#college!joel

[cowgurrrl]

OKAY WAIT

late night talks with college!joel - how reader and him came to date. they were studying they got distracted talking about something and stayed up all night taking. now joel can get her off his mind. 😉

thank you harry styles <3

I’ll kiss you on the mouth dude I love this idea

UPDATE: I DIDNT KNOW HOW TO END IT AND IF IT WASNT FOR MY MELATONIN KICKING IN I WOULDVE CONTINUED IT

She’s got a book for every situation

Pairing: college!joel x fem!reader

Summary: this ask

Author’s note: typed in tumblr and not proofread so god speed slayers 🫡

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, Joel being The Biggest Flirt, June your BA in English is showing, I think that’s it??

Working at the writing center on campus has its perks. You get unlimited printing, editing experience, and free coffee. Granted, it’s from a pot that had been simmering for several days but it’s free nevertheless. You’ve even managed to get in good with a few professors who would recommend their students come to you if they need help. Normally, they don’t take the advice until finals week and they all scramble into your office all at once. So, when a tall guy with curly dark hair walks into your desolate lobby, you’re a little surprised. He looks lost with a stack of papers piled in his hands and visibly relaxes when he sees you peek your head out.

“Hey there. Can I help you?” You ask, approaching him.

“Maybe. ‘M from Dr. Phillips class and she said to come to the writing center and ask for…” He trails off as he glances down at his paper before saying your name. “Said she might be able to help me with my paper.”

“Yeah, I think she can help you with your paper.” You say and hold out your hand to grab the red inked paper. It’s a paper on Kerouac who’s never been your favorite. In fact, you wrote an entire paper about how pretentious and privileged Jack Kerouac actually was but that’s neither here nor there. The bottom line is that you know how to write a paper professors are looking for. You feel his eyes scanning your face as you read his thesis and try to ignore the blush creeping over your cheeks.

“I take it you’re the brilliant writer Dr. Phillips likes so much.” He says. You smile but don’t take your eyes off his words so you don’t get distracted by his presence.

“Dr. Phillips doesn’t like anyone.”

“She seemed to like you. Told me all about how smart you are,” he says. “Never mentioned the pretty part, though.” Finally, you look up and meet his gaze.

“Technically Dr. Phillips isn’t allowed to recommend one student editor over another. It’s against our policy and makes things a little fairer for everyone. So, can we keep this little secret between us…” you let your sentence end, realizing you never asked his name, and he holds out his free hand.

“Joel.” He says and you shake his hand.

“Well, Joel, I’ll tell you what. I’ll agree to help you get your paper in order if you agree to not get me fired. Fair deal?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He says politely.

You spend the rest of the day walking Joel through essay structures, grammar mistakes, and thesis issues. His argument is strong but it needs to be more concise and punchier. When you try to explain it to him in those terms, he looks at you like you’re from Mars. Eventually, after a little too much flirty small talk, he tells you about his dad’s construction company and you learn to put flowery, over dramatic writing advice into clean, neat boxes that he understands completely. Unfortunately, you don’t end up finishing the actual essay before the center closes.

“You’re free to come back tomorrow morning so we can finish this.” You say as you gather your things and stuff them in your backpack. Joel stretches in his chair, his shirt riding up just enough to reveal a gorgeous sliver of tan skin and you have to force your eyes away from the sight.

“D’you live far from here?” He asks, standing and throwing his own backpack over one shoulder. You waffle for a moment, unsure if you want to tell this almost perfect stranger where you live.

“Maybe a ten minute walk. It’s not bad for Austin.”

“Can I walk you home? Since I kept you so late,” he asks. Once again, you hesitate. Joel doesn’t seem like the typical frat guy you’ve come to fear since your time at school. He actually seems gentle and genuine. You turn the thought over a few more times before he throws his hands up. “‘S just an offer to make sure you get home safe. I’ll even carry your backpack for you if you want.” He offers and you smile. You take another second before handing him your heavy backpack. He slings it over his free shoulder and walks to the door to open it for you, keys jingling in your hand as you lock up the writing center for the night. The humid Texas night suffocates you the second you step out into the fading daylight.

“You always carry girls’ backpacks home?” You ask as you start walking in the direction of your apartment. Campus is mostly empty this time of night, everyone crawling home after class to pregame or cry or both. Squirrels patrol the sidewalks for any students who may want to hand them a piece from their bagel or sandwich. Someone honks their horn in distant standstill Austin traffic, and the sun slowly slides behind the Capitol. It’s peaceful.

“Only when I make ‘em read my shitty writing.” He says and you laugh.

“Your writing’s not bad, Joel. It’s actually very good. Essays are just the worst to write.”

“You like ‘em enough to work at the writing center.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean it’s what I actually care about,” you shrug. “At this point, I’m a warm body with a clicky pen.”

“Woah there, Kafka. I think you’re a little more than that,” Joel laughs and you have to laugh too. Not only for the perfectly on brand joke but for the tone in his voice. The playful lilt makes your head feel fuzzy. “Alright then, if you don’t like essays and you don’t like Kerouac, what do you like? What do you wanna write?” He asks and you take a deep breath. It’s a question you’ve fielded more than enough times in your college career to know that not many people like your answer.

“I’m not sure yet. I like a little bit of everything.”

“Have you written anythin’ I would’ve read?”

“No,” you laugh. “Probably not.”

“Why’s that funny?” He asks and you shake your head.

“Because nobody wants to publish my work. It’s too… rough.”

“Rough?” He raises his eyebrows at you.

“Yeah. Publishers either want the next Great American Novel or nothing at all, and I am not next Great American Novel material.”

“How do you know?”

“Because nobody’s publishing me.”

“Maybe, you’re not lookin’ in the right places,” he says. “‘M just sayin’ someone as smart as you has to have somethin’ someone will wanna take.”

“Yeah, well, don’t go holdin’ your breath on me, cowboy.”

“Why do you do that?” He asks suddenly and you stop to look at him.

“Do what?” You ask.

“Try and play it off whenever someone compliments you.” He says with glaring honesty. It sets you back in your heels but you quickly recover.

“You’ve only known me for a few hours. How do you know I’m not just incredibly humble?”

“I guess I don’t,” he says. “Could I buy you a drink and figure it out?” It could be the way he, somehow, sees right through you already or the way his brown eyes look in the sunlight but you can’t stop the butterflies in your stomach. You purse your lips together and dare a step closer to him.

“Tell you what, if you get an A on this paper, I’ll let you buy me a drink.” You say.

“And if I fail?” He asks and you shake your head.

“You won’t fail.”

“But what if I do?”

“If you do, you have to…” you search your brain. “Carry my backpack home for me for a week.”

“You drive a hard bargain, ma’am.”

“But I take it Joel Miller’s a bettin’ man.”

“See, smarter than you think.” He quips and you roll your eyes.

“One thing at a time, lover boy.”

Joel ends up getting the highest grade on his essay out of anyone in his class. Dr. Phillips commends his dedication to bettering his first draft and tells him to keep up the good work. “Whatever you did to change this, keep it up.” She says when she places his graded essay on his desk. When he presents the A to you at the writing center, all you can do is applaud him and smile.

“I told you you’d pass.” You say, poking at his firm chest.

“Yeah, yeah,” he rolls his eyes. “Maybe I just needed a little motivation.”

“Oh, yeah? What was that?”

“I think I was promised a date.” He says cheekily and you nod.

“You were, and my mama raised me to be a woman of my word,” you smile. “Jenny, do you mind closing up for me tonight?” You ask the receptionist and she shakes her head.

“Not at all, darlin’. Have a good night.” She winks at you when Joel turns his back and you stick your tongue out at her.

Say what you will about the writing center but you think a date with a broad, tall, handsome cowboy is the best thing that could’ve come out of that hell hole.

[risibledeer]

i need more gem and joel they just give off cool kid vibes together ya know

[joelmillers-whore]

Hard Light | Chapter 1

summary: when a new english professor begins teaching your class for the duration of your semester, you can’t help but develop an innocent crush on him. he’s as off-limits as he can be, but that doesn’t deter you in the slightest. after a drunk night, you accidentally email him something that wasn’t intended to ever be seen by anyone. but that doesn’t matter. it triggers a misunderstanding that manifests into an affair with your professor who is twenty years your senior. nothing good could come of this, right? 

pairings: professor!joel x college student!reader

word count: 2.2K

series or one-shot

warnings: 18+ explicit, minors DNI, no mention of Y/N, alternate universe, professor/student relationship, eventual smut, self-esteem issues, workaholic, joel x female!reader, infatuation bordering on obsession (stay delulu friends), some sexual thoughts, masturbation (f), joel being a huge tease lol, (will add more tags as i write)

AN: i am so excited by the response that my joel one-shot got a few days ago and i’ve been itching to get something else out to you all. big, giant forehead kisses for those who want one, i love you all. so, anyway, a mini-series about professor joel is coming at you fast. i’ve written the first few chapters, so expect those in the near future. i’m thinking once a week? this fic is going to be something else and i’m so excited to share it with ya’ll. enjoy, and let me know what you think. find my ao3 here for more content and other fandoms.

You were running late for your shift at the coffee shop on campus, rummaging around your dresser, trying to find the low-cut black top you always wore when you had a shift. You weren’t usually one to feed into the peer pressure of those around you, but push came to shove when you found it nearly impossible to keep yourself afloat as a twenty-something student without the added extra tips from your part-time job.

So what if you had to show a little bit of cleavage? Right? There was no harm. Student loans were a bitch and on top of rent and food costs, you had to get a job at the coffee shop and balance a full course load just to make ends meet. 

A thought popped into your head and you rushed to your laptop, throwing it open as you checked the time; 5:45 AM. If you busted out your lightning-fast typing skills, you would have enough time to catch the next bus and make it to campus with five minutes to spare. If only your crappy second-hand computer would work.

The thing honestly sounded like a chopper engine, getting ready for lift-off. You were surprised you’d gotten this far with it. Not that you weren’t appreciative, your older brother had passed it down and it had relieved a huge weight—  and expense off of your shoulders. 

You tabbed into your school portal, typing in your credentials and selecting your English course. You sighed heavily, as you skimmed over the assignment for this week, something to do with a sonnet that you couldn’t care less about. You loved school but ever since becoming an English major, the spark that you once had for literature sort of just evaporated.

