#Joel Miller! Musician AU

[sgt-morgan]

Sweet Thing🏞️🎶

Whiskey sunrise part 3

Whiskey Sunrise Masterlist

Pedro Masterlist

Summary: Everyone is very sentimental. Wounds still bleeding from loss, we all look to the past for happy memories, and when we do we find soulmates.

Warnings: none in particular, allusions to sex maybe? Idk. Anyway. AFAB! Female identifying reader, nicknamed reader. Also as per usual, all songs mentioned are not mine, they live in the whiskey sunrise playlist and all lyrics are the artist’s property.

A/N: I got hella sentimental on this one y’all, but next week the girls are gonna get to their scheme.

Frank has always been a believer in soulmates. Bill was like coming home when he first met him, the spark instantly catching between them and now years later they’re still together. Your mother and Father weren’t soulmates, no, Frank fully believes that his soul was for his children. The man was meant to be a father, and loved his children with ferocity until he was forced to leave them, and he was sure even in death the old bastard clung to you and Llewyn, protecting and comforting you as well he could from the beyond. Llewyn and Amber Lee were soulmates. He remembers watching the kid scramble to get into the production of Romeo and Juliet to be with her, and was not at all surprised when he proposed to her while they were still in high school, and he was even less surprised by the fact he never dated another when she died. Maria and Tommy were soulmates, their whirlwind romance and very predictable shotgun marriage was no surprise to the older man. He even believes Sarah and Ellie to be a kind of soulmates. The girls being siblings more true than blood could ever allow, in fact, he kinda felt sorry for whatever man and woman fell for them, because they would always have that troublesome super duo to deal with for the rest of their lives. You and Joel though, you and Joel were clearly meant to be from the beginning. Nothing had ever been more clear to the man, he can in fact remember to the moment when he realized, and it’s one of his most favorite memories.

In this memory you are seven. Your favorite uncles are visiting, and you all go to the river. Joel and Tommy come along, their overworked mother always happy to let them go off with your dad to give her some peace. The boys are unruly, and your ex military father can handle them.

Besides, as all of the adults in your lives knew, Joel was gonna complain until he saw you anyway, might as well give in before the whining starts. So they all go, the three men and four children are set to have a day of fun in the sun. Joel and Tommy’s mom graciously packed a lunch, you’re all slathered in sunscreen, and everyone is ready to have a good day.

You’re twirling around like a princess, the only girl of the group and they all treat you like you’re a delicate little flower. Back then you were, you cried at the drop of a hat, stray kitten? Dead bird? Crying baby? Movie? Sad commercial? Somebody talks to you a little too mean? You dissolve into tears. You were very sensitive, and very soft, and clocking in at the youngest made you the baby of the group. Woe betide any man who would go on to hurt you in the future, and a speedy recovery to whoever hurt you in the present, you were a well protected individual, and you needed to be. You were naive, always believing everyone only held the best intentions, and being so easily crushed when they didn’t.

Joel is besotted with you. Has been from the moment you met. He’s 8 years old, and he knows with clear certainty that this dancing six year old has got some kind of hold on him, a hold he doesn’t have a name for yet, but feels with an intensity of someone thrice his age. He loved her vibrancy. As a kid who quickly became ‘the man of the house’ when his dad died, she is such a clear picture of unbridled joy and levity he never really got. Nobody messes with Sugar if he can help it, not even Tommy and Llewyn, his two best friends in the world.

Tommy and Llewyn liked to pick, they picked on Sugar, and sometimes Joel, and mostly at each other, but they sometimes go too far. They don’t mean it, lord knows the two boys never intend to upset anyone, their brand of affection just borders on mean sometimes. They were two peas in a pod in that way, always tugging on each other one way or another trying to get the other to crack. They think it’s funny, and Joel thinks it’s annoying, but sugar? Well… sugar doesn’t get it.

Sugar’s latest obsession is being ‘lady like.’ She watched one too many princess movies and she’s decided that if she wants to be a princess, all she has to do is mind her manners. She has been parading around in a plastic tiara and dresses for weeks, and today is no exception. The three adults are sat on the river bank, drinking beers and dipping their toes in the river, while the kids are running and splashing around. Sugar is splashing along the edge, picking up pretty rocks and Joel is watching her with an eagle eye while he sits with the adults and listens to them tell stories about the tours they’ve worked on and the wars they’ve fought. He was an introspective kid, it’s what made him and Llewyn good songwriters later on in life. Then he peaks trouble on the horizon. Tommy and Llewyn have approached the girl, linking arms with her and lifting her slightly. She harrumphs any angry ‘get off me!’ The two boys plop her in the water with a giggle, soaking her through. She’s a sad sight as they run off giggling at being chased down by your dad. You’re sniffling in the water and sucking back your tears to not be seen as a ‘cry baby’ and Joel scrambles to go to you.

“Oh boy.” Frank giggles, bumping shoulders with Bill to point out the boy scrambling to the waters edge to make you feel better while your dad scolds your scoundrel brother and his partner in crime.

“Oh no, well, at least I will know the man I’ll have to threaten when she goes to prom.” Bill grumbles, wrapping an arm around his partner who is diligently snapping photos of Joel straightening your tiara and lifting you from the water.

Frank smiled when he saw the way Joel played the knight in shining armor to a tee. He helps you ring out your dress and smoothes your hair, before giving an exaggerated bow and proceeding to shove Tommy and Llewyn headfirst into the river when they came to apologize. Your father rolls his eyes as he approaches his best friends, flopping g down with a huff and muttering "Those two are meant to be, I know it."

Now it was early morning, you and Joel were sitting on the patio, playing guitar and chatting about the day ahead. You were waiting for the girls to wake up, and you were noodling back and forth on some songs you’d both gotten an ear for. Elephant in the Corn by Nickel Creek you think. One of those moments where you just get the mood to play around with a song, and you remember moments similar to this when you were eighteen and he was twenty and you wrote a song that would change your lives for good.

“Then like a- yeah! That! Good!” Joel laughed a bit as you carefully plunked out the next part of the tune you were writing. He presses a kiss to the Side of your forehead, he can’t remember a time in his life when he was happier than this.

“So what’s next.” You giggle enthusiastically, grabbing his jaw and turning to kiss him.

“Next is- well let’s see.” He gives an over exaggerated frown and you laugh.

“I know it ain’t All that late

but you should probably leave.

And I recognize that look in your eyes

Yeah you should probably leave.”

Your eyes glimmer and you look at him in awestruck recognition. There’s that look he’s singing about, he thinks with a grin. He picks a jaunty little riff and you laugh.

“Joel Miller-“ he cuts you off with another lyric and you laugh disbelieving.

“‘Cause I know you

And you know me

And we both know

where this is gonna lead

You want me to say

that I want you to stay

So you should probably leave.”

You laugh out loud and continue what he started.

“There’s still time

for you to finish your wine

Then you should probably leave.” You croon, grin infectious.

He laughs and plucks some more notes and continues the lyric you’ve started.

“And it’s hard to resist,

Alright, Just one kiss.” He leans forward and lays one on you while you’re still giggling. “Then you should probably leave. Go again on the chorus.” He sings and you grin strumming along, doing your best to add in a harmony. Then Joel leans real close and sings a bridge.

“Like the devil on my shoulder

you been whispering in my ear

And it’s gettin kind of hard for me

To do the right thing here.

I wanna do the right thing baby.���

You grin and picture all the nights he was singing about, you sneaking in the window of his little matchbox house he shared with Llewelyn and Tommy, talking, laughing, kissing, whatever. You’re not ashamed to say Joel was your first. Hell if it came to it, you’re pretty sure everyone in your life would be glad it was Joel, but testing that theory was not something you felt like doing. You remember all the nights you’ve spent since, pressed together in his room on a too small mattress, waking up to him running his hand up your back as the morning sun haloed him in the light of day, making him look like some kind of Angel. Then as if reading your mind Joel comes back in.

“Sun on your skin

Six AM and I’ve been watching you sleep

And honey I’m so afraid

You’re gonna wake up and say

That you should probably leave.”

The song you wrote that day would go on to win you Grammys for best new artists, country song, and country album, and then some. All because of one little songwriting session on your front porch, and mornings spent in sappy, lovestruck, bliss with Joel.

You look radiant. Your bare face looks tear stained, but Joel can still see the echoes of all the smiles in your eyes while you bask in the glow of the sun. The beat up six string you’re plucking on was a gift. He gave it to you on your sixteenth birthday. He remembers working long hard days in the blistering sun that summer to get it for you. Being a ranch hand was no easy feat but the owner of the ranch was kind, and the pay was as decent as he could expect at 18 with no prior experience in the field so to speak. He learned a lot of valuable lessons that summer, and one of them was that there was no greater value to be had in anything than the value he found in your smile. The joy in your eyes and the kiss he received proved that point a million times over he thinks.

replacing your dad’s beat up old twelve string was a gift unto itself.

His heart ached to think about you having waited all day to celebrate your sixteenth birthday for him. You were a vision of beauty, sitting on your front porch, barefoot, hair blowing in the gentle breeze. You’re leaning on your hands, a piece of cake sitting next to you with a fork sticking out of it. The radio is playing a Van Morrison tune, he can’t place it from this distance, but he knows it’s a perfect soundtrack to the beautiful girl who has waited all evening for the likes of him.

“Joel!” When you finally spot him, your face eclipses the sun in its radiance, and he counts himself lucky it was him who put it there.

“Hey Sugar baby.” He laughs, swinging you up into his arms.

“I saved you cake,” you grinned. He still held you up high and you looked down at him with your hands on his shoulders, leaning down to give him a kiss. “There was pizza but Tommy and Llew got to it before I could blink. I made sure there was cake for you though, couldn’t let my favorite sugar fiend go without.” He grins, so happy to have someone be so considerate of him for once.

It was different for Joel, his mom died last year and because he and Tommy were 16 and 17 years old with a place to crash, they had to work extra hard to keep up, Joel taking the brunt of the burden because it was easier for him to get a job. He was so used to being the protector and provider, it warmed his soul when someone did the same for him. You were considerate like that though, you noticed everything and appreciated all. Even remembering his famed love of sweets and making sure there was enough for him. It’s a small thing, but it’s still something he’s grateful for.

“You didn’t have to Sugar, I got the sweetest thing in the world right here.” He grinned bumping noses with you and laughing.

“Ugh, that was sappy.” You playfully scrunch your nose in disgust. Then the longer you looked at him, the softer your eyes became, and once again he was dazzled by how much he loved every second he had with you. “I’m glad you’re here cowboy.”

“Hey, check this out.” He puts you down and reached into his truck and pulls out the gift, a black guitar case with a red bow, when you open it you gasp, tears flooding your eyes and he grins as you practically tackle him with kisses.

“Joel oh my god!” You squeal, kissing him hard on the lips. It makes him damn near breathless. When you let him go he was dazed and grinning like mad. He was so Star struck he swore he could hear the angels singing, but the clearer his head got the more it sounded like Tommy and Llew laughing at his dumbstruck grin.

While it was fun for recreating Beatles tunes, the twelve string wasn’t much good for the music you were wanting to make, and the sound you were trying to accomplish. Watching you play the new guitar he got you for the first time, was like untethering you from some strange shackle, your playing was improved by tenfold because you weren’t having to compensate for six extra strings, but the most important thing was it made you happy. He loved the giddy joy the shitty cheap guitar gave you, and he promised he’d do whatever he could for the rest of his life to keep that smile on your face. If only he could have kept it.

Inside the house, your family was still making plans. The adults at the table looking out the window and murmuring about how they would get you alone, but the teens were in their rooms, planning what would happen once they did.

“Research. Let’s do research.” Sarah nodded, pulling out her phone and pulling up the early interviews of the band.

“Dude, we’re their kids, what’s a fuckin interview gonna tell us that we don’t know already?” Ellie snorted, still squishing into her sister to see the screen. The interview was a song association thing, and Ellie hadn’t seen them do anything so quaint in a long time. At this point in their careers, these fun buzzfeed and side show interviews were few and far between. Not that they didn’t happen, they did, popular internet corners attracting big stars or whatever, but you just didn’t really do interviews much anymore so when you did do then they were generally saved for prime time.

“Yeah, I get that, but before they were all that, some of these interviews held some nuggets of truth yah know? Stuff they told before they started censoring.” Sarah shrugged and pressed play.

“Hi I’m Llewyn Davis,” Llewyn winked at the camera.

“I’m Tommy Miller.” Tommy salutes.

“I’m Sugar Davis.” Your smile was bright and they noticed Joel was staring at you like you hung the moon.

“And that’s Joel Miller.” You grinned squishing his face as he scowled his usual grimace.

Then all at once you all said “And this is The Family Affair.”

“We’re here to play a game of song association.” Llewyn said, handing Joel a guitars before picking up his own.

“We’re gonna be the best to ever play. Watch.” You giggle, ruffling Tommy’s hair.

“Sugar is so sure of our prowess, because before we got big we were a house band for a bar and we took many many requests.” Tommy laughs, batting you off playfully.

“Baby Boy, we will be the best.” You nodded again, grabbing a slip from the bowl.

“First word?” She groans and hands it to Llewyn who cackled. “Lost.”

“Joel?” He sing songs.

“Yeah?” He grumbled with an upturned lip.

“I think she’s lost that loving feeling.” Joel chuckles at Llewyn’s obvious reference and starts strumming.

“No she hasn’t.” Joel laughs.

“Yes she has goose, She’s lost it man.” Llewyn grins.

“I hate it when she does that.” Joel mutters and the Llewyn sings.

“You're trying hard not to show it

But baby, baby I know it

You lost that lovin' feelin'

Whoa, that lovin' feelin'

You lost that lovin' feelin'

Now it's gone, gone, gone, whoa-oh.”

“Ladies and Gentlemen that was Lost That Loving Feeling by the incomparable Righteous Brothers” Llewyn laughs.

“The boys were obsessed with the film Top Gun for a long time.” Sugar laughs. “It’s also an instant crowd pleaser in any bar with a military presence.”

“Truth. That and Top Gun is the shit.” Tommy nods and picks the next paper.

“Our word… is…. Season.”

Sugar dramatically throws her arms out and smacks Joel and Llewyn and begins singing. She animatedly sings the lyrics to a musical both the girls know very well at this point, it being one of their mother’s favorites.

“Everything has its Season!

Everything has its time.

Show me a reason

and I’ll soon show you a rhyme.

Cats sit in a windowsill

Children sit in the snow

Why do I feel I don’t fit in anywhere I go?”

She grabs Joel’s shoulders and holds a fake microphone, sliding a hand down Joels face as his eyes roll.

“Rivers belong where they can ramble

Eagles belong where they can fly

I’ve got to be where my spirit can run free

Gotta find my corner of the sky.”

“THAT.” Sugar exclaims when she’s done, slinging an arm around a rather annoyed looking Joel. “Was Corner of the Sky from the musical Pippin. In high school, I played Fastrada and had the time of my young life. I got to be the villain, I loved that role.” She sighs and Joel playfully muttered ‘And I loved the leotard.’ Causing sugar to laugh, and Tommy and Llew to gag.

“Our next word is… Joy.” Llewyn grinned. A few more songs went on like this, them taking turns pulling words from the bowl, until a very intriguing word was pulled by Joel.

“Our word is Sweet. Hit it Llew.” he grinned standing and Pulling Sugar to her feet, nodding at Llewyn who grinned and started playing the opening chords to ‘Sweet Thing’ by Van Morrison. Then, Joel began to sing.

“And I will stroll the merry way and jump the hedges first

And I will drink the clear, clean water for to quench my thirst

And I shall watch the ferry-boats, and they'll get high

On a bluer ocean against tomorrow's sky

And I will never grow so old again

And I will walk and talk in gardens all wet with rain

Oh, whoa-oh, sweet thing, this sweet thing

Eh-hey, yeah, sweet thing, yeah

Yeah-yeah-yeah, my, my, my, my sweet thing.”

The whole time he sang he swayed a giggling and blushing Sugar around the space in a slow dance while Tommy and Llewyn fondly laughed and played along.

“It’s Sweet Thing by Van Morrison. That’s our song.” Joel shrugged by way of explanation, never a man of many words. Sugar smiled and kissed him sweetly on the cheeks and his lips tilted up in a small grin, as was his way.

“This has been song association, and we’ve been the Family Affair, and this is once again Van Morrison.” Llewyn started up the Chorus again and Joel more than willingly stood to dance with you again as the video showed the credits and the people on set as they all continued to sing Van Morrison together. Old tour dates scrolled across the screen and the girls sighed, watching how happily in love you were.

“They were so cute.” Sarah muttered, and Ellie nodded.

“So their song is by Van Morrison. I didn’t know that. What else can we learn.” Ellie mutters and clicks on the next video.

“Hi we’re The Family Affair and this is our wired auto complete interview.” Llewyn starts and reaches for a board, smacking Tommy with it immediately.

“Is The Family Affair from Texas?” Llewyn peels the sticker and puts it on Joel’s knee. Joel peels it and hands it to you and you crumple it up and toss the tiny ball and it lands in Llewyn’s hair, causing you and Joel to have to stifle your laughter while Llew answers the question. “Yes we’re from Arlington Texas, home of the Bowie High Volunteers. Go Vols.” Llew pumps an arm and you all laugh with a ‘Go Vols!’

“Is the Family Affair a family band?” Llew peels and sticks it to Tommy who promptly takes it and uses it to tape his mouth shut.

“I guess I’ll answer.” Sugar laughs. “Yes, we’re two sets of siblings, so we consider ourselves a family band.”

“Is there a couple in The Family Affair.” Tommy reads, after Llew peels, still pretending he can’t talk with his mouth taped closed. When the question is read,

Llew rips off the tape and answers.

“Yes, Tommy and I have been happily married since 2008.” Tommy grins and they lean in to pretend to kiss each other, and Joel sticks a board between them.

“Sugar and I are dating.” He grumbles and Sugar kisses him on the cheek. They move onto a board all about Joel.

“Does Joel Miller ever speak?” The whole band answers ‘No.’ and they move on.

“Does Joel Miller act?” Was the next question and he looks confused as Sugar giggles.

“No he does not, but his actual twin Pedro Pascal certainly does.” She giggles and Joel rolls his eyes. “Quit it Joel, you know that man is your twin, don’t be bitter.”

Sarah and Ellie giggle. “Dad does kinda look like Pedro though, it’s true. We should do the Mandalorian as a family costume.” Ellie laughs. “I’ll paint myself green and say ‘Patu’ a lot.”

“Does Joel Miller have a daughter?” Joel smiles and answers for once. “I do, I actually kinda have two, I have my Sare Bear and my Bellie.” He grins and the girls smile fondly at their dad on the screen. Even if Joel wasn’t her real dad, Ellie would always be glad that he claimed her. His answer earned him another kiss from Sugar and he smiled.

