wintrcaptn

[wintrcaptn]

Joel Miller's neck and back and profile and this mad protective attitude. need.

[wintrcaptn]

i can stare at him forever

[wintrcaptn]

Apples and Butterflies part 6

Joel Miller x Reader

Summary : You caught your bf in bed with another girl two months before winter break. Now with no where to go for the next few weeks, your roommate invites you to her hometown so you don't spend the holidays alone. But you never expected her dad to be the guy who pretended to be your date so you didn't look pathetic in front of your ex. The same guy you can't stop thinking about...Joel miller.

Part one | Part two | Part three | Part four | Part five

A/N : so I wrote 31 chapters for this so far. Im going to add more to each chapter, change names, and eventually turn it into a book but writing it as a fanfiction really helped me haha

Your POV

Sarah and I had officially declared a holiday hibernation. We spent hours buried under blankets on the couch watching everything from The Holiday to The Grinch, sipping cocoa and making up commentary for the movies that made us snort-laugh until our sides ached. Joel would sit in that leather chair of his, tucked in the corner. He never joined in the chaos, but he never left the room either. That was his thing; being present without actually being in it.

Still, I caught him smiling at the screen once or twice. Just barely. But it happened.

Sarah and I had also taken trips into town, mostly for her gift runs. I wandered behind her like a lost puppy, struggling to figure out what to get her and Joel. Not sure if I even should get him anything.

We'd bump into Mason here and there, and Sarah would go from cool and casual to full-on flustered in three seconds flat. It was hilarious, watching her turn into a complete marshmallow around him.

"He's not into me like that," she told me in the car yesterday.

"Uh, he is constantly bringing up old memories with you. That's literally 'small-town man is low-key obsessed with you' behavior," I'd shot back.

She'd rolled her eyes, but the way she bit her lip and stared out the window said it all. Girl was smitten. Bad.

Joel had been working a lot. Long hours, often gone before the sun was fully up and back when the sky was already dark. But there was always food in the fridge. The thermostat was always adjusted so the house was warm before we woke up. Towels were folded. Wood was stocked by the fireplace.

It didn't go unnoticed.

Neither did the moments right before bed, when he'd walk through the living room, hair damp from the shower, shirt tugged low over his chest, pajama pants slung low on his hips, a glass of water in hand. I'd be curled up on the couch, pretending to be engrossed in whatever book I was holding, even though I had read the same page three times.

It was hard not to look at him. To want him the way I did. And everyday, he made it harder for me to fight these feelings.

———

I woke up before the sun even touched the frosted windows, the world outside still wrapped in a blanket of soft gray. I lay in bed for a moment, staring at the ceiling, the chill in the air making me pull the comforter up a little higher. But I couldn't go back to sleep—not when my mind was already moving.

I wanted to do something for them.

For Sarah—for opening her life to me so easily. For letting me into her home, her family, her memories. And for Joel—for taking me in without hesitation, even if he wasn't always good at showing it. They didn't have to welcome me like this. They didn't have to make me feel like I belonged here.

But they did.

And I wanted to say thank you the only way I really knew how—through food, through baking, through warmth.

I tiptoed out of bed, careful not to wake Sarah as I passed her room. The floor creaked beneath my socks, the sound oddly comforting in the early stillness. I made my way to the kitchen, switching on just the small light above the stove—enough to see by, not enough to disturb the quiet that wrapped around the house like a lullaby.

It felt like a sacred kind of quiet.

I worked by memory, by instinct—pulling eggs, bacon, flour, cinnamon, sugar, and apples from the fridge and pantry. These were the ingredients of my childhood. I tied my hair into a messy bun, loose strands falling into my face as I rolled up my sleeves. I didn't bother with anything fancy. Just comfort. Just care.

I hadn't baked like this in a while. Not since a year after my mother passed. But something about this kitchen—the old cupboards, the subtle creak of the drawers, the hum of the heater kicking on—it felt safe. Familiar. Like maybe she was here, watching over my shoulder, smiling in that quiet way she used to when I got flour on my nose.

I liked being up before everyone else. It reminded me of holidays at home, when I'd wake to the smell of apple and cinnamon and find her already at the stove, humming a song I never knew the name of.

Now I was the one humming.

The eggs sizzled quietly. Bacon crisped on the stovetop. A fresh batch of apple-cinnamon muffins rose golden in the oven, filling the room with their warm, spiced scent. I moved around the kitchen with a kind of rhythm, phone resting nearby with music playing low—something soft, something calm.

I wasn't trying to impress anyone. I just wanted them to know I saw them. That I appreciated them.

I lost myself in the rhythm, flipping bacon, scooping muffin batter into little crinkled liners, wiping flour off my nose with my wrist. My shoulders relaxed for the first time in days. It made me feel like I was somewhere between dreaming and remembering.

And I did remember. Her smile, her laugh, her hands.

My mom's hands in the kitchen; tough in places but soft when they held mine. Her humming as she swayed back and forth while stirring batter. Her hair always tied back under her favorite knitted blue and white bandanna she'd worn every morning. I could still hear her voice, faint like the wind.

"Don't overmix the batter, honey. Let it breathe. Baking's about love, not perfection."

I smiled before I even realized it. That ache in my chest softened just a little.

It felt like she was here. Just for a second.

I was dusted in flour, barefoot, and humming to myself when I reached for the tray of muffins; perfectly golden, just like she used to make. That's when I heard the creak.

I turned around quickly.

And there he was.

Joel.

Barefoot in gray sweats and a dark T-shirt, hair messy, his body still sleepy and solid. He looked like he hadn't expected to see anyone either. But there was something in his face, his eyes tracing me in the soft kitchen light that made the air shift.

———————

Joel's POV

I was halfway through brushing my teeth when I smelled it—apples. Bacon. That warm, buttery kind of scent that made your chest ache a little. Like memories. Or comfort.

I wiped my mouth, tossed the towel on the counter, and padded out of the room. The house was still quiet. Too early for Sarah. But someone was definitely awake.

I rounded the hallway and slowed just before the kitchen.

There she was.

Y/N.

She moved like she was alone. Like this space was hers. Cracking eggs. Hummin' soft. Her hair was tied up, messy and loose, with pieces falling into her face. She was barefoot, and grinning to herself about God knows what. She looked happy.

And for some reason... that just about knocked the wind outta me.

I didn't mean to stare, but hell, I did.

She didn't know I was there yet, and I wasn't sure I wanted to interrupt her—just stood there like a fool, watching.

Until the old floorboard beneath my foot gave a soft creak.

She whipped around fast, her eyes wide and alert. Caught in the act like a kid stealing cookies.

"Oh, hey," she said, blinking, a smear of flour on her cheek.

"Mornin'," I said, voice lower than it should've been. "Smells like a whole bakery in here."

She smiled, sheepish. "I couldn't sleep, so... figured I'd cook a little something. Hope that's okay?"

I nodded, stepping into the room finally. "Yeah. 'Course. You are welcome to anythin' in this house." I said, "but you didn't have to cook for us."

"I wanted to," she said, brushing her hands on a towel. "It's kind of my love language."

I sat on the stool at the counter and looked at the spread she was still arranging. It felt like too much. Like it should've been for something bigger.

But she didn't look like she needed a reason. Just... wanted to give.

"You do this often?" I asked.

She glanced at me, brow raised. "Cook for people?"

"Yeah."

She shrugged, placing the muffins carefully in a basket. "I used to. For my mom. It made her feel better on her bad days. Made me feel better too."

There was a pause. Not a heavy one. Just enough to understand without needing to ask more.

"Well," I said, clearing my throat and nodding at the muffins, "damn good way to wake up. I'll give you that."

She laughed. And it hit me in the chest again. Like it always did.

"I hope you're hungry," she added.

"Starvin'," I said, tryin' to keep my voice steady. "Didn't eat much yesterday."

She glanced at me, concern flickerin' behind her eyes, and I looked away. I didn't want her readin' too much into me.

I leaned back on the stool, arms crossed, just watchin' her. Couldn't stop if I tried. That's when she turned and made her way over to me.

"Here," she said, holding something small in her hand.

She stood just a few feet away, her eyes bright, hopeful, her flour-dusted fingers cupped around one of those damn muffins she'd just pulled from the oven. The top was golden, still warm, steam curlin' from the soft break she'd made in the center to check if it was done.

"Try it," she said, lifting it toward me like it was some sacred offering.

I raised a brow.

"I promise I didn't poison this one," she said with a smirk. "I can't promise the others are safe."

I huffed a laugh. Couldn't help it. The way she looked up at me, eyes playful, chin tilted just a little higher than normal—she was teasin', but there was somethin' else there. Somethin' soft.

I glanced down at the muffin. Still warm. Her hand holdin' it steady, she didn't move. Just waited.

I leaned in slow, eyes locked with hers. She didn't look away either, not once. My breath caught for a second, then I sank my teeth into the bite she offered. Her fingers were close enough to graze my lip, and my hand twitched like it wanted to wrap around hers.

Then the flavor hit me.

Apple—sweet and sharp. Cinnamon—warm and spicy. The muffin was soft, like a memory you didn't know you still had. Vanilla lingered on the back of my tongue, and a bit of brown sugar crisped across the top, stickin' to my bottom lip just slightly.

I chewed slow.

"I think I'm fallin' in love." I said, but my eyes slightly widened at the realization of what I had just said.

Her breath hitched.

And then—God help me—she smiled.

Not the polite kinda smile she gave strangers. No. This one lit her up from the inside out. Made her eyes crinkle just a little. Made her nose scrunch, and her whole face softened like she'd just been told a secret she'd always wanted to hear.

And I swear right then and there, I never wanted to see anything but that smile again for the rest of my life.

I don't know what it was, maybe it was the flour on her cheek, the way she smelled like cinnamon and coffee and apples, or maybe it was just the quiet look she gave me like she saw through me...but I wanted to kiss her.

Badly.

More than I should.

I wanted to taste that smile. Feel her laugh against my mouth.

But she blinked and stepped back, clearing her throat like she'd just remembered we were still standing in my kitchen. "So... what's the plan for today? Since you're not working?"

I took a step back too, trying not to make it obvious I needed the space. My hands flexed at my sides. "Tommy's comin' by. Him and Maria—his wife. They're gonna bring their kid, Benji. Watch the game."

"Maria," she repeated, like she was tryin' to confirm somethin'.

"You watch football?" I asked, trying to steer the conversation, give myself somethin' else to focus on besides the feel of her so close.

She wrinkled her nose, biting her bottom lip. "No. I mean, I've tried. But I don't understand it. At all. Too many lines and yelling."

I chuckled. "That's 'cause you've been watchin' with the wrong folks. I could teach you....if you want."

She tilted her head, eyes narrowing slightly. "Would you be patient with me?"

I smirked. "I'd try not to yell at you like the guys on TV, if that's what you're askin'."

She stared at me then, eyes dark and curious, lips parted just slightly like she was weighing something else behind the words. And in that stretch of silence, the tension between us grew heavy again like  humidity before a storm.

"I might take you up on that," she said finally, voice low, soft.

Something in my gut twisted.

I nodded once. "Anytime."

She smiled again, but smaller this time.

And then she turned away, and I was left standing there in the kitchen, wondering how the hell a girl with apple muffins and sad eyes had gotten into my blood stream so damn fast.

I stayed rooted where I was, hands in my pockets, pretending to breathe like normal.

But everything about her wasn't normal.

She moved like she belonged here. Like this kitchen had always been hers. That soft sway of her body as she moved between counter and oven, the sunlight catching in her hair just enough to make it glow. She didn't know it, but I was memorizing the curve of her smile. The way she tapped her fingers along the countertop to the rhythm of the music.

I had no business watchin' her the way I was.

But I did.

I couldn't help it.

Then—footsteps padded down the hallway, slow and lazy.

Sarah appeared, hair a mess and hoodie too big for her shoulders. She looked half asleep and completely content.

"Mmm," she moaned, dragging a hand across her face. "It smells so damn good in here. I'm starving."

Y/N turned and beamed at her. "Sit. Coffee's hot, muffins are warm, bacon's almost done."

Sarah collapsed into the chair, mumbling something like angel from heaven under her breath while clutching her phone to her chest.

The second that screen lit up, she perked up. I could tell by the twitch of her mouth that it was him—Mason.

She looked up at Y/N, hopeful. "Mason just texted. Asked if I had any plans today."

I felt Y/N's gaze slide toward Sarah, interest peaking in her face. "Tell him to come over," she said casually, flippin' a strip of bacon in the pan. "Game's on. Easy excuse."

Sarah bit her lip, clearly nervous, but typed anyway.

I sipped my coffee, tryin' not to listen. Tryin' being the key word.

A moment passed, then her phone buzzed again. She let out a breathless, excited laugh.

"He said he'd love to," she said, looking up at Y/N, her eyes wide with disbelief. "But... he's got a friend with him. He doesn't wanna leave him hangin'."

Y/N stopped what she was doing for a moment, "tell him to bring him. I mean I can keep him company or something."

Sarah's eyes lit up. "You sure?" She asked.

Y/N chuckled but nodded. "Yeah I don't mind."

"Oh my god what if you two hit it off? What if he's cute?!"

I froze.

Just for a second.

Sarah kept going. "We could double date and everything!"

A low hum started in my ears.

Double dates.

Y/N. With him.

That same smile she gave me this morning, the laugh she gave me on the Ferris wheel, the way she looked when I bit into that muffin like I was the only man in the world—she'd give that to someone else?

I didn't like that.

No, I hated that.

My stomach knotted. Something dark and unfamiliar twisted in my chest. I didn't even know the guy and I wanted to knock his teeth out already.

Jesus Christ.

Was I... jealous?

That couldn't be right. I was too old for this kinda childish shit.

But the feelin' was there anyway, diggin' in like splinters under my skin. I could feel it rising—tight in my chest, heat crawl across the back of my neck.

I set my coffee down a little too hard on the counter.

Both Y/N and Sarah looked at me.

"You okay?" Y/N asked gently, her eyes searching my face.

I forced a nod, clenched my jaw. "Yeah. Just remembered I gotta check the garage before Tommy gets here."

And I walked out before I said somethin' I'd regret. Before I could look at Y/N again and see her considerin' someone else. Before I had to sit there and listen to more plans that didn't involve me.

I didn't know what to do, but I needed to be somewhere I could breathe.

I needed space.

Because if that boy walked through my front door and laid eyes on her the way I had—God help me—I wasn't sure what I'd do.

[wintrcaptn]

Apples and Butterflies part 6

Joel Miller x Reader

Summary : You caught your bf in bed with another girl two months before winter break. Now with no where to go for the next few weeks, your roommate invites you to her hometown so you don't spend the holidays alone. But you never expected her dad to be the guy who pretended to be your date so you didn't look pathetic in front of your ex. The same guy you can't stop thinking about...Joel miller.

Part one | Part two | Part three | Part four | Part five

A/N : so I wrote 31 chapters for this so far. Im going to add more to each chapter, change names, and eventually turn it into a book but writing it as a fanfiction really helped me haha

Your POV

Sarah and I had officially declared a holiday hibernation. We spent hours buried under blankets on the couch watching everything from The Holiday to The Grinch, sipping cocoa and making up commentary for the movies that made us snort-laugh until our sides ached. Joel would sit in that leather chair of his, tucked in the corner. He never joined in the chaos, but he never left the room either. That was his thing; being present without actually being in it.

Still, I caught him smiling at the screen once or twice. Just barely. But it happened.

Sarah and I had also taken trips into town, mostly for her gift runs. I wandered behind her like a lost puppy, struggling to figure out what to get her and Joel. Not sure if I even should get him anything.

We'd bump into Mason here and there, and Sarah would go from cool and casual to full-on flustered in three seconds flat. It was hilarious, watching her turn into a complete marshmallow around him.

"He's not into me like that," she told me in the car yesterday.

"Uh, he is constantly bringing up old memories with you. That's literally 'small-town man is low-key obsessed with you' behavior," I'd shot back.

She'd rolled her eyes, but the way she bit her lip and stared out the window said it all. Girl was smitten. Bad.

Joel had been working a lot. Long hours, often gone before the sun was fully up and back when the sky was already dark. But there was always food in the fridge. The thermostat was always adjusted so the house was warm before we woke up. Towels were folded. Wood was stocked by the fireplace.

It didn't go unnoticed.

Neither did the moments right before bed, when he'd walk through the living room, hair damp from the shower, shirt tugged low over his chest, pajama pants slung low on his hips, a glass of water in hand. I'd be curled up on the couch, pretending to be engrossed in whatever book I was holding, even though I had read the same page three times.

It was hard not to look at him. To want him the way I did. And everyday, he made it harder for me to fight these feelings.

———

I woke up before the sun even touched the frosted windows, the world outside still wrapped in a blanket of soft gray. I lay in bed for a moment, staring at the ceiling, the chill in the air making me pull the comforter up a little higher. But I couldn't go back to sleep—not when my mind was already moving.

I wanted to do something for them.

For Sarah—for opening her life to me so easily. For letting me into her home, her family, her memories. And for Joel—for taking me in without hesitation, even if he wasn't always good at showing it. They didn't have to welcome me like this. They didn't have to make me feel like I belonged here.

But they did.

And I wanted to say thank you the only way I really knew how—through food, through baking, through warmth.

I tiptoed out of bed, careful not to wake Sarah as I passed her room. The floor creaked beneath my socks, the sound oddly comforting in the early stillness. I made my way to the kitchen, switching on just the small light above the stove—enough to see by, not enough to disturb the quiet that wrapped around the house like a lullaby.

It felt like a sacred kind of quiet.

I worked by memory, by instinct—pulling eggs, bacon, flour, cinnamon, sugar, and apples from the fridge and pantry. These were the ingredients of my childhood. I tied my hair into a messy bun, loose strands falling into my face as I rolled up my sleeves. I didn't bother with anything fancy. Just comfort. Just care.