You couldn’t tell if it was because of how busy you were with everything else that you just couldn’t find the time to enjoy it, or the thought that really scared you, you had fallen out of love with it. 

It had been two years of go, go, go and you were, for lack of a better word, burnt out. You’d tried dropping courses last semester, thinking that you just needed a little bit of ease when it came to your course load, but when that didn’t solve the problem and only made things worse for you, you spent the last two semesters trying to catch up and get yourself to a place where you could finally breathe.

But it wasn’t easy. You were only now caught up to where you had been, the illusion that you were someone who could afford to take time off and slow down was a distant memory. 

In bold letters, the words Paid Internship jumped off of the screen. You smiled as you leaned in closer to the screen, making sure you read through everything correctly. This was the break above the surface that you needed, the reprieve that you had been chasing. A paid internship was exactly how you’d be able to make more money and maybe have a little breathing room before you worked yourself into an early grave.

You clicked the mail icon at the top and clicked into a new email, deciding that the worst-case scenario was that you wouldn’t get the internship. All you were doing was inquiring about the application process. Best-case scenario; you’d get it and make some extra pocket money. 

You saw the time, cursing under your breath as you slammed the laptop closed, grabbed your phone out of the charger and ran out of the door. You couldn’t be late, not again. You texted your co-worker Jeremy to open the shop without you and explained to him that you were running a few minutes late, as you barely made it to the bus. You climbed on board, scanned your student pass and found a seat near the back. Your chest was burning from the rush of trying to make it on time, but you could breathe easy now.

You checked your messages mindlessly, scrolling through a bunch of unread ones that you didn’t have the heart to answer. 

Before you knew it, the familiar monuments and buildings of UT Austin came into view, and the subtle change of scenery from downtown to a more densely packed area made your heart skip a beat. It was the same each time you were back on campus. Which, these days, was often. Sliding out of the seat, you made your way to the front, thanking the driver as the bus came to a complete stop. 

The coffee shop was only a short walk from the bus stop but even still you quickened your pace. You didn't want to leave Jeremy alone for long, you already felt bad enough about letting him open by himself. You stifled a yawn as you pushed open the door to the small cafe, leaning your body into the door, slightly cringing at the shrill sound of the bell. 

"There you are", a male voice called, making your head snap up. You wiggled your nose, the familiar timbre of your ex-boyfriend's voice ringing in your ears. "It's about time you got your ass down here". 

You snickered, shrugging your heavy bag off of your shoulder, and dropping it behind the counter, turning around and greeting him with an unamused smirk.

Jeremy and you had gone out for a few months last year, it was your first and, as of right now, the only short-term relationship that you'd had in college. 

Dating your co-worker, even in a relatively small place like the coffee shop on campus, almost always spelled trouble, but Jeremy was not the type to hold something like a failed relationship over your head. He understood that school was a priority for you and making a living for yourself came first, even above something like a relationship. It might not be the healthiest way to live, but it was how it always was. 

Jeremy and you had developed a fast friendship, one that went beyond the romantic relationship that you'd had last year. You parted amicably and now, you had someone you could confide in, someone you could trust. 

"Why don't you say that to my face?", you teased, raising a brow at him over the milk frother you were setting up. 

Jeremy threw his rag down and stalked over to you. "You're snippy this morning", he chided. 

You banged into his shoulder playfully, "Doesn't help that I have to see your ugly mug first thing in the morning". 

You snorted out a laugh and Jeremy looked at you, feigning defensiveness, "Ouch", he paused, returning back to his post near the coffee machine, "Remind me how we ever went out?". 

You scrunched your nose and threw your rag at Jeremy, hitting him square in the face with it, "That was rude". 

He shrugged his shoulder, "You started it".  

You both devolved into a fit of giggles and fell into a comfortable silence, setting up and getting the coffee shop ready for the day. You had a half-day shift to look forward to and then you had class until the late afternoon. The days were long and the nights were longer.

You usually found yourself nose-deep in your textbooks, more often than not, or some classic novel that was required for class, not moving from the couch until your eyes were red and you were seeing double. 

Only then did you retire to sleep, crashing hard until you had to wake up and do it all again the next day. 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The coffee shop had been bustling with people since six in the morning, and at one in the afternoon, it hadn't let up, only now you had to go to class. Waving Jeremy goodbye, you sidestepped Tara, the fourth-year who was covering the rest of the afternoon and closing shift. 

You'd crossed the far side of campus, passing by the science building and one of the massive libraries that had acted like a second home to you back when you’d been studying for exams when you were a freshman. You could thank your obnoxious roommates for that one. 

Entering the lecture hall, bodies pressed into you as you weaved through the growing crowd, trying to find a spot in the middle where you could see and hear your English professor. But also blend in with the masses. As if the universe had other plans in mind, and everyone suddenly showed up to the Tuesday lecture all at the same time, you found yourself picking a seat near the front, an exasperated groan leaving you. 

You hated sitting at the front, not because you didn't want to get called on to answer something or because you didn't know the answers, but because you did. You wanted to get through your four years as quickly and unscathed as possible and if people knew, mainly professors, that you knew more about the subject matter than you needed to, you'd surely get called on more often, making you stick out in ways you didn't want. 

It was a terrible curse, going through life with the self-esteem that you did. But it was how you were raised. Blend in. Don't be too loud. Be quiet and only observe. Nerves rapped at your insides when you thought about getting called on when class started. Your heart rate ticked up and you found that your hands were beginning to get clammy, your throat constricting with each breath.

You rubbed your hands up and down your thighs, grounding yourself with the sensation of the material. 

With a jump, you sat up straighter in your seat, being jostled from your thoughts by a loud slam. You snapped your head toward the entrance, eying the person who had startled everyone. It was a man carrying a briefcase.

Your lips tilted up at the edges, amusement tickling you when you thought of anyone using a briefcase nowadays. But here this man was, head down as he made his way to the front of the room, toward the desk. 

You couldn't help keeping your eyes trained on him. On how his slacks tightened around his butt, moulding to the shape and curve of it. You bit your bottom lip out of reflex, your eyes dragging down the length of the mystery man who had crashed your lecture. Maybe he was a TA? Your brows furrowed when you thought about how your professor was nowhere in sight. 

The man with the briefcase placed his case on the desk, turning to face the audience of students who blinked back at him, who now settled down enough to hear him speak. Air caught in your throat when his eyes flicked momentarily to you, and lingered on you for half a second longer than you'd expected. He had massive, warm brown eyes, and soft wrinkles that danced at the edges of his eyes when he smiled, making him seem more boyish than he appeared.

He looked older than a TA would but then again, who were you to judge someone's position in life? You thought that his age did nothing to undermine just how attractive he was, if anything it added to it.  

The man, who may or may not have been moonlighting as your English TA cleared his throat, nodding his head, "My name is Joel, well, Professor Miller to most, but 've always been a little bit more informal than my peers". 

He began to circle the wooden desk nervously, his large hand finding the edge of it and stroking it far more sensually than necessary. You flexed your fingers, gripping the arm of your seat to stabilize yourself. "So, you can call me Joel from here on out... since we'll be seeing more of each other from now on". 

Murmurs began to break out around the lecture hall, and confused and hushed whispers followed. 

Professor Miller— Joel, mumbled something incoherent, and you were unable to hear it from where you sat. He cleared his throat again, "Professor McCarthy has taken a leave of absence, so I'll be filling in for him for the remainder of the semester". 

You crossed your legs, feeling heat rise and a furious blush break out across your face, and shuffled in your seat, a loud creak emitted from it and you stilled, praying that the loud sound had only been heard by you and no one else. But when you lifted your gaze, Joel's eyes were already locked on you, blown and brimming with cautious inquiry. A touch of a smirk graced his lips. 

"And I look forward to getting to know each and every one of you, personally". His eyes were still on you, not ready to release you from their hold. 

His tongue darted out to wet his lips and you couldn't help but stare. You had every reason to look away from him, he was your professor and given the clear age difference, he was someone who was off limits. But when he didn't look away from you either, trapping you with his gaze, your face heated up, suddenly aware that he was purposely staring at you. 

You swallowed thickly, heart hammering as Joel's eyes finally drifted away from you and back to the faces of your classmates. He continued on with addressing the class, and you noticed that he avoided your eyes for the rest of the lecture. 

Only one thought rang through your mind as you tried and failed to focus back on the lecture. This was going to be one long semester. 

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

hihi! congrats on such a cool milestone 💗 i am so excited to see what you’re going achieve in the future!

i would love to read this prompt with neighbor joel x reader, pre outbreak or post outbreak, that’s your choice :)

“Person A keeps ending up in Person B’s bed. It’s just a matter of time until “drunken mistake” is no longer a believable excuse.”

p.s. i ADORE seams it’s soooo good and i can’t wait to read more of it !! 💕 tysm

Hi lovely! Thank you so much for your sweet message and this prompt! So I don't know why, but the moment I read the prompt, I just knew I had to make this a college AU. This reads very differently from Seams, which I hope is something you'll enjoy!

Joel Miller x college neighbour AU

Fuck Yeah 2222 Sleepover micro drabble request | 1285 words (sorry) | warnings: mentions of alcohol consumption, jealousy, possessiveness, one bed

The first time it happens, it is a drunken mistake.

All these dorm rooms look the same, especially at four in the morning after clearing out all the tequila at the college bar.

It does smell nicer, cleaner. And the bed is on the other side of the room. But Joel can't really tell left from right nor up from down, so he just drops face first onto the duvet - so soft - and falls fast asleep.

You, on the other hand, are absolutely mystified by the appearance of a man in your bed after your toilet run in the early hours.

You recognise him. He lives a few doors down, and you've seen him around in the college football team jersey, almost always with a cheerleader hanging off his arm.

You may or may not have seen him in the corridor with just a towel around his waist, hair slicked back, on his way back from the communal showers.

You may or may not have stared at those ridiculously broad shoulders from behind your books as you went down the other side of the hallway.

Unsure of what to do - you have an early class in a few hours - you reach out and poke him firmly on the arm. You keep poking, not entirely convinced by what you're trying to achieve, until a hand appears, thick fingers closing around your wrist, and pulls.

He rolls you under him with a smooth turn of his hips. You barely have the presence of mind to let out a timid squeak when stern brown eyes bore into yours in the darkness.