“Is Sugar Davis single.” Sugar pretended to think about it and Joel bonked her on the head with a board. “No, Sugar is happily dating Joel Miller.”

“Is Sugar Davis a mom?” She grinned and pulled up her phone, showing her lock screen to be a picture of Sarah and Ellie in ugly Christmas sweaters. “Yes, I have my Ellie Bell and my Silly Sarah. If we were to answer honestly, Ellie is mine and Sarah is Joel’s, but they’re our babies.” She grins and Joel kisses her knuckles.

“Is Sugar Sugar’s real name?” This strip is placed over Llew’s mouth again as he tried to answer, probably with some horrid nickname. “No, but a Lady never tells.” She winks. They move on to the next question.

“What is Sugar’s perfect date?” They all laugh at that question and shake their heads. “I presume this has something to do with that interview you did for Rolling Stone?” Tommy laughs squeezing his brother’s kneecap.

“I don’t know Sugar, what do you think?” Joel grumbles, wrapping an arm around you.

“I think ours are similar.” She shrugs, twisting her fingers through Joel’s. “A good dinner, a walk around the park with Ice cream, a good movie, taking the kids to the Aero Space museum and getting in trouble for kissing in the model rocket.” She shrugs and Joel laughs a deep belly laugh.

“That’s it Sarah!” Ellie laughs, throwing up her hands in victory. “We can make them the perfect date night.”

Sarah squeals and throws her arms around her excited sister. “We did it!” She grinned, ecstatic that they were able to pull it off from just a couple YouTube videos. “Now we gotta get everyone else in on it.”

A conspiratorial thirty minutes later, they had come up with a plan, get them to go out together for a day, get them on a date. Starting today with their trip to the museum.

-

-

-

-

-

[chronically-ghosted]

whatever you do, don't picture the Miller Brothers Band singing "Me and My Kind" with Joel singing and Tommy on guitar. Boots and cowboy hats on, sweating under the stage lights, on an open air stage as the sun sets

Yeah, that's my old girlfriend Saw her when she walked in Her hair's a little longer But she's still lookin' stronger than sin No, I don't care if you buy her a drink But she's not the kinda girl you think Oh, 'cause back when we were lovin' She thought cowboys were somethin' Now they ain't 'Cause she's over buckles She's over spurs To her you're just a heartache in a pearl snap shirt Been lassoed and let go for the last time No, she ain't just over me She's over me and my kind

[thelightsandtheroses]

everywhere, everything | jm x female reader [au]

Summary: In recent months, the bar your family has owned for generations has changed. Now it can't keep a bouncer beyond one shift, attracts the 'wrong' crowd, and is an albatross around you and your cousin's neck. Your cousin's latest hire, Joel Miller, seems like he might just survive the shift and as time passes, you can't help but want to know him more. AKA the Bouncer!Joel fic Word Count: 8.2k Warnings: 18+ MDNI, mentions of canon typical violence, RoadHouseBouncer!Joel AU, no outbreak, no specified age but reader has a cousin and inferred (not detailed) family deaths in the past, flirting, smut (p in v), Joel Miller is his chaotic self, mentions of death of a child (canon), many scenes set in a bar and mentions of alcohol or drinking, your standard lolabee flangst and introspection, reader mentions music, singing and playing guitar. Notes: So much appreciation for encouraging me to write this fic goes to @trulybetty for listening toand supporting my ideas and @rhoorl. Watching the new Road House movie at the same time as starting TLOU games led to this idea I couldn't let go of. Fic title isfrom the Noah Kahan song of the same name.

It’s starting to weigh on you.

You see it in your cousin more though; the weariness in her eyes as the local gangs come in and inevitably cause trouble. Both of you know where it comes from, the reasons behind it, why it’s so much worse for your roadhouse than anywhere else in the town.

Most days, you want to leave and sell up. Sometimes a fight is too much, it isn’t worth the cost, there’s too high a loss, too tiresome a battle. Everything your cousin possesses is tied up in the bar though. It’s not that simple for her and you won’t walk away from your family. You can’t.

The two of you cannot be the ones who let decades of your family’s legacy just wash away to nothing.

That was why your cousin had started with the bouncers in the first place. The two of you can only afford one, but it’s a small building, a small town.

“This one will be different,” your cousin says with a firm nod and smile that doesn’t quite meet her eyes. “I just know he will. He’s new in town, he starts tonight and he - when you meet him, you’ll see what I mean.”

You don’t say that she said the same thing about the last bouncer - what was his name? Dave, or Frankie, or something like that. You’ve stopped learning their names now - it’s pointless when they never last longer than a few days.

The bar is still quiet; tinny music coming through the speakers as you finish unloading the clean glasses from the dishwasher.

“Are you playin’ tonight?” she asks.

“Might do. If the crowd let me,” you say, smiling at your cousin gently. It’s a joke now; the bar hasn’t been safe enough in months for that.

It used to be your favourite thing about this place; the music, the ability to perform songs and transport yourself to what could have been, what could be. It might not be Nashville, or the Sofi stadium, but it’s the closest you think you’ll ever get to feeling like a real musician. And now you don’t even have that.

“Good, they will. It’s going to be a good one tonight, you’ll see.”

The new bouncer is called Joel but your cousin calls him by his surname: Miller.

He’s quiet, not like the other one. Instead of stalking around and flexing, Miller sits in the corner of the bar, perched on a stool and staring into a cup of coffee as though it would answer all his queries about the universe.

You feel bad about the coffee; you should have warned him that it’s truly awful, pointed him in the direction of the small diner ten minutes away that serves some of the best coffee in the whole state. You think your own coffee isn’t too bad either; perfected and tweaked over years to figure out the perfect combination of beans and grind to bring the best out of your worn moka pot.

“Next time, I’d go for water,” you say lightly as you approach his side of the bar. It’s still quiet for this time of the evening but the trouble doesn’t usually start until after ten anyway.

“Oh, yeah?”

“I’m not sure we can even legally call this coffee. I think there’s more caffeine in the Kahlua.”

“You have Kahlua?” Miller asks.

“It’s a very old bottle, I really wouldn’t risk it.” You try and remember the last time someone ordered a drink with it here but it’s hazy. The Bar doesn’t exactly attract people for its cocktail list anymore.

“Pity.”

“I can get you a water if you’d prefer. Or something else?”

“It’s fine.” You notice Miller has pushed the cup slightly away from him though. He eyes it with mild disgust and you feel suddenly even more worried for him. If he can’t handle the coffee, he surely won’t be able to handle the patrons.

“You’re Joe, right?”

“Joel,” he corrects instantly.

“Joel, right. Sorry.”

“Are there that many of us passin’ through, that you don’t learn the names properly now? Is that why your boss calling me Miller?” He doesn’t know who you are, that’s clear. He doesn’t know it’s your family’s legacy here too and you’re not just a bartender. This place matters to you.

“It’s only your first shift.”

Joel sighs and meets your gaze. His eyes are deep brown and you take in the slight salt and pepper to his stubble, the surprisingly comfortable looking plaid flannel he’s wearing. At the same time, you notice the stoniness in his posture, the wariness in his eyes.

He isn’t spoiling for a fight because he lives for them, not like the other bouncers your cousin has hired.

You’ve already realised that Joel Miller fights in an entirely differently way to his predecessors. You can tell his biggest battles aren’t the ones in a bar like this. Without projecting too much, you think they’re probably inside his mind. No one has haunted eyes like that without a story. You’re a bartender, you can just tell.

“What have you have been told about this gig? Do you know what you’re getting into?”

“I know this place has some troubles,” he says carefully.

“I’ll say.”

You remember when things were different in the town, in the bar. It wasn’t like this back then. It used to be for families. Your aunt once joked that your dad’s cooking could bring the entire town together. It’s been a long time since the place was known for a family meal though.

You grew up with laughter and joy inside these walls. Now, it feels like it must have happened somewhere else entirely. This bar is still where you ran in after being asked on your first date ever, where you opened your SAT results, studied while the bar was closed, had every family significant gathering or event you can remember.

This isn’t just a job for you.

“How long have you been here? No offence, but you don’t seem the type -”

“It’s my family’s bar. Your boss you mentioned, she’s my cousin. The two of us run it these days, well I mean, I only help out. It’s her bar now more than mine but it’s been our family’s place for generations. We’re what’s left.” All that’s left.

“I didn’t know. I wasn’t - I didn’t mean anything by that.”

“Of course, Miller.” His words weren’t meant with offence but he had still managed to pick at your vulnerability that you don’t truly belong and cut at your soul.

Your family never thought you’d keep up with the bar, your cousin was the clear front runner to inherit it and you supported that. You wanted to leave your hometown, that had never been a secret and your childhood bedroom had been covered in posters and postcards for exciting and different places.

Once, you dreamt of Nashville, of music venues and guitar calloused hands playing idle melodies as a tour bus drove you to your next city across a starlit sky.

Life had different plans for you thought.

“This town didn’t used to be like this,” you add, “We’ve had a lot of bad luck and - the whole town is suffering. You wouldn’t have recognised this place if you passed through even just a few years ago.”

”I’m -“

The door to the bar crashes open before Joel can finish his sentence. You notice the first of the regular troublemakers walking in and warily look around the bar. You can tell by their posture, the look on their face exactly what type of night it’s going to be.

“Looks like your work will be getting started soon, Miller. I’d drink up.”

He might just survive his first shift. That’s annoying - you have five bucks counting on him either walking out or be stretchered out like any of the bouncers by the end of the night.

You try and pay attention to your surroundings. It’s sensible in your line of work. For so many people that line between a good night and becoming the worst version of themselves is wafer thin and you’re often the first line of defence, you’re the one who has to say when someone’s not being served anymore.

Your cousin is in the back office, trying to sort out the multitude of paperwork that comes with owning a bar or business that nobody ever thinks about.

He’s calm, polite even for the most part.

He doesn’t escalate the situation, not like some of the bouncers who have spent a shift here recently. Mostly he sits and observes. His calmness is almost disconcerting and contrasts sharply with the danger in his posture, the readiness to move he’s concealing.

There hasn’t been too much trouble so far tonight; a mild fight which was easily taken outside but you can feel the tension in the air.

“Can I get ‘nother whiskey?” Robert slurs. He’s a regular to the bar now and has a particular penchant for not being able to handle his alcohol, being very resentful at being cut off, and worse of all never has enough money to cover his bill or damages.

“I think you’re done for tonight,” you say lightly.

“Nah, I say when I’m done.”

“Not according to the liquor licence,” you snark back.

“Look, just pour me -”

“You’re done.”

“You’re such a fucking bitch.” Robert slams his fist down on the bar.

“I think it’s time to go,” Joel says politely, suddenly standing next to Robert in the bar. You’re not sure if he’ll last as a bouncer here but you’ll give him points for stealthiness. You hadn’t even heard him approaching.

“I think -“ Robert starts before pulling a sloppy punch. Joel easily dodges it, raising his eyebrow incredulously at Robert.

“C’mon, now, it’s time to go.”

He places a hand on Robert’s shoulder and guides him out. You’re struck that he didn’t escalate the situation - that was the last bouncer’s mistake. What he hadn’t counted on was what Robert is a mean drunk and often gets a second wind of energy.

Joel walks back up to you at the bar. “The way people talk about this place. That wasn’t so -“

“That, Miller, that was nothing.”

You watch as another troublemaker, Owen, walks in, all biker vest and swagger. It’s never a good night when he’s here. Usually his presence signals a full moon style night of fights, shouting and misery. He hasn’t been in for weeks to your joy; you’d heard a rumour he was in jail. Not any more though.

“Miller you see now the trouble’s really going to start. That wasn’t even your warmup.”

Sunlight streams through the window as you finish wiping over the table. It’s your favourite time of day in the bar. Your cousin is catching up on admin, sleep and supplier deliveries, the bar is empty and it’s just you, the stereo and sunlight.

You can’t help but lose yourself in the music just for a moment. You love this song, the beat, the lyrics, the way it ebbs and flows in all the right places. Music is magic.

You’re not in a rundown bar, not weighed down by obligation and memories and self-doubt. You’re not here, you’re somewhere else. In a city, in a crowd, on a stage or even just dancing around somewhere else. You’re lighter and freer and desperate for the song to continue just a little more as you spin around, humming along with the lyrics.

You hear the door open and turn around quickly. You heard about the diner getting robbed a couple of weeks ago. You should have locked the door.

Miller’s there, some light discolouration to his jaw from the one punch he didn’t dodge, but otherwise intact.

“You seem surprised to see me,” he says.

“You’ve cost me five bucks,” you reply simply.

He raises an eyebrow, “Didn’t think I could hack it*?*”

“The odds are the odds.”

“Well, I’m sorry about your money.”

“Yep, that five bucks was my ticket out of this town,” you joke.

“Not sure that would even cover a bus ticket,” he replies dryly.

“Maybe the coffee for on the bus?”

“Maybe.”

“So, day two,” you say awkwardly, swinging your arms around you and then immediately wondering why on earth you did that. You busy yourself by turning down the speakers.

“Yep,” Miller says casually, sitting on a bar stool.

“Have - are you hungry?” you ask, suddenly conscious that it’s lunchtime and Joel not doubt has another difficult day ahead.

“I could eat.”

”It’s nothing fancy, because the kitchen’s not open, but it is homemade - well, it was. I froze it but it’s defrosted and it’s really good. Also, frozen food still retains its nutrients well, and in the case of cake, freezing it makes it even better.”

“I see.” Miller pauses, “It’s not cake, is it? I don’t think I can eat frozen cake before a shift. ”

“No,” you argue, “it’s Tuesday, that’s what we’d do on a Wednesday! Today it’s lasagne.”

Miller smiles then. It’s a good smile. Slightly crooked and his eyes crease a little, the way you always associate someone smiling when they mean it. His deep eyes are momentarily lighter, there’s a change in him.

You want to tease more smiles out of this man, want to identify each and every changed in his face or the way his hands tap against the old bar. You want to keep him like this, bask in the glow that you’ve bought that expression to his face.

“Lasagne sounds great,” he says after a moment.

“Sure, okay, Miller. Coming right up.”

“Call me Joel. Please.”

“Okay, Joel.”

You like how his name sounds against your teeth, the way he smiles once more when you say his name.

It becomes a habit. Joel survives shift after shift and inevitably turns up to the bar early the following day when you’re there.

He’s lasted longer than fourteen bouncers now. He might just make it. He’s quiet, yes, but you’ve seen the violence in his movements when needed, the way he tries to be polite and then it’s over, then it’s a line. There’s something that compels and terrifies you about the violence he holds, its contradiction because he speaks to you so softly and how can a man be capable of both?

“You need a second bouncer,” he says one morning as you’re trying and failing to sort the back door out.

The employee room in the bar is a barely functioning space. Cliche after cliche with the cheap red IKEA futon, mismatching furniture and chairs and elderly microwave and kettle. The air conditioning has never worked in the room and now the back door is jammed too.

The place is falling apart.

“Can’t afford it,” you reply nonchalantly. “We’re doing our best.”

“I know. But then someone could try and watch at the door, stop some of these people coming in.”

“I know. But no one’s coming in because they’re there so we can’t afford a bouncer. It’s uh, a catch 22. Can’t even afford to replace the damn -” You shove your weight against the door to no avail.

“I can fix that,” Joel says softly as you kick the door one more time.

“The gangs? That’s ambitious.”

“The door.”

“Oh, it’s just the weather and it always gets stuck now. Replacing it would cost-”

“I can fix it. I uh, used to be a contractor.”

“A contractor?” Joel hasn’t talked about his past much before. You know he has a brother, he’s the oldest and that he’s from Texas. Joel carries that

“Did you have to say that with the air of a cowboy in an old movie?”

“I wasn’t aware I did,” he replies, cocking his eyebrow in a way.

“What sort of contractor were you?”

“Building, just the general type.”

“Oh, okay. So you could actually fix the door?”

“I said so, didn’t I?”

“How do you get from contractor to bouncer?”

“It’s a long story.”

“I’d expect so.”

Joel squirms awkwardly. You’ve watched him easily apprehend aggressive gang members shouting the vilest things to Joel and move them outside. You’ve seen him barely blink over ill drunks spilling their souls on his shoes. You’ve seen him so strong and resolute.

He looks at his watch which, for the first time, you notice is broken and then at the ground.

“It’s fine, Joel,” you say, “you don’t need to tell me anymore.”

He keeps coming back, night after night and things start to change. It’s small, a fixed door and then a window catch replaced, the fact the gangs start coming around less. It’s change but the quiet type of change you only discover through previously entrenched routines.

You’ve spent time cataloguing his details, each scar or line, the way he takes his coffee (black, but a two to one ratio of sugar that makes you wince a little). Joel Miller has a sweet tooth.

You’re used to Joel now, you like talking to him in quiet moments in the bar, before or after shifts as he hangs around just a little longer. You tell him about the town, about how it was growing up, he lets it slip he’s from Texas, mentions a brother, Tommy, and you want to unpeel his secrets more and more.

You proudly place the slab of cake in front of him. Rain hammers against the windows and roof, creating great echoes as it sounds like the bar will come down around you. It’s unseasonal, the rain, an omen of quiet days. Today you don’t mind.

“What’s the occasion?” Joel asks, looking at the cake curiously.

“It’s a Wednesday.” You take a bite of your own slice, savouring the flavours, the delicate balance of sponge and icing. If you can say so, it’s a pretty great cake. You really have improved over recent months and while this was experimental, you’re happy with the result.

“Ah. Say no more.”

“Also, congrats, you’ve officially been here for eight and half weeks.”

“I pass probation then?” Joel looks around dubiously, clearly concerned your cousin or others will suddenly pop out in some surprise party or sense of occasion.

“Pretty much passed that by coming back on day two, but that’s my cousin’s domain. I just pour drinks.”

“And provide frozen food to the bouncers.”

“Only the ones who come back. Besides, it’s defrosted. I can take that cake back you know.”

“No, don’t you dare.” Joel takes a large forkful of the cake. “So why the cake though, sweetheart?”

“You, Joel Miller, are officially our longest standing bouncer.” You clap lightly in mock celebration as he cocks an eyebrow in response.

“What an honour,” he replies sardonically.

”You’re welcome.”

“Do I need to make a speech?”

“I think it was the speech that bought the previous record holder down.” Clint had lasted forty-five minutes after that speech. It was a bad night - a particularly nasty gang fight.

“Hubris,” Joel says lightly.

“Exactly.”

“Not bad for a contractor turned bouncer though.”

Joel laughs. “You going to tell me that story one day?” you ask, hoping your teasing expression hides how genuine your question is.

“Maybe,” he says. “You’ve not hit my records yet.”

“That a challenge?”

He shrugs and walks towards the door to ready the bar for opening.