I hadn't baked like this in a while. Not since a year after my mother passed. But something about this kitchen—the old cupboards, the subtle creak of the drawers, the hum of the heater kicking on—it felt safe. Familiar. Like maybe she was here, watching over my shoulder, smiling in that quiet way she used to when I got flour on my nose.

I liked being up before everyone else. It reminded me of holidays at home, when I'd wake to the smell of apple and cinnamon and find her already at the stove, humming a song I never knew the name of.

Now I was the one humming.

The eggs sizzled quietly. Bacon crisped on the stovetop. A fresh batch of apple-cinnamon muffins rose golden in the oven, filling the room with their warm, spiced scent. I moved around the kitchen with a kind of rhythm, phone resting nearby with music playing low—something soft, something calm.

I wasn't trying to impress anyone. I just wanted them to know I saw them. That I appreciated them.

I lost myself in the rhythm, flipping bacon, scooping muffin batter into little crinkled liners, wiping flour off my nose with my wrist. My shoulders relaxed for the first time in days. It made me feel like I was somewhere between dreaming and remembering.

And I did remember. Her smile, her laugh, her hands.

My mom's hands in the kitchen; tough in places but soft when they held mine. Her humming as she swayed back and forth while stirring batter. Her hair always tied back under her favorite knitted blue and white bandanna she'd worn every morning. I could still hear her voice, faint like the wind.

"Don't overmix the batter, honey. Let it breathe. Baking's about love, not perfection."

I smiled before I even realized it. That ache in my chest softened just a little.

It felt like she was here. Just for a second.

I was dusted in flour, barefoot, and humming to myself when I reached for the tray of muffins; perfectly golden, just like she used to make. That's when I heard the creak.

I turned around quickly.

And there he was.

Joel.

Barefoot in gray sweats and a dark T-shirt, hair messy, his body still sleepy and solid. He looked like he hadn't expected to see anyone either. But there was something in his face, his eyes tracing me in the soft kitchen light that made the air shift.

———————

Joel's POV

I was halfway through brushing my teeth when I smelled it—apples. Bacon. That warm, buttery kind of scent that made your chest ache a little. Like memories. Or comfort.

I wiped my mouth, tossed the towel on the counter, and padded out of the room. The house was still quiet. Too early for Sarah. But someone was definitely awake.

I rounded the hallway and slowed just before the kitchen.

There she was.

Y/N.

She moved like she was alone. Like this space was hers. Cracking eggs. Hummin' soft. Her hair was tied up, messy and loose, with pieces falling into her face. She was barefoot, and grinning to herself about God knows what. She looked happy.

And for some reason... that just about knocked the wind outta me.

I didn't mean to stare, but hell, I did.

She didn't know I was there yet, and I wasn't sure I wanted to interrupt her—just stood there like a fool, watching.

Until the old floorboard beneath my foot gave a soft creak.

She whipped around fast, her eyes wide and alert. Caught in the act like a kid stealing cookies.

"Oh, hey," she said, blinking, a smear of flour on her cheek.

"Mornin'," I said, voice lower than it should've been. "Smells like a whole bakery in here."

She smiled, sheepish. "I couldn't sleep, so... figured I'd cook a little something. Hope that's okay?"

I nodded, stepping into the room finally. "Yeah. 'Course. You are welcome to anythin' in this house." I said, "but you didn't have to cook for us."

"I wanted to," she said, brushing her hands on a towel. "It's kind of my love language."

I sat on the stool at the counter and looked at the spread she was still arranging. It felt like too much. Like it should've been for something bigger.

But she didn't look like she needed a reason. Just... wanted to give.

"You do this often?" I asked.

She glanced at me, brow raised. "Cook for people?"

"Yeah."

She shrugged, placing the muffins carefully in a basket. "I used to. For my mom. It made her feel better on her bad days. Made me feel better too."

There was a pause. Not a heavy one. Just enough to understand without needing to ask more.

"Well," I said, clearing my throat and nodding at the muffins, "damn good way to wake up. I'll give you that."

She laughed. And it hit me in the chest again. Like it always did.

"I hope you're hungry," she added.

"Starvin'," I said, tryin' to keep my voice steady. "Didn't eat much yesterday."

She glanced at me, concern flickerin' behind her eyes, and I looked away. I didn't want her readin' too much into me.

I leaned back on the stool, arms crossed, just watchin' her. Couldn't stop if I tried. That's when she turned and made her way over to me.

"Here," she said, holding something small in her hand.

She stood just a few feet away, her eyes bright, hopeful, her flour-dusted fingers cupped around one of those damn muffins she'd just pulled from the oven. The top was golden, still warm, steam curlin' from the soft break she'd made in the center to check if it was done.

"Try it," she said, lifting it toward me like it was some sacred offering.

I raised a brow.

"I promise I didn't poison this one," she said with a smirk. "I can't promise the others are safe."

I huffed a laugh. Couldn't help it. The way she looked up at me, eyes playful, chin tilted just a little higher than normal—she was teasin', but there was somethin' else there. Somethin' soft.

I glanced down at the muffin. Still warm. Her hand holdin' it steady, she didn't move. Just waited.

I leaned in slow, eyes locked with hers. She didn't look away either, not once. My breath caught for a second, then I sank my teeth into the bite she offered. Her fingers were close enough to graze my lip, and my hand twitched like it wanted to wrap around hers.

Then the flavor hit me.

Apple—sweet and sharp. Cinnamon—warm and spicy. The muffin was soft, like a memory you didn't know you still had. Vanilla lingered on the back of my tongue, and a bit of brown sugar crisped across the top, stickin' to my bottom lip just slightly.

I chewed slow.

"I think I'm fallin' in love." I said, but my eyes slightly widened at the realization of what I had just said.

Her breath hitched.

And then—God help me—she smiled.

Not the polite kinda smile she gave strangers. No. This one lit her up from the inside out. Made her eyes crinkle just a little. Made her nose scrunch, and her whole face softened like she'd just been told a secret she'd always wanted to hear.

And I swear right then and there, I never wanted to see anything but that smile again for the rest of my life.

I don't know what it was, maybe it was the flour on her cheek, the way she smelled like cinnamon and coffee and apples, or maybe it was just the quiet look she gave me like she saw through me...but I wanted to kiss her.

Badly.

More than I should.

I wanted to taste that smile. Feel her laugh against my mouth.

But she blinked and stepped back, clearing her throat like she'd just remembered we were still standing in my kitchen. "So... what's the plan for today? Since you're not working?"

I took a step back too, trying not to make it obvious I needed the space. My hands flexed at my sides. "Tommy's comin' by. Him and Maria—his wife. They're gonna bring their kid, Benji. Watch the game."

"Maria," she repeated, like she was tryin' to confirm somethin'.

"You watch football?" I asked, trying to steer the conversation, give myself somethin' else to focus on besides the feel of her so close.

She wrinkled her nose, biting her bottom lip. "No. I mean, I've tried. But I don't understand it. At all. Too many lines and yelling."

I chuckled. "That's 'cause you've been watchin' with the wrong folks. I could teach you....if you want."

She tilted her head, eyes narrowing slightly. "Would you be patient with me?"

I smirked. "I'd try not to yell at you like the guys on TV, if that's what you're askin'."

She stared at me then, eyes dark and curious, lips parted just slightly like she was weighing something else behind the words. And in that stretch of silence, the tension between us grew heavy again like  humidity before a storm.

"I might take you up on that," she said finally, voice low, soft.

Something in my gut twisted.

I nodded once. "Anytime."

She smiled again, but smaller this time.

And then she turned away, and I was left standing there in the kitchen, wondering how the hell a girl with apple muffins and sad eyes had gotten into my blood stream so damn fast.

I stayed rooted where I was, hands in my pockets, pretending to breathe like normal.

But everything about her wasn't normal.

She moved like she belonged here. Like this kitchen had always been hers. That soft sway of her body as she moved between counter and oven, the sunlight catching in her hair just enough to make it glow. She didn't know it, but I was memorizing the curve of her smile. The way she tapped her fingers along the countertop to the rhythm of the music.

I had no business watchin' her the way I was.

But I did.

I couldn't help it.

Then—footsteps padded down the hallway, slow and lazy.

Sarah appeared, hair a mess and hoodie too big for her shoulders. She looked half asleep and completely content.

"Mmm," she moaned, dragging a hand across her face. "It smells so damn good in here. I'm starving."

Y/N turned and beamed at her. "Sit. Coffee's hot, muffins are warm, bacon's almost done."

Sarah collapsed into the chair, mumbling something like angel from heaven under her breath while clutching her phone to her chest.

The second that screen lit up, she perked up. I could tell by the twitch of her mouth that it was him—Mason.

She looked up at Y/N, hopeful. "Mason just texted. Asked if I had any plans today."

I felt Y/N's gaze slide toward Sarah, interest peaking in her face. "Tell him to come over," she said casually, flippin' a strip of bacon in the pan. "Game's on. Easy excuse."

Sarah bit her lip, clearly nervous, but typed anyway.

I sipped my coffee, tryin' not to listen. Tryin' being the key word.

A moment passed, then her phone buzzed again. She let out a breathless, excited laugh.

"He said he'd love to," she said, looking up at Y/N, her eyes wide with disbelief. "But... he's got a friend with him. He doesn't wanna leave him hangin'."

Y/N stopped what she was doing for a moment, "tell him to bring him. I mean I can keep him company or something."

Sarah's eyes lit up. "You sure?" She asked.

Y/N chuckled but nodded. "Yeah I don't mind."

"Oh my god what if you two hit it off? What if he's cute?!"

I froze.

Just for a second.

Sarah kept going. "We could double date and everything!"

A low hum started in my ears.

Double dates.

Y/N. With him.

That same smile she gave me this morning, the laugh she gave me on the Ferris wheel, the way she looked when I bit into that muffin like I was the only man in the world—she'd give that to someone else?

I didn't like that.

No, I hated that.

My stomach knotted. Something dark and unfamiliar twisted in my chest. I didn't even know the guy and I wanted to knock his teeth out already.

Jesus Christ.

Was I... jealous?

That couldn't be right. I was too old for this kinda childish shit.

But the feelin' was there anyway, diggin' in like splinters under my skin. I could feel it rising—tight in my chest, heat crawl across the back of my neck.

I set my coffee down a little too hard on the counter.

Both Y/N and Sarah looked at me.

"You okay?" Y/N asked gently, her eyes searching my face.

I forced a nod, clenched my jaw. "Yeah. Just remembered I gotta check the garage before Tommy gets here."

And I walked out before I said somethin' I'd regret. Before I could look at Y/N again and see her considerin' someone else. Before I had to sit there and listen to more plans that didn't involve me.

I didn't know what to do, but I needed to be somewhere I could breathe.

I needed space.

Because if that boy walked through my front door and laid eyes on her the way I had—God help me—I wasn't sure what I'd do.

[wintrcaptn]

Apples and Butterflies Part 5

Joel Miller x Reader

Summary : You caught your bf in bed with another girl two months before winter break. Now with no where to go for the next few weeks, your roommate invites you to her hometown so you don't spend the holidays alone.

But you never expected her dad to be the guy who pretended to be your date so you didn't look pathetic in front of your ex. The same guy you can't stop thinking about...Joel miller.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

A/N: I already have 15 chapters for this. But idk if I’ll post it all. I just really love a slow burn with Joel so much!! 😭

The sky had faded into a soft indigo, the last hints of daylight caught in streaks of lavender and gold across the horizon.

If a postcard came to life, it'd be this place.

The Christmas tree farm was glowing under a blanket of string lights, each row of pine trees lit from beneath like they were part of some quiet fairytale. The air smelled like fresh-cut fir, spiced cider, and wood smoke. Every direction I looked, there were families bundled in scarves and beanies, holding hands, carrying trees, laughing. There was a merry-go-round, a tiny ice rink, reindeer rides, and even an old Ferris wheel turning slowly near the back, like something out of a vintage movie.

Sarah bumped my shoulder. "Told you. This place is like Stars Hollow threw up."

"It really is," I grinned, taking it all in.

Joel trailed behind us quietly, hands stuffed into his coat pockets, boots crunching along the gravel path.

We spent the first part of the evening looking for a tree, Sarah elbowing Joel every time he passed on a perfectly decent one.

"You're impossible," she said, laughing. "We are not building the Rockefeller tree in our living room, Dad."

"Just pick one that ain't got holes in it," he muttered.

Eventually, we did. A big Douglas Fir that smelled like Christmas itself.

"Atta girl," he said, tossing Sarah the saw. "Your turn this year."

She groaned dramatically but got on her knees and started sawing at the trunk, grunting, while I filmed her struggling, laughing and cursing the tree under her breath.

And Joel? He just held the trunk steady, one boot planted at the base, a quiet smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. Watching him made my heart ache a little. Not in a sad way—more like the way you ache after a song that hits too close to home.

Later, Sarah and I hit the ice rink. I hadn't skated in years, and my legs wobbled beneath me like Bambi learning to walk, but I laughed so hard I didn't care. Joel stayed at the edge, leaning on the railing. His dark eyes following our every move like he was waiting to catch me if I fell, without ever stepping onto the ice.

He was always right there, but never too close. Close enough to feel, never enough to touch.

We grabbed some hot cocoa after that; warming my frozen hands against the paper cup, smiling at the marshmallows floating on top.

Sarah led me through the rest of the farm, pointing out people she knew; old neighbors, old teachers, even someone who'd once babysat her. She glowed like she belonged to this place. And maybe she did.

Then came the moment that shifted everything.

"Mason?" Sarah stopped mid-step, blinking at the tall guy in a flannel and Carhartt beanie standing near the Ferris wheel line.

"Holy shit. Sarah Miller?" He grinned. "I thought that was you."

"Mason!" she laughed, stepping in for a quick hug. "God, how long has it been?"

"Since our grad night," he chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. "You look great."

Joel, just behind them, visibly stiffened at the way the guy's eyes lingered a little too long on his daughter.

They caught up briefly, light banter, a few inside jokes. I noticed the way Sarah's eyes glistened, lighting up every time she looked at him. It was so obvious she liked him, but she kept her cool. Then Mason nodded toward the Ferris wheel. "You remember when we used to ride that thing like five times in a row? Just to get the top seat?"

Sarah laughed, a little awkward. "Yeah. I remember."

"Wanna go again? For old time's sake?"

She hesitated, then glanced over to me. "I probably shouldn't—"

"Go," I smiled.

Sarah raised a brow. "You sure?"

"I'll be fine," I said, waving her off. "Go relive your teenage glory."

Sarah rolled her eyes but grinned and gave Joel a quick look before heading off with Mason toward the line.

I stood there awkwardly for a moment, watching the lights of the Ferris wheel spin in slow circles. He stood beside me, quiet, still, like always.

"You havin' fun?" he asked, his voice low and rough.

I looked up at him. Surprised that he initiated the conversation first. "Yeah. It's beautiful here."

He nodded once. "Sarah lives for this. Always has. Christmas season... it's her favorite."

"She lights up when she talks about it," I said softly. "It's sweet."

Something shifted in his expression then. Just a flicker.

"You don't talk much about your folks."

My smile faded. I wasn't expecting that. Most people didn't ask. Or if they did, they didn't really care to know. But Joel wasn't like most people.

Talking about my mom hasn't been my strong suit since...

"There's not a whole lot to talk about."

He shifted just slightly, his gaze locked onto me as he crossed his arms over his chest. Usually I'd drop it here, change the subject. Anything then bringing up my family. But for some reason, I felt like I could talk to him about anything.

"It was just me and my mom," I said quietly, after a long beat. My breath clouded in front of me in the cool air, soft and slow. "Always. My whole life."

Joel's eyes stayed steady on mine as he gave a slow nod. "And... she okay with you skipping out on the holidays this year?"

I looked down at my cocoa. The whipped cream had already started to melt. "She passed away. Four years ago."

I said it flat, the way you rip off a bandage—fast and without looking. There's never a right time to say something like that. Never a comfortable way to bring it up. I hated how it always changed the air, how it always made people go quiet or look at me like I was breakable. But it was the truth. She was gone. And no amount of pretending otherwise would ever change that.

"Breast cancer," I added, barely above a whisper. My fingers tightened around the cup, chasing the fading warmth. I blinked down, fighting the familiar sting in the back of my eyes.

Joel leaned on the railing beside me, his shoulder close to mine, but he didn't say anything yet. Didn't rush to fill the silence or tell me he was sorry. I was grateful for that.

"Were you two close?" he finally asked, voice low and rough like gravel, but gentle.

I swallowed hard. My throat tightened before I managed to get the words out. "She was... everything."

The breath caught in my chest before I forced it down and kept going. "She was my best friend. My safe place. We did everything together. She taught me how to ride a bike, helped me study for every test, stayed up watching movies with me when I couldn't sleep. But her favorite thing—our favorite thing—was baking."

I felt a smile tug at the corners of my lips. Not a big one, just enough to warm the ache.

"Cookies, muffins... but her apple pie?" I let out a small laugh. "One bite and you'd swear it could solve world peace."

I didn't say how I still kept her recipe in a little stained index card tucked in my journal. I didn't say how I still made that pie every year, even if I didn't eat it.

Joel didn't speak right away. His gaze drifted toward the Ferris wheel, lights blinking in soft reds and golds against the darkening sky.

"You scared of heights?" he asked suddenly, nodding toward it.

The question pulled me back, sharp and unexpected. I followed his gaze, heart still aching, but a little lighter somehow.

I tilted my head. "Nope. Are you?"

He glanced down at me, the smallest smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth; barely there but real. His expression was unreadable, as always, but something in his eyes flickered, amused. Or curious.

"Nope," he said again, echoing my tone, and held my gaze a second longer than necessary.

Then he reached out; rough, warm fingers curling around mine. The world stopped around us and we were the only ones alive. My breath caught in the back of my throat. His hand was calloused and firm, the kind of grip that made you feel anchored. I didn't even realize I'd gone still until he gave the tiniest tug.

"Come on."

He led the way, weaving us through the small crowd. And I let him. I couldn't stop the flutter in my chest, or the warmth crawling up my neck. I didn't want to.

He handed over two tickets without even looking at me, then motioned for me to go first.