'What are you doin'?' he demands, his voice so gravelly that you almost feel the lumps and bumps on the back of your neck.

You don't exactly have a short fuse. Quite the opposite, in fact. But the accusation in his tone has you snapping back, 'What am I doing? What are you doing?'

Your outburst seems to catch his attention, and he watches you closely as he replies, 'Tryin' to catch a wink.'

Reaching over to the nightstand, you flick on the little bedside lamp. You arch an eyebrow as he glances around as realisation dawns on him. 'Does this look like your room?'

'Oops,' he deadpans, but he doesn't move off of you. Instead, his eyes drop lower, pausing over your oversized college tshirt, and lower still, where your sleep shorts have ridden high up your bare thighs -

His eyes snap up to yours when you clear your throat, and he stiffens above you, Adam's apple bobbing with a swallow. 'Sorry, darlin'.'

Then he's gone.

The second time it happens, it's another drunken mistake.

He knocks this time, loud enough to wake you, and you trip over your feet to get the door.

'What now?' you gripe sleepily when his face appears, eyes glassy and reeking of cheap beer.

'Lost my keys,' he explains, words slightly slurred, leaning heavily on the doorframe.

'So?'

'Can I sleep in your room tonight?'

You stare at him, dumfounded. 'Don't you have friends?'

'They're all the way across campus. It's freezin' outside.'

With a sigh, you move to the side and he squeezes in past you. Too tired to care, you burrow head first into the covers, shuffling so that you're right up against the wall to make room behind you on the single bed.

But he doesn't climb in.

'What are you doing?' you grumble, not bothering to turn around to see for yourself.

'Uh, I'm sleepin' on the floor.'

You roll your eyes and pat the mattress. 'Just get in. I don't want you freezing to death on my rug.'

So he does, and when you wake up the next morning, his arms are tight around you, legs tangled in yours.

The third time it happens, you're both drunk for a change.

His team won the college derby, and there's a huge celebration at the local club with the bill being footed by the sponsors. Even with the promise of a free night out, your friends still have to physically drag your ass to the party.

You spot him easily from across the dance floor, in the same jersey he wears often. He's surrounded by hoards of girls, all keen to nab the bragging rights of being the one to fuck the team hero tonight.

Something twists in your stomach, which you quiet with a tequila shot.

And another.

And another.

You end up on the dance floor, and you never dance. You're just drunk enough to feel good about yourself even in a room full of jocks and sorority sisters, and when one of the quarterbacks on the team twirls you into a dance, you laugh and let him.

One minute, he's spinning you around, and the next - you're pulled nose first into a much broader chest that smells faintly familiar.

It's slightly jarring seeing him out of the context of your bed. Does he always look this grumpy?

'Congrats on winning the game,' you shout over the music, attempting to make conversation.

He doesn't budge, standing like a stone wall in the middle of the dance floor under the strobe lights. Too drunk to catch the nuance in his glare, you shrug and turn on your heel, intending to find that quarterback that you lost mid-spin -

Only to be hauled back to Joel's side by one big hand.

'What are you doing?' you demand with a frown. 'I'm trying to find the guy I was dancing with.'

'You're not dancin' with him.'

You blink. 'Why not?'

'He's a fuckin' asshole.'

'So what?'

He narrows his eyes at you. 'What do you mean so what?'

You roll your eyes. 'Why do I care if he's an asshole? I'm looking for a dance, maybe a fuck, it's not like I'm marrying him.'

His nostrils flare, and you see his fists clenching at his sides. 'You're not fuckin' him.'

You scoff. 'Watch me, Miller.'

Spotting the blond on the edge of the dance floor, you march right up to him, grab him by the collar and kiss him square on the lips.

Pulling back, you turn to give Joel a smug look, only to find that he's no longer where he was. Miffed, you scan the crowds, and it doesn't take you long to find him.

It's one thing to see the cheerleaders flirting and hanging off his every word when you pass each other in the hallways. It's another thing entirely to see him make out with one, not five paces away.

Blindly, you stumble out of the club, not bothering to get your coat even though it's bitterly cold outside. Your heels clatter loudly on the concrete, you probably shouldn't be walking alone back to the dorms, but you need to get out of there.

You hear him call your name, but you keep walking, eyes trained stubbornly in front of you.

He catches up easily, and with a growl, he wheels you around with one palm on your elbow. You fight him, pounding on his chest with tightly clenched fists, and he lets you, wrapping you in his jacket while you do, until you tire yourself out.

When all the jealousy bleeds out of you, you sag in his arms, and he has to hold you up by the waist. His breath brushes your temple. 'Wanna go home?'

He's warm, solid, when he slips into your bed behind you, one knee nudging between your thighs, fingers tangling in yours when he slings one arm over your waist.

You might both be drunk - but this is not a mistake.

[tinygarbage]

Lovers Rock (A Halloween Special)

pairing: Joel Miller x College!f!reader

word count: 4k

summary: Joel's been your best friend since 6th grade. He graduated with you, but when you went to school, he joined his fathers contracting company. When your roommate invites you to a frat party for Halloween, hoping to set you up with her boyfriends friend, you drag Joel along.

warnings: 18+, MINORS DNI, underage drinking, college parties, Joel is 20, reader is 18 (Joel was held back for kindergarten), frat boys, kissing, reader is a virgin, mutual pining, oblivious reader, not edited 😵‍💫

a/n: ok y’all, I’m not very happy with how this turned out, but I really like the idea I had so yk fuck it and ball. I just needed some mutual pining yk? I’m hoping to make multiple installments of this story but I’m not promising anything! Anyways enjoy even though there only a few hours left of Halloween:)

┆ ° ♡ • ➵ ✩ ◛ °

When Nessa proposed she wanted to set you up with her boyfriends frat mate, you didn’t know what to expect. All you knew was that she was desperate to help you loose your virginity.

So, after a couple days of convincing, you give in. But not before calling your best friend to drag him along. You call Joel immediately after Nessa tells you about the party. He had been your best friend since 6th grade. You met him in math class and after pestering him for a piece of gum. When he finally gave in, you continued to pester him until you completely weaseled your way into his life. And since then, you had been inseparable.

You and Joel had watched each other go through countless crushes and relationships, but nothing stuck for either of you. Joel was a little more proactive, and had done a lot more than you had ever done. Including losing his virginity. But, you promised each other to keep each other in the loop. So here you are, last minute on the Wednesday before the party, waiting for him to pick up as the phone rings.

    "Jo, hey." You say quickly after he picks up.

    "What's up, Buttercup?" He says, panting slightly.

    "You good?"

   "Yeah, sorry, I'm just at the job sight." He says, trying to catch his breath.

    "Still? It's 7?" You frown, looking at the alarm on your desk.

    "Yeah, Dad's got us cleaning and shit." He sighs, "so what's up?"

    "Oh, yeah. Right." You laugh, "What are your plans Friday night?"

    "Tommy's got a football game, but I can get out of it if you wanted to do something." He answers.

     "There's a party. A Halloween party." You say, flipping a page of your textbook and start writing.

     "Oh, y'know I'm not really into that kinda shit." He says. You can picture the little scowl he unintentionally does.

      "Please? For me?" You whine.

      "Why do you want me to go so bad, college?" He chuckled. You can imagine him standing at the job sight. Breathing heavy in his work pants and neon orange t-shirt. He'd be panting slightly, beads of sweat running down his forehead, curls messy and hands dirty from a tough day at work. His biceps bulging in the t-shirt and his thighs tight against the fabric of his pants.

      "Nessa is trying to set me up with one of the football guys, I need my bodyguard just in case things get rocky." You says, the eraser of your pencil pressing against your lip as you read and talk,

      "Nessa? Your roommate?" He asks. Joel and Nessa don't get along.

      "Please, Jo." You drag out his nickname.

      "I don't wear costumes." He says flatly.

      "What if i buy you one?" You propose.

      "You're not spending money on me." He argues.

     "Wear dark clothes. I'll just get a mask or something." You suggest, "you don't even have to wear it, just hold it."

      He sighs from the other line, "Fine. I'll wear dark clothes. And I'll be at your dorm at 7:30."

      "Really?" You ask, smiling brightly as you look down at your desk with a smitten face.

       "Really, Princess." That's what he called you whenever you got you way. It always made you feel like you had a little butterfly flying around your rib cage.

      "Thank you. I love you." You giggle, going back to writing notes.

       "Love you too, College." He says, you can hear the smirk in his voice. "Well, I gotta go. I'll see you then?"

     "See you then, Jo."

┆ ° ♡ • ➵ ✩ ◛ °

The crowd is immediately overwhelming to Joel. As the group approaches the frat house, there a guy throwing up an the sidewalk. He's dressed as Luigi. His mustache lays crumbled at his feet while he groans. Joel automatically thinks of 3,001 excuses to get the hell out of there. But each excuse is thrown away after he thinks about you. What if something happens to you? So he stays. Stuffing part of the werewolf mask you bought into his back pocket. Reluctantly grabbing a beer from the huge cooler once you're inside and cracking it open. He watches as you and Nessa take out your own alcohol and soda can to make a mixed drink.

Earlier that night, he arrived at your dorm to see you all dolled up. A winged liner and a cherry red lipstick being the most notable out of your makeup look. For him at least. You were wearing a white, pirate styled shirt with a worn brown vest. In a material that made Joel cringe slightly. Your skirt was fluffy, and short, exposing your thighs in the cold air. You wore converse, just like he had. You were dressed as Little Red Riding Hood. Shoving a cheap werewolf mask into his hands, thanking him for wearing exactly what you had told him. Which was a navy crewneck and dark denim. He was your big bad wolf.

He sighs, standing beside them, feeling wildly out of place. You had brought him to the same frat before. After a Longhorns game. An invitation reached out by Nessa and her boyfriend who was in the frat. But before then, he was drinking and it was easier to make conversation about football, and not his shitty costume. He swallows his pride and watches you giggle with your bad influence of a roommate. Or so he believed her to be.

You turn to see him staring, throwing a crooked smile in his direction before taking a long sip of your drink. Which had mostly alcohol and a drop of Dr Pepper. "Can you hold my soda, Joel?" You ask, with your usual puppy eyes and fake pout.