You hand Joel the frozen peas wrapped in an old cloth. After the commotion, your cousin’s closed the bar early. It’s hard to recover the night from a scene like that and you’re pretty sure the broken table and glass amount to some sort of safety violation at the least.

“Thanks,” Joel says gruffly.

“You could have a concussion.”

“I'm fine.”

“You’re bleeding.”

Joel looks at his cracked knuckles and raises a finger to the cut on his head, lightly touching it and observing the blood that comes away on his hand. “’m fine.”

“You hit the bar.”

“Standard night on the job.”

“You hit it with your head.”

Joel shrugs, nonchalance and mischief at once.

“How’s the idiot?” Owen had come in with the intention of causing trouble; something about the rival gang, or his girlfriend, or something that would never justify his trail of destruction. Joel had maintained his usual rules; polite, carefully moving Owen outside the bar, even as he tried to fight back. You’re not sure how it went so wrong, how instead of getting Owen outside suddenly there were more of the gang, broken tables and chaos.

It’s been weeks since a night like that. It makes it feel brand new, the hurt starker somehow.

“He needs to go to hospital,” you say, wrapping your jacket around you after you lock the bar door, keys heavy in your hand.

“Oh.”

“He’ll be fine. His friends are taking him. You probably need the hospital too, I’ll drive you.”

“’m fine.”

“You’re not. Get in the damn car, Joel.”

“I’m -”

“The car, Joel. Don’t make me start calling you Miller again.”

Joel holds his hands up and shakes his head. “Fine, I’ll go.”

“Excellent,” you say with a sweet smile.

You drive in near silence but once you’re both in the hospital waiting room, he talks. He talks more than he ever usually does.

“I didn't need to come here,” he grumbles.

“Are you on the lam?”

“What?” He asks incredulously.

“You seem reluctant to be in a hospital that takes down personal information. It’s a reasonable question.”

He sighs, pinches between his eyebrows. “No, I’m not on the damn lam. I just - I just don’t like hospitals.”

“I don’t think a lot of people do. I guess it’s an occupational habit with your work.”

“I patch myself up usually. Last time I was in one of these places, it was … I was …”

“Joel, it’s okay, you don’t have to say anything.” You reach for his bloody hand and squeeze, unsure if the blood on it is from his own split knuckles or the fight. The violence of his body contrasts so much with the man you talk to, the friend you’ve made.

“When I told you it was a long story, how I went from a contractor to this … it’s, I don’t know.”

You shift so you can face Joel and try and model your best supportive expression. Joel and you talk about everything now, but he’s guarded and this is the first time he’s volunteered this story to you.

“We can talk about it later.”

“I had a daughter,” he says so quietly that you can barely hear him. “And then I had a chance, a second chance to - but it’s been a mess. I’ve been a mess. I’ve got a lot wrong.”

So much of Joel Miller makes sense to you know and you can understand the sadness that crosses his eyes sometimes, the reluctance to talk about his past.

“Haven’t we all?” You pause. “I’m really sorry about your daughter, Joel.“

“I don’t know how to make it right now though.”

“I think,” you say gently, “all you can do is try. For what it’s worth, you’re making a difference here, you’re making a difference with me.”

“Really?” He glances up at you, suddenly years younger and as you nod a slight smile light up his face briefly.

“Why don’t you tell me about her? If you want to.”

He smiles. “I do, but not tonight, but I will.”

“Joel Miller,” a doctor calls.

“C’mon, you’re up.” You squeeze Joel’s arm before standing up.

The balance has shifted and something’s changed.

The bar changes gradually like the way spring teases itself for weeks. It’s all subtle shifts, blossoms of hope and shoots of a future you didn’t dare think of too much. The bar might survive, your cousin is smiling again.

And then there’s you and Joel. Joel, who still pops in to talk to you even on his days off. Joel, who you sit out with after the bar closes and drink beer and play guitar to the stars.

“You should play here,” he says, taking a sip of his beer, “you’re good.” “You’re better. I can’t play guitar like you.” “Nah. Just had more practice at best. Your voice is pretty, so pretty.” “Oh, I’m not so good at playing. I’m better at singing,” you say. “Four basic chords are about my limit on the guitar.” “Don’t do yourself down.” “Trust me, I’m not.” You pause. ”Joel, you could - you could play with me. If I ever played here. it’s probably stupid.” There’s something unreadable in his eyes, a soft smile on his lips. “No, I’d like that.”

You’re accustomed to his presence, his low but grounding voice, his calm demeanour throughout all chaos.

He’s told you more about his past now. About Sarah and how her loss tore him apart for years, and also about the foster daughter he took in, Ellie. He won’t tell you much about Ellie though, except they stopped talking around about the time he became a bouncer. He once asked you if you would do anything to save the life of someone you love and you said yes. He nodded and moved on. You think it’s connected, you’re not sure.

You’ve worked at a bar long enough to know when it’ll be a bad night. There’s an electricity in the air, a tension that is so tight anything could snap it. You look over at Joel to see if he’s picked up on the same energy.

He’s sitting on the stool, observing quietly, but you notice the slight furrow in his brows. He looks at you and his mouth twitches into the smallest of smiles, but there’s anxiety in his eyes.

“I heard that Owen’s gang declared war on the Rattlers,” you say in a low voice. You don’t like Owen, or his friends, but the Rattlers are worst. Owen’s gang is the typical cliched grouping of a small town that’s become lost. They drink too much, throw punches without thinking and cause trouble. They’re not evil though.

The Rattlers are.

“Didn’t hear the Rattlers came through here,” Joel says in a low voice. “I heard of their reputation at a previous gig.”

“Their uh, second in command, is that the term? Anyway, he’s had a thing with someone in town for years. On and off. Guess it’s on again.”

“They cause trouble when they’re here?”

You scoff. “This was starting to feel like -”

“It still is, it still will. Let me do my job,” Joel says firmly.

You want to trust him; you do trust him. It’s the Rattlers that worry you, the feeling in your gut that this hard sought over peace is threatened, the deep and terrifying fear that this bar can never change. Not now. Not even with Joel.

Joel smiles at you, the picture of reassurance. “Owen might not come in here. This is hardly a welcome environment for his group anymore.”

“Joel,” you say nervously, “I just … I have a feeling.”

Joel doesn’t laugh or dismiss you; he straightens up and nods.

You’re not sure how things fall apart so quickly. One moment the bar was quiet, then Owen was there and before Joel could get him to leave, the Rattlers were here too. Maybe it was planned, maybe it was what they all wanted.

“Evening, unfortunately I need to ask you all to leave tonight,” Joel says politely, standing from his barstool. “I’m afraid the business is at capacity and we have a private function on.”

“Well,” Owen begins.

“Leave.”

“Look, Miller, it’s not -”

“I’m not asking, Owen.” Joel’s voice is low, deadly, the tone he uses when polite words fall flat, when it’s time to not be nice. “That goes to all of you.”

Owen falters slightly at the sound of that, you wonder if he remembers how things went the last time Joel used that voice.

“Y’all got a function on?” one of the Rattlers asks you. He’s covered in tattoos and is wearing a leather vest with numerous patches with no other top underneath. You wonder if he based his outfit on the existing tropes, if he’s intentionally as cliched as possible or if it truly is just an unspoken truth now. His hair is slicked back into a ponytail that highlights his receding hairline and a puckered scar that runs from his brow to his nose.

“I’m afraid so, gentlemen. While we, uh appreciate the desire to visit, I’m afraid Mr Miller is correct.”

“Really?”

“Uh huh. It doesn’t look so-”

“Please,” you say quietly.

For a moment you wonder if it will work, you’re on bated breath as the Rattler steps back and moves to say something to his gang. However, that’s the very moment Owen smashes a chair on his back and hell breaks loose.

“Oh, thank you so fucking much for that,” Joel says in an irritated voice, immediately pulled into action to try and get the situation outside, away from the patrons, from you.

You step backwards, hoping the protection of the bar will be enough.

People are running out of the bar as the chaos unfolds. It’s a flood of sound,

Someone pushes Owen onto the bar, pummelling him as you try and back away. “Please stop,” you say.

Then a flash and searing heat.

That’s when you hear Joel swear, you notice his eyes have darkened, his entire demeanour has changed.

Your vision is blurred by something and you can feel a sharp pain on your face along with something sticky and hot when you touch it.

You shut your eyes, willing the events away and allowing yourself to crouch under the bar and wait for the noises to stop.

It’s fine. It’s fine.

You’re fine.

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay,” a soothing voice says. “Ladies and gentlemen, I apologise but we do have to close early today.”

There’s a pause, noise around you and then something cool on your face. “I need to see the damage, okay? It’s me, it’s Joel, you’re going to be okay. I’ve got you.”

You open your eyes to see Joel crouched in front of you. He’s holding a damp cloth that is already soaked in red.

“You’ll need stitches, I’ll drive you.” Joel moves your head gently and nods. “Your eye looks okay; can you see normally?”

“Yeah. What happened?”

”Fucking - it was Owen, he grabbed a glass from the bar and instead of hitting the rattler - ”

“Got me.”

“Yeah. It’s deep but um ‘”

“I’ll live. I’m okay. Don’t need hospital.”

“Huh, you trying to prove a point here? How annoyin’ it is when someone who needs hospital won’t go?”

”It’s fine, Joel.”

“You’re hurt,” he says and he looks disappointed.

You feel a burst of shame, you should have defended yourself better.

“I’m going to call your cousin and tell her what happened and then I’m driving you to hospital. No arguments, okay?”

You try and smile weakly in acquiescence which seems to only make Joel frown more.

His hand lingers on your shoulder slightly as he hands you the seatbelt after bundling you into his truck. He moved quickly, closing the bar, making a hushed call in the corner to your cousin and then immediately guiding you out, a clean cloth placed in your hands to hold against your cut.

There’s a nodding dog ornament on the dash, something that doesn’t seem like Joel at all.

“Ellie,” he says quietly as he notices you looking at it. “Keep the pressure on that wound, okay?”

He turns out of the bar.

“Didn’t seem your sort of ornament,” you reply placidly.

“She called it Ernie, I - that kid.” Joel sighs heavily.

“You could call her,” you say, braver in the wake of your injury.

“I would. But she doesn’t want to hear from me, trust me.” He mumbles something else you can’t make out.

“You’re a good person, Joel. She -”

“I’m not.”

“You are,” you say, “trust me, I know bad men, but you aren’t one of them. Owen? The Rattlers?”

“The bar’s pretty damn low there.”

“You know the town I live in.”

Joel chuckles mirthlessly.

“I was going to play tonight,” you say quietly, “I thought it was time. That’ll teach me.”

“You could still play, maybe tomorrow though.”

“It would be harder with the blood right now.”

“Just a tad.”

“Thanks for driving me.”

“Of course.”

You wonder if he’s trying to return a favour, whether he’s the sort of person who just can’t feel indebted to someone else. Now you’ve bled on his car too, now you’re even?

He looked worried though. You think about the way he sounded too, the forced calmness when he checked on you.

You’re friends.

That’s normal, right?

“I’m sorry,” he says suddenly. “You shouldn’t have got hurt.”

“Joel, it’s … you can’t be everywhere at once. It’s not on you.”

“I should have -”

“Miller,” you say sharply, “it’s not on you. Not one bit. Do you think I can bar Owen for good now?”

Joel chuckles. “Yeah, I reckon so.

“Good, well that’s something, isn’t it? Almost makes it worth it. Do you think it will scar?”

“I don’t know, sweetheart.”

You pause. It’s vanity, you know, but the idea of this leaving a permanent scar on your face hurts worse than the injury itself.

“That’s not ideal. I-it’s stupid.” It feels so foolish to be worried about a scar when things could be so much worse, for your own vanity to say ‘well, now, you’ll never make it as a musician or star’ or to focus on your looks. It’s normal, it’s human, but it makes you feel guilty.

Joel looks at you carefully and he places a warm, solid hand on your hand that is not holding a compress to your face. “You’re so beautiful, you know that, right?” he says in a low voice. “This won’t change that. It couldn’t, okay?”

No-one calls you beautiful. There’s been half-hearted claims of your ‘hotness’ with exes, of your friends’ encouragement when you make a particular effort in your appearance, but nothing like this. Nothing that feels this sincere either.

He takes his hand away as the doctor joins you. You can feel the heat lingering like butterflies as the doctor attends to your wound.

Joel stays with you the whole time.

You hear the guitar before you can see him. Soft, melodic chords that reach a crescendo as you walk closer to the small cabin style house he’s renting. You’re not sure if it’s a complete betrayal of the trust from when you dropped him off after his hospital trip weeks ago, but you need to see him outside of the bar.

“Hey,” he says in surprise when he sees you. He places the guitar carefully down before standing up to greet you.

“I’m sorry to just turn up, I hope it’s okay.” You awkwardly clasp your hands and wring them together. “I was passing through and I thought - I thought I’d say hi.”

This is a complete lie; you are not passing through at all.

You’re wearing your favourite outfit and you sprayed an extra two spritzes of your best perfume on this morning. In fact, you have made considerable effort when you think about all of this.

“No, it’s great. I’m happy you stopped by.”

“You’re good. The guitar, it was … really good. I’ve not heard you play that before.”

“Oh, it’s just something I’ve been working on.”

“It’s really good.”

“Nah, not really.”

You frown, hands on your hips and he raises his own hands in defence.

“Can I - do you want a drink?” Joel indicates inside the cabin and you nod enthusiastically.

“That would be great, thanks Joel.”

There are three cabins in the area that a local businessman rents out. Joel’s cabin is the closest to the woods, the one that’s slightly hidden away. Inside it looks like a typical rental; the slightly shabby furniture and neutral demeanour that feels void of any character, the aged kitchen stove and units, an abundance of wood furniture.

There are touches of Joel too though. There’s a vinyl player and box of records on the coffee table, a plaid blanket over the sofa and a couple of photos on the fireplace mantle. You think they might be Sarah, maybe Ellie, but you don’t want to pry.

This changes things. It’s not the bar, neither of you are at work, or hanging out outside after a shift. This feels more personal, more intimate. This is Joel Miller, the real Joel, the one you can’t hide your feelings for now.

You do have feelings for Joel.

It’s funny, when he started you wanted to keep him at a distance because you expected him to leave like everyone else, you thought the bar was beyond help. You wondered if you were beyond your dreams. He’s helping bring you back though.

It’s his calm demeanour, the wry expressions and dry humour, his plaid shirts and the way when he smiles, which is rare but you’ve seen it, his whole face softens and lightens up. It’s electric.

You think about him all the time; reading articles you try and remember to bring up at the bar, when you hear a song he’d like. Joel’s found his way into your life and you don’t want to let him go.

He’ll leave though. The bouncers inevitably do, most people in your life do. You just don’t want that with him. You want him to stay.

“Are you okay?” Joel asks.

“Why?”

“You have that serious thought face on.”

“I have a serious thought face?”

Joel scoffs. “So, what’s up?”

“I just - I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come here.”

Joel frowns then. “Why not?”

“I don’t know.”

“Okay, c’mon I said I’d get you a drink, right?” Joel indicates the sturdy wooden table and you sit obligingly. “So I’ve got a choice of tea, well It says it’s tea anyway. Uh, some whiskey, beer, water …. I’m out of coffee.”

“That should be illegal.”

“Shouldn’t it?”

“I might just leave now.”

“Wouldn’t blame ya.”

He’s close to you now and you feel emboldened by the fact you’re here, you’re with him and he’s not pushing you away or looking like he wants to leave. Maybe, just maybe this is a great idea.

“Now I think about it though, I’m not sure that I’m thirsty after all,” you say boldly.

“Oh no?” He leans in closer, hands hovering just over your waist. “Look, you don’t want -”

“I do. I do want.”

Joel swallows. “Really?” He’s looking at you as though you’re something mythical, something intangible he could lose at any second. There’s reverence in his eyes and it’s overwhelming and beautiful at once.

You nod. “I’m not the only one here who - I’m not though, right?” There’s a hint of nervousness in your voice now, a sense that perhaps this isn’t the great idea you thought it was just seconds ago. It’s like whiplash. This is why you should just focus on music instead.

“No,” Joel says softly, “you’re not.”

His hands, hands you’ve seen both acts of violence and hold your injured face so gently, skim your body. Joel’s hands, like him, are contradictions. He steps minutely closer, a little more into your space and oh so welcome.

He smells like soap and coffee, with the faint hints of autumn you noticed around the cabin and there’s something magic in this Joel Miller. Something in every sense of him, the way he touches you, the sound of his voice, the feel of his skin and sound of his voice that instantly draws you closer, that makes heat pool in your stomach.

He kisses you and you reach for his hands, entwines them together. He stops, concern mounting over his face. “You’re injured, I should have -”

“Doesn’t hurt,” you say softly, drawing him close again.

You’re a mess of hands and lips, a clash of sensations and finally, finally this is happening you think as h guides you further into the cabin. Towards his bedroom.

He guides you past the kitchenette, down the narrow corridor to his room.

You want to drink him in, absorb every detail of his body and commit it to memory.

There’s a ragged scar on his abdomen, a light scattering of stories across his body from other bars, other jobs, other Joels.

There are other details you want to remember though, especially the look in his eyes right now, heavy with desire.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says. You’ve heard the words before in similar settings but it’s been clear to you it’s the lust, it’s the ‘right’ thing to say. You know when isn’t meant, the lack sincerity signalling a paint by the numbers dalliance at best.

Joel’s voice is fervent though. Honest. He means this.

The majority of your clothes are soon discarded, both yours and his in a combined mess on the floor.

Your hands are running through his hair as he guides you onto the bed, as his fingers hover over the edge of your underwear.

He pauses, just for a moment. You wonder if it’s recognition of the line you’re both about to cross, if it’s to give you the space to confirm that yes, you still want him, to offer an out just in case.

You reach for his face, run your hand down his stubbly cheek. You’re trying to sum up your thoughts, to bring everything you want to say together into a neat sentence.

You smile and gently say, “I want you, want this. I thought you knew.”

“I didn’t, I didn’t think you’d want me. Been driving myself crazy thinkin’ about you lately.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Why don’t you show me what you thought about?” you ask.

He smiles as his fingers finally reach beneath your underwear, carefully pulling them down and then gently gliding his finger.

You’re wet, almost embarrassingly so, you think, for just making out.

“This all for me?” He asks with a devilishly teasing tone.

You don’t immediately answer, just smirk as he teases up to your clit and traces circles around it, smiling as you finally make a groan of contentment.

He slides a finger inside you, lazily moving it within you, finding that spot that makes you moan, adding another finger.

You feel close already, but he withdraws his fingers and then, looking at you, brings them to his mouth one at a time in a move that makes your cheeks heat up.

He moves to his bedside drawer, fumbling for a box of condoms you suppose. You’re still lost in catching your breath, in replaying the last few moments, in anticipating what’s about to happen.