I stepped onto the ride, heartbeat in my throat, and slid into the seat. Joel followed, slipping in beside me and suddenly we were shoulder to shoulder, thighs pressed against one another, the cold seat doing nothing to cool the heat between us.

The bar lowered. The ride jolted forward.

And I didn't know what scared me more. How high we were climbing...

Or how much I didn't want to pull away from him.

The cart rocked gently as we settled in, cold metal against my legs even through my jeans. The night air bit at my cheeks, but the cold was sharp in a way that made everything feel a little more alive.

The lights below shimmered like a sea of fireflies—twinkling booths, the blue glow of the ice rink, shadows skating in circles, kids darting through rows of trees with cups of cocoa in mittened hands. From up here, the whole farm looked unreal, like something you could fold up and tuck into your coat pocket.it was beautiful.

But all I could feel was the warmth of Joel beside me—solid, quiet, and taking up way too much space for someone trying not to be noticed.

I peeked at him out of the corner of my eye. He hadn't said much since we sat down, which honestly wasn't surprising.

"So..." I drew the word out, turning toward him. "What do you do when Sarah's away at school? Besides read newspapers and brood?"

His lips tugged just slightly at the corner—almost a smile. Almost. "I work."

"Clearly." I nodded, grinning. "But doing what?"

"Construction," he said simply. "I run a company with my younger brother. Tommy. We mostly do pretty much anything; custom builds, remodels, that sort of thing. It's not much, but it keeps the lights on."

Something about the way he said it made my heart tug a little. Like he didn't think it was worth much. But also... it felt steady.

I smirked. "Of course you do. I should've guessed."

Joel raised a brow, suspicious. "Should've guessed what?"

"You're such a grumpy old blue-collar type. I bet you drink your coffee black, fix things without ever reading instructions, and complain about 'kids these days' on a regular basis."

That earned me a look; but this time, the smile actually broke through. Small. Real.

"Shut up," he muttered.

I gasped. "Oh my God, was that a smile? Did I just witness an actual Joel Miller smile?"

"It was not a smile."

"Holy crap, you do have more emotions than just broody!" I said, eyes wide, hand to my heart in mock shock.

He huffed a small laugh under his breath, shaking his head. "You're real mouthy for someone stuck on a ride with no exit."

"You love it," I teased, shrugging my shoulders.

Joel didn't respond right away, but the corner of his mouth still curved up like he couldn't quite fight it.

"And what about you? I bet I can guess what you're majoring in." he said, turning the tables

I narrowed my eyes. "Oh, this'll be good."

"You like books. I saw a few books in your bag. You overthink everything. Noticed that at the cafe when you were hiding from—what was his name again?"

"Dylan." I said with a smirk.

"Yeah that asshat. You like to talk a lot. So... psych major?"

I laughed—like, really laughed. "That's... honestly not a bad guess."

"But wrong?"

"Wrong," I confirmed. "English literature."

He nodded slowly, like it made sense. "Should've known."

"What gave it away? My over thinking or my inability to shut up?"

His mouth twitched again. "Both."

I beamed. "You're not bad at this, Miller. If the whole construction thing goes under, you could be a therapist for emotionally repressed men who only communicate through silence and beer."

Joel gave a quiet chuckle. "I'll keep that in mind."

The conversation rolled so easily after that, like we'd somehow slipped into a rhythm that was just... ours. Laughter. Teasing. The kind of warmth that crept in slow but deep, settling under your skin before you even noticed.

But as we neared the end of the ride, I felt him pull back. Not physically, but the quiet returned. The tension. Like he'd suddenly remembered himself.

I glanced up at him, trying not to feel the cold where the warmth had been just moments ago.

When we stepped off, I looked at him one last time, heart thudding for reasons I didn't really want to name.

"I really like talking to you," I said softly, more vulnerable than I meant to be. "Even if you barely talk."

Joel opened his mouth, like he might say something back—but then—

"Y/N!" Sarah's voice rang out, cutting through the air.

She bounded toward us, grabbing my arm with a grin. "Sorry for ditching you."

And just like that, I was pulled away—leaving Joel standing there under the lights, silent again.

But I swore, just before I turned around...

He was still watching me.

Sarah looped her arm through mine and practically skipped us over to the reindeer ride. Everything was glowing now; twinkle lights draped along fences, lampposts wrapped like candy canes, the faint sound of sleigh bells in the distance. The scent of pine and cinnamon hung sweet and heavy in the air.

"I can't believe Mason was here," Sarah said, beaming. "That was so random. I haven't seen him since high school."

I raised a brow. "He looked happy to see you."

She blushed, eyes flicking to the ground like it might hide the grin she couldn't suppress. "Yeah... I always had the biggest crush on him back then. Like huge. But I was a total chicken. He dated older girls, and I was awkward and always had dirt on my face from softball."

I snorted. "You? Awkward? No way."

"Oh, I was a mess," she said with a dramatic sigh. "By the time I was brave enough to maybe say something, he graduated. I figured that was it. End of story."

I leaned into her a little. "But maybe not. He asked how long you were in town..."

Her smile softened. "Yeah. He said maybe we could hang out before I go back. Just catch up or whatever."

"Sarah," I said, tugging her to a stop. "You have to do it."

She blinked. "Do what?"

"Go. See him. Hang out. Flirt. Do whatever feels right. I mean, what are the odds? You run into him after years. Fate has a funny way of giving second chances when you least expect it."

She was quiet for a beat, then her voice came out soft. "I don't know..." she drawled out. "What if I make a fool out of myself or he doesn't feel the same way or—"

"Or what if he does?" I cut her off before she spiraled into her own negative thoughts. "You'll never know unless you try."

Sarah pondered her thoughts for just a moment. Her expression almost mirrored the way Joel's did whenever he thought to himself. It was uncanny.

"Fine. I'll do it if you promise to give this place a real shot. No Dylan. No school. Just be in this moment. With me."

I wasn't sure if being in the moment would be a good idea. Now that whatever I was feeling for Joel was now growing more and more...

No. I'm not having feelings for my best friends dad. I'm not.

I met her gaze and forced a smile. "Promise."

She let out a sigh and squeezed my arm just slightly as she continued to walk toward the truck. "Sorry for ditching you with my dad. That was a little shitty of me."

I waved her off, pretending my heart hadn't nearly beat out of my chest the entire ride. "It's fine. We talked. A little."

"I know he can come off kind of... cold," she said with a laugh. "And a little bit of a dick. But he's not. He's just quiet. Doesn't like small talk or people in general, but he's solid, ya know? Like once you're in with him, you're in."

I wanted to ask her so many questions. Questions like if he were seeing anyone? Has he seen anyone? What are his interests? Etc., but I didn't. I couldn't.

I need to push whatever I was feeling aside because nothing could ever come of this. Of us. I couldn't do that to Sarah. Or to Joel.

—————

By the time we got home, it was late. The moon was high, the night cold enough to bite through our coats. Joel hauled the tree from the back of his truck, thick gloves on his hands, flannel rolled up just enough to show strong forearms that made it very difficult not to stare.

Sarah and I headed into the garage to dig through the shelves for the bins marked Christmas.

"I swear," she muttered, yanking down a dusty red tub, "he keeps everything like it's a museum in here."

The minute we walked back in, Sarah lit the fireplace, throwing the whole room into a golden glow, and queued up a playlist on her phone. The first notes of Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree filled the living room, and something inside me fluttered like I was ten years old again, decorating with my mom. Something I haven't felt in a long time.

We opened bins and pulled out old ornaments, twinkling lights, garland, a crocheted stocking with Sarah's name stitched in red thread.

The scent of pine filled the house as he anchored the tree into its stand and stepped back, hands on his hips.

"Not crooked," he muttered.

"A Christmas miracle," Sarah teased.

He rolled his eyes but didn't argue.

The three of us moved in a quiet rhythm after that. Sarah humming along to the music, Joel sorting through the tangled lights, me fluffing branches. The tension between Joel and me was subtle but pulsing—charged. Every time I turned, I felt his eyes on me. Every time I laughed, he lingered a little closer.

We reached for the same branch at one point, hands brushing, fingertips grazing.

I froze.

He didn't move away.

It was just a second; a flicker, but something warm bloomed between us like heat from the fire.

"Hey!" Sarah said suddenly, pulling out a sad-looking ornament made of macaroni and glitter. "Remember this?"

Joel smirked. "You were six. Ate half the glue."

Sarah cracked up. "I did not!"

He raised a brow. "You cried when it didn't taste like marshmallow."

Their laughter bounced through the room and I watched him; really watched him. Joel Miller, the man who barely spoke above a grunt, was relaxed and smiling, eyes soft as he looked at his daughter.

God, he loved her. It radiated off of him.

"I'm gonna grab the star," Sarah said, darting toward the garage. "It's in the green bin we missed!"

And just like that, it was quiet again. Just Joel and me.

The only sound was the crackle of the fireplace and the rustle of pine branches as I adjusted an ornament near the top of the tree.

Joel stood across from me, winding a strand of gold garland in slow, thoughtful loops around the lower branches.

I hummed under my breath, a Christmas tune Sarah had been playing earlier that got stuck in my head. I didn't even realize I was doing it until I caught him watching me.

I turned slowly, raising a brow. "I can feel you staring."

He cleared his throat and looked away too quickly, like he'd been caught red-handed. "Just admiring the tree," he said, a little too casually. "It's not bad."

I stepped back to scan the tree myself, arms crossed, eyes flicking over the soft lights and scattered ornaments. "So," I said, "do you guys have any other Christmas traditions?"

Joel reached for the last of the garland and shrugged. "We do what most folks do, I guess. Cookies. Movie marathons. We used to try carolin' once, years ago, but Sarah was tone deaf at five and insisted on singing every verse of 'The Twelve Days of Christmas.'"

I laughed. "So that got retired quick, huh?"

"Let's just say the neighbors begged us to stop."

I grinned and leaned slightly against the couch arm. "Any other small-town traditions I should know about? Hidden secret snow rituals? Sacrifices to the Santa gods?"

He gave me a sideways look like I'd lost my mind but shook his head with a faint smile. "We ain't that kind of town."

I laughed, shaking my head. "Bummer."

"We do have a holiday ball. Two nights before Christmas every year. Local community center hosts it."

My eyebrows lifted. "A ball? Like, actual dancing and everything?"

He nodded. "Pretty big deal around here. Music, food, everyone shows up. Been goin' on since I was a kid."

"People dance?"

"Yeah."

I tilted my head, eyeing him playfully. "Do you dance?"

"No."

"Not even a little sway here and there?"

He didn't even blink. "No."

I let out a dramatic sigh and pressed a hand over my chest. "Damn. And here I was hoping you'd save a dance for me."

He looked at me then, really looked, and for a second, I couldn't breathe.

His eyes didn't hold any obvious answer, but they lingered a little longer than they should've. Just long enough to send that flutter through my stomach again.

Then the door flew open and Sarah reappeared, holding a large storage box in her arms. "Finally found the star," she huffed. "You really need to downsize on the crap you save, I swear. There's, like, five green bins in there labeled 'miscellaneous.'"

Joel glanced away from me, clearing his throat again, as if nothing had passed between us. As if my pulse hadn't just stuttered from a single look.

But I felt it.

[wintrcaptn]

Apples and Butterflies Part 5

Joel Miller x Reader

Summary : You caught your bf in bed with another girl two months before winter break. Now with no where to go for the next few weeks, your roommate invites you to her hometown so you don't spend the holidays alone.

But you never expected her dad to be the guy who pretended to be your date so you didn't look pathetic in front of your ex. The same guy you can't stop thinking about...Joel miller.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

A/N: I already have 15 chapters for this. But idk if I’ll post it all. I just really love a slow burn with Joel so much!! 😭

The sky had faded into a soft indigo, the last hints of daylight caught in streaks of lavender and gold across the horizon.

If a postcard came to life, it'd be this place.

The Christmas tree farm was glowing under a blanket of string lights, each row of pine trees lit from beneath like they were part of some quiet fairytale. The air smelled like fresh-cut fir, spiced cider, and wood smoke. Every direction I looked, there were families bundled in scarves and beanies, holding hands, carrying trees, laughing. There was a merry-go-round, a tiny ice rink, reindeer rides, and even an old Ferris wheel turning slowly near the back, like something out of a vintage movie.

Sarah bumped my shoulder. "Told you. This place is like Stars Hollow threw up."

"It really is," I grinned, taking it all in.

Joel trailed behind us quietly, hands stuffed into his coat pockets, boots crunching along the gravel path.

We spent the first part of the evening looking for a tree, Sarah elbowing Joel every time he passed on a perfectly decent one.

"You're impossible," she said, laughing. "We are not building the Rockefeller tree in our living room, Dad."

"Just pick one that ain't got holes in it," he muttered.

Eventually, we did. A big Douglas Fir that smelled like Christmas itself.

"Atta girl," he said, tossing Sarah the saw. "Your turn this year."

She groaned dramatically but got on her knees and started sawing at the trunk, grunting, while I filmed her struggling, laughing and cursing the tree under her breath.

And Joel? He just held the trunk steady, one boot planted at the base, a quiet smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. Watching him made my heart ache a little. Not in a sad way—more like the way you ache after a song that hits too close to home.

Later, Sarah and I hit the ice rink. I hadn't skated in years, and my legs wobbled beneath me like Bambi learning to walk, but I laughed so hard I didn't care. Joel stayed at the edge, leaning on the railing. His dark eyes following our every move like he was waiting to catch me if I fell, without ever stepping onto the ice.

He was always right there, but never too close. Close enough to feel, never enough to touch.

We grabbed some hot cocoa after that; warming my frozen hands against the paper cup, smiling at the marshmallows floating on top.

Sarah led me through the rest of the farm, pointing out people she knew; old neighbors, old teachers, even someone who'd once babysat her. She glowed like she belonged to this place. And maybe she did.

Then came the moment that shifted everything.

"Mason?" Sarah stopped mid-step, blinking at the tall guy in a flannel and Carhartt beanie standing near the Ferris wheel line.

"Holy shit. Sarah Miller?" He grinned. "I thought that was you."

"Mason!" she laughed, stepping in for a quick hug. "God, how long has it been?"

"Since our grad night," he chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. "You look great."

Joel, just behind them, visibly stiffened at the way the guy's eyes lingered a little too long on his daughter.

They caught up briefly, light banter, a few inside jokes. I noticed the way Sarah's eyes glistened, lighting up every time she looked at him. It was so obvious she liked him, but she kept her cool. Then Mason nodded toward the Ferris wheel. "You remember when we used to ride that thing like five times in a row? Just to get the top seat?"

Sarah laughed, a little awkward. "Yeah. I remember."

"Wanna go again? For old time's sake?"

She hesitated, then glanced over to me. "I probably shouldn't—"

"Go," I smiled.

Sarah raised a brow. "You sure?"

"I'll be fine," I said, waving her off. "Go relive your teenage glory."

Sarah rolled her eyes but grinned and gave Joel a quick look before heading off with Mason toward the line.

I stood there awkwardly for a moment, watching the lights of the Ferris wheel spin in slow circles. He stood beside me, quiet, still, like always.

"You havin' fun?" he asked, his voice low and rough.

I looked up at him. Surprised that he initiated the conversation first. "Yeah. It's beautiful here."

He nodded once. "Sarah lives for this. Always has. Christmas season... it's her favorite."

"She lights up when she talks about it," I said softly. "It's sweet."

Something shifted in his expression then. Just a flicker.

"You don't talk much about your folks."

My smile faded. I wasn't expecting that. Most people didn't ask. Or if they did, they didn't really care to know. But Joel wasn't like most people.

Talking about my mom hasn't been my strong suit since...

"There's not a whole lot to talk about."

He shifted just slightly, his gaze locked onto me as he crossed his arms over his chest. Usually I'd drop it here, change the subject. Anything then bringing up my family. But for some reason, I felt like I could talk to him about anything.

"It was just me and my mom," I said quietly, after a long beat. My breath clouded in front of me in the cool air, soft and slow. "Always. My whole life."

Joel's eyes stayed steady on mine as he gave a slow nod. "And... she okay with you skipping out on the holidays this year?"

I looked down at my cocoa. The whipped cream had already started to melt. "She passed away. Four years ago."

I said it flat, the way you rip off a bandage—fast and without looking. There's never a right time to say something like that. Never a comfortable way to bring it up. I hated how it always changed the air, how it always made people go quiet or look at me like I was breakable. But it was the truth. She was gone. And no amount of pretending otherwise would ever change that.

"Breast cancer," I added, barely above a whisper. My fingers tightened around the cup, chasing the fading warmth. I blinked down, fighting the familiar sting in the back of my eyes.

Joel leaned on the railing beside me, his shoulder close to mine, but he didn't say anything yet. Didn't rush to fill the silence or tell me he was sorry. I was grateful for that.

"Were you two close?" he finally asked, voice low and rough like gravel, but gentle.

I swallowed hard. My throat tightened before I managed to get the words out. "She was... everything."

The breath caught in my chest before I forced it down and kept going. "She was my best friend. My safe place. We did everything together. She taught me how to ride a bike, helped me study for every test, stayed up watching movies with me when I couldn't sleep. But her favorite thing—our favorite thing—was baking."

I felt a smile tug at the corners of my lips. Not a big one, just enough to warm the ache.

"Cookies, muffins... but her apple pie?" I let out a small laugh. "One bite and you'd swear it could solve world peace."

I didn't say how I still kept her recipe in a little stained index card tucked in my journal. I didn't say how I still made that pie every year, even if I didn't eat it.

Joel didn't speak right away. His gaze drifted toward the Ferris wheel, lights blinking in soft reds and golds against the darkening sky.

"You scared of heights?" he asked suddenly, nodding toward it.

The question pulled me back, sharp and unexpected. I followed his gaze, heart still aching, but a little lighter somehow.

I tilted my head. "Nope. Are you?"

He glanced down at me, the smallest smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth; barely there but real. His expression was unreadable, as always, but something in his eyes flickered, amused. Or curious.