He grumbles and grabs it from you, double fisting a Busch lite and your Dr Pepper. While holding your soda and following you around, all Joel could think about were his little brothers words. 'You're the boyfriend with absolutely no benefits.' And Joel couldn't deny it any longer. He helped move you into your dorm, he picks you up when you drink too much with Nessa, he holds you when your shitty boyfriends screw you over, and he holds your drinks at parties so you can flirt with other guys. And he gets nothing but a 'thanks Joel! You're the best!'

    It took him way too long to realize that he's the friend zone king. He sits on its shitty throne next to the guy who says 'Where's my hug?' His stomach churns. His throat burning hot and his head is spinning.

"Nessa said Kayden and Theo are on the lawn." You shout over the music into Joel's ear, the proximity making his heart jump.

"The hell are they doin' out there?" He asks back.

"Keg-stand, fucking idiots." You grumble and Joel laughs, agreeing. Which earns him a glare from Nessa. To which he sticks his tongue out back.

Nessa grabs onto you, leading you out towards the lawn. You immediately grab onto Joel's forearm and drag him with you two. He sighs, downing half of his beer as he walks with you to the lawn. A sea of drunk college students dressed in silly or slutty costumes litter the lawn. Nessa's boyfriend, Theo, is in the middle of a keg stand, and Kayden is cheering from the side with a jug full of alcohol. God, Joel wanted to lose his shit and bang on his chest in pure anger. You were nervous about that fucker?

You look to Joel with an uneasy smile, he doesn't return it. "How do I even communicate with him?" You ask Joel.

"You run away as fast as you can," he gives you an unimpressed look as he says it. He's not joking.

You give him an exaggerated eye roll and shake your head. "You told me you'd be good for advice, Miller."

"That's my best advice, Princess," he says easily, crossing his arms over his chest. His beer can lazily hanging in his fingertips. Which are lightly gripping the top.

You swallow, watching as Kayden chugs an impressive amount of whatever alcohol was mixed in the jug of what used to be Arizona tea. "I guess I should probably introduce myself."

Joel's jaw clenches as he watches you go, wanting to grab you and shake sense into you. What could you possibly see in that guy? What could possibly be romantic about a arizona jug with a unexplained green liquid sloshing around inside it? What could possibly be attractive about the piss-water beer he was spilling all over himself. With one tight squeeze, he crashes the can, wandering away to find a recycle bin.

He heads back inside reluctantly, chewing the inside of his cheek while his mind churns out a million scenarios where you turn out hurt. Or someone else's. A huff escapes his lips as he tosses the can into the recycle bin and immediately heads into the kitchen for another. In the kitchen, there's a group of other Mario characters. Joel clocks them as Luigi's group. He wonders if they know poor Luigi is puking his guts out.

Laughing to himself, he cracks open a second beer and leans against the counter, observing as people come and go from the kitchen. He sips slowly, judging people's costumes, laughter, and their drunken speeches. He wonders how people got drunk so fast, or if him and your group really arrived as late as Nessa made it seem. He sets his beer down next to him, still holding onto your Dr Pepper. His hand covering the open top. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a princess peach approaching. Her dress short, and white knee high boots. Her blonde hair was curled and she had a tiny crown on her head. She looked good.

"You're bleeding." She says, pointing to his empty hand. Looking down, he realized he must've cut himself while crushing his can in his earlier frustration.

He looks back up with a slow blink, "thanks." He grumbles, not really sure what to say, "you know if they keep a first aid kit in this dump?"

Peach laughs with a nod, moving past him and looking under the sink. She grabs out a small, red first aid kit. Joel sets down your Dr Pepper. He moves to the sink, washing off the blood from the small, deep cut. He rips a paper towel from his freehand and dabs the cut. Once he's finished, Peach put a paw patrol bandaid on the left side of his palm, where the cut is.

"All fixed, soldier." She says with a giggle.

"Thanks," he says, inspecting the bandaid made for children, "oh, and if you're missing a Luigi, he's out on the lawn. Buddy seems like he's had a rough night.

Peach let's out a loud giggle, Joel flinches at the sound. "Oh, that's just Damon. He's been drinking since noon."

"Since noon?"

"Yeah, it's normal i promise." She says, her hand falling onto his bicep as she laughs. She squeezes it lightly and his eyes widen slightly.

Joel shifts, not really sure how to handle a unwanted touch from a stranger. Her hand dropped as soon as it came. He let out a huff in relief, shifting his converse against the kitchen tile. "He should probably stop drinkin' so much." He said awkwardly.

      Peach shrugs, "it's college."

       At the tail end of their conversation, you slip into the kitchen. You're red hood is down now, and your solo cup is completely empty. Having been downed after you listens to Kayden tell you about football through a slurred voice. After realizing there was no chance of social resuscitation, you head inside to find Joel. Hopefully getting the hell out of there. You walk through the sliding glass door and through the dining room. When you reach the kitchen you stop in you tracks at the sight of Joel.

       As you stand there, a realization creeps up on you. You've seen this film. You've seen it a thousand times. Every time you've entered a room, you've watched it play. A perfect play through every single time. Joel stands against the kitchen counter with another beer in his hands. He's grumbling something to a girl dressed as Princess Peach. As she laughs at what he said, her delicate hand slaps his bicep, grabbing onto it as she leans forward and lets out a flirtatious giggle. You watch him blink slowly, realizing whatever he said to the girl wasn't a joke. He wasn't trying to be funny.

     Continuing to watch, you stand in the entrance. He stands up from where he was leaning on the counter, no longer relying on it to hold him up. You watch as he slams his second beer, your Dr Pepper still in his right hand. His hand is covering the top. Another few blinks and his whiskey eyes are on you.

     Everything from there feels like a total cliche. He turns away from Princess Peach, eyes still on you. He mutters a farewell. You watch him closely as he stares you down. He's crossing the room, eyes fixated on your form. The white pirate-styled top, and the brown vest. His eyes fall to the short red skirt and the beat up converse on your feet. The noise around you cancels out into merely a whisper, your heartbeat gets faster as you realize what's happening to you. No, what's happened. What's always been there. What is becoming so painfully obvious that you physically can't keep up with the way your brain spins.

    He's there and everyone else is just an obstacle. Blocking you from running to him. You wonder if that's how it's been this whole time. If your own stupidity and oblivious nature has been your obstacle this whole time. If this moment was destined since you had plopped a boat made out of the gum wrapper from the gum he gave you on his desk in 6th grade. You wonder if had he asked you to homecoming instead of Charlie Winkler, would you have already realized it. Would you have already realized that there's absolutely no one in this world that makes you feel the way he does?

     As he gets closer, fire spreads through your body, and suddenly he's grabbing your wrist. He says something, but you're locked into a shock induced state. You completely zone out as his face leans closer. Your eyes take in his thick, furrowed brow and the slight scrunch on his forehead. His lips are downturned and you suddenly realize how long it's been since he's shaved. His stubble much longer than he had ever kept it before.

      "Hey, you good?" His smooth drawl snaps you back into reality, he's waving a large hand in front of your face, "Earth to College."

      You blink a few times, "Joel. Hi." You choke out awkwardly, staring at him.

     "You good? Where's Kyle?"

     "Kayden." You correct, throwing out your solo cup. Then grabbing the Dr Pepper from his hands and throwing that out too.

     "Same thing," he shrugs, "Where is he?"

     "I wasn't into him." You say quickly, "Wanna get some air? I'm feeling a little overwhelmed."

    He immediately looks concerned, his hand landing on the small of your back, "What's wrong? Are you alright?"

    You nod quickly, "I'm fine, i promise. C'mon, let's go upstairs."

     You grab his hand and lead him out to the living room and up the stairs of the frat. He follows behind, holding onto your hand tightly. He looks behind and around himself, not really knowing what to expect. Or what people would think about people heading into the bedroom of a frat member without said frat member being present.

    You reach a door with Theo's name on it. Carefully, you peak your head in. Once you know it's clear of horny and drunk college students, you open the door fully. Joel steps through, looking around at the slightly messy room.

    "You're sure we can be up here?" Joel says, awkwardly shifting his weight as you plop down on Theo's bed.

     "He said I could use it if i needed too." You smile, playing with the hem of your skirt.

    He just nods, converse dragging slightly on the rug under his feet and towards the bed. As he sits down slowly, you listen to the muffled music from the yard. A shitty, yet classic, Pitbull song plays and you hear drunken screams. You ignore it, not wanting to focus on anything else but the overbearing scent of Joel's teakwood cologne. The one you got him for his 20th birthday. How was he so perfect?

   "So, that kid didn't catch your interest?" Joel asks, his sweaty hands rubbing on the denim covering his thighs.

     "He smelled like wet pennies," you laugh, nudging his shoulder lightly.

    He laughs with you. It's thunderous sound, one you've always been incredibly fond of. You giggle slightly, a lovesick haze clouding your brain as he looks over to you. For a moment, it's quiet between you both. A complete contrast to the chaos outside. Both of your breathing the only sound left in the room. His eyes flicking from your eyes to your cherry red lips. He snaps out of his daze, looking forwards, "I think if someone told me I smelled like pennies, I'd cry." He says teasingly, nudging your knee.

    "You don't smell like pennies." You lean closer.

    "Promise?"

    "Promise." You nod, giggling as you lean your head on his shoulder.

      His arm wraps around you, rubbing your shoulder over your smooth red cape. The hood tangled in the back from ripping it off your head after Kayden accidentally spilled his unidentified alcohol beverage on it earlier. You nuzzle your head on his muscular shoulder, inhaling his strong scent. His navy crewneck is soft against your cheek as you look down at the dark denim on his strong thighs.

      You both sit in silence for a few moment, the tension in the air getting thicker as the seconds tick by. Eventually, you get restless. Your voice cuts through the quiet room as you lift your head up slightly to look up at him. "You want to stay with me in the dorms tonight?" You ask softly.

    "I would love that." he says softly, leaning forward and placing his forehead on yours. His hand reaches to grab your wrist as it sits on your lap. He rubs your wrist slowly, running across a prominent vein that meets your palm.