He kisses you before positioning himself and you ready yourself for him.

You’re entwined, adjusting yourself for the feel of him, the weight of him. Hands interlocked with his as he finally moves, as he meets your kiss once again.

He adapts quickly, noticing micro=movements or sounds and changing his rhythm to draw every one of them out, to bring you to the edge once more.

You’re both a mess of rushed breaths, a chorus of names and gasps, ebbing and flowing to tease each other apart.

He’s everything and nothing like you expected. Hoped for even.

The feeling builds in your stomach, the rush of pleasure building almost unbearably.

Finally, finally you get your release. The ripples of pleasure ride through your body as the two of you lie together, boneless, catching your breath.

You usually feel a need to say something, to fill a silence, but it’s comfortable. You roll over, daringly placing an arm over Joel’s chest and leaning close. He pulls you towards you, kissing your brow lazily

You can feel his heartbeat, the warmth of his skin.

You feel like you could stay here forever.

Instead though, you’re practical. You excuse yourself to his bathroom to clean up.

You take in your reflection; the telltale signs of your exploits feel so visible to you as you freshen up.

He’s not in bed when you return. You pull your clothes on and head back into the main room of the cabin.

Joel’s wearing his jeans and not much else, humming as he concentrates on something by the stove.

“I promised tea, didn’t I?”

“We did get sidetracked.”

“Well, that was welcome,” Joel says. His voice is so much softer than you’ve heard it in the bar. There’s a vulnerability leaking through with each moment you stay here. It’s two sided, you can feel your own edges softening, a desire to open yourself even more to the man in front of you.

“I agree.”

The kettle boils and you watch Joel making the tea, try and not lose yourself in the broadness of his shoulders.

“So …” you break off, swinging your arms nervously and then wrapping them around yourself.

Joel hands you a steaming mug. “So,” he says. His voice is calm though, relaxed and somehow that helps.

“That wasn’t exactly what I thought was - I didn’t turn up for this specifically, you know? It wasn’t intentional.” Not that intentional.

“Would you have been wearing a trench coat if it was? Seduce me properly?” There’s mischief in his eyes as you meet his gaze.

“That a fantasy or something, Joel?”

He laughs. “Maybe, maybe it is.”

“Okay then. Logging that for another day.”

“Oh really?” Joel’s smile warms his entire face, it softens each feature and it’s something you never want to stop seeing.

It feels like you’ve known him so much longer. You feel comfortable in his house, you feel comfortable around him.

“So we’re opening back up at the weekend,” you say, “Got any plans for this time off?”

“Nope. You?”

You shake your head. “How about that?”

“Hmm, that’s not right. We should do something about that. Let me take you to dinner?”

“Dinner?“

“People still do that, right?”

“Yes, but - I’d love to.”

“Great. I’ll uh, defer to your recommendation, seeing as you know this area more.” It hits you then. Joel doesn’t have roots here and the bar, except for the Rattlers, has improved. What does this town, what do you have to offer?

“Are you going to leave?” you ask suddenly, the anxious thought you’ve tried to suppress bubbling to the surface.

“Leave?”

“When the bar’s open, when there’s no trouble.”

“There’s always some trouble.”

“Don’t. You know what I mean.”

Joel sighs and takes a sip of his drink. “Usually, I would.”

“But this isn’t usual?”

He points his hand at you and adds, “I don’t make a habit of this. I don’t …. Usually, yes I go in and out of places and I don’t stay long.”

Your heart sinks. “I understand,” you lie.

“I think, I think maybe there are some reasons to stick around here though?” It’s a question, not a confirmation. It strikes you then that maybe Joel feels just as exposed as you do.

“I think there could be,” you say.

“Good. I’m glad.“

The bar looks like the Rattlers never came through here. Everything is neat, clean and in its place. There are no broken chairs or tables. It seems almost impossible for how short a time ago it was.

Joel helped, you realise, he helped your cousin bring this place back.

“Are you okay?” she asks, “I can cover the bar if you need -”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re sure.”

You pause and run your hand over the smooth, clean bar surface. You think of Joel, of the conversations over so many nights about music, about what makes you happy. “Can you still cover the bar for a bit?”

“Sure.” Your cousin pauses and hesitantly puts down the crate of soda bottles. “Is everything -”

“I want to play tonight.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah, I’ve got to stop waiting right for the right moment, right? Just do it,” you say.

“And this has nothing to do with a certain bouncer?”

“No,” you say, thinking of the scar on your face, the battles you’ve won and will win in the future. “It’s for me.”

You can feel his eyes on you. It doesn’t make you feel nervous or under a spotlight though as you carefully sit on the stool.

It’s almost as though it’s just the two of you. Another night after work under the stars and messing around with a guitar. Or outside his cabin, thick flannel wrapped around you as you both play.

The bar feels safer somehow. It’s funny considering the recent Rattlers attack. Maybe that’s why - they came in and they tried to wreck the place, you were caught in that crossfire, but you survived. The bar survived. And the locals are back, the locals you wanted back. If you shut your eyes, it almost feels like before when your family ran the place.

It’s different though, because it’s your cousins. Because even though it might not be on paper, it’s yours too. Your legacy. You don’t want to fight it anymore. You don’t want to feel cynical about this town.

You look at Joel and smile and then you start playing.

Everything Pedro tag-list: @harriedandharassed@pedrostories@hiroikegawa @pedrosaidsheispunk @pastelnap

[guiltyasdave]

still bejeweled

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

word count: ~4.4k

summary: after breaking up with your boyfriend, your self-esteem is crushed. your best friend takes you to your favorite bar to take your mind off of things. there's a band is playing there tonight and the singer immediately catches your eye. inspired by taylor swift's bejeweled – and when i meet the band, they ask, 'do you have a man?', i could still say, 'i don't remember'

tags/warnings: explicit smut, only 18+, no/pre-outbreak au, no sarah, musician!joel, small age gap (reader is in her late 20s, joel's in his mid 30s), alcohol consumption, joel pulls her hair, able-bodied reader, a bit of angst, fluff, making out, fingering, dirty talk (joel talks you through it, i just know it), praise kink, unprotected p in v (i just didn't feel like mentioning it, this is my fantasy world where pregnancies & sti's don't exist, but they very much exist in the real world, don't do this), joel has a big dick (it's canon), consent king joel, rough sex, ass-slapping, hair-pulling, please let me know if i missed anything!

a/n: this came to me while making breakfast and listening to taylor, and didn't want to leave my head again. pretty self indulgent, i'm fairly certain that a musician!joel in my life would fix me. also, to boyfriends everywhere: fuck you <3

• dividers by the lovely @saradika!

• find my full masterlist here!

You storm out of the apartment, fighting back the tears that are threatening to spill over. This is it for good, you tell yourself. It's not the first fight of the sort that you and your boyfriend Max – now ex-boyfriend, you guess – have gotten into, with you usually backing down eventually, to keep the peace between the two of you. You've been together for more than three years, and you had hoped that this might be the one – the guy that you can settle down with, the one that you've been waiting for.

But over the past few months, Max has gotten more distant, less involved in the relationship, less interested in you, making you feel like you're burdening him, like you're always asking for too much. Like you are too much. You had asked several times if something was bothering him, something that you could work through together. Everything's fine babe, I don't know why you're even asking. Stop getting on my nerves with this.

You scoff to yourself. Usually, this was the point where you would step back from the argument, not willing to invest energy in a fight that wouldn't lead to anything anyway. Maybe things weren't perfect with Max, but they were what you knew. Familiar, comfortable. Better than being alone. Maybe not the big love that books and movies told you about, but who knows if that sort of thing even exists.

But today, when he just wouldn't give a shit about anything you said, something inside of you had snapped. “I feel like you don't even love me anymore. Do you?!” you had demanded, and the look on his face had told you everything that you needed to know.

That's how you find yourself on the street in front of your best friend's place, the short walk having somewhat cleared your head. Who does Max even think he is? It's not too much to ask to care about your partner, to show interest in them, to support them, is it? And he hasn't done any of that in quite some time.

All things considered, he just wasn't that great of a boyfriend. Still, you can't help feeling sad about it. Another relationship failed, another guy that just didn't deem you as good enough to pay attention to you. Maybe you're just not that interesting, a voice in your head whispers. You sniffle and shake your head, willing the thought out of your mind.

Your best friend Amanda greets you at her door, immediately clocking your slumped shoulders and reddened eyes, and hugs you tightly while leading you into her living room. Her concern for you elicits another wave of tears and you shakily recap today's events to her. She listens patiently, thankfully not telling you that you're better off without him or something like that, because even though you know that yourself, you don't think you could bear someone else saying it.

“I just can't believe that I'm single again and need to start over once more and I just-,” you bite your lip, willing away the tears that are pooling in your eyes, “I just feel like I'm not enough, like I can't keep a guy or I'm too picky, I don't know. It's just so frustrating, I don't wanna end up alone.”

Amanda's expression softens and she pulls you into her arms again. “You're not gonna end up alone, I promise you. You're funny and smart and,” she looks you up and down, “fucking hot. But you can't settle for less just because you're scared of ending up alone, okay? You're gonna find the guy that's right for you and then it will all make sense. Promise.”

You sigh, not sure if you believe her but also not in the mood to argue. After more talking, during which she eventually slips a glass of wine into your hand, Amanda decides that the two of you should go out tonight. Blow off some steam, show the world and yourself that you've still got it, as she puts it. You're honestly not sure if you've ever had it to begin with, but you let her enthusiasm wash over you, playing along as she insists that you wear one of her skimpiest dresses and starts doing your make up. You feel a little self-conscious with the tiny black dress that she has put you in and the dramatic red lipstick that she's currently applying to your lips.

“Don't look at me like that. You look so good and you'd know that if that fucker hadn't made you feel like you didn't for the past few months. But you've been too good of a girl for far too long now, and we're gonna change that tonight. Deal?” She expectantly holds her hand out for you to shake and you feel the excitement starting to bubble up in you. Maybe she's right and you do need to let go of your insecurities tonight. You shake her hand and she laughs delightedly, causing you to giggle as well.

Amanda finally declares that you're good to go, digging a sparkly handbag that's covered in tiny silvery jewels out of her closet. That one's actually yours, but you had left it at her place a few weeks ago after Max had told you how it was just too much and how you looked ridiculous with it. You had let it slide, thinking that it wasn't worth it to ruin the evening by fighting over a stupid handbag. What was wrong with you, you think to yourself now.

You look at yourself in her full-length mirror and you have to agree, you do look good. The short dress leaves most of your thighs bare, hugging your curves in all the right ways and the lipstick looks amazing, drawing the focus to the shape of your mouth. You do polish up real nice.

Amanda's boyfriend Patricks whistles appreciatively when you both exit from the bedroom and wishes you loads of fun. That's what a boyfriend should be like, you think to yourself. Supportive, loving, and just... kind?

Amanda drags you to one of your favorite bars. You've been here countless times together; usually it's a good crowd and the drinks are cheap. It's live music night, you realize as you walk in and notice the small stage at the far end of the room, which also explains why it's more crowded than usual. You push through a few people and manage to find two seats at the bar, from where you can watch the stage and hear the music, but it isn't too loud to talk.

The bartender comes up to you and Amanda orders tequila shots before you can even open your mouth. “I would've stuck to wine,” you complain to her and she shrugs, a big grin on her our face.

“That wouldn't be half as fun. We're going all out tonight, remember?”

You roll your eyes and nod, but when you down the first shot and bite down on the lime, you can't help the laugh that bubbles up in your throat. “That's my girl!” Amanda giggles and promptly orders another round. After two more shots and feeling the tingling warmth that's spreading through your body, you let your eyes wander around the room until they find the stage.

It's mostly local bands that play here, some better than others, and tonight's isn't half bad. It's four guys, a little older than you, mid-thirties if you had to guess, and their music has an acoustic, country-ish vibe to it. Your eyes linger on the man in the front, who is softly singing into the microphone while strumming along on his guitar.

He's kinda hot, you muse to yourself, gaze trained on the way his muscles are softly flexing while he's plucking on the guitar strings with his large hands, the sleeves of his dark t-shirt straining against his arms. His deep voice is washing over you, reminding you of whiskey and honey, and you squint a little to take a closer look at his face. He has a strong jaw and pouty lips, and dark, expressive eyes that gaze into the room while he's singing. You can't explain it, but something about him just feels... warm. Like he's safe. Kind.

He has a scruffy beard and messy curls, giving him a sort of rugged look, that, combined with his incredibly broad shoulders, has you biting your lip subconsciously. How easily he could cage you in, how big and warm his hands would feel on your body...

Damn, he's really hot. And you really feel the tequila talking right now.

Amanda's fingers appear in your field of vision, snapping impatiently and you turn back to her, heat crawling up your cheeks. You might have been staring a bit too obviously. “Which one?” she grins.

“Huh?” you ask, rather poorly feigning innocence.

“Oh, come on! Okay, I'll guess,” she continues on, not giving you a chance to even try to deny anything, “it's the singer, right?”

“I-,” you start, but the look on her face tells you that it's already a lost cause, “yeah.”

She laughs delightedly and gestures to the bartender for another round of shots. “Oh, I don't think-,” you try to object, but she shushes you.

“I won't rest until you've made a move on that guy, good choice dare I say, and live a little. So drink up!” She toasts to you and you can't help laughing yourself before you tip your head back and swallow the burning alcohol in one go.

You steal another glance towards the stage – maybe a rather extended glance in all honesty – and catch the singer's eye. He holds your gaze for a few seconds, then he lets his eyes wander around the room, before returning to you, his lips curling into a knowing smirk when you're still looking at him.

You hastily tear yourself away, leaning into Amanda in an attempt of hiding how flustered you're suddenly feeling. “That was fucking hot,” she breathes into your ear.

“I know,” you whisper back urgently. Then the insecurity kicks back in. “Do you think he really meant me? I mean, we're all the way in the back here, I bet he can barely see-”

Amanda swats at your arm, shaking her head. “Please, he totally meant you. You're gonna talk to him later, you hear me?”

You groan, “Oh my god,” and lean into her further. “I'm not cut out for all this, I wouldn't even know what to say.” She tsks at you and orders another round of drinks, not taking No for an answer.

You loosen up a little over time, throwing a few more glances towards the stage and delight in the way he always seems to just wait for you to look at him. When you've made eye contact several times, he winks at you and you can't help but giggle, a kind of warmth spreading through you that has nothing to do with the alcohol. A wide grin stretches across his face as he announces the last song for the night. You give up all pretenses, your eyes basically glued to him until he strums his guitar one last time, then thanks the audience and joins his bandmates as they wander off the stage.

The bands usually pack up, then join the bar's patrons for a few beers. You try not to appear totally desperate and refrain from staring at the door that leads backstage, instead busying yourself with your drink and listening to Amanda, when you feel someone sliding to the bar counter behind you and a hand lands to rest on your shoulder. A very big, very warm hand, you come to notice, before a deep, honeyed voice floats into your ear, causing you to turn around.

“Hi. Can I buy you a drink?”

He seems even bigger up close, and even more handsome, and your lips part slightly, taking him in. You take a beat too long to answer, just sinking into his deep brown eyes, and a grin slowly spreads across his face. “I'm Joel, by the way.” He extends a hand for you to shake and you blink, shaking yourself out of your staring, quickly taking his hand and offering your own name.

His hand dwarfs yours, enveloping it in his warmth and you feel yourself blush. This is the moment, you tell yourself. “I'd love a drink,” you smile at him and he flags down the bartender to take your order. You steal a glance at Amanda, who's nodding enthusiastically.

“So...” Joel drawls when you have your drink, still standing so close to you that you're almost touching, with a smirk playing around the corner of his mouth, “do you have a man, or-?”

Your thoughts briefly flicker to Max, but you find that you can barely remember how devastated you felt mere hours ago, that you can hardly recall his face right now. “No... no, I don't.”

“She most certainly does not, she's all yours,” Amanda chimes in, leaning around you and beaming at Joel.

You can't help but giggle at the entire situation, pleasantly buzzing with both the alcohol in your system and the feeling of having Joel in your direct proximity, and finding him more attractive with every minute that you look at him.

“I really liked your performance,” you tell him and his grin widens.

“Yeah? I could tell, sweetheart.” You laugh; the pet name has your heart soaring in your chest, but you feel completely relaxed with him, not awkward, not desperate to please him or keep his interest. You just feel... good. Really, really good.

Talking to him is easy. He makes you laugh, makes you feel comfortable, and your cheeks almost hurt from smiling so much, but you can't stop. He's constantly touching you, his hand lingering on your shoulder, your arm, sliding down to your waist, and leaving goosebumps in its wake.

When he pulls at your hips to pull you off your bar stool, you quickly follow his lead, letting him sway you around to the music that's now playing from the juke box, giggling the entire time. You feel like a teenager, but you couldn't care less. You're tipsy, you're happy, the easily most attractive man that you've ever met seems to be more than interested in you – you feel amazing.

Joel's hand comes up to cup your face, his calloused fingertips brushing over your cheek and you lean into his touch. His eyes flick down to your lips and your breath stutters in your chest. Your arms wrap around his neck at the same time that he leans in until his mouth meets yours, your lips eagerly opening against his.

A pleased hum is rumbling up in his chest and both of his hands grab at your hips, pulling your body flush against him as his tongue licks into your mouth. Your hands burrow into the messy curls at his neck and you all but whimper against his lips. You feel his mouth curl into a smile before he pulls away, the look in his eyes a little dazed, mirroring your own.

“You you wanna come home with me?” he asks quietly, “I live right around the corner.”

There's no need to even think about it, you want this man desperately. You quickly check on Amanda, who waves you off with a shit-eating grin and some rather crude words of encouragement.

You swing your glittery purse over your shoulder and Joel whistles lowly. “That's fancy. I like it.”

Your eyes widen slightly. “You do?”

“Yeah. Suits you.” A wide smile is spreading across your face and, without a second thought, you grab his hand to pull him out of the bar.

He really lives close nearby and you're stumbling through a dark hallway barely five minutes later. Joel has his hands on your hips and his lips on your mouth, kissing you roughly as he leads you into what you presume is the direction of his bedroom. He kicks the bedroom door shut behind you and crowds you up against the wood, his hands grabbing at your sides, pulling at the dress, revealing more skin to his touch.

The room is dimly lit, yellow light from the street below filtering in through the windows, and his eyes roam over you. “Fuck, you're so hot,” he growls and captures your mouth in another searing kiss, his hand coming up to palm at your breasts, roughly squeezing the flesh and running his thumb over your nipple through the fabric. You mewl into his mouth and he pulls back breathlessly. “You're an eager little thing, aren't you?” he murmurs and you arch your back, trying to press yourself back into his touch.