"Nope," he said again, echoing my tone, and held my gaze a second longer than necessary.

Then he reached out; rough, warm fingers curling around mine. The world stopped around us and we were the only ones alive. My breath caught in the back of my throat. His hand was calloused and firm, the kind of grip that made you feel anchored. I didn't even realize I'd gone still until he gave the tiniest tug.

"Come on."

He led the way, weaving us through the small crowd. And I let him. I couldn't stop the flutter in my chest, or the warmth crawling up my neck. I didn't want to.

He handed over two tickets without even looking at me, then motioned for me to go first.

I stepped onto the ride, heartbeat in my throat, and slid into the seat. Joel followed, slipping in beside me and suddenly we were shoulder to shoulder, thighs pressed against one another, the cold seat doing nothing to cool the heat between us.

The bar lowered. The ride jolted forward.

And I didn't know what scared me more. How high we were climbing...

Or how much I didn't want to pull away from him.

The cart rocked gently as we settled in, cold metal against my legs even through my jeans. The night air bit at my cheeks, but the cold was sharp in a way that made everything feel a little more alive.

The lights below shimmered like a sea of fireflies—twinkling booths, the blue glow of the ice rink, shadows skating in circles, kids darting through rows of trees with cups of cocoa in mittened hands. From up here, the whole farm looked unreal, like something you could fold up and tuck into your coat pocket.it was beautiful.

But all I could feel was the warmth of Joel beside me—solid, quiet, and taking up way too much space for someone trying not to be noticed.

I peeked at him out of the corner of my eye. He hadn't said much since we sat down, which honestly wasn't surprising.

"So..." I drew the word out, turning toward him. "What do you do when Sarah's away at school? Besides read newspapers and brood?"

His lips tugged just slightly at the corner—almost a smile. Almost. "I work."

"Clearly." I nodded, grinning. "But doing what?"

"Construction," he said simply. "I run a company with my younger brother. Tommy. We mostly do pretty much anything; custom builds, remodels, that sort of thing. It's not much, but it keeps the lights on."

Something about the way he said it made my heart tug a little. Like he didn't think it was worth much. But also... it felt steady.

I smirked. "Of course you do. I should've guessed."

Joel raised a brow, suspicious. "Should've guessed what?"

"You're such a grumpy old blue-collar type. I bet you drink your coffee black, fix things without ever reading instructions, and complain about 'kids these days' on a regular basis."

That earned me a look; but this time, the smile actually broke through. Small. Real.

"Shut up," he muttered.

I gasped. "Oh my God, was that a smile? Did I just witness an actual Joel Miller smile?"

"It was not a smile."

"Holy crap, you do have more emotions than just broody!" I said, eyes wide, hand to my heart in mock shock.

He huffed a small laugh under his breath, shaking his head. "You're real mouthy for someone stuck on a ride with no exit."

"You love it," I teased, shrugging my shoulders.

Joel didn't respond right away, but the corner of his mouth still curved up like he couldn't quite fight it.

"And what about you? I bet I can guess what you're majoring in." he said, turning the tables

I narrowed my eyes. "Oh, this'll be good."

"You like books. I saw a few books in your bag. You overthink everything. Noticed that at the cafe when you were hiding from—what was his name again?"

"Dylan." I said with a smirk.

"Yeah that asshat. You like to talk a lot. So... psych major?"

I laughed—like, really laughed. "That's... honestly not a bad guess."

"But wrong?"

"Wrong," I confirmed. "English literature."

He nodded slowly, like it made sense. "Should've known."

"What gave it away? My over thinking or my inability to shut up?"

His mouth twitched again. "Both."

I beamed. "You're not bad at this, Miller. If the whole construction thing goes under, you could be a therapist for emotionally repressed men who only communicate through silence and beer."

Joel gave a quiet chuckle. "I'll keep that in mind."

The conversation rolled so easily after that, like we'd somehow slipped into a rhythm that was just... ours. Laughter. Teasing. The kind of warmth that crept in slow but deep, settling under your skin before you even noticed.

But as we neared the end of the ride, I felt him pull back. Not physically, but the quiet returned. The tension. Like he'd suddenly remembered himself.

I glanced up at him, trying not to feel the cold where the warmth had been just moments ago.

When we stepped off, I looked at him one last time, heart thudding for reasons I didn't really want to name.

"I really like talking to you," I said softly, more vulnerable than I meant to be. "Even if you barely talk."

Joel opened his mouth, like he might say something back—but then—

"Y/N!" Sarah's voice rang out, cutting through the air.

She bounded toward us, grabbing my arm with a grin. "Sorry for ditching you."

And just like that, I was pulled away—leaving Joel standing there under the lights, silent again.

But I swore, just before I turned around...

He was still watching me.

Sarah looped her arm through mine and practically skipped us over to the reindeer ride. Everything was glowing now; twinkle lights draped along fences, lampposts wrapped like candy canes, the faint sound of sleigh bells in the distance. The scent of pine and cinnamon hung sweet and heavy in the air.

"I can't believe Mason was here," Sarah said, beaming. "That was so random. I haven't seen him since high school."

I raised a brow. "He looked happy to see you."

She blushed, eyes flicking to the ground like it might hide the grin she couldn't suppress. "Yeah... I always had the biggest crush on him back then. Like huge. But I was a total chicken. He dated older girls, and I was awkward and always had dirt on my face from softball."

I snorted. "You? Awkward? No way."

"Oh, I was a mess," she said with a dramatic sigh. "By the time I was brave enough to maybe say something, he graduated. I figured that was it. End of story."

I leaned into her a little. "But maybe not. He asked how long you were in town..."

Her smile softened. "Yeah. He said maybe we could hang out before I go back. Just catch up or whatever."

"Sarah," I said, tugging her to a stop. "You have to do it."

She blinked. "Do what?"

"Go. See him. Hang out. Flirt. Do whatever feels right. I mean, what are the odds? You run into him after years. Fate has a funny way of giving second chances when you least expect it."

She was quiet for a beat, then her voice came out soft. "I don't know..." she drawled out. "What if I make a fool out of myself or he doesn't feel the same way or—"

"Or what if he does?" I cut her off before she spiraled into her own negative thoughts. "You'll never know unless you try."

Sarah pondered her thoughts for just a moment. Her expression almost mirrored the way Joel's did whenever he thought to himself. It was uncanny.

"Fine. I'll do it if you promise to give this place a real shot. No Dylan. No school. Just be in this moment. With me."

I wasn't sure if being in the moment would be a good idea. Now that whatever I was feeling for Joel was now growing more and more...

No. I'm not having feelings for my best friends dad. I'm not.

I met her gaze and forced a smile. "Promise."

She let out a sigh and squeezed my arm just slightly as she continued to walk toward the truck. "Sorry for ditching you with my dad. That was a little shitty of me."

I waved her off, pretending my heart hadn't nearly beat out of my chest the entire ride. "It's fine. We talked. A little."

"I know he can come off kind of... cold," she said with a laugh. "And a little bit of a dick. But he's not. He's just quiet. Doesn't like small talk or people in general, but he's solid, ya know? Like once you're in with him, you're in."

I wanted to ask her so many questions. Questions like if he were seeing anyone? Has he seen anyone? What are his interests? Etc., but I didn't. I couldn't.

I need to push whatever I was feeling aside because nothing could ever come of this. Of us. I couldn't do that to Sarah. Or to Joel.

—————

By the time we got home, it was late. The moon was high, the night cold enough to bite through our coats. Joel hauled the tree from the back of his truck, thick gloves on his hands, flannel rolled up just enough to show strong forearms that made it very difficult not to stare.

Sarah and I headed into the garage to dig through the shelves for the bins marked Christmas.

"I swear," she muttered, yanking down a dusty red tub, "he keeps everything like it's a museum in here."

The minute we walked back in, Sarah lit the fireplace, throwing the whole room into a golden glow, and queued up a playlist on her phone. The first notes of Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree filled the living room, and something inside me fluttered like I was ten years old again, decorating with my mom. Something I haven't felt in a long time.

We opened bins and pulled out old ornaments, twinkling lights, garland, a crocheted stocking with Sarah's name stitched in red thread.

The scent of pine filled the house as he anchored the tree into its stand and stepped back, hands on his hips.

"Not crooked," he muttered.

"A Christmas miracle," Sarah teased.

He rolled his eyes but didn't argue.

The three of us moved in a quiet rhythm after that. Sarah humming along to the music, Joel sorting through the tangled lights, me fluffing branches. The tension between Joel and me was subtle but pulsing—charged. Every time I turned, I felt his eyes on me. Every time I laughed, he lingered a little closer.

We reached for the same branch at one point, hands brushing, fingertips grazing.

I froze.

He didn't move away.

It was just a second; a flicker, but something warm bloomed between us like heat from the fire.

"Hey!" Sarah said suddenly, pulling out a sad-looking ornament made of macaroni and glitter. "Remember this?"

Joel smirked. "You were six. Ate half the glue."

Sarah cracked up. "I did not!"

He raised a brow. "You cried when it didn't taste like marshmallow."

Their laughter bounced through the room and I watched him; really watched him. Joel Miller, the man who barely spoke above a grunt, was relaxed and smiling, eyes soft as he looked at his daughter.

God, he loved her. It radiated off of him.

"I'm gonna grab the star," Sarah said, darting toward the garage. "It's in the green bin we missed!"

And just like that, it was quiet again. Just Joel and me.

The only sound was the crackle of the fireplace and the rustle of pine branches as I adjusted an ornament near the top of the tree.

Joel stood across from me, winding a strand of gold garland in slow, thoughtful loops around the lower branches.

I hummed under my breath, a Christmas tune Sarah had been playing earlier that got stuck in my head. I didn't even realize I was doing it until I caught him watching me.

I turned slowly, raising a brow. "I can feel you staring."

He cleared his throat and looked away too quickly, like he'd been caught red-handed. "Just admiring the tree," he said, a little too casually. "It's not bad."

I stepped back to scan the tree myself, arms crossed, eyes flicking over the soft lights and scattered ornaments. "So," I said, "do you guys have any other Christmas traditions?"

Joel reached for the last of the garland and shrugged. "We do what most folks do, I guess. Cookies. Movie marathons. We used to try carolin' once, years ago, but Sarah was tone deaf at five and insisted on singing every verse of 'The Twelve Days of Christmas.'"

I laughed. "So that got retired quick, huh?"

"Let's just say the neighbors begged us to stop."

I grinned and leaned slightly against the couch arm. "Any other small-town traditions I should know about? Hidden secret snow rituals? Sacrifices to the Santa gods?"

He gave me a sideways look like I'd lost my mind but shook his head with a faint smile. "We ain't that kind of town."

I laughed, shaking my head. "Bummer."

"We do have a holiday ball. Two nights before Christmas every year. Local community center hosts it."

My eyebrows lifted. "A ball? Like, actual dancing and everything?"

He nodded. "Pretty big deal around here. Music, food, everyone shows up. Been goin' on since I was a kid."

"People dance?"

"Yeah."

I tilted my head, eyeing him playfully. "Do you dance?"

"No."

"Not even a little sway here and there?"

He didn't even blink. "No."

I let out a dramatic sigh and pressed a hand over my chest. "Damn. And here I was hoping you'd save a dance for me."

He looked at me then, really looked, and for a second, I couldn't breathe.

His eyes didn't hold any obvious answer, but they lingered a little longer than they should've. Just long enough to send that flutter through my stomach again.

Then the door flew open and Sarah reappeared, holding a large storage box in her arms. "Finally found the star," she huffed. "You really need to downsize on the crap you save, I swear. There's, like, five green bins in there labeled 'miscellaneous.'"

Joel glanced away from me, clearing his throat again, as if nothing had passed between us. As if my pulse hadn't just stuttered from a single look.

But I felt it.

[wintrcaptn]

Apples and Butterflies Part 5

Joel Miller x Reader

Summary : You caught your bf in bed with another girl two months before winter break. Now with no where to go for the next few weeks, your roommate invites you to her hometown so you don't spend the holidays alone.

But you never expected her dad to be the guy who pretended to be your date so you didn't look pathetic in front of your ex. The same guy you can't stop thinking about...Joel miller.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

A/N: I already have 15 chapters for this. But idk if I’ll post it all. I just really love a slow burn with Joel so much!! 😭

The sky had faded into a soft indigo, the last hints of daylight caught in streaks of lavender and gold across the horizon.

If a postcard came to life, it'd be this place.

The Christmas tree farm was glowing under a blanket of string lights, each row of pine trees lit from beneath like they were part of some quiet fairytale. The air smelled like fresh-cut fir, spiced cider, and wood smoke. Every direction I looked, there were families bundled in scarves and beanies, holding hands, carrying trees, laughing. There was a merry-go-round, a tiny ice rink, reindeer rides, and even an old Ferris wheel turning slowly near the back, like something out of a vintage movie.

Sarah bumped my shoulder. "Told you. This place is like Stars Hollow threw up."

"It really is," I grinned, taking it all in.

Joel trailed behind us quietly, hands stuffed into his coat pockets, boots crunching along the gravel path.

We spent the first part of the evening looking for a tree, Sarah elbowing Joel every time he passed on a perfectly decent one.

"You're impossible," she said, laughing. "We are not building the Rockefeller tree in our living room, Dad."

"Just pick one that ain't got holes in it," he muttered.

Eventually, we did. A big Douglas Fir that smelled like Christmas itself.

"Atta girl," he said, tossing Sarah the saw. "Your turn this year."

She groaned dramatically but got on her knees and started sawing at the trunk, grunting, while I filmed her struggling, laughing and cursing the tree under her breath.

And Joel? He just held the trunk steady, one boot planted at the base, a quiet smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. Watching him made my heart ache a little. Not in a sad way—more like the way you ache after a song that hits too close to home.

Later, Sarah and I hit the ice rink. I hadn't skated in years, and my legs wobbled beneath me like Bambi learning to walk, but I laughed so hard I didn't care. Joel stayed at the edge, leaning on the railing. His dark eyes following our every move like he was waiting to catch me if I fell, without ever stepping onto the ice.

He was always right there, but never too close. Close enough to feel, never enough to touch.

We grabbed some hot cocoa after that; warming my frozen hands against the paper cup, smiling at the marshmallows floating on top.

Sarah led me through the rest of the farm, pointing out people she knew; old neighbors, old teachers, even someone who'd once babysat her. She glowed like she belonged to this place. And maybe she did.

Then came the moment that shifted everything.

"Mason?" Sarah stopped mid-step, blinking at the tall guy in a flannel and Carhartt beanie standing near the Ferris wheel line.

"Holy shit. Sarah Miller?" He grinned. "I thought that was you."

"Mason!" she laughed, stepping in for a quick hug. "God, how long has it been?"

"Since our grad night," he chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. "You look great."

Joel, just behind them, visibly stiffened at the way the guy's eyes lingered a little too long on his daughter.

They caught up briefly, light banter, a few inside jokes. I noticed the way Sarah's eyes glistened, lighting up every time she looked at him. It was so obvious she liked him, but she kept her cool. Then Mason nodded toward the Ferris wheel. "You remember when we used to ride that thing like five times in a row? Just to get the top seat?"

Sarah laughed, a little awkward. "Yeah. I remember."

"Wanna go again? For old time's sake?"

She hesitated, then glanced over to me. "I probably shouldn't—"

"Go," I smiled.

Sarah raised a brow. "You sure?"

"I'll be fine," I said, waving her off. "Go relive your teenage glory."

Sarah rolled her eyes but grinned and gave Joel a quick look before heading off with Mason toward the line.

I stood there awkwardly for a moment, watching the lights of the Ferris wheel spin in slow circles. He stood beside me, quiet, still, like always.

"You havin' fun?" he asked, his voice low and rough.

I looked up at him. Surprised that he initiated the conversation first. "Yeah. It's beautiful here."

He nodded once. "Sarah lives for this. Always has. Christmas season... it's her favorite."

"She lights up when she talks about it," I said softly. "It's sweet."

Something shifted in his expression then. Just a flicker.

"You don't talk much about your folks."

My smile faded. I wasn't expecting that. Most people didn't ask. Or if they did, they didn't really care to know. But Joel wasn't like most people.

Talking about my mom hasn't been my strong suit since...

"There's not a whole lot to talk about."

He shifted just slightly, his gaze locked onto me as he crossed his arms over his chest. Usually I'd drop it here, change the subject. Anything then bringing up my family. But for some reason, I felt like I could talk to him about anything.

"It was just me and my mom," I said quietly, after a long beat. My breath clouded in front of me in the cool air, soft and slow. "Always. My whole life."

Joel's eyes stayed steady on mine as he gave a slow nod. "And... she okay with you skipping out on the holidays this year?"

I looked down at my cocoa. The whipped cream had already started to melt. "She passed away. Four years ago."

I said it flat, the way you rip off a bandage—fast and without looking. There's never a right time to say something like that. Never a comfortable way to bring it up. I hated how it always changed the air, how it always made people go quiet or look at me like I was breakable. But it was the truth. She was gone. And no amount of pretending otherwise would ever change that.

"Breast cancer," I added, barely above a whisper. My fingers tightened around the cup, chasing the fading warmth. I blinked down, fighting the familiar sting in the back of my eyes.

Joel leaned on the railing beside me, his shoulder close to mine, but he didn't say anything yet. Didn't rush to fill the silence or tell me he was sorry. I was grateful for that.

"Were you two close?" he finally asked, voice low and rough like gravel, but gentle.

I swallowed hard. My throat tightened before I managed to get the words out. "She was... everything."

The breath caught in my chest before I forced it down and kept going. "She was my best friend. My safe place. We did everything together. She taught me how to ride a bike, helped me study for every test, stayed up watching movies with me when I couldn't sleep. But her favorite thing—our favorite thing—was baking."

I felt a smile tug at the corners of my lips. Not a big one, just enough to warm the ache.

"Cookies, muffins... but her apple pie?" I let out a small laugh. "One bite and you'd swear it could solve world peace."