   Suddenly, his free hand wraps around the back of your head, gently and quickly pulling you in. Before you can process whats happening, his lips press against yours. You melt into the kiss without another thought. His hand slides down and holds your face, his other hand dropping your wrist and reaching up behind your head. His long fingers running through your hair as you kiss. Your hands lay on his chest, squeezing him slightly when he pressed deeper. The kiss turns to into a heavy make out as he starts getting a bit carried away at the taste of your cherry lipstick. The kiss gets sloppy, making you squeeze your thighs together from the sudden burn between your legs. He breaks the kiss, breathing heavy, his hands on your hips. He's looking down at you with rosy cheeks. "Was that okay?" His voice was soft.

     You pant softly, your lips swollen from his passionate kiss. "Mhm," you nod.

    He quickly steals another kiss from you, shifting to face you. You go right back to making out again. He has a tight hold on your waist with one hand. His left hand traveling up to your back. You hold yourself up on the bed with your hand spread behind you. Your arm is thrown over his shoulder and around the back of his neck. His tongue pushes against yours, pulling you in for a kiss. It lasts for a few seconds that seem to be last a lifetime. His hand grips tighter at your waist, breathing heavily after he eventually broke the kiss. "I want you.." He whispers. His eyes are heavy and he's gazing at you in a way you didn't believe was possible.

    "I'm yours." You whisper without another thought, smiling.

    He pulls himself even closer, slowly and gently lying you down before leaning on top of you. He places his hand flat on your spine, whilst his other hand goes to your thigh. He kisses your neck and collarbone, the taste of your skin driving him crazy. For a moment, he loses himself in the taste, before he begins to wonder if you're feeling alright. He pauses again, letting himself catch breath before checking on you. "Are you comfortable? Do you want to continue this?"

    You nod, your fingers playing with the curls on the back of his neck. His hand is on your thigh, rubbing it lightly. "Yeah, I'm comfortable." You nod softly.

     He beams, a slight huff of excited laughter hitting your face. "You'll let me know if it's too much?" He asks softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

     "Mhm." You hum, pushing his head down to continue the kiss. He happily accepts the invitation, squeezing your thigh gently as his other arm is still wrapping under you as you lay on Theo's bed.

You both make out for a few more minutes. The touches become more and more heated with each second. Your nails dig into his shoulders as his hand travels up your thigh to rest on your hip underneath your skirt. A small moan rumbles against his lips as your back arched slightly against the mattress. His finger loops under the band of underwear on your hip.

As he begins to tug slightly, the door flys open and you and Joel rip apart from each other. Joel hops off the bed, scratching the back of his neck as his other hand travels to his front pocket. A poor attempt to hide the bulge in his jeans. You sit up on the bed, fixing your skirt and hair as you both look at the door.

Theo and Nessa stand at the door, their jaws dropped open at the sight in front of them. “No way,” A drunken Nessa giggled, covering her mouth.

“Nessa! Hi!” You squeak, getting up from the bed as the two drunken vampires giggle.

Joel’s face is beet red as his hands are stuck into his front pockets. You look over to see red lipstick smudged on his lips, some even in his stubble. You got hit with embarrassment, using your thumb to wipe around your lips to wipe off any smudged lipstick. “We were just getting some air.”

“More like sharing some air,” Theo laughs.

“Go back to the dorms,” Nessa smirks. “I’ll be here tonight.”

Instead of arguing you nod, grabbing onto Joel’s arm and leading him out of the room. The door closes behind you and you both look at each other in awe and embarrassment.

“Dude.” You breath out, a slow smile creeping onto your lips.

“That…” he tries to find words in his flustered state, “that was awkward.”

You both laugh, leaning into each other in a post make out haze. He tugs you into his arms for a moment, pulling you close as he rubs your back slowly. He presses a firm kiss to the crown of your head before pulling apart again.

“Should we head to your dorm?” He asks softly, biting the inside of his lip.

You smirk, grabbing his wrist. “C’mon, cowboy.”

┆ ° ♡ • ➵ ✩ ◛ °

moot tags: @annasinterests @ilovepedro @mandoisapunk @party-hearses @nostalxgic @bastardmandennis

[buckyispunk]

Masterlist

Joel Miller x Reader

Better Man - Oneshot

Summary: Falling in love with Joel Miller is heaven. It's falling out of love and forcing yourself to move on that's hard. Inspired by Taylor Swift's "Better Man."

Chance Encounter - Series (ongoing) - Explicit 18+

Summary: Being a working student is hard. When you meet Joel Miller, you find that your life becomes much more enjoyable.

Chance Encounter

Arcturus

Unpaid Labor - Oneshot - Explicit 18+

Summary: You struggle to move into your new house alone. Luckily for you, your neighbor, Joel, is more than willing to help out. You find a way to repay him.

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Aloha - Series (ongoing) - Explicit 18+

Summary: You go to your ex's wedding in Hawaii to escape city life for a week and, upon arriving at the resort, you meet Bucky Barnes. Throughout the course of your stay, you find yourself being drawn closer and closer to the charming man. But can paradise last forever?

Aloha

Ocean Blue

Falling

[joelsflannel]

stress (j.m.)

joel asking you to watch sarah is the perfect excuse to study somewhere that isn’t your apartment. its your last semester of undergrad and your neighbors provide anything but a quiet study environment and the stress is piling up. so what happens when joel comes home on a friday night, sarah having gone to bed hours ago, to you curled up in a chair at the kitchen table with papers and various large textbooks strewn about.

masterlist

Word Count: ~1k

Warnings: 18+ implied smut, pre/no-outbreak joel miller, stress, anxiety, final exams deserve their own warning, implied age gap (reader is a senior in college), FLUFF, joel being the boyfriend we all deserve, joel calls reader “sweet girl” and “my girl”, no physical description of the reader (he strokes your hair and you wear his shirt), no use of Y/N. 

this is entirely self-indulgent so while a major is not explicitly stated i’m a psych major and one of the classes i took was adolescent psychology. the professor was awful and i did in fact cry over the class, many times. this is also my first fic since like 2017 so hopefully it’s good, it hasn’t been proofread. enjoy <3

You wouldn't really call it babysitting. You’d been dating Joel for a while now so when he asked if you could come over on weeknights to make sure that Sarah wasn’t getting into any trouble, “Sarah? Getting into trouble?” you immediately agreed. It was nice to have somewhere to go after a busy day of lecture after lecture and work on homework somewhere that wasn’t curled uncomfortably on your couch in your apartment, headphones in, desperately trying to drown out the almost comical stomping of your upstairs neighbors. 

“I’d love to,” you smiled as Joel’s face physically relaxed at your response. “Thank you, darlin’, really you’re a lifesaver.”

“Am I still a lifesaver if I tell you that I’m just using you for the peace and quiet?” you teased.

Truth be told, this was your last semester of undergrad and you were grateful for the distraction. Between applying to grad schools and trying to keep up with your classes, it was nice to hang out with Sarah. You’d gotten close with her since dating Joel and you loved spending time with her. Plus since Joel worked pretty late some nights, it also gave you somewhere quiet to work.

You liked your apartment, it was cozy, all things considered, and it was nice to have your own space. That was until your upstairs neighbors moved in and decided that running laps up and down their apartment was a great way to pass the time. There was no amount of drowning them out that could make any kind of studying successful and you’d never really been able to study at the library, so Joel’s kitchen table it was. 

It was the Friday before finals week and everything felt like it was crashing down around you. Assignments were piling up, professors were waiting until the last possible minute to grade any of the semester’s work, and you were overwhelmed. So here you are, textbooks littering the kitchen table and notebook paper full of your scribbled notes haphazardly strewn around. It felt like you’d been staring at the same pages of your textbook for hours and you couldn’t help a few tears of frustration falling onto the notebook in front of you. In fact, you were so knee-deep into making a study guide for your adolescent psychology class, you didn’t even hear the front door open and shut.

It wasn’t until you heard the scraping of a chair on the floor and heard Joel, brows furrowed in concern, saying your name in a soft voice that you noticed him. You straightened up quickly, suddenly very aware of the mess you’d made on his table and the tears streaming down your face. “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you come in,” you sniffle, wiping your face with your sleeve and sighing. His face immediately softened and he leaned forward to place a comforting hand on your shoulder. “Hey no, no don’t apologize, sweet girl. C’mere, what's the matter?”

As soon as he asked it was like all of the stress and anxiety came barrelling forward, slumping to rest your head in your crossed arms, “My fucking brain hurts.” He exhales a hollow laugh and moves his hand from your shoulder to stroke your hair gently. You turn your head to look at him, “It’s just… I’m so tired, it’s like my professors are trying to kill me and then I think about how even when I graduate, I’ll just be back in school to get my master's come fall. And don’t get me wrong, I want my master’s but sometimes it's just a lot, I guess.” 

He nods and continues stroking your hair reassuringly as you talk, hanging on to your every word searching for a way to comfort you. You shake your head and sigh softly, “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I just dumped all that on you.” He smiles at you warmly and tilts your chin up to cup your face. “You’ve got nothin’ to apologize for, I want you to know that you can always come to me.” 

You find yourself leaning into his touch as he gently strokes your cheek with his thumb. “Thank you, Joel.” 

“C’mere, darlin’.” He pulls you into him, pressing a kiss to your head and enveloping you in his arms, surrounding you with him. His smell, his warmth, all things Joel. “You’re the smartest person I know. Let’s just take a little breather, get you some water, and go sit on the couch away from all this.” He motions to the papers scattered on the table. “Sound good?”

You nod into his chest, not wanting to pull away from his embrace just yet. He chuckles and stands up, leading you to the couch. “You sit, I’m gonna grab you a glass of water” You crack a small smile and mock salute him as he goes to walk away. His own smile grows at the sight of you relaxing even just a little bit, “There’s my girl.” 

He comes back with a glass of water and a blanket. He hands you the glass before settling in next to you, draping the blanket over your laps, and pulling your legs into his lap as you curl into his side. He looks over at you and smiles, his eyes focusing on your shirt for the first time tonight. “Is that my shirt?” 

“Maybe,” you shrug jokingly, “it was absolutely pouring when I got out of my last class and I was parked down the street. So when I got here, I just grabbed one of your shirts and threw it on.” 

“I like it, looks good on you.” He presses a kiss to your head. “Now do you wanna talk about what all’s worryin’ you with school or do you just wanna take the rest of the night off?” 

You place the glass of water on a coaster on the side table and turn back to face Joel. You traced a finger over his jawline before placing your hand on his cheek and leaning in. He quirked an eyebrow up at you before closing the gap between you, capturing your bottom lip between his. Your lips continue to move against his, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him down closer to you, his hands finding purchase around your waist. 