“Please, Joel,” you whimper and he chuckles before diving back in, his tongue hot in your mouth and his fingers creeping under your dress, toying with the hem of your underwear.

He pulls it aside, his fingers grazing your already soaked folds and you buck your hips into his touch. He slides your dress up higher until his hand comes to rest on your bare hip and he searches your face.

“You're feeling good? You want this?”

You nod eagerly and he tuts softly. “Gotta let me hear it, sweetheart.”

You bite your lip, his respectfulness paired with the dark look in his eyes spurring your arousal on even further. “I want it, please.”

“Good girl, so polite too,” he murmurs and your legs almost buckle underneath you. His hand travels back between your legs, grabbing at your underwear and quickly pulling it off of you, before his fingers are back, sliding through your wetness and circling your clit slowly.

“Fuck, you're dripping. So good for me, all eager and ready, huh?”

The whine that comes out of you sounds faintly like a “yes” and he presses another kiss to your lips, before he thrusts two fingers into you, stretching you deliciously.

“Fucking tight,” he murmurs against your mouth, his voice sounding wrecked already. He sets a languid pace, pausing every so often to curl his fingers deep within you, hitting that spongy spot that has your legs shaking and your hands grabbing at his shoulders as high-pitched whines fall out of your mouth.

You can see the pleased smirk on his face as you're falling apart on just his fingers. His other hand travels up to the straps of your dress, pulling them down and revealing your breasts to him.

His lips suck on the newly exposed flesh and you hear him mutter, “so fucking pretty” against your skin. His mouth travels to your nipple, flicking his tongue over the hardened bud, while his fingers keep thrusting and curling inside of you.

Heat is boiling in your abdomen, licking at your spine and you can almost taste your orgasm already. “Joel, I'm gonna- please don't stop, please,” you manage to breathe out.

“You're gonna come on my fingers, pretty girl?” he asks, before sucking your nipple back into his mouth. “Go ahead, let me feel it.” His thumb starts to toy with your clit in quick, precise circles, and you gasp. The heat spreads through your entire body as your orgasm takes hold of you, your toes curling and your legs shaking while you pulse wildly around his fingers.

“Good girl, you look so pretty when you come,” Joel whispers, trailing kisses from your breasts up to your neck as you slowly come down from your high.

Joel maneuvers you to his bed, supporting your weight and gently setting you down until you're sprawled out on the covers. You can still feel the aftershocks from your orgasm, but your want for him is coursing through you like a wildfire and you eagerly stretch your arms out for him.

He chuckles, mumbling something about you being insatiable and quickly pulls his shirt over his head, revealing golden skin and a body that's obviously strong and muscular, but he still has a softness to him.

You sit back up and scoot closer, your hands flying to his beltbuckle as you press kisses against his belly, reveling in the way his breath hitches and his muscles are twitching under your mouth.

You tilt your head up, silently asking for permission as you tug on his pants and he nods, smiling down at you. You pull his pants and underwear down in one go, desperate to see all of him, and you can't help the soft gasp that escapes your mouth at the sight before you.

He's fucking big, and you should probably worry about fitting all of him inside of you, but instead the fire in your abdomen is flaring up again and you subconsciously press your thighs together.

Joel leans down to you, pulling your already bunched up dress over your head and leaving you just as bare as he is.

“Like what you see, sweetheart?” he smirks.

“I- yeah,” you nod, shyly smiling up at him and he pecks your lips.

“Me too.”

He crowds you in, his broad body looming over yours as you lay back down on the bed and his fingers find their way in between your legs again. He grazes your clit, then swirls a finger through your wetness, spreading it on your inner thighs, and your hips buck up into his touch, causing him to chuckle.

“Impatient little thing.”

You can barely form a coherent thought, you're desperate to feel his cock inside of you and you eagerly part your legs when he situates his body between them. He grabs at your thigh, spreading you open even wider, before landing a playful slap against the backside. An almost embarrassingly loud moan escapes you and Joel's smirk turns downright feral.

“You liked that, sweetheart? You like it when I'm a little rough with you?”

He's grinding his hips against you, sliding his cock through your wetness, the tip almost catching at your entrance. You're past the point of caring, nodding mindlessly, you just want him inside of you.

“Fuck, yes, please Joel, please.”

“Should've known,” he mumbles, “it's always the quiet ones. Actin' all shy, but you need it bad, don't you? Gonna fuck you so good, take such good care of you, don't you worry.”

You whimper, your breath catching in your throat when he lines his cock up with your center, his tip already parting your walls, but he stops himself again. “Tell me once more, sweetheart. You still good, still want this?”

“Yes Joel, fuck, I want it,” you whine. The words have barely left your mouth when he slams into you, filling you to the brim. You cry out at the sudden intrusion, your walls fluttering around his length, trying to accommodate him as he's splitting you open. The stretch is intense, bordering on painful, but you still feel yourself getting wetter around him, pain turning into pleasure as he stills inside of you for a few moments to let you adjust.

“Goddamn it, you're tight, you're taking me so good, such a good fuckin' girl.”

His mouth is close to your ear, muttering filth to you with his hot breath fanning against the sensitive skin on your neck. Another loud moan falls from your mouth at his words and you clench around his cock that's still buried deep inside of you, causing him to groan.

“Yeah you like that, wanna be a good girl for me, don't you?”

You nod breathlessly and he pulls out almost entirely before slamming back into you, setting a brutal rhythm that's forcing moans from your throat and has you wildly clenching around him. One of his hands is playing with your nipples again, pinching and pulling at your delicate flesh and sending delicious sparks of pleasure straight to your core while he's still fucking you deeply. It's incredible, already easily the best you've ever had, but you still want more, want him deeper.

“Oh my god, p-please Joel,” you stutter.

“Please what?”

“H-harder, please.” He growls at that, pulling himself out of you and flipping you around until you're on your knees, presenting your ass to him. He presses his cock back into you, knocking the air out of your lungs, and his hand connects with the skin on your ass cheek in a harsh slap.

“Knew you were a filthy little thing, fuck, just waitin' around for someone to give it to you hard, huh?” he growls. The way he's talking to you is going straight to your core and you feel a second high approaching rapidly.

His hand tangles in your hair, making a fist and pulling until you're arching your back, slightly changing the angle and letting him hit a spot inside of you that absolutely devastates you. There's stars dancing across your eyes, your thighs are quivering and your walls are pulsing rhythmically.

“Not someone, just- just for you,” you moan out, shuddering around him as another orgasm washes over you, your vision swimming and you're clamping down on him.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Joel mutters, his hands grabbing your hips roughly and holding onto you with strong hands as he stills his movements and spills himself deep inside of you.

You feel almost delirious as Joel hugs you tightly to his body, kissing you deeply before he gently lays you down on the bed. He cleans you up, gets you a glass of water and covers you with a thick blanket before he slides into bed beside you.

His arm wraps around your middle and he pulls you closer against his chest, engulfing you in his warmth and peppering your bare neck and shoulders with kisses. You nuzzle into him, your eyes falling shut as you relax under his soft touches. You can't remember the last time you felt this good. Protected, cared for, happy.

“Sweetheart?” Joel's voice sounds from behind you and you give a little hum. “I know this started out like a one night thing, but-” he pauses, almost sounding a little shy, “promise me that you won't just vanish in the morning, okay?” You smile and crane your head to press your lips against his once more.

“I promise.”

a/n #2: ...yeah, this would definitely fix me. shout out to the real life amanda for being an amazing friend and the best hype woman, thank you for yelling about pedro with me 24/7. also shout out to the real life patrick for being an amazing boyfriend and providing us with insights about the male sexual experience lol. thank you guys for being the best adoptive parents to my third-wheeling single ass. <3

thank you so much for reading! if you liked this, please consider reblogging or leaving a comment!

[thriftedtchotchkes]

his favorite girl, part iii

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: tensions rise as your second lesson continues, but joel still refuses to admit his feelings to you—or himself. you'd concede defeat if you really believed he didn't want you. or if his actions weren't constantly contradicting his words.

warnings: 18+ MDNI, no outbreak, guitar teacher au, age gap (30 years), slow-burn, sexual tension, finger kink, smut, angst, f!masturbation, mild exhibitionism, mentions of guilt & shame

word count: 3.4k

series masterlist | part i | part ii

You have no idea how you're supposed to survive another afternoon with Joel, let alone an entire semester. He's basically Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, hiding under the visage of an unfairly sexy, middle-aged musician, but you never know which one you’re dealing with until he pushes you away or calls you his girl.

Today, he feels like a dangerous combination of both.

After your verbal agreement to keep things professional, yet again, he concedes and finally sits next to you on the couch. Guess that safe distance he was so desperate to maintain is null and void now that he’s made his feelings clear—sort of.

You assume his proximity is an olive branch, but it sure doesn't feel like one. Now, he's close enough to smell his cologne, an earthy, woodsy scent that's so Joel, it makes your head spin. It's also making this lesson infinitely harder to focus on.

You’d never even considered the possibility of him shutting you down this hard, but then again, a hot fling with an older guy wasn’t why you showed up on his doorstep in the first place. If he'd just admit he's interested, maybe things could be different, but he won’t, will he? So, what other option do you have?

You’re not going to throw yourself at him like some pathetic schoolgirl with a crush, even if that’s exactly what you are. You want him to want to touch you, to crave you the way you're sure he does, but right now he wants to teach you chords. Starting with C, apparently.

“We’re gonna try this chord again, alright? Same as last time, nice and slow,” he starts, reaching back to pull something out of his pocket. He presents you with a small, black piece of plastic that looks like a clamp, identical to the one on his guitar. "This here's called a capo. Go ahead and fit it right over the third fret—it’ll raise the key of the guitar. M’thinkin' that'll make things a little easier for ya."

You push your feelings to the side and accept it, following his lead and squeezing it into place before glancing up for his approval. He gives you an encouraging smile and nods, and your heart rate kicks up wildly in your chest.

God, why does his praise feel so good? And why does it feel like it’s been so long since anyone was this patient with you, or genuinely wanted to see you succeed? You realize you want him to keep looking at you like that, regardless of the nature of your relationship.

"S'perfect. Now, your fingers'll go here, here, and here," he arranges his fingers one by one on the three strings that make up the chord and strums. He lets it ring out for a moment, then looks up at you expectantly. "Any of this ringin' a bell from yesterday?"

Vaguely. Mainly, you're remembering how tempting his fingers looked while he was playing, but you'll have to do better than that today. Instead, you focus on mirroring what he showed you.

"Like this?" you ask hesitantly, pressing down on the strings and mimicking his motions. Tough nylon bites into your skin just as painfully as last time, but the sound you produce is pretty. Nothing like the muted, garbled mess from your previous attempt.

You meet his eyes, and they're filled with none of the surprise yours contain. He just looks pleased, like he had total confidence in you even if you didn't.

"Exactly like that. See? You're doin' better already. Must'a done your finger exercises last night like I told ya,” he says proudly, none the wiser.

If only he knew that’s exactly what you spent your night doing. Practically the entire night, if you’re being honest, and to no avail. It might’ve unintentionally improved your dexterity, but you're still stuck on everything that did or didn't happen yesterday. The only lasting result is how unexpectedly conflicted it made you feel. You nod, biting your lip to keep from grimacing.

“Sure did,” you play it off with a laugh. "I wanted to be as prepared as possible."

Prepared for something a little more physical than playing guitar, but that's a moot point now, isn't it?

You sound as fake as you feel, but luckily he’s so eager to continue the lesson, he doesn’t notice. Again, you follow his lead and try your best to ignore your disappointment and bury the residual hurt. You have a sneaking suspicion you're going to be doing a lot of that, but inexplicably, it's getting easier.

You're starting to realize it's not in spite of Joel. It's because of him. In a brief moment of self-indulgence, you let your gaze linger on his rosy cheeks and the newfound serenity in his eyes.

His enthusiasm is infectious, and his love for music radiates like a Texas heatwave, burning hotter with every chord he strums and string he picks. Even his posture is loosening, and the soft smile on his face seems like a permanent fixture.

It's that same warmth from earlier. That intimate connection you felt blooming in your chest from sharing in his joy. Cautiously, you allow yourself to hope, if not for you and Joel, then for your degree. For the goals you have yet to achieve that, regardless of the past 24 hours, still mean everything to you.

"So, what's next?" you ask eagerly.

His eyes light up, and you know you've asked the right question. He shifts across the strings to a new chord, his smile widening as you quickly move to match him.

"Next, we're learnin' F," he grins, nodding toward your finger placement. "Then, I figure we can run through some pickin' patterns if you're up for it.”

"I'm up for anything you are, teach," you reply earnestly, and the smile you give him feels genuine this time. You really do mean it in every sense. "But be gentle with me. It's been a while, if that wasn't obvious."

His smile falters, and something unreadable flashes in his eyes. After a moment, you realize what you said and how it must’ve sounded. You open your mouth to clarify, but before you get the chance, his expression clears. He chuckles, and it's a light, tinkling thing that fills your chest with a heady combination of relief and longing.

Of course, he’d take it in stride. You’re struck again by the resemblance to Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, left wondering if you're still imagining things. The subtle twitch of his fingers must be a figment of your imagination, too, or at least that's what you tell yourself. It doesn't matter now, anyway.

"'Course, I will,” he drawls companionably, his words commanding your attention, compelling you to hang on to each one like a lifeline. “Like I said, we'll take it nice and slow. Ease you back into things until you're ready for somethin' harder.”

It takes everything you have not to choke on your spit. Ignore it. Ignore it. Focus on the lesson and how incredible it’s going to feel when you finally finish the song and pass your damn class.

But you can’t. He’s too close, and he smells so good. You’re only human.

"I think I'll surprise you," you retort cheekily. You’re so fucked. "Plus, I like it hard. Just need a little build-up to get me there."

His hand tenses in a blink-and-you'll-miss-it movement, and you can't help the overwhelming feeling of pride pooling in your belly. You've never backed down from a challenge and you're not about to start now. This one is apparently still ongoing.

"Well, all right, then," he says smoothly, and this time when you shiver, he looks pleased. "Let's hear ya strum it, and then we'll work through the rest. Think you can handle that?"

You straighten up, sitting confidently with your fingers poised over the frets, ready to play. As you shift in your seat, your thigh presses firmly into his and sends a rush of heat straight to the pit of your stomach. "Yeah, I can take it.”

He shakes his head with an amused, yet undoubtedly shy smile. You bite your lip coyly, nodding at the sheet music you've just noticed on the rug at his feet.

"Are there more chords in this bar or is it just picking until the next line?"

It's a toss-up whether or not he heard any of what you just asked if his rapt attention on your lips is any indication. You're still teasing your bottom lip with your teeth, and it's not until you laugh that he finally snaps out of it. He shakes his head a little harder as if to shoo away the distraction, before reaching down to inspect the piece of paper.

He concentrates a little too hard on the page, looking but not seeing, so you reach over and point at a confusing string of notes that connect and repeat with seemingly no rhyme or reason. His gaze shifts to your daintily extended index finger, and you're hit with an intense feeling of deja vu, except this time, your roles are reversed.

“Can you show me how that part goes? It looks like gibberish to me, to be totally honest,” you prod him, trying to reel him back in.

As if on autopilot, he quickly discards the sheet and shifts his hands into place, ready to teach like he wasn't just daydreaming about your fingers wrapped around his cock, covered in his release. And if he wasn't, then you sure were.

“Y-yeah, sure thing. That line's just the intro, but the flow is somethin' else. Probably one of my all-time favorites," he says, his endearing mask carefully slotted back into place.

But you're onto him now. Begrudgingly, he tears his eyes away from where you're matching him on your guitar, waiting patiently for his next instructions.

"It really ain't as bad as it looks," he continues. "The timing's purposely a little off, but it's adaptable. This one's real easy to add your own spin to if that's somethin' ya wanna try."

With all of the skill and grace of a practiced musician, he plucks through the line to give you a preview of what was previously only lines and circles on a page. The notes blend seamlessly, a mixture of picking and what you vaguely remember to be hammering, and it evokes something you never expected.

An unidentified emotion takes root and feels startlingly like yearning and hope, carried by the short melody. It's beautiful. He circles back to the beginning, hopping along the frets slowly just for you, and he's beautiful. You watch him, enamored by his fluidity and ease of motion.

For him, all of this is innate. His guitar is a natural extension of himself, something he was born to hold. You used to think you were born for it, too. The reminder is a painful one, but thankfully you're not left to dwell on it for long.

"So, how 'bout it? Ready to give it a try?" Joel's voice cuts through the fog, as honeyed and mellow as the music at his fingertips. You want to hear that voice call you beautiful again and feel him panting against the shell of your ear while he stretches you out around his thick fingers. God, you want.

Yet, your hands move of their own accord and fall into place—it's the C chord. Apparently, you really want that, too.

"Ready, teach," you nod, and you know you must look like a lovesick fool.

Right now, you really don't care because your gorgeous guitar teacher is beaming and excited, and beneath it all, there's still a tinge of something that makes you believe all of this is real. A lust for more simmering just below the surface.

"You have my full attention, promise."

——

The next hour is spent walking through various strumming and picking patterns, and acquainting yourself with the fluctuating tempo. It's tricky, but you're committed. Again and again, you repeat the same bars, following Joel's interjected advice and corrections, and your mistakes become less obvious until they're all but gone completely.

Rewarding doesn't even begin to cover how a successful run feels. Even the pain blooming beneath the reddening indents on your fingertips feels good. Calluses are beginning to roughen the soft skin, but you earned them.

They're yours and yours alone, proof that you worked your ass off and achieved something remarkable. The results speak for themselves, bouncing around the walls of Joel's living room and breathing new life into the space. Your contribution to his little corner of the world.

And Joel looks so damn proud. He stays patient through every flubbed hammer and too-hard pluck, grinning when you complete the section without his guidance. Your lesson's already gone on long past its scheduled time, but neither of you seems to notice. You likely wouldn't bother to mention it even if you did.

Time trickles by like the slow drip of molasses, thick with the sweetest tension, yet the longer you play, the more a familiar ache starts to creep in and make your progression a little more difficult.

Your hand is cramping, and it hurts. You pause mid-strum to shake it out and stretch your fingers, sighing at the brief respite.

"Hurtin' again, huh?"

You huff out a laugh, remembering the last time he asked you that question. The throbbing in your joints would more than welcome another massage from Joel, but you don't exactly trust yourself to come back from that. You have to stay focused until the next line of the song, at the very least.

"It's really not that bad. Guess all those finger exercises are paying off," you joke, but you don't expect him to catch the underlying punchline. "I kinda figured it wouldn't go away overnight, anyway."

You can tell he's thinking about it, too. He nods understandingly, tapping a restless, arrhythmic beat against his guitar.

"S'all part of bein' a guitar player, unfortunately," he agrees, his entire body tense like he’s resisting the urge to reach out and inspect the subtle changes to your delicate skin for himself.