I didn't say how I still kept her recipe in a little stained index card tucked in my journal. I didn't say how I still made that pie every year, even if I didn't eat it.

Joel didn't speak right away. His gaze drifted toward the Ferris wheel, lights blinking in soft reds and golds against the darkening sky.

"You scared of heights?" he asked suddenly, nodding toward it.

The question pulled me back, sharp and unexpected. I followed his gaze, heart still aching, but a little lighter somehow.

I tilted my head. "Nope. Are you?"

He glanced down at me, the smallest smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth; barely there but real. His expression was unreadable, as always, but something in his eyes flickered, amused. Or curious.

"Nope," he said again, echoing my tone, and held my gaze a second longer than necessary.

Then he reached out; rough, warm fingers curling around mine. The world stopped around us and we were the only ones alive. My breath caught in the back of my throat. His hand was calloused and firm, the kind of grip that made you feel anchored. I didn't even realize I'd gone still until he gave the tiniest tug.

"Come on."

He led the way, weaving us through the small crowd. And I let him. I couldn't stop the flutter in my chest, or the warmth crawling up my neck. I didn't want to.

He handed over two tickets without even looking at me, then motioned for me to go first.

I stepped onto the ride, heartbeat in my throat, and slid into the seat. Joel followed, slipping in beside me and suddenly we were shoulder to shoulder, thighs pressed against one another, the cold seat doing nothing to cool the heat between us.

The bar lowered. The ride jolted forward.

And I didn't know what scared me more. How high we were climbing...

Or how much I didn't want to pull away from him.

The cart rocked gently as we settled in, cold metal against my legs even through my jeans. The night air bit at my cheeks, but the cold was sharp in a way that made everything feel a little more alive.

The lights below shimmered like a sea of fireflies—twinkling booths, the blue glow of the ice rink, shadows skating in circles, kids darting through rows of trees with cups of cocoa in mittened hands. From up here, the whole farm looked unreal, like something you could fold up and tuck into your coat pocket.it was beautiful.

But all I could feel was the warmth of Joel beside me—solid, quiet, and taking up way too much space for someone trying not to be noticed.

I peeked at him out of the corner of my eye. He hadn't said much since we sat down, which honestly wasn't surprising.

"So..." I drew the word out, turning toward him. "What do you do when Sarah's away at school? Besides read newspapers and brood?"

His lips tugged just slightly at the corner—almost a smile. Almost. "I work."

"Clearly." I nodded, grinning. "But doing what?"

"Construction," he said simply. "I run a company with my younger brother. Tommy. We mostly do pretty much anything; custom builds, remodels, that sort of thing. It's not much, but it keeps the lights on."

Something about the way he said it made my heart tug a little. Like he didn't think it was worth much. But also... it felt steady.

I smirked. "Of course you do. I should've guessed."

Joel raised a brow, suspicious. "Should've guessed what?"

"You're such a grumpy old blue-collar type. I bet you drink your coffee black, fix things without ever reading instructions, and complain about 'kids these days' on a regular basis."

That earned me a look; but this time, the smile actually broke through. Small. Real.

"Shut up," he muttered.

I gasped. "Oh my God, was that a smile? Did I just witness an actual Joel Miller smile?"

"It was not a smile."

"Holy crap, you do have more emotions than just broody!" I said, eyes wide, hand to my heart in mock shock.

He huffed a small laugh under his breath, shaking his head. "You're real mouthy for someone stuck on a ride with no exit."

"You love it," I teased, shrugging my shoulders.

Joel didn't respond right away, but the corner of his mouth still curved up like he couldn't quite fight it.

"And what about you? I bet I can guess what you're majoring in." he said, turning the tables

I narrowed my eyes. "Oh, this'll be good."

"You like books. I saw a few books in your bag. You overthink everything. Noticed that at the cafe when you were hiding from—what was his name again?"

"Dylan." I said with a smirk.

"Yeah that asshat. You like to talk a lot. So... psych major?"

I laughed—like, really laughed. "That's... honestly not a bad guess."

"But wrong?"

"Wrong," I confirmed. "English literature."

He nodded slowly, like it made sense. "Should've known."

"What gave it away? My over thinking or my inability to shut up?"

His mouth twitched again. "Both."

I beamed. "You're not bad at this, Miller. If the whole construction thing goes under, you could be a therapist for emotionally repressed men who only communicate through silence and beer."

Joel gave a quiet chuckle. "I'll keep that in mind."

The conversation rolled so easily after that, like we'd somehow slipped into a rhythm that was just... ours. Laughter. Teasing. The kind of warmth that crept in slow but deep, settling under your skin before you even noticed.

But as we neared the end of the ride, I felt him pull back. Not physically, but the quiet returned. The tension. Like he'd suddenly remembered himself.

I glanced up at him, trying not to feel the cold where the warmth had been just moments ago.

When we stepped off, I looked at him one last time, heart thudding for reasons I didn't really want to name.

"I really like talking to you," I said softly, more vulnerable than I meant to be. "Even if you barely talk."

Joel opened his mouth, like he might say something back—but then—

"Y/N!" Sarah's voice rang out, cutting through the air.

She bounded toward us, grabbing my arm with a grin. "Sorry for ditching you."

And just like that, I was pulled away—leaving Joel standing there under the lights, silent again.

But I swore, just before I turned around...

He was still watching me.

Sarah looped her arm through mine and practically skipped us over to the reindeer ride. Everything was glowing now; twinkle lights draped along fences, lampposts wrapped like candy canes, the faint sound of sleigh bells in the distance. The scent of pine and cinnamon hung sweet and heavy in the air.

"I can't believe Mason was here," Sarah said, beaming. "That was so random. I haven't seen him since high school."

I raised a brow. "He looked happy to see you."

She blushed, eyes flicking to the ground like it might hide the grin she couldn't suppress. "Yeah... I always had the biggest crush on him back then. Like huge. But I was a total chicken. He dated older girls, and I was awkward and always had dirt on my face from softball."

I snorted. "You? Awkward? No way."

"Oh, I was a mess," she said with a dramatic sigh. "By the time I was brave enough to maybe say something, he graduated. I figured that was it. End of story."

I leaned into her a little. "But maybe not. He asked how long you were in town..."

Her smile softened. "Yeah. He said maybe we could hang out before I go back. Just catch up or whatever."

"Sarah," I said, tugging her to a stop. "You have to do it."

She blinked. "Do what?"

"Go. See him. Hang out. Flirt. Do whatever feels right. I mean, what are the odds? You run into him after years. Fate has a funny way of giving second chances when you least expect it."

She was quiet for a beat, then her voice came out soft. "I don't know..." she drawled out. "What if I make a fool out of myself or he doesn't feel the same way or—"

"Or what if he does?" I cut her off before she spiraled into her own negative thoughts. "You'll never know unless you try."

Sarah pondered her thoughts for just a moment. Her expression almost mirrored the way Joel's did whenever he thought to himself. It was uncanny.

"Fine. I'll do it if you promise to give this place a real shot. No Dylan. No school. Just be in this moment. With me."

I wasn't sure if being in the moment would be a good idea. Now that whatever I was feeling for Joel was now growing more and more...

No. I'm not having feelings for my best friends dad. I'm not.

I met her gaze and forced a smile. "Promise."

She let out a sigh and squeezed my arm just slightly as she continued to walk toward the truck. "Sorry for ditching you with my dad. That was a little shitty of me."

I waved her off, pretending my heart hadn't nearly beat out of my chest the entire ride. "It's fine. We talked. A little."

"I know he can come off kind of... cold," she said with a laugh. "And a little bit of a dick. But he's not. He's just quiet. Doesn't like small talk or people in general, but he's solid, ya know? Like once you're in with him, you're in."

I wanted to ask her so many questions. Questions like if he were seeing anyone? Has he seen anyone? What are his interests? Etc., but I didn't. I couldn't.

I need to push whatever I was feeling aside because nothing could ever come of this. Of us. I couldn't do that to Sarah. Or to Joel.

—————

By the time we got home, it was late. The moon was high, the night cold enough to bite through our coats. Joel hauled the tree from the back of his truck, thick gloves on his hands, flannel rolled up just enough to show strong forearms that made it very difficult not to stare.

Sarah and I headed into the garage to dig through the shelves for the bins marked Christmas.

"I swear," she muttered, yanking down a dusty red tub, "he keeps everything like it's a museum in here."

The minute we walked back in, Sarah lit the fireplace, throwing the whole room into a golden glow, and queued up a playlist on her phone. The first notes of Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree filled the living room, and something inside me fluttered like I was ten years old again, decorating with my mom. Something I haven't felt in a long time.

We opened bins and pulled out old ornaments, twinkling lights, garland, a crocheted stocking with Sarah's name stitched in red thread.

The scent of pine filled the house as he anchored the tree into its stand and stepped back, hands on his hips.

"Not crooked," he muttered.

"A Christmas miracle," Sarah teased.

He rolled his eyes but didn't argue.

The three of us moved in a quiet rhythm after that. Sarah humming along to the music, Joel sorting through the tangled lights, me fluffing branches. The tension between Joel and me was subtle but pulsing—charged. Every time I turned, I felt his eyes on me. Every time I laughed, he lingered a little closer.

We reached for the same branch at one point, hands brushing, fingertips grazing.

I froze.

He didn't move away.

It was just a second; a flicker, but something warm bloomed between us like heat from the fire.

"Hey!" Sarah said suddenly, pulling out a sad-looking ornament made of macaroni and glitter. "Remember this?"

Joel smirked. "You were six. Ate half the glue."

Sarah cracked up. "I did not!"

He raised a brow. "You cried when it didn't taste like marshmallow."

Their laughter bounced through the room and I watched him; really watched him. Joel Miller, the man who barely spoke above a grunt, was relaxed and smiling, eyes soft as he looked at his daughter.

God, he loved her. It radiated off of him.

"I'm gonna grab the star," Sarah said, darting toward the garage. "It's in the green bin we missed!"

And just like that, it was quiet again. Just Joel and me.

The only sound was the crackle of the fireplace and the rustle of pine branches as I adjusted an ornament near the top of the tree.

Joel stood across from me, winding a strand of gold garland in slow, thoughtful loops around the lower branches.

I hummed under my breath, a Christmas tune Sarah had been playing earlier that got stuck in my head. I didn't even realize I was doing it until I caught him watching me.

I turned slowly, raising a brow. "I can feel you staring."

He cleared his throat and looked away too quickly, like he'd been caught red-handed. "Just admiring the tree," he said, a little too casually. "It's not bad."

I stepped back to scan the tree myself, arms crossed, eyes flicking over the soft lights and scattered ornaments. "So," I said, "do you guys have any other Christmas traditions?"

Joel reached for the last of the garland and shrugged. "We do what most folks do, I guess. Cookies. Movie marathons. We used to try carolin' once, years ago, but Sarah was tone deaf at five and insisted on singing every verse of 'The Twelve Days of Christmas.'"

I laughed. "So that got retired quick, huh?"

"Let's just say the neighbors begged us to stop."

I grinned and leaned slightly against the couch arm. "Any other small-town traditions I should know about? Hidden secret snow rituals? Sacrifices to the Santa gods?"

He gave me a sideways look like I'd lost my mind but shook his head with a faint smile. "We ain't that kind of town."

I laughed, shaking my head. "Bummer."

"We do have a holiday ball. Two nights before Christmas every year. Local community center hosts it."

My eyebrows lifted. "A ball? Like, actual dancing and everything?"

He nodded. "Pretty big deal around here. Music, food, everyone shows up. Been goin' on since I was a kid."

"People dance?"

"Yeah."

I tilted my head, eyeing him playfully. "Do you dance?"

"No."

"Not even a little sway here and there?"

He didn't even blink. "No."

I let out a dramatic sigh and pressed a hand over my chest. "Damn. And here I was hoping you'd save a dance for me."

He looked at me then, really looked, and for a second, I couldn't breathe.

His eyes didn't hold any obvious answer, but they lingered a little longer than they should've. Just long enough to send that flutter through my stomach again.

Then the door flew open and Sarah reappeared, holding a large storage box in her arms. "Finally found the star," she huffed. "You really need to downsize on the crap you save, I swear. There's, like, five green bins in there labeled 'miscellaneous.'"

Joel glanced away from me, clearing his throat again, as if nothing had passed between us. As if my pulse hadn't just stuttered from a single look.

But I felt it.

——————

Part six here

[wintrcaptn]

Should I continue?

Apples and Butterflies part 4

Joel Miller x Reader

Summary : You caught your bf in bed with another girl two months before winter break. Now with no where to go for the next few weeks, your roommate invites you to her hometown so you don't spend the holidays alone.

But you never expected her dad to be the guy who pretended to be your date so you didn't look pathetic in front of your ex. The same guy you can't stop thinking about...Joel miller.

Part one | Part Two | Part Three

A/N : I might stop posting this story idk haha.

Your POV

The drive from the airport is quiet—too quiet. Like the kind that wraps around your throat and squeezes.

The air smells like cedar and smoke and the faint promise of firewood, and somehow it fits him.

Joel.

Sarah's dad.

The man currently driving his old, beat-up Chevy pickup down a winding country road, while Sarah sat in the passenger seat, feet on the dashboard, singing along to the song playing through the radio.

I'm tucked into the back seat with my bag pressed against my knees, trying not to feel every inch of the quiet tension stretching between me and Joel. It's not hostile, exactly. Just... heavy. Like everything unsaid is sitting in the cab with us, taking up too much space.

He drives like he does everything else; controlled, steady, not a single wasted movement. The calluses on his hands grip the steering wheel like it's something alive.

I sneak glances at him through the rear view mirror, and every time...his eyes are already on me. Fleeting stares but still forces a wave of heat down my body to my stomach.

I hate this. I hate that I feel this way. For someone I barely know, and should even care about. He makes me feel like I'm walking across a frozen pond and one wrong word might crack it open and I'll drown.

The road narrows and bends, the fields giving way to scattered trees and rusted fences. Then, just as we begin to pull into the driveway, there it was.

Joel's house.

It wasn't small, but it wasn't the kind of place with winding hallways or cathedral ceilings either. It was comfortable. The kind of place that looked like it had been built with intention. A wide porch, and thick wooden beams.

The house stood two stories tall, painted a soft white that had faded in the Texas sun to something closer to cream. The shutters were a forest green, chipped at the edges.

There wasn't any Christmas decorations, not a single string of lights or wreath in sight. But Sarah didn't seem surprised.

"You know you can decorate without me." She said to her dad.

Joel parks and cuts the engine, "if I had it my way, I wouldn't decorate at all."

Sarah rolled her eyes as she hopped out of the truck, stretching with a dramatic sigh. "I'm starving. Please tell me we're ordering pizza."

The air is cooler than I expected, fresh and clean in a way that makes California feel dusty and far away.

I held the strap of my bag, staring at the house in front of me. My home for a month and a half.

It was breath taking.

"Once I get your things into the house, I'll head over to John's Pizzeria and grab the usual." He said, grabbing our bags from the bed of the truck before I could offer to help.

I noticed the way his shirt slightly rides up, revealing a hint of his hip and the worn leather belt he's definitely had for a decade. And I wanted more.

"Don't forget the pineapple this time." She scowled at him.

"I won't, I promise."

I followed her up the porch steps, the old wood groaning under our boots. Joel unlocked the door and pushed it open with his shoulder.

Inside, the house was warm in a rugged, lived-in kind of way. The entryway opened into a large living room with wide planked hardwood floors and a stone fireplace on the far wall. The hearth was bare, no stockings or garlands yet, but there was an old dusted flag framed above it, and a worn brown leather armchair sitting like a throne at an angle to the fire. I could picture him there—staring into the flames, probably reading his news paper.

I couldn't help but chuckle to myself at the thought.

A wide couch sat opposite the fireplace, the kind you could stretch out on for a Sunday nap, and an old quilt was tossed over the back like someone had actually used it, not just for decoration. The coffee table was solid oak, the surface scratched in a few places and holding a coaster with a ring from a recent drink.

To the right, a large archway led into the kitchen, open-concept, with dark wood cabinets, matte black fixtures, and a row of cast iron pans hanging over the stove. It was all very him.

"Guest room's down that hall, last door on the right," Joel said gruffly behind me.

I glanced back at him and caught his eye for a moment before he looked away like he hadn't meant to. His voice was always low and slow, dipped in Texas molasses, and somehow it still made my heart skip, even when he was giving directions like I was a lost UPS driver.

"Thanks," I murmured. My gaze lingering on him a little moment longer.

"Come on, I'll show you around!" Sarah said pulling me toward her.

I trail behind Sarah as she gives me a quick tour, chatting the whole time like she's trying to fill every second with noise. I let her talk, nodding along, my mind still caught on Joel.

The floor creaked softly underfoot. The hallway walls were dotted with framed photos; Sarah at different ages, a few fishing shots, one of Joel in his younger years with a dog at his feet and the same stern expression he wore now.

"The bathroom is just across from you and my bedroom is the second door past the stairs." She said. "I need to unpack and change out of these clothes real quick but if you need me, just come to my room."

I nodded and flashed a soft smile as I watched Sarah turn and disappear down the hallway. The guest room door eased shut behind me with a quiet click, and just like that—I was alone.

My room.

For the next month and a half.

I let out a long, shaky breath and finally allowed myself to take it all in.

The guest room was simple. A full bed with a heavy wooden headboard, white sheets folded tight and neat. A dresser, an old nightstand, a little window looking out at the porch roof and trees beyond. It wasn't much, but it was warm. Quiet. Safe.

As much as I'd dreaded the idea of being here in Texas...standing here now, in this quiet room that smelled faintly of cedar and clean laundry, I couldn't help the soft wave of peace that rolled through me.

Maybe this wasn't just a break. Maybe this was a fresh start.

I was just about to unzip my bag when a sudden knock startled me. My heart leapt a little, and I turned toward the door just as it creaked open.

There he was.

Joel.

Leaning against the doorframe like he had all the time in the world. One shoulder against the wood, arms crossed over his broad chest, sleeves pushed to his elbows, and that unreadable expression on his face.

