way your breath is still trembling, shifts the attention off the way Joel is leaning against the arm of the sofa with a sly smirk, watching you out of the corner of his eye.

You swallow hard, forcing a grin. “Surprise.”

Your dad blinks, still entirely clueless. “Wait - ”

He glances between you and Joel, brows furrowing. “What’s goin’ on?”

And just like that, Joel steps in, completely relaxed, totally unaffected, like the past five minutes never happened.

“Fooled ya, old man.” he says, far too casual as he strolls past you and claps your dad on the back, looking back at you as if he didn’t just leave you standing in the middle of the room with your heart still in your throat. “Happy birthday.”

Your dad’s face is still painted with confusion, but you can see it forming, the slow realisation, the way he’s piecing it all together.

His eyes flick to the decorations, the banner, the gifts stacked near the fire.

“You planned this?”

You nod, smiling through whatever the hell is still happening inside you. “Yeah. Thought you deserved a break.”

There’s a long beat of silence. Your dad exhales, rubbing a hand over his jaw, shaking his head like he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

“Well, shit,” he mutters. “Didn’t see this comin’.”

You laugh, stepping forwards as he pulls you into a tight hug. “Thanks, kiddo. This is - hell, I don’t even know what to say.”

Joel watches the whole exchange with an unreadable expression. You glance at him over your dad’s shoulder, and he meets your eye for just a second before looking away.

Your dad finally pulls back, still looking a little stunned. He’s never been great at surprises, always too caught up in work to ever expect something like this.

“Well,” he grunts, scratching his head. “Damn. You two really pulled one over on me, huh?” His eyes flicker over to the fire. “Been a long time since I actually…” he sighs, hesitating. “Since I just sat down and relaxed, y’know?”

“Then sit down,” Joel says, nudging him towards the couch. “Now’s as good an excuse as any. Ain’t every day you hit the big five-oh.”

Your dad grumbles something under his breath, but he listens, sinking down onto the worn sofa with a deep groan, stretching his legs out, sighing when the warmth from the fire reaches him.

Joel smirks, satisfied.

“I’ll grab you a beer,” he says, already moving towards the back room. “C’mon, kid, gimme a hand.”

There’s no reason for you to go with him. None.

But Joel doesn’t wait for your answer, his hand finding the small of your back, steering you towards the kitchen before you can even think of an excuse.

Your dad doesn’t even look up, just waves him off, mumbling something about not taking all night.

But you?

You’re barely breathing.

You step into the cramped kitchen, tucked around the corner from the open living area. Joel opens the fridge and leans down, the old appliance buzzing as he pulls out a few bottles. He straightens slowly, glancing sideways at you as the fridge door thumps shut.

The air is heavier here, thick with a tension you don’t know how to break.

Joel's eyes skim over your face carefully. He holds out a beer, your fingers brushing as you take it from him, a fresh wave of heat warming your belly.

“Y’good, sweetheart?” he asks softly, leaning in close enough that his breath fans warm across your neck. There’s a knowing smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth as his eyes flicker down briefly, lingering shamelessly on your lips before dragging slowly back up. “Look a lil’ flustered.”

You swallow hard, your breath lost somewhere in your throat.

“I'm fine,” you manage to whisper, desperately willing yourself to tear your eyes from his, to not be so easily drawn in.

Joel’s eyes darken slightly, his body shifting closer still, not quite touching, but close enough that the warmth of his body radiates through the thin space between you.

“Y'know,” he murmurs slowly, eyes holding yours with deliberate intensity, “you keep givin’ me that look every time I get close like this… I'm gonna assume you're imaginin' the same kinda trouble I am.”

The air knocks from your lungs, heart thrumming against your ribs so hard you swear he can hear it.

You should say something, or laugh it off. Pretend like your stomach isn’t currently twisting itself into knots.

But you can’t, and Joel fucking knows it.

He watches the way your lips part like you want to speak, but can’t, smirks at the way you tense at the boldness of his words.

He lets one last beat pass, long enough for you to reel over the proposition lingering in the air between you.

Then, finally, he steps back, like he didn’t just flip your entire fucking world upside down.

He twists the cap off his beer, tips it back to take a long sip, then lets his tongue drag over his lips, eyes holding yours unwaveringly.

He gives you that same annoying, enticing goddamn smirk.

“C’mon, kid.” he says with a new, mischievous edge.

“Let’s not keep your old man waitin’.”

#dbf!joel #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #the last of us fanfiction #joelspeach #series: to call you mine #fic rec

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