Your mind starts to wander as his tapping changes to slow circles swirled into the wood grain. You can't help but wonder if your new calluses would feel good sliding up and down his cock, if he'd like the coarse hint of pain teasing the ridge or circling the tip. You wonder what his own would feel like pressing into your clit. The skin of his middle and ring fingertips is noticeably rougher than the rest and with a little pressure—fuck.

You're wet. That can't happen. You have to concentrate. But his movements are starting to speed up, and you can almost feel them sliding through your messy heat.

The intrusive thought is thankfully interrupted when he stops the lewd motion and continues his reassurances like it never happened. Why does he keep doing that? It seems so pointless to keep pretending you’re not on the same page, but you’re not about to call him out and scare him off again.

You tell yourself to focus on the pain. Focus on what he’s saying, not what he’s insinuating.

"Pain's a good thing. It means you're stickin' it out and makin' some real progress," he says fondly, and it's almost enough to reclaim your attention. "Says a lot about the kind of person you are, too, what you do with that pain and how you let it shape ya. You're a good one, I can tell. Committed, like I was."

It's so much sweeter than anything you'd expected him to say. It helps.

"Fair enough. Still kinda sucks though," you grumble, but the slight quirk of your lips betrays your tone.

"Yeah, yeah. What happened to likin' it hard?" he asks playfully, and you feel that telltale whoosh between your legs.

You shift uncomfortably, subtly trying to unstick your underwear from where it's cemented to your core, but the unexpected friction makes you flinch. He picks up on it immediately.

"Look, why don't we take a break? I'll grab us some drinks while you rest up, and we can dive back in whenever you're ready," he offers, his voice raspier than before.

"Yeah, that, um...that sounds good. I'm actually gonna run to the bathroom real quick if that's cool," you reply, trying not to sound as flustered as you feel.

It's hot as hell all of a sudden, even though the AC hasn't stopped kicking since you got here, and you have a feeling cold drinks won't be enough to cool you down. He hesitates before nodding, then points down the hall.

"'Course. S'the first door on your left," he says, brows furrowing in concern. You all but speed walk past him to your temporary haven.

Backing into the door the moment it closes behind you, you squeeze your legs together as tightly as you can, but it only makes it worse. The ache is almost unbearable, and you know for a fact that you'll waste the rest of the lesson if you try to go back out there like this.

The entire afternoon has been such a complicated back-and-forth of conflicting feelings and confusion, but you still have no idea what do to about it. You want him to fuck you, but you also want him to teach you. He wants to teach you, but he also wants you in ways he won't admit to you. Or himself.

Your head is cloudier than it's been all day, and your thoughts are a jumbled mess of desire and rationality, both fighting for dominance. So, now what?

There was only one way to clear the fog last night, but you really shouldn't. You're in his bathroom for christ's sake, and he can't be more than 15 feet away, pouring you a glass of lemonade in the kitchen.

You do it, anyway. With one hand shoved down your pants and the other slapped over your mouth, you decide your best course of action is to rub one out in Joel's bathroom to rid yourself of this distraction once and for all. And it feels good.

The moment your sore fingertips press into your clit, your hips buck into your touch and you lose yourself to the friction. You're even wetter than you realized, and your fingers keep slipping from where you need them most, so you change tactics, ramming two of them inside you instead.

So much for resting your hand. Your motions are frantic, bordering on desperate, and you can't bring yourself to stop now that you've started. Wet squelching mingles with your muffled moans and fills the room, noisier than you’ve been all day even after an afternoon of playing guitar.

But you're getting a little too loud. The door rattles on its hinges every time your palm slaps into your heat, and your hand isn't nearly enough to mask your increasing volume the closer you get. Maybe you'll get lucky and he won't hear a thing. Or maybe you'll get really lucky and he'll hear everything.

You're too far gone to care. Just a little more. You can feel yourself starting to squeeze your fingers, and you just need a little bit more—

Then, there's a knock at the door and Joel's voice tentatively filters through.

"Everythin' alright in there?" he asks kindly, but he sounds wrecked.

It's obvious he heard everything, and yet he's still trying to be polite, desperately clinging to his morals and good, Southern manners. Too bad that turns you on.

Not bothering to respond, you keep going, fixated on how vivid a picture your unstifled moans and reckless actions must be painting. You wouldn't be surprised if it's just your imagination again, but you swear you can hear labored breathing and a litany of muttered curses coming from the other side.

He knocks on the door again, harder this time, and you quickly realize that any patience Joel had left is gone. You've finally pushed him past his limit.

"M'givin' you sixty seconds to get back in that livin' room," he grits out roughly. "You're finishin' out here."

The door shakes as he pushes off of it and stomps away, leaving you in palpable silence.

thanks for reading & stay tuned for part iv!

divider by @saradika-graphics

[punkshort]

Thank you to everyone who participated in my writing challenge and reblogged/liked/commented on any of the works listed below!

➤ I will keep updating this list as more entries post

Joel Miller:

• Vacay Lover - Yacht Captain AU - @josephquinnswhore

• Come Fly with Me - Pilot AU - @punkshort

• Physical Therapy - Lifeguard AU - @eff4freddie

Javier Peña:

• Orange Peel - Uber Driver AU - @captainredspade

Frankie Morales:

• Love in Hawaii - Tour Guide AU - @natasharomanoffsmotorcycle

• Water Cooler Courting - coworker AU - @crowandmousewritingco

• Hiding Place - best friend AU - @libraryofneith

• Neighborhood Watch - Neighbor AU - @joelalorian

• Poolside - Poolboy AU - @ghotifishreads

• Walking on Sunshine - Dog Walker AU - @sunshinehaze1

Dave York:

• The Prenup - Divorce Lawyer AU - @yxtkiwiyxt

• Lies, Excuses and Bullshit - Ex Boyfriend AU - @bitchesuntitled

• Doctor's Pet - Doctor AU - @evolnoomym

• Don't Move - Bodyguard AU - @almostfoxglove

Dieter Bravo:

• Dieter's Sky High Brownie Delights - Chef AU - @pedges-world

• Bittersweet Love - Childhood Friend AU - @ozarkthedog

• Golden Girl - husband's best friend AU - @whocaresstillthelouvre

Jack 'Whiskey' Daniels:

• Sing for you Forever - Musician AU - @yopossum

• Forever - Groomsman AU - @morallyinept

• My Kink is Karma - Hitchhiker AU - @clawdeewritesfanfic

dividers by @saradika-graphics

[egcdeath]

facing the music

pairing: joel miller x reader (pairing from the soccer parents au, but can be read as a stand-alone)

summary: joel’s got a secret. you’re determined to figure it out. 

word count: 4.4k

warnings: mentions of cheating and insecurities around cheating (but no actual cheating), joel is being a little suspicious, joel in his musician era, a bit of arguing, angst, fluffy at the end, au: no apocalypse, very lightly edited

author’s note: thank you all so much for 2k followers!! i hope you enjoy this fic! comments and feedback are always appreciated :)

It started when you noticed that Joel was becoming a little more distant than what was normal for him. Sometimes, you’d ask what his plans for the day were over breakfast, and you’d receive an oddly short and stuttered out response, as if he had to think of a quick lie on the spot. Others, you’d ask if you and Chloe could stay the night—something that was typically a yes without hesitation and was asked as more of a courtesy than anything else—but the amount of days he wanted you over was beginning to dwindle more and more, making it obvious to you that he did not want you over for some reason.  

Which was fine. Maybe Joel just wanted some space from you. Except, then the amount of doubles he needed to work suspiciously began to grow exponentially. Now, you may not have been super familiar with contracting, but some extensive Reddit research had told you that it wasn’t exactly peak contracting season. Besides, there were only so many homes in the surrounding area, and only so many pools that needed to be dug, or decks that needed to be built. 

But the final nail in the coffin were the suspiciously late hours that Joel began to come home on the rare occasion that he actually allowed you to stay. In the past, even when he’d worked long shifts, he was typically back before ten in the evening. You could probably count the days on one hand that he’d been home before that time within the past month.

Despite how hard you tried to convince yourself otherwise, his behavior was clearly a little odd and unsettling. You had been trying your best to let go of some of your past relationship hang ups, and you’d said it a thousand times to your friends, your parents, or really whoever would listen—Joel was nothing like Nathan. You really had nothing to worry about. He would never purposefully deceive you. 

Except with every passing day, it was becoming more and more obvious that Joel was definitely keeping something from you. The new and odd behaviors, the weird change in work schedule, and the late hours all told you that much. As much as you tried to fight it, you’d be a fool not to even question what exactly it was that was causing this rather suspicious behavior.

Obviously, you needed to investigate Joel and his whereabouts somehow. If he wouldn’t be direct about what he was doing, you would simply figure it out yourself. You could always call off sick and follow him around for the day to see if he really was just going through an odd period, or if he actually had something to hide. 

But before you began your investigation, you wanted to give your partner a proper chance to be honest; to let him get anything he needed to get off his chest to you. That reasoning was how you ended up alone in Joel’s bed, binge watching a shitty reality TV show to keep you awake until his door finally cracked open at a staggering three o’clock in the morning. How you even managed to stay awake this late was somewhat of a miracle, but you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes and prepared yourself for the interrogation you’d been rehearsing in your head all night.

Joel jumped with a start as he stumbled across you, wide awake in his bed with your laptop on your lap. He was quite obviously not expecting you to be in his room at this hour, let alone awake and seemingly waiting for him. 

“Shit,” he gasped out, clearly more than a little startled by your presence. “I thought you were coming over tomorrow. How’d you get in the house?”

“You gave me a copy of your house keys, remember?” you closed your laptop and set it on your bedside table, reminding yourself to stay cool and calculated in this interaction. “Tommy called to see if I could pick Sarah up, so I spent the evening here.”

“Right. Sorry, I forgot. It’s late. I’m just tired,” he explained, closing the door behind him and beginning to shed some of his clothing. You found the flannel and jeans to be an interesting choice— too uncomfortable for work, just casual enough for a date. Suspicious. “Why are you still up?” 

“Couldn’t sleep,” you replied, fighting away a yawn that would show just how tired you really were as you laid back onto your pillows. “What are you doing back here so late?”

Joel shrugged, looking off to the side as if he didn’t want to make eye contact with you. He had never been a particularly good liar, and it was becoming clear to you that he hadn’t thought through what he would tell you in the event that he was caught coming home so late. 

Probably because he’d gotten away with it so many times before, a thought you hadn’t had since Nathan remarked. You had willingly stayed in the dark for far too long with him. You wouldn’t make that same mistake in this relationship, too. 

“Some of the guys wanted to go get drinks after work,” he explained, busying himself with bringing his clothes to the hamper and searching for pajamas rather than looking at you. 

“Wow. You guys were out for a while then,” you smiled despite not really believing the explanation. Not yet wanting to give away how little you believed him, you lifted the duvet up and gestured at it once he finally turned back to look at you. “You coming to bed?”

“Yeah, just give me one sec,” he said, hurrying off to the bathroom and doing god-knows-what in there. The insecure, angry part of yourself that you’d repressed since your divorce wondered if he was attempting to rinse off the smell of another woman, but the logical side of you reasoned that he was probably just freshening up before getting into bed. 

You couldn’t exactly place how you felt. Obviously, Joel had lied to you about his whereabouts, and you certainly were uncomfortable because of that, but you weren’t quite sure that it was time for you to start feeling betrayed just yet. 

You tried not to stew in your feelings for too long, as Joel still had time to tell you the truth. Maybe he’d had a change of heart in the bathroom, and he would step out of that shower as a new man. You certainly hoped so as he came back out from his en-suite, hitting the lamp on his bedside table before getting into bed next to you. 

Joel was quick to wrap you in an embrace, clearly eager for a bit of cuddling before the two of you went to sleep. He buried his nose into your shoulder, letting out a soft sigh as he melted into you like so many times before. Even when you were feeling suspicious of him, you couldn’t deny how feeling him slot against you like a puzzle piece always made your heart flutter.

But you couldn’t get distracted now. Based on how Joel’s breaths were beginning to slow down next to you, your window of time for getting an answer about his late-night whereabouts was quickly shrinking. 

“Honey?” you began, reaching up to thread your fingers through the hand he was currently laying on you. 

“Mhm,” he replied groggily, clearly quite sleepy after being up this late, doing whatever it was that he was doing. 

“Is there anything you wanna tell me?” you asked deceptively softly, rubbing your thumb on the back of his hand.

“No,” there was an alertness in his tone as he responded far too quickly for your liking. Your question clearly caught him off guard and pulled him away from a sleep that had been rapidly grasping at him.

You were no idiot. Joel obviously knew what you were onto, but wanted to play dumb. Fine. That was totally fine. You could give him a hint, and maybe, just maybe, he would be honest with you. 

“Not even why you were really out this late?” you pressed, your voice artificially sweet. 

Unlike your previous question, this one gave him a bit of pause. You and Joel both knew he needed to consider his next words very carefully. 

“No,” he said once more after he seemed to have collected his thoughts.

“Okay,” you simply acknowledged, allowing Joel to snuggle back into your back as if he hadn’t said anything wrong at all. After a beat, you dropped his hand, then you shifted away from Joel just the slightest bit. He readjusted himself, inching himself closer to you to compensate for the loss of skin-on-skin contact between the two of you. You moved yourself away once more, and Joel once again followed, seemingly not getting the message in his half-asleep state. 

As you scooted away, the soft simmer of your frustration began to turn into what was more of a rolling boil of anger. Joel had the audacity to lie to you after you had given him not one, but two opportunities to tell you the truth, then proceed to cuddle up to you like nothing happened after you repeatedly moved away. That anger led you to abruptly pop out of bed, your breathing picking up as your body and mind prepared you for the argument that was sure to ensue. 

“What’re you doing?” Joel asked groggily, clearly half-asleep once again. 

“Leaving,” you replied brusquely, grabbing two pillows from your side of the bed and beginning to tug away the blanket folded up at the foot of Joel’s bed. 

“What?” he questioned, sitting up and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he watched a very angry you snatch away the blanket at his feet. 

“Goodnight, Joel. Let me know if you’re ready to be honest in the morning,” you huffed, not even letting him get a word in as you left the room. 

You spent the night curled up in Joel’s living room loveseat, grateful that both of your children were leaving for the weekend in the morning and wouldn’t have to face the fallout of whatever the fuck was going on between the two of you. 

It was almost jarring how much this night was reminding you of how you felt in your previous relationship, so much so that when you dreamt of the chaos that was your past, you weren’t too surprised. Although, you were quite drained. 

In the morning, your back was killing you almost as much as your brain was. You hated being mad at Joel, but you put on a brave face as you got both Sarah and Chloe out the door, playing off your rough night on the couch as a mild bout of insomnia. 

By the time that it was just you and Joel alone, you had already proven by your cold shoulder and silent treatment that you were completely uninterested in interacting with your partner at the moment. You were rightfully pissed. You were pissed as you scrambled eggs (making sure to get a bit of eggshell in Joel’s batch), and you were pissed as you sat down at the table with a warm mug of coffee in hand. 

Joel called your name, catching your attention, but not urging you to look up or even really acknowledge his existence in any meaningful way. “I don’t want to fight,” he pleaded with you. 

“Good thing we’re not fighting,” you replied, looking back down at your phone as you sipped your coffee—a drink that tasted as bitter as you were feeling. 

“But you’re angry at me,” he reasoned, making a beeline from the kitchen to the table. 

“Mmm,” you hummed neutrally, not explicitly agreeing or disagreeing, but acknowledging that he spoke. 

“How can I fix this?” he asked, settling down in the seat next to you and attempting to lower the device in his hands so you could focus on him. He said your name softly then repeated, “How can I fix this?” with a sense of genuineness that made you want to forget you were ever mad in the first place. 

“You can tell me what you’ve been doing that makes you come back home at four in the morning,” you parroted his tone in an almost mocking way. Sure, it was a little mean, but you were beyond frustrated. Joel had accidentally played into one of your biggest insecurities in a relationship, and he didn’t even get why you were so upset. 

Joel sighed and looked away, shaking his head just the slightest bit to himself. He hesitated before beginning again, almost as if he wanted to explain himself but couldn’t. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m leaving,” you announced, standing up. “Thanks for the coffee.”

“Hey, don’t go,” he practically begged. “Please.”

The desperation in his voice nearly made you reconsider putting your foot down. Knowing how he was sensitive around people leaving and hearing his plea for you to stay almost had you turning around and pulling him into a tight embrace. One that would tell him I promise not going anywhere. But you needed to be strong. You couldn’t just let yourself be mistreated because you loved someone. 

“I’ll come back when you’re ready to be honest with me,” you explained, striking a balance between affirming that you would be back, but being clear that you would only do so under the conditions of trust. “I don’t really think that’s much to ask for.”

“I love you,” he attempted, grabbing the tips of your fingers as you walked away from the kitchen table. 

As much as you wanted to be petty in the moment and not say anything in response, you understood that Joel had some pretty deep seeded issues with abandonment, and that usurped any petty bone in your body. Maybe you’d feel good from the power trip of making him feel exactly what you’d been feeling—and even then, you’d probably feel guilty immediately after—but at the end of the day, he was still your boyfriend, and his only real crime was telling a little white lie. 

“I love you too,” you said earnestly, truly meaning it regardless of how upset you were. “I’ll see you soon.”

You could practically feel the big brown puppy dog eyes boring into your back as you walked off, but you willed yourself to leave anyway. 

“Wait,” he called out the moment your hand met the doorknob. “I’ll tell you what I’ve been doing. But I’d rather show you than tell you.”

Your interest was thoroughly piqued, and you turned around to look at the man who—like you predicted—directed his mournful puppy dog eyes at you. 

“You’re well within your right to leave. In fact, it’s probably for the best for both of us that you go. Just… Just meet me at the Tipsy Bison tonight at ten, and I swear I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”

Well, you weren’t going to say no to that, but you did put on a bit of a show as you contemplated telling him if you would or not. “Okay,” you simply agreed, leaving the door swinging behind you. 

Although you played coy before, you were anxious with anticipation of what it was Joel had kept such a secret as the day passed you by. You also found your home to be extremely boring without your child’s endless commentary to keep you occupied or without having Joel by your side to spice up even the most mundane tasks. 

It felt like the span of the day was lasting years as you waited for the clock to approach ten. And as you got ready to head out to the bar, you felt that time somehow found a way to become even slower. 

Regardless of the timeframe Joel gave you and the fact that time seemed to be moving extra slow, you made it a point to arrive at the quaint bar just fashionably late, showing yourself into the bustling building and somehow managing to find an unoccupied booth. 

As expected, it didn’t take you too long to find Joel, his silhouette and body language easy for you to pick out even in the crowded sea of people. Your lips involuntarily quirked up into a smile as you watched Joel grab a drink from the bartender, and your eyes followed the man as he walked away.