My breath caught somewhere in my throat.

"Sorry it's not much," he said, his voice low and steady, eyes flicking around the room before landing back on me.

I swallowed and shook my head. "N-no. It's..." I paused, taking a breath, letting the quiet wash over me. "It's perfect."

He nodded once but didn't move.

The silence stretched between us. Awkward and heavy and warm all at once. He didn't look away. And for a second, I felt pinned in place by the weight of his stare.

I waited for him to say something else. Anything. And just when I thought he'd turn and walk off, he spoke.

"Sorry about earlier."

My brows furrowed. "Earlier?"

His jaw flexed as he exhaled slowly, like dragging the words out physically hurt. "The part where I said you looked... complicated."

Oh. That.

I blinked, not sure what to say.

He shifted, uncrossing his arms, like the weight of this conversation made him suddenly restless.

"I didn't mean it like that," he said, too quickly now, like the words were tumbling out before he could stop them. "Sarah's had a hard time makin' real friends. She's gotten close with people before and ended up hurtin'. Or bein' hurt. Either way, it's always messy. And I didn't wanna... start somethin' she'd overthink or get stuck on."

I blinked, surprised. I hadn't expected that. Not from the man who barely looked at me on the drive here.

He rubbed the back of his neck like the words cost him something. "She was so excited you agreed to come home with her for break. I didn't wanna give her a reason to second-guess it."

"But why would she second-guess it?" I asked, genuinely confused. "It's not like that was a real date or anything...”

The words came out too casually. Too lightly.

And yet, the second they left my mouth, something tightened in my chest.

Joel's gaze flicked to mine, but there was nothing in his face. No reaction. He just nodded.

"Right," he said simply. "It wasn't."

His jaw worked—tightening, then easing—as he drew in a long breath. His eyes dropped to the floor for the briefest second before lifting back to mine. "Anyway, sorry again."

I flashed a soft smile, feeling my heart pound profusely in my chest but I decided to ignore it. Instead I let out a breath and shrugged. "It's okay, you don't know me...yet."

Joel nodded, and without a word, he took a step back and closed the door behind him. The sound of his footsteps against the wooden floor slowly faded and he was gone.

This was going to be a long month and a half.

————————

Joel's POV

My truck rumbled down the quiet backroad toward my house, the pizza box on the passenger seat doing little to distract me from the mess of thoughts swarming my head. I shifted in my seat, one hand gripping the wheel tighter than it needed to. The sun had dipped low, throwing the sky into dusky golds and bruised purples. But even the view did nothing to settle the low burn under my skin.

I couldn't stop myself. I couldn't stop thinking about her. About Y/N.

The damn flower dress and messy bun. The sunbeam of a smile. The way she talked too much and too fast and didn't seem to notice the brick wall of silence I kept wrapped around myself like armor. Or worse...she noticed and didn't give a damn.

It had only been a few hours since we arrived from California. Sarah's final winter break before graduation. I was ready to fly with my daughter back home, even when plans changed and she decided to invite her roommate. What I wasn't ready for was her. The same girl who crashed my table that morning, uninvited. Playing along when her jerk of an ex walked up. Slipped right into the role with no hesitation.

"Shes doin' fine, ain't that right darlin'?"

Sounding too damn convincing for my own comfort.

I thought that was the end of it. A strange encounter that I could file away and forget. But here I am. Driving back to my house where my daughter and her roommate are waiting for their dinner. Her roommate who happens to be the same stranger in that cafe.

She looks so soft, so light. Like the kind of girl you didn't touch unless your hands were clean, which mine had never been clean.

And she was my daughter's best friend, for Christ's sake.

I pulled into the driveway slower than usual, headlights flicking across the front window. Music blasted from inside, some country pop garbage rattling the walls that made my jaw tick. I groaned under my breath as I stepped out of the truck and grabbed the pizza.

But when I opened the door, the irritation died in my throat.

The living room looked like chaos. Furniture slightly pushed back, string lights blinking in the corner, and there they were...Sarah and Y/N. Spinning, laughing, and singing off-key like they didn't have a single care in the world. Sarah was in an oversized sweater and socks, arms flailing as she sang into a wooden spoon. And Y/N...

Christ.

Y/N was dancing with both hands in the air, eyes closed, face lit with that sunshine smile that always seemed to undo me. Her hips swayed to the beat, loose and carefree, and it felt like the air left my lungs. She looked like trouble.

Y/N caught sight of me, her face lighting up and I'd be lying if I said it didn't affect me in any way.

"Joel!" she calls out, still breathless, still glowing. "Come dance with us!"

Sarah turns, spots me too. "Yeah, come on, old man!"

I shake my head, firm. "Not a chance.”

Before either of them could protest, I stepped over to the stereo and paused the damn song. Silence dropped like a curtain. Then I held up the pizza. "Food's here."

They laugh and follow me into the kitchen. Sarah slid into one of the chairs at the table, already reaching for a slice, while Y/N padded in behind her; quiet, but not really. Even her silence had a way of filling the room. She moved like sunlight drifting through blinds, slow and soft.

I crack open a beer, the hiss of carbonation oddly loud in the quiet. They began talking over each other about the Christmas tree farm Sarah wants to visit tomorrow. Decorations. Hot cocoa. Ornaments. Y/N says something about stringing lights across the porch and Sarah gasps like it's the best idea she's ever heard.

I nodded in all the right places. Took slow pulls from my beer. But I wasn't hearing half the damn conversation.

All I could focus on was the way she laughed around a bite of pizza, completely unaware of the way it affected me. The way she leans in when Sarah talks, like she's not just hearing her; she's listening. Present. Open. The way she brushed  sauce off her bottom lip with her thumb.

God help me, I want to lean over and lick the damn sauce off her lips. I wanted to taste her laughter, memorize the curve of her smile, ask her a hundred quiet questions and press my mouth to the answer every time.

I shift in my seat, bite back the urge.

This is wrong.

She's Sarah's best friend.

I clear my throat and push up from the table. "I'm gonna call it a night."

Sarah looked up. "You sure? We were gonna put on a movie—"

"Y'all go ahead." I cut her off before she could try to convince me otherwise.

Y/N met my eyes. "Goodnight, Joel," she said softly, like she meant it.

I nodded once. But said nothing.

I made it to my  room, shut the door behind me and leaned back against it like it was the only thing holding me up. My heart was pounding, stomach tight, throat dry.

What the hell was I doing?

She's twenty-six. My daughter's roommate. Complicated, sure—but not in the way I first thought. She wasn't trouble.

I was.

And if I  didn't pull himself together soon, I was going to do something real stupid, something I wouldn't be able to take back.

[wintrcaptn]

Apples and Butterflies part 4

Joel Miller x Reader

Summary : You caught your bf in bed with another girl two months before winter break. Now with no where to go for the next few weeks, your roommate invites you to her hometown so you don't spend the holidays alone.

But you never expected her dad to be the guy who pretended to be your date so you didn't look pathetic in front of your ex. The same guy you can't stop thinking about...Joel miller.

Part one | Part Two | Part Three

A/N : I might stop posting this story idk haha.

Your POV

The drive from the airport is quiet—too quiet. Like the kind that wraps around your throat and squeezes.

The air smells like cedar and smoke and the faint promise of firewood, and somehow it fits him.

Joel.

Sarah's dad.

The man currently driving his old, beat-up Chevy pickup down a winding country road, while Sarah sat in the passenger seat, feet on the dashboard, singing along to the song playing through the radio.

I'm tucked into the back seat with my bag pressed against my knees, trying not to feel every inch of the quiet tension stretching between me and Joel. It's not hostile, exactly. Just... heavy. Like everything unsaid is sitting in the cab with us, taking up too much space.

He drives like he does everything else; controlled, steady, not a single wasted movement. The calluses on his hands grip the steering wheel like it's something alive.

I sneak glances at him through the rear view mirror, and every time...his eyes are already on me. Fleeting stares but still forces a wave of heat down my body to my stomach.

I hate this. I hate that I feel this way. For someone I barely know, and should even care about. He makes me feel like I'm walking across a frozen pond and one wrong word might crack it open and I'll drown.

The road narrows and bends, the fields giving way to scattered trees and rusted fences. Then, just as we begin to pull into the driveway, there it was.

Joel's house.

It wasn't small, but it wasn't the kind of place with winding hallways or cathedral ceilings either. It was comfortable. The kind of place that looked like it had been built with intention. A wide porch, and thick wooden beams.

The house stood two stories tall, painted a soft white that had faded in the Texas sun to something closer to cream. The shutters were a forest green, chipped at the edges.

There wasn't any Christmas decorations, not a single string of lights or wreath in sight. But Sarah didn't seem surprised.

"You know you can decorate without me." She said to her dad.

Joel parks and cuts the engine, "if I had it my way, I wouldn't decorate at all."

Sarah rolled her eyes as she hopped out of the truck, stretching with a dramatic sigh. "I'm starving. Please tell me we're ordering pizza."

The air is cooler than I expected, fresh and clean in a way that makes California feel dusty and far away.

I held the strap of my bag, staring at the house in front of me. My home for a month and a half.

It was breath taking.

"Once I get your things into the house, I'll head over to John's Pizzeria and grab the usual." He said, grabbing our bags from the bed of the truck before I could offer to help.

I noticed the way his shirt slightly rides up, revealing a hint of his hip and the worn leather belt he's definitely had for a decade. And I wanted more.

"Don't forget the pineapple this time." She scowled at him.

"I won't, I promise."

I followed her up the porch steps, the old wood groaning under our boots. Joel unlocked the door and pushed it open with his shoulder.

Inside, the house was warm in a rugged, lived-in kind of way. The entryway opened into a large living room with wide planked hardwood floors and a stone fireplace on the far wall. The hearth was bare, no stockings or garlands yet, but there was an old dusted flag framed above it, and a worn brown leather armchair sitting like a throne at an angle to the fire. I could picture him there—staring into the flames, probably reading his news paper.

I couldn't help but chuckle to myself at the thought.

A wide couch sat opposite the fireplace, the kind you could stretch out on for a Sunday nap, and an old quilt was tossed over the back like someone had actually used it, not just for decoration. The coffee table was solid oak, the surface scratched in a few places and holding a coaster with a ring from a recent drink.

To the right, a large archway led into the kitchen, open-concept, with dark wood cabinets, matte black fixtures, and a row of cast iron pans hanging over the stove. It was all very him.

"Guest room's down that hall, last door on the right," Joel said gruffly behind me.

I glanced back at him and caught his eye for a moment before he looked away like he hadn't meant to. His voice was always low and slow, dipped in Texas molasses, and somehow it still made my heart skip, even when he was giving directions like I was a lost UPS driver.

"Thanks," I murmured. My gaze lingering on him a little moment longer.

"Come on, I'll show you around!" Sarah said pulling me toward her.

I trail behind Sarah as she gives me a quick tour, chatting the whole time like she's trying to fill every second with noise. I let her talk, nodding along, my mind still caught on Joel.

The floor creaked softly underfoot. The hallway walls were dotted with framed photos; Sarah at different ages, a few fishing shots, one of Joel in his younger years with a dog at his feet and the same stern expression he wore now.

"The bathroom is just across from you and my bedroom is the second door past the stairs." She said. "I need to unpack and change out of these clothes real quick but if you need me, just come to my room."

I nodded and flashed a soft smile as I watched Sarah turn and disappear down the hallway. The guest room door eased shut behind me with a quiet click, and just like that—I was alone.

My room.

For the next month and a half.

I let out a long, shaky breath and finally allowed myself to take it all in.

The guest room was simple. A full bed with a heavy wooden headboard, white sheets folded tight and neat. A dresser, an old nightstand, a little window looking out at the porch roof and trees beyond. It wasn't much, but it was warm. Quiet. Safe.

As much as I'd dreaded the idea of being here in Texas...standing here now, in this quiet room that smelled faintly of cedar and clean laundry, I couldn't help the soft wave of peace that rolled through me.

Maybe this wasn't just a break. Maybe this was a fresh start.

I was just about to unzip my bag when a sudden knock startled me. My heart leapt a little, and I turned toward the door just as it creaked open.

There he was.

Joel.

Leaning against the doorframe like he had all the time in the world. One shoulder against the wood, arms crossed over his broad chest, sleeves pushed to his elbows, and that unreadable expression on his face.

My breath caught somewhere in my throat.

"Sorry it's not much," he said, his voice low and steady, eyes flicking around the room before landing back on me.

I swallowed and shook my head. "N-no. It's..." I paused, taking a breath, letting the quiet wash over me. "It's perfect."

He nodded once but didn't move.

The silence stretched between us. Awkward and heavy and warm all at once. He didn't look away. And for a second, I felt pinned in place by the weight of his stare.

I waited for him to say something else. Anything. And just when I thought he'd turn and walk off, he spoke.

"Sorry about earlier."

My brows furrowed. "Earlier?"

His jaw flexed as he exhaled slowly, like dragging the words out physically hurt. "The part where I said you looked... complicated."

Oh. That.

I blinked, not sure what to say.

He shifted, uncrossing his arms, like the weight of this conversation made him suddenly restless.

"I didn't mean it like that," he said, too quickly now, like the words were tumbling out before he could stop them. "Sarah's had a hard time makin' real friends. She's gotten close with people before and ended up hurtin'. Or bein' hurt. Either way, it's always messy. And I didn't wanna... start somethin' she'd overthink or get stuck on."

I blinked, surprised. I hadn't expected that. Not from the man who barely looked at me on the drive here.

He rubbed the back of his neck like the words cost him something. "She was so excited you agreed to come home with her for break. I didn't wanna give her a reason to second-guess it."

"But why would she second-guess it?" I asked, genuinely confused. "It's not like that was a real date or anything...”

The words came out too casually. Too lightly.

And yet, the second they left my mouth, something tightened in my chest.

Joel's gaze flicked to mine, but there was nothing in his face. No reaction. He just nodded.

"Right," he said simply. "It wasn't."

His jaw worked—tightening, then easing—as he drew in a long breath. His eyes dropped to the floor for the briefest second before lifting back to mine. "Anyway, sorry again."

I flashed a soft smile, feeling my heart pound profusely in my chest but I decided to ignore it. Instead I let out a breath and shrugged. "It's okay, you don't know me...yet."

Joel nodded, and without a word, he took a step back and closed the door behind him. The sound of his footsteps against the wooden floor slowly faded and he was gone.

This was going to be a long month and a half.

————————

Joel's POV

My truck rumbled down the quiet backroad toward my house, the pizza box on the passenger seat doing little to distract me from the mess of thoughts swarming my head. I shifted in my seat, one hand gripping the wheel tighter than it needed to. The sun had dipped low, throwing the sky into dusky golds and bruised purples. But even the view did nothing to settle the low burn under my skin.

I couldn't stop myself. I couldn't stop thinking about her. About Y/N.

The damn flower dress and messy bun. The sunbeam of a smile. The way she talked too much and too fast and didn't seem to notice the brick wall of silence I kept wrapped around myself like armor. Or worse...she noticed and didn't give a damn.

It had only been a few hours since we arrived from California. Sarah's final winter break before graduation. I was ready to fly with my daughter back home, even when plans changed and she decided to invite her roommate. What I wasn't ready for was her. The same girl who crashed my table that morning, uninvited. Playing along when her jerk of an ex walked up. Slipped right into the role with no hesitation.

"Shes doin' fine, ain't that right darlin'?"

Sounding too damn convincing for my own comfort.

I thought that was the end of it. A strange encounter that I could file away and forget. But here I am. Driving back to my house where my daughter and her roommate are waiting for their dinner. Her roommate who happens to be the same stranger in that cafe.

She looks so soft, so light. Like the kind of girl you didn't touch unless your hands were clean, which mine had never been clean.

And she was my daughter's best friend, for Christ's sake.

I pulled into the driveway slower than usual, headlights flicking across the front window. Music blasted from inside, some country pop garbage rattling the walls that made my jaw tick. I groaned under my breath as I stepped out of the truck and grabbed the pizza.

But when I opened the door, the irritation died in my throat.

The living room looked like chaos. Furniture slightly pushed back, string lights blinking in the corner, and there they were...Sarah and Y/N. Spinning, laughing, and singing off-key like they didn't have a single care in the world. Sarah was in an oversized sweater and socks, arms flailing as she sang into a wooden spoon. And Y/N...

Christ.

Y/N was dancing with both hands in the air, eyes closed, face lit with that sunshine smile that always seemed to undo me. Her hips swayed to the beat, loose and carefree, and it felt like the air left my lungs. She looked like trouble.

Y/N caught sight of me, her face lighting up and I'd be lying if I said it didn't affect me in any way.

"Joel!" she calls out, still breathless, still glowing. "Come dance with us!"

Sarah turns, spots me too. "Yeah, come on, old man!"

I shake my head, firm. "Not a chance.”

Before either of them could protest, I stepped over to the stereo and paused the damn song. Silence dropped like a curtain. Then I held up the pizza. "Food's here."

They laugh and follow me into the kitchen. Sarah slid into one of the chairs at the table, already reaching for a slice, while Y/N padded in behind her; quiet, but not really. Even her silence had a way of filling the room. She moved like sunlight drifting through blinds, slow and soft.

I crack open a beer, the hiss of carbonation oddly loud in the quiet. They began talking over each other about the Christmas tree farm Sarah wants to visit tomorrow. Decorations. Hot cocoa. Ornaments. Y/N says something about stringing lights across the porch and Sarah gasps like it's the best idea she's ever heard.

I nodded in all the right places. Took slow pulls from my beer. But I wasn't hearing half the damn conversation.

All I could focus on was the way she laughed around a bite of pizza, completely unaware of the way it affected me. The way she leans in when Sarah talks, like she's not just hearing her; she's listening. Present. Open. The way she brushed  sauce off her bottom lip with her thumb.

God help me, I want to lean over and lick the damn sauce off her lips. I wanted to taste her laughter, memorize the curve of her smile, ask her a hundred quiet questions and press my mouth to the answer every time.

I shift in my seat, bite back the urge.