“Does that answer your question?”

[allyanastark97]

Could Jeff Winger bottom? For perhaps Abed? Or the dean? 🤔

[catboxdraws]

ITS OFFICIAL : COMMUNITY IS LEAVING NETFLIX AND WILL BE AVAILABLE ON PEACOCK THIS APRIL 1ST

[88-special]

Masterclass in Denial

Jeff Winger x Reader (Female pronouns)

Part 1 of 5

The 4 times you and Jeff denied your feelings for each other and the 1 time you didn't.

They were arguing again. They were always arguing. For a group of people who choose to spend all their time together they didn't seem to like each other very much. Y/n questioned her sanity, they all drove her crazy as well, but she too still chose to show up at every study group session. Maybe misery does love company, she smirked to herself.

"I just don't think it's fair!" Annie protested, "I go to every lecture, do my homework, take notes and then every time there's a test you all expect me to help you guys!" She ended her spiel with her arms crossed and a firm nod.

There was a chorus of objections, whines, and pleas from the group. Y/n mumbled about how she also has been at every class and has taken notes right alongside Annie. They quickly fell quiet when Jeff slammed his hands down on the table, starting another one of his famous pep talks. They went through this same song as dance every week it seemed. Y/n looked around the table, Annie was still pouting, but listening intently as Jeff spoke. Shirley sat alert, with her hands folded in front of her, nodding along glancing at Annie to see if the words were having their desired effect. Pierce was slouched back in his chair, head hung low - a snore escaped his open mouth, no one bothered to wake him, it was for the better. Troy and Abed were having some sort of silent conversation with a tremendous amount of eyebrow and shoulder wiggling. Britta was a near mirror image of Shirley, adding in a 'yeah' of support when appropriate.

"...In conclusion, America!"Jeff finished his monologue, plopping into his chair, arms spread wide, and a grin plastered on his face.

Annie dropped her shoulders, and sighing in defeat she pulled out her binder and began passing out individual copies of her notes. Y/n snatched her copy, eager to finally get studying and end the bickering. 

"So the test is supposed to cover chapters twelve through fourteen, I think we should quiz each other on vocab, and then-"

"VOCAB?!" Pierce cut in, irritable over the disruption of his nap. "As in vocabulary? We all already know words! How else would we be having this conversation?!"

"Pierce, you know that's not what-"

"Listen, I do know words, but what about-"

"What are these extra pages? Did we have homework?!-"

Annie, Troy, and Britta all began talking at once. Annie quickly shifted to chastise Britta. Pierce and Shirley launched into their third argument of the day. Troy and Abed pulled a magic eight ball seemingly out of thin air, to ask it if they were going to pass the test. Y/n gaped in horror before turning to Jeff who was oblivious, leaning back in his chair tapping away on his phone.

"Jeff, please do something!"

"They'll tire themselves out eventually." He shrugged without looking up.

Two hours later Y/n walked out of the library worried she was less prepared for the test than she had been this morning.

"Y/n!" Jeff called as she hurried down the steps. "Wait up!"

Y/n sighed and slowed her pace. Jeff jogged up to her, puffing out his chest as he discreetly tried to slow his breathing, ever concerned of his image.

"I think we've earned ourselves a drink over at Tavern 32."

'This must be hell, I died and this is my penance, to be stuck in an endless loop of crazy. Maybe Greendale was actually purgatory.' Y/n thought to herself. The whole reason they are all here is to finish school, get whatever degree needed, and move on with their lives, hopefully never thinking of this fever dream of a school ever again. Well, maybe not Jeff, he seemed to see the campus as his own personal dating app. Y/n resumed her gate.

"How do you figure? We didn't even open the book! Now I'm going to have to spend the rest of my night studying at home." 

"Cool, cool, I'll just grab some drinks from the store and we can have our own private study sesh at your place" Dear god, that grin, how many women has he fooled with that grin alone?

" 'No' is a full sentence Jeff. Have a good night." Y/n continued to her car and sped off without a second glance.

He just couldn't win with her, none of his usual charms worked. Even Britta has succumbed a couple times, but Y/n was immune. He tried to shake off the rejection and headed home. Telling himself the only reason it bothered him was because he hadn't won her over yet. Once she gave in, he'd lose interest, just like he always did. It was just a game. It wasn't guilt he felt earlier when she looked at him disapprovingly for not stepping in on the groups arguing. It wasn't his heart speeding up when her hand brushed his at the study table. It's just a game, give him his prize and then on to the next one. Jeff smacked the steering wheel and jerked left into the parking lot of the same bar he was trying to take Y/n to earlier. He doesn't need Y/n, he doesn't need anyone. He's Jeff fucking Winger.

The next morning Jeff sat slumped in his chair. Sunglasses on, clutching his third espresso like a lifeline. Y/n took her usual seat next to him, slamming her notebook on the table, relishing in the groan that emitted from her hungover classmate.

"Studied too hard last night?" She mused. 

Jeff lifted his head to reply. He swore she couldn't be more perfect, but here she was, light streaming from the window behind her, setting her aglow, that huge ugly sweater swallowing her whole, and her unbrushed hair sticking out in every direction. She was holding out a breakfast sandwich to him. Jeff lifted his sunglasses with a questioning look.

"Sausage, egg, and cheese, best hangover cure there is." She beamed at him.

"How did you - "

"Good morning class, clear off your desks, you have forty-five minutes to complete..."

Y/n shifted her attention to their professor. Jeff dug into the sandwich, the grease immediately working its magic. As he ate, he snuck glances at the girl next to him. He needed to stop chasing her, she was way too good for him.

Part 2

[sl-ut]

WAIT i fr just hit 4200 followers!!! ty all so much, i have a big project that im hoping to get out soon (been working on it since the summer) and i’m hoping to get into my overflowing inbox tn! thank you all so much once again!! i wish i could kiss every single one of you mwah 💋 mwah 💋

[lestresmiserables]

I have arrived at my other favorite part, the university. Again a section with a lot of lore to be uncovered if you go looking for it. Again a section where I wonder a lot about what happened, what were they thinking, how were they spending their days?

My emotions already start with the memorial. The 'in loving memory' with all the pictures and the candles. There are three beds with made up dividers between them. Was it where they holed up after the dorms got overtaken by infected? Were they the last survivors of the students? Did they make it?

Then you enter the dorms and there is so much personality in each room. Posters, little trinkets. Outbreak day was september 26th. Beginning of the schoolyear. They probably finally finished making their room their own. Maybe they could still barely remember the name of their dormmates. Maybe they're freshman, moved from across the country and did not know anyone yet. They held out for atleast 10 months in those dorms. 10 months of not knowing if your family and friends back home are alive, dead or something worse. 10 months of being terrified and trying to survive with people you have maybe seen around, people who are completely strangers. Maybe with some friends, maybe with some who absolutely hate your guts.

After a while the cracks start to show. Infected are getting through the barricades and it is getting harder to get them out. Personal relations are getting tense. Rationing food. Who makes the calls. Who risks their life to go to town to try and find supplies. You find out no one is coming. You are on your own.

You are presented with a choice. Either you spend the last of your (probably short) life in the dorms. Trying to survive another day. Or you venture out, risk the relative safety of the dorms, and see if you can make it out in the big, brutal world. Maybe you will even make it to a QZ. Maybe you won't even make it out of the university grounds.

Maybe you will find a group of survivors, you join them. The group grows. You create a town. Sometimes life almost feels normal. At some point rations start to get low. There are little to no provisions left in places nearby, and the situation gets desperate. You start doing something you never would have thought an option when all of this started, all those years ago in that stupid dormitory. It feels like several life times ago when you were young and innocent, excited about the poster you were going to put up, wondering what your dorm mate would be like. But the years of survival have hardened you and you don't think about pulling the trigger and seeing the life leaves someones eyes anymore. You have stopped wondering if they have a family, if someone is waiting for them to get back when you drag their body back to base. You don't throw up anymore after you get served an extra serving of meat at dinner that night.

It was never an option to overtake the group that stationed themselves at the university. They are always too well manned, too well armed. But out of nowhere they seemed to have left. No one is sure why, it seemed like they had a good thing going in the science building. After staking out the place for a while to make sure they are not coming back you and some others go in. See what they left behind. But instead of finding it empty, you find a man and a little girl. A little girl who doesn't hesitate to shoot you to protect the man.

Maybe you were always fated to die in that cursed university.

[princesssmars]

thinking of meeting abby at your college's club awareness day. she's tall and big so you think she plays something like hockey or football but when you ask her she says golf. she also mentions how she nearly got kicked from the team because she got into a little accident with the popular campus dealer and her foster dad?? but who cares because god does she look amazing when she swings.

[beardedjoel]

what if i said.......... dbf joel one shot is on my mind rn

[buckyispunk]

Chance Encounter

Joel Miller x F!College student!Reader Series, No outbreak/Pre-outbreak AU

Part one, read part two here! Masterlist here!

Summary: When a night out with friends takes a turn for the worse, you find every girls’ nightmare may soon be a reality for you. Enter: Joel Miller, your savior.

A/N: I plan on making this a series if it gets a decent amount of notes!

Warnings: sexual assault (unwanted touching), drinking, protective joel, fist fight/violence (dw Joel wins ofc), spilt coffee (oops), age gap (reader is 23, Joel is in his late 40s), eventual smut (none in this chapter)

Word Count: 4.8k

You take one last look in the mirror, adjusting the straps on your little black club dress. You strap on your favorite pair of heels and grab your purse before heading out your apartment door, locking it behind you.

As you walk out to the front of your apartment building you check your phone to see unread messages from your two best friends.

We’re here. Waiting out front.

Come on, dude! We want to go get drunk!!

Oh my god, if you don’t get out here in the next two minutes we’re leaving without you.

You let out an annoyed sigh as you step outside.

They hadn’t even been waiting for five minutes, they could be so impatient sometimes.

You look around before seeing them in the back seat of an Uber. You climb into the back seat with them.

“Oh my god! Babe!” your one friend, Taylor, practically screeches, “You look drop dead gorgeous.”

“You definitley need to wear that dress more often,” Lily agrees, eyeing the low cut neckline that shows off the swell of your breasts.