Just as quick as your smile came, it dropped, bringing your stomach right along with it as Joel approached a woman. Joel smiled nervously at this mystery woman and she flipped her hair before setting a hand on his back and seemingly ushering him somewhere else. You swore that your heart skipped a beat in the worst way possible. 

There it was. Just like you feared.

So that’s what Joel invited you to see. He wanted to get you right up and personal to watch him have an affair. 

That angry, insecure part of yourself reared its head once more, as you were briefly overcome with a perverse pride that you’d at least correctly guessed that the deception was occurring. But more than anything, you just felt empty inside. Maybe this whole relationship thing just wasn’t for you. 

You needed a drink. 

Once he was gone, you sighed aloud. Was there something fundamentally wrong with you that made every single significant other in your life unsatisfied with you? You looked down at the sticky wood table as you pondered this question, with nothing more than people talking as background noise to your inner turmoil. 

Wait, what kind of bar had no music? You were starting to become more than a little agitated with your whole situation. You were sure your frustration with the bar was more of misplaced anger than anything else, but it felt good to scoff at this stupid little establishment where you found out that your stupid little relationship was ruined. 

Just as you began to pull yourself out of your pity party, and thus out of the booth, you were approached by a mildly frazzled-looking bartender. 

“Excuse me, ma’am, that man over there sent you a drink,” they informed you, gesturing over to a stage (since when did that exist?!) where Joel was setting up a microphone(?!) with the help of that woman from before. Now that you were getting a better look at her, her name tag and lanyard clearly indicated that she was nothing more than staff. 

“Oh, uh, thank you,” you were caught a little off guard by it all; by Joel sending you a drink, by him looking like he was getting ready to perform something for this crowded bar, and by your insecurity ever letting you believe that your Joel, who begged and gave you puppy eyes for you not to leave that very morning, would ever cheat on you. 

Despite your eyes never leaving that stage, the sound of light microphone feedback made you focus a little more on your boyfriend as Joel got settled into an uncomfortable looking stool and began to balance the base of his guitar on his thigh. 

“How’s everyone doing tonight?” he asked as he adjusted the microphone, getting a sort of flat cheer, but a solid whoop from you. No matter how confused you were, you could always be counted on to be a supportive partner. “Good to see some old faces, and some new ones,” you could’ve sworn he looked in your direction when he said that. 

Is this what he’s been up to this entire time? Obviously, he’d been at this bar before, but you wondered if there were others. 

“My name’s Joel, and I’ll be playing some tunes for you tonight. I’ll be taking requests all night—except for requests to get off the stage,” he joked, receiving a little chuckle from the crowd who were clearly just ready to start having music playing again. Getting the memo, Joel began to strum his instrument before heading straight into a song. 

You were pleasantly surprised; you didn’t really know what you expected coming into the bar tonight, but you certainly hadn’t expected to hear Joel performing live in front of a somewhat substantial audience. 

You polished off your drink before moving a little closer to the stage. Based on the way Joel acted when you, Chloe, or Sarah even suggested that he play something for you, you knew that it was taking a lot for him to be up on that stage. You weren’t going to let him stay up there without seeing how great of a job he was doing. 

People swayed and danced along to his covers—the songs just happening to be music you were familiar with through your duets (and occasionally quartets) in the car, or through karaoke nights—but you wormed your way up to the front and grinned at Joel as he sang, his eyes occasionally meeting yours and brightening up with every glance. 

Finally, it seemed like his set was beginning to wrap up. In your opinion, his little concert could have gone on far longer, but you understood that all good things had to come to an end.

“This last song is dedicated to my lovely partner and our amazing kids,” a soft aww could be heard in the bar as he delved right into the next and final song, a song that the two of you were quite familiar with. You had great memories of that song coming on your record player while you washed the dishes, making you drop whatever it was you were doing and dance in the kitchen, a slow but soft sway. More recently, you had convinced Joel to take a bath with you, during which this song played, and he confessed how it always made him think of you. 

Now that you really thought about it, it really was your song, and you felt like your heart was alight as you watched Joel play it, as he looked right at you, an unconcealable smile plastered on his face.

With the song finally wrapped up, and a solid roar of applause once Joel was done, you made it your first priority to find your partner once he finished tearing down his set. 

Joel wasn’t very difficult to locate—he stood back at the bar as a few people came up to him to tell him how great of a job he’d done. You patiently waited for Joel to receive all of his rightfully earned praise before you finally sent him a drink of your own, winking at him once the bartender passed on the message. 

He was quick to come over to you, taking a seat right next to you and smiling at you fondly, still so sickeningly in love despite the argument you’d had with him earlier in the day. 

“Hi, handsome,” you greeted, setting a palm on his thigh. “You were great up there,” you gushed, genuinely very impressed with how great his performance was. You knew he was good, but he had clearly become more confident playing in front of others, and it showed in the amazing show he put on that night. 

“Really? You liked it?” Joel practically lit up, seemingly not expecting you to have enjoyed the show that much. 

“Of course I liked it, you dork. Do you not hear me when I tell you how good you are?” by now your negative feelings had mostly dissipated, leaving you comfortable enough to laugh a little as you spoke.

“Well, you’re required to tell me that I’m good. And you’re biased,” he argued. 

“Whatever,” you giggled, stealing a sip of the drink you’d ordered for Joel. “So is this what you’ve been acting all suspicious over?” The question was more rhetorical than anything else, but it would be nice to hear his actual confession. 

“Yeah, I’ve been going to a few open mics around the city for the past month or so” he confessed, looking mildly uncomfortable. “I should’ve just told you. It wasn’t worth nearly sabotaging our entire relationship because I was a little embarrassed.”

“No, it wasn’t,” you agreed, bumping your knee against his. “You know, I was starting to think you were having an affair or something-“

“Christ, I would never- Should I be offended? Do you not trust me?” Joel interrupted, clearly a little distressed by you thinking that he would ever put you through something like that. 

“I do trust you, but you would start feeling a little suspicious too if I randomly started acting the way you’ve been acting… Coming home late, making weird excuses that are obviously lies, refusing to be straightforward…” you trailed off, hoping Joel would get the idea. 

“Fine, you’re right,” he conceded. “I’m sorry I acted like that. I should’ve known better after everything you’ve been through,” he apologized, setting a hand on your arm. His apology was clearly accepted by you. If anything, you were more relieved that your relationship was preserved than you were annoyed by his little secret. 

“It’s alright. You just have to promise me that you’ll invite me to every show you have from now on. And maybe occasionally practice in front of our kids and I too,” you suggested, happy to throw in your own little terms and conditions. 

“You know, a few weeks ago, I probably would’ve said no to both of those things,” he began, looking off a little wistfully. 

“But open mics have changed you for the better?” you finished his sentence, knowing him well enough to figure you knew the direction of his sentence.

“I guess so,” he agreed with a hum. 

“That’s cute,” you commented, being completely truthful with your words. You were glad that Joel had been able to discover a hobby that he enjoyed, and one that had seemingly been helping out with his confidence. 

“You’re cute,” Joel countered, reaching up to cup your cheek in his hand as if he were demonstrating his point.

“You know what’s cuter?” you proposed.

“Hmm?”

“That face you make when you get really focused on hitting the right note,” you replied with a smirk, knowing that regardless of how confident his new hobby was making him, he still squirmed when being complimented.

“Oh, please stop,” he blushed, covering his face in embarrassment as you praised him. 

“Oh no, get used to it. From here on out, I’m gonna be sitting at the front row of every single one of your shows, and giving you play-by-plays of when you look cutest during your sets,” you teased.

“You know what? That might be something I can get used to.”

[yopossum]

Yopossum Masterlist

Hi! Yopossum here!! They/she. Queer weird dynamically disabled mentally ill and totally chill mom/spouse/friend/writer/artist/wildlife wrangler/rabble-rouser/cryptid. Older than the World Wide Web. I love meandering prose and big feelings and happy endings (both kinds)

All content will be rated on both series and each installment of the series. Warnings on each series masterlist unless otherwise indicated. Not every work will be sexy or explicit, but I have a blanket NO MINORS policy for anything I post.

Key - 🔥: smut — ⛈️: angst — 💖: fluff — 🌈: queer

Happy to interact, appreciate a like or a reblog, love if you feel compelled to share; not presently taking requests or seeking constructive feedback or suggestions. That said, I work hard to create content and curate a space that is open and safe and accurate. I do my best to research and be mindful but if I misstep or am misinformed, please reach out!

I do NOT have a regular posting schedule because I am a joyful agent of gentle chaos. I also don’t have a tag list because frankly I am too much of a mess to keep track of one 💕

All brainworms are my own and I do not purport to own or represent any pre-existing characters or IPs.

AO3 - KO-FI

Characters

Joel Miller

Not Anyone Who Says - series, in-progress - Joel x OFC Juniper - M/E 💖🔥

Matilija - series, in-progress - Joel x f!Reader - M

Snug - one shot for @beefrobeefcal’s Married Joel Sits on You challenge - Joel x wife reader - M - 💖

& what if hope crashes through the door - series, ongoing - Joel x OFC + Hopper x Joyce (Stranger Things) - M/E - ⛈️💖🔥

Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales

Known You When - two part - Frankie x f!Reader - E ⛈️🔥💖

Floating - one shot - Frankie x gn!Reader - M 💖⛈️

Safe Harbor - one shot - Frankie x Santiago - M/E 🏳️‍🌈⛈️🔥💖

Watching - one shot - voyeur Frankie - E 🔥

Ezra

Never Let Me Go - oneshot - sub!Ezra x gn!Reader - E - 🔥💖

Dieter Bravo

HOME - series, ongoing - Dieter x bff!Reader (mostly platonic bffs/roommates) - M/E - 💖🔥🌈⛈️

Sweet Dee - oneshot - sub!Dieter x gn!Reader - E - 🔥💖

The X Files drabble - Dieter x Mulder x Scully - E 🔥

Jack “Whiskey” Daniels

Kindred Spirits - miniseries - Professor Jack Daniels, PhD x f!Reader - M/E - 💖🔥

Sing for You Forever - oneshot - musician Jack AU x f!manager Reader - M - ⛈️💖🌈 (no romance!)

Silva

El Gran Varón - oneshot - Silva x Jake - M - ⛈️🌈

Din Djarin

Only One Bed - ficlet - Din x gn!Reader - T - just goofy!

Untitled - oneshot, TBD - solo Din - E - 🔥

Tim Rockford

Manspreading ficlet - Tim x gn!reader - E

Javier Peña

The Secret Place - Javi x female reader - E 🔥💖

Paranoia Paralizante - series, TBD - Javi x ??? - E - 🔥⛈️

Marcus Moreno

Untitled - series, TBD - Marcus Moreno x Mr. Ben - M/E 💖🌈🔥

Mr. Ben

Untitled - series, TBD - Mr Ben x Marcus Moreno - M/E 💖🌈🔥

[nonexistent-introvert]

Train Ride

Pairing: no outbreak! college? Joel miller x f!reader

Word count: 2.2k

Content: angst, unrequited love, au where joel didn't end up being a teen dad and pursued his dreams of being a musician

A/n: Loosely inspired by this song. idek what to say anymore, im a sucker for angst and this is yet another unrequited love fic bc i love suffering. Fun fact: this fic was supposed to end happily but I decided against that.

  You couldn’t help the smile that was forming on your face as you admired the photo on your phone. It's a picture of Joel. His guitar case was strapped to his back, a grin on his face, the street lamps highlighting the features on his side profile. He looked so happy and proud as he gushed over the performance he had just put up. Talking obsessively over the backstories of the music he had just played beautifully. 

   “Who got you smiling like that?” the teasing sound of your friend, Esther’s voice broke you out of your trance. You quickly turned off your phone, trying to brush your feelings away. “I called you thrice.” Joel said, chuckling softly at the dazed look on your face. “Well, what’s up?” You asked, shoving your phone into your pocket. 

   “Did you take this picture?” Joel turned his phone around. The train started moving at the same exact time, causing his hand to shake as he tried to hold onto the handrails above him. The picture became a blur as you squinted your eyes at his phone to try to make sense of it. You blinked a few times before instinctively holding his hand in an attempt to stabilize the picture, it took you a few seconds before your actions comprehended in your mind. You abruptly let go of his hand, coughing slightly and you turned your eyes away from him. “You caught me.” You awkwardly laughed, hoping that he didn’t notice how much impact the physical contact had on you Joel smiled, the sound of your own heartbeat blasting in your ears. “It’s a nice picture.” He simply complimented. “I told you you looked the most handsome and charming when you’re playing the guitar.” Esther commented from beside you. You bit your lip slightly, Esther was the whole reason why you even knew Joel. She had introduced the both of you to each other and was definitely closer to him than you are. Joel shook his head, denying Esther’s compliments. You felt yourself deflate slightly. 

   Joel was engaged in a conversation with Esther. You couldn’t help the sigh of disappointment as you remained your distance from the pair from your place beside Esther. They were close, you weren’t. It was none of your business nor did you want to randomly insert yourself into the conversation. While you watched the pair, a painful memory flooded your mind.

   “I wonder if anyone else can make it to the performance. They all seem so busy these days, haven’t seen any of my friends around not to mention have a conversation.” The words had slipped out without any additional thought. It was the whole reason why it had hurt you so much because it was his truthful thoughts. Your heart sank, he had spent his last few days heading home with you, you definitely weren’t part of the group of friends he had mentioned. “Thanks, Joel. It’s nice knowing that I have been walking home with a stranger for the past few days.” you replied sarcastically, chuckling lightly with a playful smile on your face. It was just how you dealt with emotions, by hiding behind the protective shield that was humour. Joel blinked, the weight of his words finally comprehending in his mind. “No, no. I’m sorry I didn’t mean it like that. I just-”

  Honestly? You didn’t want him to elaborate, didn’t need to know what he truly saw you as, didn’t need the confirmation that he definitely didn’t reciprocate your feelings. “Joel, I’m just joking. You don’t have to explain yourself.” Joel’s gaze sunk to the floor, ignoring your words completely as he struggled to find the right words to express himself. 

  “You’re a friend too. Just-just not the friend that I would share some matters with.” 

  You laughed, brushing his reply off with a shrug. “I get it,” You told him. 

  His words might as well have been a bullet through your heart. He had broken your heart that day. 

   Despite that incident, you couldn’t rid your mind of Joel Miller. Your eyes searched for him everywhere you went. Searched for him at the usual table he always sat at in the library to do his work, searched for him among his group of friends, and searched for him in the morning when you boarded the public bus you knew he took too. Every single time you searched for him, you reprimanded yourself. He was like a drug and you were like the drug addict. All you thought of was him and all you yearned for was him. You couldn’t even will yourself to stop falling for Joel. 

    “Bye, you two have fun!” Esther bid goodbye, watching the doors of the train open as she stepped out and waved back to the both of you. You stared at the map above the doors, four more stations. Four more stations before Joel got off and you’re left alone. Esther sent you a teasing smile, she always laughed about the fact that the both of you couldn’t hold a conversation up with each other that lasted longer than a minute. She was right, the awkward silence that suffocated both of you arose as soon as the doors closed. 

    The train started up again, the sudden gain in speed causing you to stumble backwards and hit your back against the wall. Joel stumbled forward, the distance between the both of you decreased sharply. His chest was just a few inches from your face, you could feel his breath on top of your head and smell the faint cologne that lingered on him. Your heart paced, your own feelings betraying you as your mind called you a traitor. How many times have you broken the promise to yourself that you would stop your feelings for him? “sorry “ Joel muttered as he quickly restored the distance between the both of you. The stupid hope arose in your heart again, the hope that would eventually burn you. You admired the features on his face, wondering if you had the same effect on him as he did you. Logic was quick enough to shoot that thought down as the hope turned into a flame that burned painfully at your heart. Joel doesn’t feel anything for you, your own logic coldly reminded you. 

    Your eyes remained fixated on the train map. Counting the remaining stations to Joel’s departure. One station had already passed in awkward silence despite how much you wrecked your brains for a conversation starter. Engaging in small talk seemed desperate enough while other conversation topics just seemed dry or too random. You let out a huff, internally laughing at yourself as you snuck a glance at Joel who was tapping his feet to a rhythm. Esther was the only reason the both of you talked most of the time, your love for music was the only similar interest between the both of you. The conversation topic of guitar and music has long been exhausted from the time you went home with him every day. You’re so hopelessly in love with someone who you can’t even start a conversation with, how pathetic were you? 

   “I’m getting off one stop earlier.” Joel announced, following your gaze to the map above. You wondered if it was because he couldn’t stand the awkward silence between the both of you. “I have a direct bus, closer to my home too.” He explained, you nodded. “I wish I had a direct bus.” You mindlessly commented, staring at the watch on your wrist. He hummed, he pointed to a station on the map. “That’s your stop, right? Yeah, I can’t think of a bus. You live way too far so thanks for making the effort to come today.” Your heart cracked, creating faultlines that threatened to break your heart apart at any time. You smiled, nodding at him. That wasn’t your station, he didn’t remember, while you had remembered everything about him. Another painful memory drifted into view, despite how badly you wanted to suppress it and pretended it didn’t happen

    “Wait, both your birthdays haven’t passed right?” Joel’s sudden question caught both you and Esther off guard. Your mind blanked out at the sudden question while Esther rolled her eyes at Joel. “Both of ours passed, a long time ago.” Joel tilted his head in confusion, trying his best to recall. You swallowed, 26th September. You recalled his birthday without a second thought. A boyish smile crossed his features, a sudden spark in his eye as a realization hit him. “Oh yea… I remember yours. February was it?” Joel furrowed his eyebrows, his eyes fixated on Esther. “February 22nd.” Esther beamed, “Congrats Miller,” You stilled, your heart pumping in anticipation as Joel’s averted his focus to you. He frowned and when you finally urged yourself to meet his eyes. All you saw was a guilty smile and you felt your heart crumble. Joel didn’t remember, he didn’t remember your birthday. Then you remembered how he gave you the same guilty look on your birthday when he had nothing prepared while you carried a bag that was filled with birthday gifts. “I’m sorry, I never knew it was your birthday.” He had apologised that day, profusely and you had reassured him despite the emptiness that lingered in your heart

  Joel averted his eyes, he seemed disappointed in himself.  “I’m sorry, my mind has been a mess these days. Just can’t seem to remember anything.” He admitted and you felt your heart break again.

   They said that if you liked someone you would remember even the smallest details. Like you did for him. 

  You leaned against the wall, staring blankly at the floor as you were brought back to the present. Joel stood beside you, mindlessly scrolling through his phone. The train was just leaving the second station and heading for the third station, the station that Joel would be getting off at since he would be alighting one stop earlier than usual. 