This is wrong.

She's Sarah's best friend.

I clear my throat and push up from the table. "I'm gonna call it a night."

Sarah looked up. "You sure? We were gonna put on a movie—"

"Y'all go ahead." I cut her off before she could try to convince me otherwise.

Y/N met my eyes. "Goodnight, Joel," she said softly, like she meant it.

I nodded once. But said nothing.

I made it to my  room, shut the door behind me and leaned back against it like it was the only thing holding me up. My heart was pounding, stomach tight, throat dry.

What the hell was I doing?

She's twenty-six. My daughter's roommate. Complicated, sure—but not in the way I first thought. She wasn't trouble.

I was.

And if I didn't pull myself together soon, I was going to do something real stupid, something I wouldn't be able to take back.

—————

Part five here

[wintrcaptn]

Apples and Butterflies Part 3

Joel Miller x reader

Summary : You caught your bf in bed with another girl two months before winter break. Now with no where to go for the next few weeks, your roommate invites you to her hometown so you don't spend the holidays alone.

But you never expected her dad to be the guy who pretended to be your date so you didn't look pathetic in front of your ex. The same guy you can't stop thinking about...Joel miller.

Part One | Part Two

A/N : hope you’re enjoying this little fic so far! Please leave feedback <3

Your POV

It didn't take too long for me to pack my suitcase. Jeans, knitted sweaters, dresses, and long sleeves. But as I folded the last few items, I stood there lost in my thoughts.

Thoughts that somehow lingered back to Joel. Coffee guy.

His broad shoulders. His salt and pepper wavy hair. The way his calloused hand felt against mine. His deep, southern accent. Just the thought of him made my stomach flutter.

Why was I standing here remembering every feature of his face? A man I had only known a few hours ago.

It didn't even matter, because I know if I had spent four years here and never ran into him until now? I'll never run into him again. It wasnt unusual to see the same faces around town. But his? I had never seen it before. There's no way I could possibly see him again.

That's not how fate worked.

"My dad should be here any minute to take us to the airport." Sarah, my roommate and best friend for the past four years, said.

I turned to her, scrunching my brows together. "Your dad flew here from Texas, just to fly back with you?"

She sighed, and nodded. "He's a little over protective. And doesn't help that I might have gotten lost one time and missed my flight." She chuckled. "And now he won't trust me to fly alone ."

I let out a soft laugh, the memory of that day resurfacing. She called me in a full panic, not being able to board her flight due to being late, and it was her first year without her dad. But he managed to get a last minute flight the next day to come get her himself.

That thought made my smile fade.

There was a part of me that quietly envied her for having someone in her life who would drop everything with no hesitation, just to be there.

It made me think of my mom.

"This is insane." I mumbled, plopping my sweater on top of the other clothes in my suitcase.

"What's insane?" Sarah asked.

"That I'm flying to Texas with my roommate, to visit her family who I know nothing about. I mean—I don't even know what to do out there."

"First off, my family is small. Mostly just me and my dad, unless uncle Tommy and Maria come visit with my cousin Benji." She said, shoving a pair of socks in her bag. "But it'll be fun! We can go to the Christmas tree farm. They have hot cocoa, ice skating, Santa's reindeer train, and a Ferris wheel. Plus, my dad never decorates until I get there. So we'll get a tree and decorate together!"

"That actually sounds amazing." I said, smiling to myself. It sounded like a real Christmas. Something I hadn't had in a long time. Not even when I spent my holidays with Dylan and his family. They didn't like to over due it with gifts or decorations. They enjoyed traveling to places that weren't cold and had lots of alcohol.

"It's so magical. But if it's not, at least you'll get to hang out with me, and I'm pretty great."

We both tilted our heads back and laughed in unison. Until a firm knock echoed from the door.

Sarah glanced at her phone before tossing it on to her bed, making her way over. "That's probably my dad. He is gonna help us take our bags to the car."

I nodded, leaning over to zip up my suitcase, mentally preparing for the flight.

Until a voice spoke. Deep, familiar, rough in that way that made chills cover me completely.

My heart dropped.

Joel. Newspaper Joel. Coffee guy.

Broad shoulders under a worn beige button up. The same eyes that had held mine in the cafe. The same man that called me darlin' and made my skin buzz with just a look.

He wasn't just a figment of my imagination. He was here. Standing in the door. Real, tangible, and Sarah's dad.

Our eyes met, and suddenly my breath caught in my throat.

Joel's body stiffened just slightly enough to barely notice. Long enough for recognition to flicker behind his guarded expression. Then it was gone.

"Dad, this is Y/N." Sarah smiled, oblivious. "My roommate I told you about."

Joel nodded, still holding my gaze. "Y/N." The way he spoke my name had felt empty compared to this morning. "Nice to meet you."

Nice to meet me? Did he forget this morning? The most embarrassing moment of my life?

"Y/N, this is Joel. My dad."

I swallowed hard, and forced a breathless smile. "Oh—nice to meet you too."

Sarah turned toward her side of the room. "I just need to grab my charger, then we can leave."

As soon as she walked over to her bed, Joel and I found our gaze locked on one another once again. Not a single word. Just a look. Steady, sharp, like he was studying my face for some reason I couldn't figure out why.

There were a million questions roaming through my mind. Did he really not remember me? Was I that insignificant for him to forget about me?

When all I have been doing was think about him...

I twisted at the hem of my long sleeve, tugging it down. I hate how nervous he made me feel. His silence made my stomach churn. We'd only met this morning. An offbeat encounter.

Yet, the way he looked at me now—like I was nothing but a stranger—left an ache in my chest.

Sarah threw her bag over her shoulder, completely unaware of the tension in the room. "Okay, I'm ready." She said just before pointing to another bag closer to the door. "Can you take that one to the car? It's too heavy for me."

Joel cleared his throat, shifting his weight as he leaned down to pick up the duffle bag. Which he did with little to no effort.

"Why don't you come down to the uber with me so we can get a move on." He asked his daughter.

"Yeah, okay." She turned back to me. "We'll be outside. Don't forget to lock up."

I could only nod in response. My mouth felt too dry to let out a single word.

As they stepped out, I caught a glance from Joel. It was fleeting, but it happened.

I exhaled a long sigh, trying to make sense of it all. Debating whether or not I should cancel last minute.

I could come up with some fabricated story. Maybe, my long lost relative called and wants to meet me? Or, maybe I could lie and tell them I landed an internship at a private practice?

No. There's no way Sarah would believe any of it. Besides, I already booked my flight. Money is too tight for me to waste it over something this ridiculous. What if he truly did forget and I'm making this out to be more than what it was?

"You can do this. It's just a month and a half." I mumbled to myself.

With that, I grabbed my suitcase and made my way down the stairs, the wheels bumping softly against each step. The cool air hit my face when I pushed open the front door of our building, and I spotted them just a few feet away from the curb.

Sarah stood with her arms crossed, while Joel lugged her bag into the trunk of the uber. And without realizing it, I slowed my steps.

"I just don't think it's the best idea." He said, voice low but not a whisper. "It's last minute. Long flight. I mean, how well do you even know this girl? She looks...."

He paused for a moment, catching a breath as he stood up and crossed his arms over his broad chest. "She looks complicated."

Complicated? The word hung in the air like smoke. Heat blooming in my chest, rising fast.

Sarah didn't miss a beat. "You're over thinking it. And you literally just met her. How does she look complicated? Y'know what? Never mind that. She's my best friend, and she's coming."

I stepped forward, my jaw clenched as I dragged my suitcase with a little more force than necessary. The sound of the plastic wheels against the concrete caught their attention.

My eyes fell on his, my gaze burning into him as I stepped forward.

"Alright, we should get going now so we don't miss our flight." Sarah said, sliding into the back seat of the car.

Joel cleared his throat like he swallowed something sharp. He reached down for my suitcase, his fingers brushed over mine for just a second too long. It felt as if something seeped through between us. Something thick with tension, and that same quiet pull that I couldn't name before.

I pulled my hand away, and stepped back an inch.

And I could see the way his jaw tightened, as he glanced down and pulled my suitcase to him.

"I got it." He mumbled. Just as he hoisted the bag into the trunk.

I slipped into the car next to Sarah, and shut the door. My heart hammering, pulsing in my ears.

I was going to Texas with my best friend. And my best friends dad. The man who called me darlin' and now thinks I'm too complicated.

What a great way to start winter break.

——————————

The hum of the plane surrounded us, soft like white noise. Sarah had claimed the window seat the second we stepped on board, leaving me to slide into the middle. Joel took the aisle seat without a word, his towering frame a solid wall of quiet tension beside me.

He hadn't looked in my direction since we left our dorm. Not when we checked in, not at the gate. Not even when he shared a bag of sour gummy worms with me and Sarah, while waiting to board.

But now, now he was only inches away. And I could feel every bit of it.

For the first hour of our flight, I shared earbuds with Sarah while we watched 'Never Been Kissed' on the little screen. I tried to focus on the movie, but my mind kept wandering to the man beside me. He was quiet, stoic but there was a weight to his presence.

His arms were crossed over his chest, the sleeves of his button up were pushed up enough to reveal his thick forearms, tan and dusted lightly with dark hair. The veins along his arms stood out, prominent and defined, trailing down toward his strong, capable hands. With a few scars near his knuckles.

And he smelled amazing. Not like cologne, nothing fancy or synthetic.

Coffee, leather, the faintest traces of something like cedar. It was warm and grounded, the kind of scent you want to lean into without thinking.

I tried not to breathe him in, but it was hard not to.

Every so often, his knee would shift and brush against mine. The contact—brief—sent chills up and down my spine. I held my breath each time, unsure if it were intentional or not. If he even felt it at all.

After a while, Sarah had drifted to sleep. Her head leaned against the window, mouth slightly parted as her breath evened in slow little breaths.

The silence felt like torture. Almost unbearable. I glanced at Joel, who had barely moved. His jaw tight, eyes fixed on the dark screen in front of him. I couldn't take it anymore. I licked my lips, and swallowed the nerves rising in my throat.

"So..." my voice came out softer than I intended, though I tried not to wake Sarah up. "anything interesting in the news lately?"

His eyes flicked toward me, but didn't linger.

"What were you reading? Classifieds? Comics? Obituaries?" I leaned in a little closer than before.

Still no answer.

I would usually take the silence as a hint and give up. Turn my attention to my phone and pretend he wasn't there. But I didn't want this winter break to be so...whatever this was.

"Are you stalking me?" I asked, a playful smirk playing on my lips.

That got him.

He looked at me, slow as his eyes furrowed into confusion. The corners of his mouth twitched just slightly. "If anything, you're the one stalking me."

"I go there all the time, you on the other hand..."

"Ya sat at my table."

"Well, you didn't say no."

He glared at me for a moment and huffed. "Ya didn't give me a chance to answer."

"You could've told me to leave at any time."

"Didn't seem worth the energy." He shrugged.

I squinted my eyes at him and mirrored his pose. "Wow, you're charming."

Joel's gaze dropped to my lips then flicked back up. "You talk too much."

Heat began to radiate through my body, though I tried to ignore the feeling. "Is that suppose to be an insult?"

"Observation." He said, matter of fact.

In that moment, Joel turned his attention back to the black screen in front of him.

But I wasn't ready to end this conversation. Little as it was, I wanted more.

"Why'd you lie earlier?"

Joel didn't answer right away. His jaw tensed, the muscle twitching once before he slowly exhaled through his nose. There was a slight shift in his eyes. Guilt? Regret? I wasn't sure what it was.

"I didn't lie." He said quietly, almost like he wished I hadn't asked. "I just didn't...explain"

"You acted like we didn't meet this morning."

He leaned back into his seat, turning toward the window, looking at Sarah then back to me.

"She doesn't need to know everything." He muttered. "It's not exactly something worth mentioning."

Something twisted in my chest as his words played in my head. "Y-you mean, me? I'm not worth mentioning?"

"N-no. I mean that moment. This morning. No point dragging it into this trip. She'll never let it go and will ask a billion questions and I ain't in the mood to deal with it."

I let out a small breathy laugh, not out of amusement but clarity. Heat crawled up my throat as I nodded, masking the sting behind a tight smile.

"Right." I said, flatly. "Wouldn't want to make things complicated."

I didn't mean for the words to come out so cold, but it did.

'She looks...complicated.'

Something in his expression had changed, the stoic, unreadable mask he usually wore racked in this moment. Regret flashed across his face. He looked remorseful.

Good.

His lips parted, like he was about to say something, and I was not ready to hear what he had to say.

I stood up too quickly, hoping to escape the sudden pressure in my chest. But just as I rose to my feet, the plane hit a pocket of turbulence. The jolt wasn't violent, but it was enough to throw me off balance.

I reached out instinctively, and my hands landed square on his chest—warm and firm beneath my palms. Half in his lap, face just inches away from his. Joel's hand pressed against my waist, steadying me. Not in a reactive way, but with purpose. Like he meant it.

I was close, too close. Enough to see the darker flecks in his eyes, the faint scar along his right temple, the way his vein pulsed in his neck.

Neither of us moved. For a single heartbeat, it was just us. My heartbeat thudded in my ears, loud enough to drown out everything else.

I snapped myself out of it. "Shit, sorry." I muttered, breathless as I pushed off of him. My cheeks and ears burning in embarrassment.

I turned away and hurried down the aisle to the bathroom, my hands still tingling from where they'd touched. But as I walked away, I could feel his eyes on my back. And worse, I wanted him to keep looking.

The bathroom was barely big enough for me to turn around in, but I shut the door like it could somehow block out what had just happened, and I let out the breath I held in for what felt like forever.

I leaned forward, leaning over the tiny sink, heart still thudding in my chest. I closed my eyes, and there he was again.

The way he felt in my hands, solid and warm beneath soft cotton. The heat of his hand pressed against my waist, not delicate or clumsy, but as if it belonged there.

And god, his scent. It clung to me now without warning. And his eyes?

I exhaled slowly, trying to ignore the heat that bloomed low in my stomach. Those eyes, wrecked me.

It would've taken nothing—nothing—to lean in closer. To close the inches between us. My lips had been right there, hovering above his. I could still feel his breath on my cheek. Could still imagine what it would've felt like to taste him.

And god, I wanted to.

"I can't." I whispered to myself. "I can't."

I opened my eyes, blocking hard at my reflection in the mirror.

"He is Sarah's dad." I said.

My best friend's father.

I let out a quiet, bitter laugh. Trying to block it all out.

This can't happen. Whatever that was, whatever sparked in my chest and the space between us. It didn't matter.

I have to bury this feeling. Pretend it never happened.

Even if my skin still remembered his touch. Even if my heart wanted him.

[wintrcaptn]

Apples and Butterflies Part 3

Joel Miller x reader

Summary : You caught your bf in bed with another girl two months before winter break. Now with no where to go for the next few weeks, your roommate invites you to her hometown so you don't spend the holidays alone.

But you never expected her dad to be the guy who pretended to be your date so you didn't look pathetic in front of your ex. The same guy you can't stop thinking about...Joel miller.

Part One | Part Two

A/N : hope you’re enjoying this little fic so far! Please leave feedback <3

Your POV

It didn't take too long for me to pack my suitcase. Jeans, knitted sweaters, dresses, and long sleeves. But as I folded the last few items, I stood there lost in my thoughts.

Thoughts that somehow lingered back to Joel. Coffee guy.

His broad shoulders. His salt and pepper wavy hair. The way his calloused hand felt against mine. His deep, southern accent. Just the thought of him made my stomach flutter.

Why was I standing here remembering every feature of his face? A man I had only known a few hours ago.

It didn't even matter, because I know if I had spent four years here and never ran into him until now? I'll never run into him again. It wasnt unusual to see the same faces around town. But his? I had never seen it before. There's no way I could possibly see him again.

That's not how fate worked.

"My dad should be here any minute to take us to the airport." Sarah, my roommate and best friend for the past four years, said.

I turned to her, scrunching my brows together. "Your dad flew here from Texas, just to fly back with you?"

She sighed, and nodded. "He's a little over protective. And doesn't help that I might have gotten lost one time and missed my flight." She chuckled. "And now he won't trust me to fly alone ."

I let out a soft laugh, the memory of that day resurfacing. She called me in a full panic, not being able to board her flight due to being late, and it was her first year without her dad. But he managed to get a last minute flight the next day to come get her himself.

That thought made my smile fade.

There was a part of me that quietly envied her for having someone in her life who would drop everything with no hesitation, just to be there.

It made me think of my mom.

"This is insane." I mumbled, plopping my sweater on top of the other clothes in my suitcase.

"What's insane?" Sarah asked.

"That I'm flying to Texas with my roommate, to visit her family who I know nothing about. I mean—I don't even know what to do out there."

"First off, my family is small. Mostly just me and my dad, unless uncle Tommy and Maria come visit with my cousin Benji." She said, shoving a pair of socks in her bag. "But it'll be fun! We can go to the Christmas tree farm. They have hot cocoa, ice skating, Santa's reindeer train, and a Ferris wheel. Plus, my dad never decorates until I get there. So we'll get a tree and decorate together!"

"That actually sounds amazing." I said, smiling to myself. It sounded like a real Christmas. Something I hadn't had in a long time. Not even when I spent my holidays with Dylan and his family. They didn't like to over due it with gifts or decorations. They enjoyed traveling to places that weren't cold and had lots of alcohol.

"It's so magical. But if it's not, at least you'll get to hang out with me, and I'm pretty great."

We both tilted our heads back and laughed in unison. Until a firm knock echoed from the door.

Sarah glanced at her phone before tossing it on to her bed, making her way over. "That's probably my dad. He is gonna help us take our bags to the car."

I nodded, leaning over to zip up my suitcase, mentally preparing for the flight.

Until a voice spoke. Deep, familiar, rough in that way that made chills cover me completely.

My heart dropped.

Joel. Newspaper Joel. Coffee guy.

Broad shoulders under a worn beige button up. The same eyes that had held mine in the cafe. The same man that called me darlin' and made my skin buzz with just a look.