You thank them and return their compliments as the Uber pulls away from the curb and takes off, heading to the new bar downtown.

It’s a short car ride from your apartment - full of the three of you hyping each other up. You pull up in front of the club. You can tell just from the long line leading up to the door that it’s going to be a long night.

You and your friends thank the Uber driver and you carefully step out onto the sidewalk in front of the club, not wanting to trip over your heels and embarrass yourself so early in the night.

The three of you make your way to the end of the line. Dance music from inside and overlapping conversations fill your ears.

“This better be worth it, Lily,” Taylor shoots Lily an irritated look.

You share Taylor’s irritation, regretting letting Lily talk you into coming here. You would be satisfied with a little dive bar at this point, you just need to get drunk and release some of built up tension work and school had caused this week.

“It will be! Everyone has been raving about this place since it opened,” she justifies.

“Whatever,” you say, “I just hope this line moves quick.”

After a surprisingly short wait, you make your way to the front of the line. You hand the bouncer, a middle aged bald man, your ID first. He takes it, but not before taking an obvious, and long, look at your cleavage and giving you a sleazy grin.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he greets you.

You give an uncomfortable smile back, “Hi.”

After deciding your ID checks out, he lets you pass through the doors. You step into the building and scan the huge crowd of people inside. About half the patrons appear to be college students, like you. Your friends follow not far behind you, dragging you straight to the bar.

The three of you order drinks and from the bartender, a pretty young woman who compliments your outfits, and you lean against the bar as you wait. After you get your drinks, you follow Taylor and Lily to the dance floor. The three of you share a grin as Live Your Life starts.

You down a long sip of your drink, knowing you’re going to need a buzz if you’re going to be dancing.

You start dancing with your friends and before you know it, your drinks are gone and Taylor is leaving to get more. You and Lily leave the dance floor and manage to find some empty chairs, taking a minute to catch your breath, while you wait for Taylor to get back with the drinks.

“She’s taking too long,” Lily complains, “I’m going back out there.”

“Okay, babe,” you reply, waving goodbye to her as she stands and slips back into the crowd of young, drunk, sweaty people.

Taylor eventually makes her way over to you and hands you a full drink. You thank her and point her in the direction Lily disappeared, explaining you’re gonna sit out for another minute. You quickly down your second drink, finally starting to feel tipsy.

You hear the intro to Somebody Told Me and stand, making your way into the sea of people. After a few seconds of trying and failing to find your friends, you give up and start dancing, wanting to enjoy the song and the buzz you’re feeling.

You let loose and sing along to the song and before you know it, a boy is in front of you, dancing with you.

He’s handsome. Tall, blonde, and has a lean, muscular build.

You meet his eyes and give him a smile, which he returns as he leans down to introduce himself.

Mike? Mark? It was something with an M, but you couldn’t make it out over the booming bass surrounding you.

You shout your own name back at him and he nods at you then takes a swig of his beer. He notices your empty hand and leans down again.

By some miracle you’re able to make out what he says this time, “What’s a pretty girl like you diong without a drink in her hand?”

He places a hand on your lower back and guides you over to the bar before asking what you want. He orders you a drink and gets another beer for himself. You thank him and grab his arm, dragging him back to the dance floor.

The two of you dance together and after a couple songs, he makes his way behind you. You feel the denim of his jeans rubbing into your thighs where your dress ends. You take a small step forward, only for him follow right behind you, filling the space you had made. You turn around to face him and continue dancing.

You follow his eyeline to your breasts, noticing the hungry look in his eyes. He places his hand that isn’t holding his beer on your hip, quickly lowering it to your ass and squeezing. You grab his hand and shove it back toward him.

His expression quickly turns into a mixture of anger and offense. He shouts something that you can’t hear over the loud music, but you know it wasn’t nice.

You hadn’t noticed your friends walking up to you until you turn around to leave whatever his name was. By the confused looks on their faces, they had witnessed the interaction and they sandwich you between them. They lead you over to the chairs and you sit down, explaining to them what happened.

“He bought me a drink and then started getting too handsy when we were dancing. I tried to get him off me, but he wasn’t taking the hint.”

“I’m sorry,” Taylor says, giving you a sympathetic look.

“Men are such assholes sometimes,” Lily responds angrily, “Do you want me to go find him and slap him? I can throw the rest of my drink on his face.”

Lily’s words cheer you up a little bit and you stand, “I’m fine guys, it wasn’t a big deal. We came here to have fun!”

Lily and Taylor give you a skeptical look but follow you as you head back to the dance floor. The three of you start dancing together, moving your hips and grinding against each other. You laugh at each other as you scream-sing along to Pitbull.

After several more rounds of drinks, the aching in your feet gets to be too uncomfortable to continue dancing. You knew wearing the heels was a bad idea, you just look so damn good in them.

You get Taylor and Lily’s attention, “Hey guys, I think I’m gonna call it a night. My feet are killing me. Plus, I know I’ll regret it in the morning if I have anything else to drink.”

Your friends seem to have heard at least the majority of what you said.

“Aww man,” Lily says, a pout forming on her face, “That’s so lame. It’s only like midnight.”

You check the time on your phone before responding, “Lily, it’s almost 2 o’clock. Listen, you guys should stay,” you say, not wanting to ruin put an early end to their fun night.

Taylor leans over to your ear, “Let us at least walk you out and wait for your Uber with you.”

“No way,” you dismiss her offer, “I wouldn’t want you guys to have to wait in that line again.”

“You sure? We don’t mind,” Lily pushes.

“Really, guys,” you smile at them, “I’ll be fine.”

You hug your friends goodbye and head outside to order your Uber. You lean up against the brick wall of the building for stability and pull your phone out of your bag. You order an Uber.

Tristan will be here in 11 minutes.

You go to put your phone back in your bag, but you miss and your phone lands on the concrete.

You bend down on unsteady legs to retrieve your phone, but someone elses hand reaches it first. You stand back up and lay eyes on the figure in front of you.

The bouncer from earlier.

“Hey, beautiful.”

He puts his yellow teeth on display as he steps closer to you. He lays one hand on your hip, backing you up against the brick wall. With his other hand, he offers you your phone. You take your phone back with shaky hands.

“My shift just ended,” he says, voice dark, “How about you come back home with me for a drink? Can’t let a pretty little lady like you leave here alone.”

His hand is creeping lower and lower, getting close to your ass.

“Um,” you want to kick yourself for how small your voice sounds, “no, thanks. My boyfriend will be here soon to pick me up.”

You do your best to look unbothered, trying to sell your lie.

“That so, baby?” he questions, sneer never leaving his face, “I’ll wait here with you then.”

His hand reaches your ass and you cringe. You raise your hands and use all the strength you can muster to shove him in the chest. The stocky man in front of you doesn’t budge.

You begin to panic even more, realizing what’s about to happen to you. Your brain freezes and you open your mouth to yell but only a squeak comes out when you meet the malicious gaze of your assaulter.

“That wasn’t very nice, baby,” He growls, “Someone needs to learn some manners.”

Before you have a chance to respond or make any other attempts at escape, you hear a shout from behind the bouncer.

“Hey, asshole! Get off of her!”

The bouncer is blocking your view so you can’t see whoever the voice belongs to, but even in your drunken state, you notice the southern drawl.

The bouncer looks over his shoulder, muttering a quiet “fuck off” and reverting his vile glare back to you.

Before you know what’s happening, the bouncer is ripped off of you. He stumbles backward, almost toppling over. Now that your view isn’t blocked you’re able to see the man responsible.

He’s tall. At least half a foot taller than the bouncer. His broad shoulders and back make you wonder how his flannel shirt hasn’t ripped. His graying hair and the wrinkles across his forehead make it clear he’s older than you. Quite a bit older, you’d guess.

You collapse to the ground, trying to calm your panicked breathing.

The man takes his eyes off the bouncer to look over at you with a worried expression.

“Are you o-” before he has a chance to finish his sentence, the bouncer has tackled him into the ground.

The bouncer gets in only one good shot before the man manages to wrestle the bouncer underneath him. He grabs the bouncer’s shirt and lands begins punching him repeatedly.

You squeeze your eyes shut and clutch your legs into your chest, unable to believe the scene unfolding in front of you. You hear a crack and a scream. You look up and are thankful to see that the scream came from the bouncer, not the man who had saved you. You feel tears welling in your eyes.

The man climbs off the bouncer, who now lays covering his bloody face, and stands over him.

“Get the fuck out of here before I change my mind about letting you go,” he scowls.

The bouncer stands up, muttering and groaning before stumbling away from you and the man who had just bloodied him.

With the threat gone, your savior returns his attention to you.

He steps over to where you sit crumpled on the ground. He kneels down in front of you and you cower away, covering your face with your hands.

“Whoa, hey,” his voice sounds much softer now than it had just seconds ago when he was talking to your assaulter, “my names Joel. I’m not gonna hurt you, sweetheart.”

The man backs away from you, but stays in a kneeling position.

You look up to him, face covered in tears and running makeup. His big, brown eyes are filled with apprehension and worry. He has a cut on his cheek from where he got hit, a small drop of blood trickling down his face.

“Are you okay? Did he hurt you, darlin’?” he questions, concerned.

“Oh,” you sniffle, using your hand to wipe mascara and tears off your face, “yeah, I’m alright. He didn’t hurt me. I’m just shaken up, I think.”

You grab your purse off the ground where you had dropped it and go to stand up.

Joel makes his way to his feet quickly and hesitantly stretches his hand out to you. You look up at him and give him a small nod. You’re not quite sure why, but you trust him. Even though you had just watched him beat the shit out of someone.

He gently puts his hand on your arm and keeps you balances as you stand, making sure you don’t topple over in your inebriated state. You feel goosebumps form on your skin at Joel’s touch.

The way he touches you feel so different than the bouncer. Different than the boy you had been dancing with. They had touched you with greed and roughness. The way Joel gently holds your arm is a stark contrast to his coarse, calloused hands.

Once you’re on your feet, he lets you go. As he pulls his hand away, you notice the drying blood across his knuckles and wince.

“Thank you for getting him off of me. I don’t even want to think about what would have happened if you hadn’t been here,” you give Joel a grateful smile, “Are you okay?”