   Was it really impossible between the both of you? The question lingered in your head. He has sent you multiple songs on random occasions with comments like “Do you know this song?” “This seems like your taste.”. Joel had participated in midnight conversations which caused the both of you to stay up way too late talking before he eventually urged you to sleep because it was unhealthy to stay up. Not to mention when he had brought you to a spot to admire the sunset together one day. Did you overthink everything? Did nothing matter at all? Did you make up moments and things that were never there?

   “Bye.” You looked up, sucking in a breath as you realised that it was his stop. You replied a similar reply as he stepped to the front of the door, awaiting the doors to open. You followed behind him, admiring him from behind, where he couldn’t see the adoration in your eyes. You committed his figure to memory, wondering how it would feel if you hugged him from behind right now. If he would Mutter sweet nothings to you as he admitted that he wanted to spend more time with you. How his hands would feel around your waist, how his lips would feel against your temple or face, how he would leave with a promise of seeing you soon. 

   “You’re alighting?” He turned, surprised to see you directly behind him. You stood too close, you shook your head, “Just standing closer to the door so I could alight easier and not squeeze past people.” You defended quickly. He curtly nodded before striding out of the train, leaving you alone. 

   You leaned against the wall, calculating the small probability that he may reciprocate your feelings for him. The probability only got smaller every time you spent time with him. 

   “Get home safe.” A message from Joel. Your thumb hovered over the message, your head racing with possible replies. You closed your eyes, feeling your heart clench as you swiped his message away instead. 

   The thoughts of him, the clear signs that he didn’t see you that way haunted you. From how he clearly didn’t remember or know anything about you to subtle signs like how he never seemed to bother to reduce his pace when walking with you while you struggled to keep up with him. From the lack of conversations between the both of you and most clearly, how he didn’t even feel the need to contact you for weeks on end and how he doesn’t even notice your presence. 

   The tears came so suddenly that you didn’t even have time to duck your head down fast enough. Strangers shot you concerned looks as they saw tears drip down to the floor from your face. You quickly plastered a hand over your mouth, preventing the sob from escaping from your throat. You didn’t mean to cry, everything had just occurred to you so suddenly that it overwhelmed and confused you. You stared at the darkness outside, if only Joel knew how you felt right now. Like your heart was about to just give up, tired of beating to someone’s else rhythm. 

  Someday, one day, you’ll stop loving Joel Miller.

  Until then, you’ll continue admiring him from afar, imagining that he loved you as much as you loved him. 

  Until then, you’ll allow him to break your heart again and again.

[wannab-urs]

The Spreadsheet Digest - Vol 28

Hello my darlings,

Welcome to TSD week 28! I read some stuff this week that is definitely going in my all time faves list, seriously. Y'all are amazing. I've got 14 fics for you this week!! (Joel Miller, Frankie/Santi, Ezra, Din Djarin, Dieter Bravo, Max Phillips, Frankie Morales, Dieter/Javi P, Marcus Pike, Javier Peña). Summaries and tags are author provided unless they didn't have them (then I did it myself).

As always you can find all my fic recs here and my masterlist here

Recs under the Baby Cow Eyes

Cosmic Oddities - Din/Joel series by fromthewhales (Ao3)

Summary: Turning a clan of two into a clan of four and asking the very important, albeit unhinged question: What if space dad and apocalypse dad were Weird About Each Other? (ed. note: this summary does not do this beautiful fic justice. READ IT). Tags: parental bonding, parallels, angst, everyone has issues, everyone needs a hug, touch starved din djarin, injuries, strangers to ??? to lovers, smashing the space western and the zombie western together like 2 ken dolls, trauma, crack-fic adjacent at times, hurt/comfort, soft not super explicit smut, self harm, found family, din djarin eventually removes the helmet, blindfold, long distance relationship, survivors guilt, angst with a happy ending, non sexual intimacy, it gets worse before it gets better, alcohol mention, game II canon divergent — but boy does it come close, canon typical violence, minor character death, major character injury, bi!joel miller, bi!din djarin

To be explored later - Frankie/Santi one shot by @legendary-pink-dot

Summary: You and your boyfriend Santi fuck his best friend Frankie and it's a little more MMF than you were expecting -- much to your delight Tags: Swearing, dirty talk, rough-ish sex, hair pulling, oral sex (m receiving), a couple of spanks, edging if you squint, also yearning m/m if you squint, unprotected PIV, snowballing, threesome, dom!Santi.

sweets for my sweet; sweets from my sweet - Ezra one shot by @tinytinymenace

Summary: you are a cook at an exploration camp and one of the miners asks you about Earth and brings you a treat Tags: Brief mentions of planet death (RIP Earth) and strained family dynamics but on balance this is soft.

Release Your Inhibitions - Din one shot by @beskarandblasters

Summary: Shortly after revealing his face to you, Din’s worried about the faces he makes during sex, since he’s never had to worried about that before. You suggest something that might ease his worries; a blindfold. Tags: canon divergent, established relationship, Din is insecure and inexperienced, helmet comes off, blindfolding, oral sex (M receiving), vaginal sex, light biting, creampie, super romantic and loving sex, use of Mando’a words/phrases (Cyar’ika = sweetheart, Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum = I love you, Yooba solus mesh'la = You are beautiful), no use of y/n

Best in Show - Dieter one shot by @covetyou

Summary: The Academy Awards, the most well known, well planned, film award ceremony in the world. So why is the host missing? Tags: dual narrative, masturbation (m), voyuerism, drug reference (our boy is sober but struggling), subby Dieter, slight humiliation kink, very brief mentions of other sex acts (anal play, PIV, cum play), reader talks Dieter through a very nervy wank.

Still Bejeweled - Joel one shot by @janaispunk

Summary: after breaking up with your boyfriend, your self-esteem is crushed. your best friend takes you to your favorite bar to take your mind off of things. there's a band is playing there tonight and the singer immediately catches your eye. inspired by taylor swift's bejeweled – and when i meet the band, they ask, 'do you have a man?', i could still say, 'i don't remember' Tags: no/pre-outbreak au, no sarah, musician!joel, small age gap (reader is in her late 20s, joel's in his mid 30s), reader is described as smaller than joel and has hair long enough to pull, a bit of angst, fluff, making out, fingering, dirty talk (joel talks you through it, i just know it), praise kink, unprotected p in v (i just didn't feel like mentioning it, this is my fantasy world where pregnancies & sti's don't exist, but they very much exist in the real world, don't do this), joel has a big dick (it's canon), consent king joel, rough sex, ass-slapping, hair-pulling

Negotiations - Max Phillips one shot by @prolix-yuy

Summary: Max Phillips never found marketing to be all that helpful. Hell, running an ad on Facebook was easy enough. But then you walked in the door and he knew he had to have you, in all the ways he could. Tags: T, descriptions of male and female bodies, some fantasizing and suggestive themes.

Under the Stars - Joel one shot by @undercoverpena

Summary: joel finds that you become a thing of unnatural order, all ethereal as the moonlight kisses your curves. Tags: post outbreak. smut. oral sex (m receiving). tying joel up with rope. cutting joel free with a knife. p in v. jo's spelling. feelings, but joel-feelings. softer!joel

Apotheosis - Din series by @beskarandblasters

Summary: Din Djarin is a force-sensitive bounty hunter, working for the remnants of the Empire. He's on the hunt for you, an ex-rebel spy who has key information; the location where Luke Skywalker is building his Jedi training academy. But when you're captured, you're not going to give up the location easily. Din will have to utilize “alternative methods” to turn you over to the dark side. Tags: canon divergent, dark!Din, switches between Din and Reader’s point of view, eventual smut, Star Wars lore (not super heavy), manipulation/gaslighting, murder/minor character death, no use of y/n

Home - Frankie series by @dancingtotuyo

Summary: Frankie always comes home to you. Tags: fluff, angst, girl dad!frankie, recovering!Frankie, references to drug use, references to violence, trauma, healing.

Met the Devil Last Night - Joel one shot by @pedgito

Summary: I made a joke about wanting to screw dirt-covered Joel even if he was deep in the trenches of hell and...well, yeah. This is pure filth and nothing else. Tags: Porn with minuscule plot, if you willfem!reader, demon!joel, no specific age gap since dude is a literal demon, but reader is early 20s and I picture Joel to be his younger self (around 36), mentions of su*cidal ideations, this all a completely made up concept pls don't come for me about rituals, ect i will cry. virgin!reader, reader's father is a priest and horrible (just a total douche)/mother isn't alive, spitting, oral, unprotected piv, blood drinking, competency kink, innocence kink, mutual masturbation

Pearl Rosary - Din one shot by @sweetercalypso

Summary: Priest of Mandalore!Din Djarin listens to your sins during confession Tags: public(ish) sex, finger sucking, deepthroating, cock worship, facial, reader is a Mandalorian who takes her helmet off, so much religious imagery

Good Boy - Dieter/Javi P one shot @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin

Summary: Dieter gets cucked. That's it. That's the fic. Tags: cucking, PIV, creampie, oral sex f receiving, cum eating, PWP/plot what plot?, dom!Javi, sub!dieter, idk what reader is... having a good time?

Whatta Man - Marcus Pike series by @atinylittlepain

Summary: He's looking for something other than vanilla, and she is more than happy to provide such a service to him. Tags: this is smut, pegging, rimming, sucking and fucking, sex work, lowkey sugardaddy!marcus, sweet shy marcus getting his world rocked, and then pancakes and a blackberry and a black american express card so ya know, the works.

----

Self Promo:

in the a.m. - javier peña loose fit series

Summary: Between sleeping with informants and getting in bed with Los Pepes in the fight to bring down Escobar, Javier Peña also finds time to be with you. Wrestling with crippling self hatred, Javi tries and fails to keep his blood stained hands off of you. Based on some of my favorite Arctic Monkeys songs &lt;3 Tags: smoking, probably shit spanish, smut, angst, established situationship, emotionally unavailable!Javi, references to past arguments/past hookups because this has been an ongoing thing and I love to start in the middle of a story, loose fit series, trauma, probably, sad!Javi, self hating!Javi, Javi very briefly picks you up, Javi crying, Javi yelling, reader yelling, did I mention angst?

[sgt-morgan]

Pedro Masterlist 🎯

Joel Miller:

🥃Whiskey Sunrise🌅

TLOU MUSICIAN!JOEL AU

High Ho Silver 🛻

Jack Daniels:

Of Cowboys and Daisies 🐎

A Bushel and a Peck 💖

Of Flowers and Family 💐

Mando 🌌

[campingwiththecharmings]

2023 Writing Review

words & fics

Total Published Fics: 41 (this includes blurbs and chapter updates)

Words Published: 67,166

Most Productive Month: March

Monthly Words Average: 5,597

published fics

Down Time - Santiago Garcia x F!Reader

Caught Up in Your Gravity - Santiago Garcia x F!Reader

All About That Bass - Poe Dameron x Reader

Sugar - Santiago Garcia x Reader

Hush ( one | two ) - Poe Dameron x F!Reader

Just Friends (Part II) - Santiago Garcia x F!Reader

Under the Neon Lights - Santiago Garcia x F!Reader

Out of Time - Poe Dameron x Reader

Night Moves / Good Neighbors - Santiago Garcia x F!Reader

Invisible String ( one | two) - Poe Dameron x Reader

Tease - Santiago Garcia x F!Reader

Trussed - Poe Dameron x F!Reader

Softer - Joel Miller x F!Reader

Fever - Poe Dameron x Reader

Safe Haven - Marc Spector x Reader

Vocal - Poe Dameron x F!Reader

Soothe - Poe Dameron x F!Reader

Thaw - Miguel O'Hara x F!Reader

Another - Miguel O'Hara x F!Reader

Morning - Poe Dameron x F!Reader

Wasted On You - Poe Dameron x F!Reader

Undone - Poe Dameron x F!Reader

A Helping Hand - Miguel O'Hara x Reader

Rendezvous - Miguel O'Hara x F!Reader

Playing with Fire - Jake Lockley x F!Reader

Rich Girl ( one | two ) - Driver!Jake Lockley x Rich Girl!Reader)

Long Time Coming - Santiago Garcia x F!Reader

Can't Fight This Feeling - Santiago Garcia x F!Reader

Slow it Down - Poe Dameron x F!Reader

what to expect next / current WIPs

Completion of fic-aversary requests (multi-fandom)

Rainy Day (with Marc Spector) - for MK Bingo

Secret Relationship (with Steven Grant) - for MK Bingo

Just Friends Part III

Good Neighbors Part VII

Rich Girl Part III

Untitled Musician!Poe AU - WIP

Untitled Coffee Shop AU with Poe - WIP

Thanks so much to everyone who supported (and enabled lol) me in 2023. I am so appreciative of all of you and cannot wait to see what awaits us in 2024 🥰

[outer-edges]

Don't be shy, drop your fave bluestoplights fics 🤩

DONE. I THINK I'VE SRSLY RECOMMENDED ALL OF THESE TO U B4 BUT I'M ALWAYS GOING TO BE THINKING + TALKING ABOUT THEM. GONNA NARROW IT DOWN TO TOP THREE.

inordinary - 35k words 7 chapters of interconnected vignettes that all take place in the same modern musician!ellie and musician!joel au. it's beautiful with a little bit of everything and as with all bluestoplights fic, has such a great grasp of what makes joel and ellie joel and ellie. beautiful character work! i literally think about it every other day at minimum and still cry about it on occassion. this is my roman empire.

leaving like a father (you could stay) - 4.9k words one-shot. joel character study. also cried while reading this. just gonna copy paste the summary because. yeah.

Joel Miller learned from a young age that the best thing he could do as a father was stick around. It's more than his did. It's a lesson burned into his brain when Sarah's mom leaves and he raises a kid alone. It's not one he expects to remember when a fourteen year old tries to attack him with a knife in a hallway.

i rewind the tape but all it does is pause - 7.4k words the millers go to therapy! i've actually only read this one once, but it has just stuck with me as like a very raw representation of the millers and working through their issues. in general, the millers are very raw and real and genuine in fics by this author.

[deansgolfclub]

Some of my character ai bots if anyone's interested <3

Random OC (Love is illegal AU)

Beau Arlen bots:

FWB Javier Pena:

Joel Miller:

Can't use more than 10 links😓 but you fan copy+paste these :)

Boxer! Joel:

https://beta.character.ai/chat?char=TFkX_BMYUi40v5uGHV6eLnJCLy6Xp196qtM2R76VSeM

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Newest bot!

Joel bot based on this song

https://beta.character.ai/chat?char=DQ3hA2m6E7xl1-QpK-3gTkBmD5oaKKwM7y2QEFrWna0

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Johnny Utah x nurse!user

https://beta.character.ai/chat?char=WzDZ_f6TM8QqQ-XLJxnGejq9YbJfAw3vGb9GDVA9CoA

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Older!user x Johnny Utah

https://beta.character.ai/chat?char=DNPVD-4nfrPwV_tPBnr0uKWkYgXtwWIoq7O_pqBSo08

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Love at first sight musician!user x Kevin lomax

https://beta.character.ai/chat?char=m4DK20pwnZ_X1S9w35ubOtDy2A5_Jj9eLgU-fHnQqcA

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Layla El Faouly dating Sim (WLW)

https://beta.character.ai/chat?char=MJ1zssw2S0Urbjz9DlZcz6ESGY1V3WBlkDS9KifHkFc

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Sunshine x grumpy! Miguel o'hara

https://beta.character.ai/chat?char=3aKowElKxqpGSCnS0f5liHcxFPUOLtgYDPATUH_sgXQ

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based on briar.aj's art on IG Miguel O'hara

https://beta.character.ai/chat?char=2UNDe4q-njZ9jYE2a1WkrBZn70RmmKp0u1BaiVTarhU

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Stargazing w/ Miles Morales!

https://beta.character.ai/chat?char=ChvC3OshrWftfgVAeZcglHxUUH0-iyBs_uvzL30Fgu8

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Steven Grant/Marc Spector/Jake Lockley dating sim

https://beta.character.ai/chat?char=WwwrBx4h4UrS9jlO8uVQSc0tAQPvUKWw92v9XyTkKeg

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Academic Rivals! Oberyn Martell

(Most popular bot)

https://beta.character.ai/chat?char=RpKh_aN7dS9l0puwhBr5RYn8boQHG0A2XyOOAak9EDE

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Dornish performer!user x Oberyn Martell

https://beta.character.ai/chat?char=C1OZ2GkB3YXJzL0sFX5Sg3FY1RrfGWWdC06e_1mhna8

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Husband!Webslinger

https://beta.character.ai/chat?char=UMV0ieyKjd2B9MCE8jwS1GiGoui_EdEumHKUn0Po8zo

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(P.S. I always appreciate follows/likes on character AI and Tumblr. Also, feel free to request bots whenever <3)

[something-tofightfor]

Writing Recap

I haven’t done one of these in a while, but I figured why the hell not since I’ve posted some pretty fun things over the last couple weeks. 

Kinktober Pieces: 

Kinktober Masterlist - Joel Miller (20.5k) , Dieter Bravo (8.9k), Baseball Jack Daniels (4.4k), Oberyn Martell (8.5k), Frankie Morales (3.8k), ‘Buried’ Jack Daniels, Javi G

It’s Dangerous To Fall In Love:

Nick Caldwel (Fire Meet Gasoline music video character) x female reader (ongoing; currently 6 parts)

Life Is Good: 

Frankie Morales Beach AU (Complete; 5 parts)

Root Pearl: 

Musician Ezra AU ( Ongoing; currently 4 parts)

[psychedelic-ink]

Hi sil,

I love the idea of a joel miller birthday celebration!!

Okay, I’m going to be cheeky and go for 2 options here

Joel AMA What is your favourite Joel headcanon (game or show) ? Also you’ve written a few AU!Joels (bodyguard, no!outbreak, lighthouse keeper, musician, etc.) do you have a favourite so far?

2. Joel Fic Rec Shameless self-rec (sorry!!) for my Joel fic here about insomniac!Joel and the reader getting together after meeting on the same bench in Jackson: https://www.tumblr.com/thelightsandtheroses/727378623678578688/your-hand-in-mine-joel-miller-x-female-reader/

@thelightsandtheroses 💕

ahh thank you for joining the celebration! also don't apologize for a self-rec!

What is your favourite Joel headcanon (game or show) ?

that he has a big cock my favorite headcanon is that he's just the softest with the people he loves, honestly I feel like this is basically canon but still, I love it when he's soft and protective

2. You’ve written a few AU!Joels (bodyguard, no!outbreak, lighthouse keeper, musician, etc.) do you have a favourite so far?

okay this is a hard one because I love so many of them fgbfb lighthouse keeper definitely holds a special place in my heart but I also really love the musician one too, and no!outbreak aus are always fun to write because he can be happy fgbgfnbg so can I say. . . all of them?? Is that cheating???