“Hey, don’t worry about me,” he says gruffly, “I just did what any man should’ve. I wasn’t gonna walk past n’ let that piece of shit do god-knows-what to you.”

He sheepishly looks down at his work boots, shifting from foot to foot.

“My ride will be here in just a couple minutes, you don’t need to wait with me,” you say, attempting to fill the awkward silence.

“Don’t even start,” Joel looks back up at you, “‘m not leavin’ you here alone, I’ll wait here with you.”

Inwardly, you let out a little sigh of relief, feeling safer with him.

“Have your boyfriend gets you some water when you get home. He should stay up for a little while and make sure you don’t roll over onto your back in your sleep,” Joel says, leaning against the wall with you, although he leaves a polite amount of space between the two of you.

“What?” you look over to him, brows furrowing.

“You told that guy your boyfriend was coming to pick you up. I overheard a little bit of the conversation as I was coming over to help you.”

“Ohh,” you start, remembering the lie you had told the bouncer, trying to get rid of him, “I just said that to scare him off. Clearly it didn’t work,” you explain, blush spreading over your cheeks. “I don’t actually have a boyfriend. My Uber’s on its way.”

Joel hums in response, an expression on his face that you can’t quite read.

“Well, in that case,” his deep voice speaks softly, “make sure you drink plenty of water when you get home. And try to stay on your side.”

“Is your face gonna be okay?” you ask him, pointing to the cut on his cheekbone. You can’t help but let your eyes trail over his jawline and his thick neck.

Joel furrows his eyebrows and reaches up to where you’re pointing.

“Oh,” he says, pulling his hand back eyeing his own blood on his fingers, as if he hadn’t even noticed the cut, “this ain’t nothin’,” he mutters. “Fucker musta had a ring on.”

You raise your eyebrows, surprised by his nonchalance. He keeps his eyes forward. You let yourself admire his side profile - the curve of his nose, his beard and moustache, his salt and pepper hair.

“Is that your ride?” he asks you, pointing to a car that just pulled up, breaking your trance.

You pull out your phone to check.

“Yeah,” you nod, putting your phone back away, “it is.”

Joel makes his way over to the Uber with you and opens the back door for you, making sure you get in the car okay.

“Be safe, please,” his soft brown eyes make meet your gaze, “Go get some sleep.”

“Thank you, Joel,” you give him a genuine smile, holding eye contact.

Joel gently closes the car door and steps back.

You watch him through the window until you get too far away, then you train your eyes on the seat in front of you. Thankfully, Tristan doesn’t try to make small talk with you, leaving you to replay tonight’s events in your mind, trying to make sense of it all.

As soon as you pull up to your apartment building, you’re climbing out of the car and heading to unlock the door - ready to take these damn heels off and get in bed.

Once inside your apartment, you take off your heels, clean your face with a makeup wipe, change out of your dress, and get in bed. You fall asleep as soon as your head hits the pillow.

You wake up to a throbbing in your head. You squeeze your eyes shut and roll over in bed. You pull the covers up, trying your best to fall back asleep. After several minutes of tossing and turning, you come to terms with that fact that you’re up for the day.

You grab your phone off the nightstand and check the time - 7:37. Too damn early. You respond to Lily and Taylor’s texts asking if you got home okay with a simple yes, not feeling like explaining everything.

You roll out of bed and hop in the shower. You wash your hair and body, trying to scrub off the mess that was last night.

Your thoughts drift back to Joel. The way he touched you so gingerly when he helped you up. You remember the way you felt so safe around Joel, not worried for a second that he would try anything. The way he was willing to get into a fight for you - you’re pretty sure he broke the bouncer’s nose. How he casually brushed off his injuries in favor of making you feel comfortable.

You feel much better when you step out of the shower. More fresh. You pick out denim cutoffs and a cropped tee for the day, dressing for the early September Texas heat.

Your head is still throbbing, though, so you take some medicine. You go to make yourself a cup of coffee in hopes that caffeine will help you feel less like a zombie, but you’re fresh out.

Of fucking course.

You put your phone and your wallet in your pocket, and leave your apartment to walk to your favorite little cafe. Your walk is quiet, most people still asleep this early on a Saturday. You pass the occasional person going for a morning run.

You arrive at the cafe and open the door, walking inside. You look up at the chalkboard menu as you walk in. As you’re reading their new seasonal drinks, you collide with something hard and solid. It only takes you a second to realize that something is a person.

You watch a cup of coffee fall to the floor, knocked out of the person’s hold by you.

You feel your heart drop and a blush form on your face, “Oh my god, I’m so so sorry.”

You look up to see the unfortunate victim of your clumsiness.

Joel. The same man who had saved you last night. The same man who you hadn’t been able to get off your mind all morning.

“Oh,” you say, looking like a deer in headlights, “Joel. I’ll buy you a new drink. I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Good morning,” Joel grunts. He quickly looks you up and down before eyeing his now empty coffee cup laying on the floor.

You quickly bend down to grab the empty paper cup, tossing it in the trash can and grabbing a stack of napkins. You go to kneel down to start wiping up the mess, but a soft hand on your arm stops you.

“I got it,” Joel takes the napkins from your hand and begins cleaning up the spill.

You grab more napkins and join Joel in wiping up the mess.

“Really, I can clean it. It’s my fault. I walked into you. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Joel answers, “You didn’t mean to. Accidents happen.” His eyes look up and you meet his gaze, “You’re not still drunk are you?” Joel teases, lightly chuckling.

“No. Hungover, though,” you manage a small smile through your embarrassment.

The two of you stand and throw away the napkins, the mess on the floor cleaned as best as you could get it.

“What kind of coffee do you want?” you ask Joel, heading for the line to order.

“I can get it myself. You didn’t mean to spill it,” Joel argues.

“Joel. What kind of coffee do you want?” you repeat yourself, not leaving any room for discussion.

“Dark roast, black,” he gives in, the corner of his mouth turning up in a slight smile.

The two of you wait in line together - side by side. He stands far enough away from you that you’re not touching, but close enough that you can smell his cologne - bourbon and oak.

“You never told me your name last night,” he points out.

“Oh, shit. You’re right,” you tell him your name, “You’ll have to forgive my bad manners.”

“That’s alright, you had a lot going on. S’a pretty name.”

“Thank you.”

“Glad to see you made it home safe,” he says, looking down at you.

You look up into his soft, brown eyes “Thanks to you.”

The cut on his cheek is more of a scratch now. It wasn’t very deep.

“Your face looks better,” you tell him, quickly backtracking once you realize how that sounded, “I- uh I mean because of the cut. It looks like the cut is healing well. Your face never looked bad. It looked good last night and it looks good now,” you start rambling, not wanting him to get the wrong idea.

Joel looks down at you, an amused grin spreading across his face. Smile lines form at the corners of his mouth. “Good, huh?”

You know your face is as red as a tomato. Thank god you’re at the front of the line.

The barista speaks, saving you from the conversation you were having with Joel, “Good morning, how can I help you two today?”

You place your order and after a minute you get your coffees. You hand Joel’s to him. Your fingertips brush his as you hand him the cup, his large hand dwarfing the cup. You look up at him to find his eyes already on yours. You quickly look back down.

Your eyes dart around the cafe, unsure what to do next.

As if reading your mind, Joel speaks, “Want to grab a table?” he asks unsurely.

“Oh” you look at him, noting the hestitance in his tone, “you don’t have to. I’m sure you’re sick of me after last night and this morning.”

Joel holds eye contact with you, “I want to. I’d love for you to keep me company while I drink my coffee,” he says more confidently this time, “If you want to, that is.”

“Okay, sure,” you grin up at him as you make your way over to an empty table.

Joel pulls out your chair for you before sitting across from you.

“Surprised you’re up this early,” Joel says after taking a sip of his coffee, “You should still be asleep after your late night.”

“I should be, but my head had other plans.”

Joel hums and gives you a knowing look.

“What about you?” you counter, “Why are you up so early on a Saturday?”

“Got a job today. Me and my brother have a contracting business. Gotta be at the site in an hour.”

“Why were you out so late last night? Were you at that club?” you ask, curious.

“Went out with some of the guys after work. I was walking home from a different bar when I noticed that douchebag feelin’ up on ya.”

Conversation flows easily between you and Joel as you two finish your coffees. Before either of you notice, 45 minutes have passed.

“Oh, shit,” Joel grumbles as he notices the time on his watch, “I should get goin’ or else I’ll be late. Tommy would never let me hear the end of that.”

The two of you stand and make your way outside to find that it had started raining. You stand under the awning, trying to stay dry.

“Shit,” you mumble, not having thought to check the weather before you decided to walk here.

“What’s wrong?” Joel asks, a frown on his face.

“I- uh, I walked here.”

“Can I drive you home?” Joel offers without missing a beat.

“You don’t need to. I don’t want to make you late.”

“I want to, darlin. Can’t let you walk home in this,” he raises his arms in gesture to the pouring rain.

“If you really don’t mind,” you tell him.

Joel nods his head in the direction of his truck, leading the two of you over to it in quick walk. He opens the passenger side door for you, offering you his hand to help you climb in. Once you’re fully seated, he closes the door for you and runs around to the driver’s side and steps up into his own seat.

You give Joel directions to your apartment. The drive only takes a couple minutes.

When Joel pulls up outside your apartment complex, he keeps his eyes forward, “Can I have your phone number? I would love to pay you back for the coffee sometime,” you note what sounds like uncertainty in his voice as he asks.

“You don’t owe me anything, Joel. But, yes, I’d be happy to give you my number.”

Joel lets out a little sigh of relief and hands you his phone, letting you put in your number.

When you finish typing it in, you hand the phone back to him and open the door.

“Thanks for the ride,” you smile over your shoulder at him as you hop down from the truck.

“Bye,” Joel returns your smile before you shut the door.

Joel’s truck doesn’t pull away until you’re safely inside your apartment.

The coffee seemed to help your headache subside. You curl up on your couch and turn the TV on, putting on one of your favorite comfort movies.

You feel your phone buzz in your pocket and pull it out.

Thanks for the coffee, sweetheart. Good luck with your hangover.

You type a quick reply.

Have a good day at work, Joel :)

You close your eyes and let yourself fall asleep, movie playing in the background.

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

I don't know why but I'm deep in my college Joel feels these few days. I think I need to name this universe at some point, I definitely have more planned for them ❤️