He wasn't just a figment of my imagination. He was here. Standing in the door. Real, tangible, and Sarah's dad.

Our eyes met, and suddenly my breath caught in my throat.

Joel's body stiffened just slightly enough to barely notice. Long enough for recognition to flicker behind his guarded expression. Then it was gone.

"Dad, this is Y/N." Sarah smiled, oblivious. "My roommate I told you about."

Joel nodded, still holding my gaze. "Y/N." The way he spoke my name had felt empty compared to this morning. "Nice to meet you."

Nice to meet me? Did he forget this morning? The most embarrassing moment of my life?

"Y/N, this is Joel. My dad."

I swallowed hard, and forced a breathless smile. "Oh—nice to meet you too."

Sarah turned toward her side of the room. "I just need to grab my charger, then we can leave."

As soon as she walked over to her bed, Joel and I found our gaze locked on one another once again. Not a single word. Just a look. Steady, sharp, like he was studying my face for some reason I couldn't figure out why.

There were a million questions roaming through my mind. Did he really not remember me? Was I that insignificant for him to forget about me?

When all I have been doing was think about him...

I twisted at the hem of my long sleeve, tugging it down. I hate how nervous he made me feel. His silence made my stomach churn. We'd only met this morning. An offbeat encounter.

Yet, the way he looked at me now—like I was nothing but a stranger—left an ache in my chest.

Sarah threw her bag over her shoulder, completely unaware of the tension in the room. "Okay, I'm ready." She said just before pointing to another bag closer to the door. "Can you take that one to the car? It's too heavy for me."

Joel cleared his throat, shifting his weight as he leaned down to pick up the duffle bag. Which he did with little to no effort.

"Why don't you come down to the uber with me so we can get a move on." He asked his daughter.

"Yeah, okay." She turned back to me. "We'll be outside. Don't forget to lock up."

I could only nod in response. My mouth felt too dry to let out a single word.

As they stepped out, I caught a glance from Joel. It was fleeting, but it happened.

I exhaled a long sigh, trying to make sense of it all. Debating whether or not I should cancel last minute.

I could come up with some fabricated story. Maybe, my long lost relative called and wants to meet me? Or, maybe I could lie and tell them I landed an internship at a private practice?

No. There's no way Sarah would believe any of it. Besides, I already booked my flight. Money is too tight for me to waste it over something this ridiculous. What if he truly did forget and I'm making this out to be more than what it was?

"You can do this. It's just a month and a half." I mumbled to myself.

With that, I grabbed my suitcase and made my way down the stairs, the wheels bumping softly against each step. The cool air hit my face when I pushed open the front door of our building, and I spotted them just a few feet away from the curb.

Sarah stood with her arms crossed, while Joel lugged her bag into the trunk of the uber. And without realizing it, I slowed my steps.

"I just don't think it's the best idea." He said, voice low but not a whisper. "It's last minute. Long flight. I mean, how well do you even know this girl? She looks...."

He paused for a moment, catching a breath as he stood up and crossed his arms over his broad chest. "She looks complicated."

Complicated? The word hung in the air like smoke. Heat blooming in my chest, rising fast.

Sarah didn't miss a beat. "You're over thinking it. And you literally just met her. How does she look complicated? Y'know what? Never mind that. She's my best friend, and she's coming."

I stepped forward, my jaw clenched as I dragged my suitcase with a little more force than necessary. The sound of the plastic wheels against the concrete caught their attention.

My eyes fell on his, my gaze burning into him as I stepped forward.

"Alright, we should get going now so we don't miss our flight." Sarah said, sliding into the back seat of the car.

Joel cleared his throat like he swallowed something sharp. He reached down for my suitcase, his fingers brushed over mine for just a second too long. It felt as if something seeped through between us. Something thick with tension, and that same quiet pull that I couldn't name before.

I pulled my hand away, and stepped back an inch.

And I could see the way his jaw tightened, as he glanced down and pulled my suitcase to him.

"I got it." He mumbled. Just as he hoisted the bag into the trunk.

I slipped into the car next to Sarah, and shut the door. My heart hammering, pulsing in my ears.

I was going to Texas with my best friend. And my best friends dad. The man who called me darlin' and now thinks I'm too complicated.

What a great way to start winter break.

——————————

The hum of the plane surrounded us, soft like white noise. Sarah had claimed the window seat the second we stepped on board, leaving me to slide into the middle. Joel took the aisle seat without a word, his towering frame a solid wall of quiet tension beside me.

He hadn't looked in my direction since we left our dorm. Not when we checked in, not at the gate. Not even when he shared a bag of sour gummy worms with me and Sarah, while waiting to board.

But now, now he was only inches away. And I could feel every bit of it.

For the first hour of our flight, I shared earbuds with Sarah while we watched 'Never Been Kissed' on the little screen. I tried to focus on the movie, but my mind kept wandering to the man beside me. He was quiet, stoic but there was a weight to his presence.

His arms were crossed over his chest, the sleeves of his button up were pushed up enough to reveal his thick forearms, tan and dusted lightly with dark hair. The veins along his arms stood out, prominent and defined, trailing down toward his strong, capable hands. With a few scars near his knuckles.

And he smelled amazing. Not like cologne, nothing fancy or synthetic.

Coffee, leather, the faintest traces of something like cedar. It was warm and grounded, the kind of scent you want to lean into without thinking.

I tried not to breathe him in, but it was hard not to.

Every so often, his knee would shift and brush against mine. The contact—brief—sent chills up and down my spine. I held my breath each time, unsure if it were intentional or not. If he even felt it at all.

After a while, Sarah had drifted to sleep. Her head leaned against the window, mouth slightly parted as her breath evened in slow little breaths.

The silence felt like torture. Almost unbearable. I glanced at Joel, who had barely moved. His jaw tight, eyes fixed on the dark screen in front of him. I couldn't take it anymore. I licked my lips, and swallowed the nerves rising in my throat.

"So..." my voice came out softer than I intended, though I tried not to wake Sarah up. "anything interesting in the news lately?"

His eyes flicked toward me, but didn't linger.

"What were you reading? Classifieds? Comics? Obituaries?" I leaned in a little closer than before.

Still no answer.

I would usually take the silence as a hint and give up. Turn my attention to my phone and pretend he wasn't there. But I didn't want this winter break to be so...whatever this was.

"Are you stalking me?" I asked, a playful smirk playing on my lips.

That got him.

He looked at me, slow as his eyes furrowed into confusion. The corners of his mouth twitched just slightly. "If anything, you're the one stalking me."

"I go there all the time, you on the other hand..."

"Ya sat at my table."

"Well, you didn't say no."

He glared at me for a moment and huffed. "Ya didn't give me a chance to answer."

"You could've told me to leave at any time."

"Didn't seem worth the energy." He shrugged.

I squinted my eyes at him and mirrored his pose. "Wow, you're charming."

Joel's gaze dropped to my lips then flicked back up. "You talk too much."

Heat began to radiate through my body, though I tried to ignore the feeling. "Is that suppose to be an insult?"

"Observation." He said, matter of fact.

In that moment, Joel turned his attention back to the black screen in front of him.

But I wasn't ready to end this conversation. Little as it was, I wanted more.

"Why'd you lie earlier?"

Joel didn't answer right away. His jaw tensed, the muscle twitching once before he slowly exhaled through his nose. There was a slight shift in his eyes. Guilt? Regret? I wasn't sure what it was.

"I didn't lie." He said quietly, almost like he wished I hadn't asked. "I just didn't...explain"

"You acted like we didn't meet this morning."

He leaned back into his seat, turning toward the window, looking at Sarah then back to me.

"She doesn't need to know everything." He muttered. "It's not exactly something worth mentioning."

Something twisted in my chest as his words played in my head. "Y-you mean, me? I'm not worth mentioning?"

"N-no. I mean that moment. This morning. No point dragging it into this trip. She'll never let it go and will ask a billion questions and I ain't in the mood to deal with it."

I let out a small breathy laugh, not out of amusement but clarity. Heat crawled up my throat as I nodded, masking the sting behind a tight smile.

"Right." I said, flatly. "Wouldn't want to make things complicated."

I didn't mean for the words to come out so cold, but it did.

'She looks...complicated.'

Something in his expression had changed, the stoic, unreadable mask he usually wore racked in this moment. Regret flashed across his face. He looked remorseful.

Good.

His lips parted, like he was about to say something, and I was not ready to hear what he had to say.

I stood up too quickly, hoping to escape the sudden pressure in my chest. But just as I rose to my feet, the plane hit a pocket of turbulence. The jolt wasn't violent, but it was enough to throw me off balance.

I reached out instinctively, and my hands landed square on his chest—warm and firm beneath my palms. Half in his lap, face just inches away from his. Joel's hand pressed against my waist, steadying me. Not in a reactive way, but with purpose. Like he meant it.

I was close, too close. Enough to see the darker flecks in his eyes, the faint scar along his right temple, the way his vein pulsed in his neck.

Neither of us moved. For a single heartbeat, it was just us. My heartbeat thudded in my ears, loud enough to drown out everything else.

I snapped myself out of it. "Shit, sorry." I muttered, breathless as I pushed off of him. My cheeks and ears burning in embarrassment.

I turned away and hurried down the aisle to the bathroom, my hands still tingling from where they'd touched. But as I walked away, I could feel his eyes on my back. And worse, I wanted him to keep looking.

The bathroom was barely big enough for me to turn around in, but I shut the door like it could somehow block out what had just happened, and I let out the breath I held in for what felt like forever.

I leaned forward, leaning over the tiny sink, heart still thudding in my chest. I closed my eyes, and there he was again.

The way he felt in my hands, solid and warm beneath soft cotton. The heat of his hand pressed against my waist, not delicate or clumsy, but as if it belonged there.

And god, his scent. It clung to me now without warning. And his eyes?

I exhaled slowly, trying to ignore the heat that bloomed low in my stomach. Those eyes, wrecked me.

It would've taken nothing—nothing—to lean in closer. To close the inches between us. My lips had been right there, hovering above his. I could still feel his breath on my cheek. Could still imagine what it would've felt like to taste him.

And god, I wanted to.

"I can't." I whispered to myself. "I can't."

I opened my eyes, blocking hard at my reflection in the mirror.

"He is Sarah's dad." I said.

My best friend's father.

I let out a quiet, bitter laugh. Trying to block it all out.

This can't happen. Whatever that was, whatever sparked in my chest and the space between us. It didn't matter.

I have to bury this feeling. Pretend it never happened.

Even if my skin still remembered his touch. Even if my heart wanted him.

—————

Part four

[wintrcaptn]

Apples and Butterflies pt. 2

Joel Miller x Reader

Summary : You caught your bf in bed with another girl two months before winter break. Now with no where to go for the next few weeks, your roommate invites you to her hometown so you don't spend the holidays alone.

But you never expected her dad to be the guy who pretended to be your date so you didn't look pathetic in front of your ex. The same guy you can't stop thinking about...Joel miller.

Part one Here

A/N : I am enjoying writing this story so much. I love grumpy Joel lol. But please leave some feedback! Thank you <3

Joel's POV

California isn't my favorite state to be in. The people here were something out of a movie, one I didn't care for. But it was the home to my daughter for the past four years. It welcomed her in, made her feel like she belonged. She loved it here more than back home, so I knew California would be somewhere I had to just deal with.

I arrived early this morning, took an uber from the airport and now here I was. At this little cafe just down the street from my daughter's university.

I knew she would be in class once I arrived, so I decided to keep myself busy until she was ready to leave.

The coffee here wasn't as good as the one back home. It was over priced shit but I guess it'll do for now.

This place had been crowded with people since I arrived. Though, I was lucky enough to find an open table by the window in the back. I liked my mornings quiet, black coffee, nobody talking to me. Especially before the caffeine kicked in.

Then suddenly a shadow fell across my table.

"Hi." A soft quick voice spoke, capturing my attention.

"Do you mind if I sit?" She asked, as she quickly slid into the seat across from me like we had planned this, like we knew each other.

This wasn't suppose to be how my day went. I don't do strangers. And sure as hell didn't do wide eyed girls with sunshine smiles this early in the day unless she were my daughter.

But something in her voice; quiet, yet fraying at the edges, my jaw tightened. I folded the paper and sat back in my seat, calmly crossing my arms over my chest as I watched her.

Her chest rose up and down a little too fast, her lips pressed into a small smile that looked like it was barely holding together. There was a flicker of something wild in her eyes, panic dressed up as casual. She glanced behind her once, quick and sharp.

I took her in fully, and god, she was beautiful. Sunlit kind of pretty that made people smile without meaning to. She looked like a summer morning, soft and bright in a way that didn't belong in the dull gray of the cafe.

Her hair was pulled back into one of those messy buns women acted like was an accident, but I knew better. Stray strands framed her face, catching in the morning light.

The dress she wore was long, some kind of floral thing that clung to her up top but flowed lazily down her legs. She had a white long sleeve shirt under it, fitted close to her arms—even sunshine knew when to layer up.

She was beautiful, yes, but not in the polished, Hollywood type. She looked real. Like she danced barefoot once or twice, maybe kissed someone in the rain. The kind of woman who laughed too loud, cried in movies, and didn't bother pretending she didn't feel things deeply.

And here she sat, across from me. Looking like trouble wrapped in wildflowers.

"You always crash strangers tables or is today special?" I asked, breaking the silence.

She blinked back at me, looking like a deer in the headlights before forcing a soft smile. "I uh—I just really like this table."

I didn't buy it.

"You're a shit liar." I said flatly.

"And you're surprisingly observant for someone reading a newspaper in 2025."

A small, quiet huff of a chuckle fell from my lips. It was funny I had to admit but I shook my head and turned my attention back to the paper, flipping to a random page I wasn't actually reading.

I tried to focus on the damn words. The print blurred just enough to make it easy for me to pretend I actually cared about any of it. But I could still feel her. Fidgeting, glancing around, radiating that restless, too bright energy that clashed the calm I craved.

A few minutes passed. Almost enough time that I was convinced she might stay quiet after all.

Until...

"So do you usually ignore the person in front of you," she asked her voice laced with curiosity and amusement. "Or am I just special?"

I let out a long, low sigh, folding the paper neatly before setting it aside. I met her gaze again, steady.

"I don't usually get ambushed by strangers." I said dryly. "So yeah. Guess you're special."

She grinned and leaned back into her chair. "Wow, and here I thought chivalry was dead."

I didn't take the bait. I just stared at her again, eyes narrowing slightly, jaw tensed as I studied her. Not annoyed, not exactly...just trying to figure her out.

She was too guarded beneath that sunny tone. Her smile was the kind that tried to distract, to keep people from looking too closely.

"You're hiding from someone, aren't ya?" I asked.

Her smile faltered. Just barely. Her shoulder stiffened. "...is it that obvious?"

"You've been lookin' at that guy behind you since you sat down." I said. "And you keep playin' with that damn zipper on your purse."

She froze for a moment, then her fingers released the zipper and lifted her eyes to meet mine.

I held her gaze. "I'm right, aren't I?"

She blinked, trying to hide the way her lips twitched. "Are you always this friendly with people you just meet?"

Sarcasm. I can hear it in her tone.

"Sure." I deadpanned, lifting my coffee. "When people interrupt my morning to hide from bad decisions."

She rolled her eyes but the smile slipped in any way. Uninvited and stubborn. "Okay, fair. But in my defense I had nowhere else to go, and you were the only one with an open seat. So...lucky you."

I stared at her for a moment. Her words echoed in my head—lucky you.

My mornings were predictable, the paper, coffee, silence. The one part of my day that I had full control over.

Until today, until she came in all flustered charm and stubborn brightness, like a damn sunrise cracking through the cloud cover.

She didn't ask for anything. Not really. Just sat here like she belonged here. With me.

Lucky you.

"You're usin' me." I said, words slow and even. More like an observation rather than a complaint.

That made her flinch, not much but enough to notice. She shrugged and pulled herself together.

"You know, you also looked like the type of person who wouldn't ask too many questions," she said, fingers drifting towards the edge of my newspaper.

As she moved, something caught my eye. A delicate butterfly tattoo just barely peeking out beneath the sleeve of her white shirt. Faded edges, soft lines. Small.

It was a fleeting thing but for some reason it stuck with me.

'Of course she got wings' I thought to myself.

"Yet, here we are." She added, tugging the paper toward her like we were sharing something now.

I didn't stop her, didn't move an inch. Just held my gaze on hers. "Here we are."

"I never knew they still printed these things." She said. "You know you could read the news on your phone like a normal person."

I didn't answer right away. Just plucked the paper out of her hands, slow and deliberate, and placed it back beside me. "I don't like phones." I said flatly.

"You don't like phones?"

"Nope."

"Why? You think Siri might be listening? Stealing our data?" She teased, biting back a grin.

Her smile grew the longer I stared, forcing a warm sensation to pool at the pit of my stomach for reasons I wasn't sure why. "Don't trust anything that needs to be updated every other week."

She laughed, soft...almost like she hadn't meant for it to slip out. More breath than sound. But it curled into the air, settling under my skin.

And it caught me off guard.

I hated this feeling. Like something inside my chest stirred awake that shouldn't be.

I hated that I noticed her laugh. Hated even more that I wanted to hear it again.

I looked away, clenching my jaw as I tried to focus on my paper once again, though it no longer made any sense.

But her laugh lingered in my head.

"For someone who didn't want company, you're making this bearable."

Something flickered in me. A shift. Nothing big, but enough for me to pause. Her words settled somewhere deep, somewhere I thought I closed off years ago.

I could've said a dozen things. Could've asked what she meant. Could've forced my lips into a smile. But instead, I cleared my throat and stared at her with intensity I knew wasn't welcoming.

It's not that I didn't find her attractive because I did. I'd be blind if I didn't, but she was what—twenty six, twenty seven at most? If I was guessing right.

I'm forty eight, too damn old to be entertaining the idea of some bright eyed girl with honey in her laugh and too much softness in her eyes. A girl who smelled like apples and nutmeg, and wore dresses that fluttered around her legs like she was made of summer.

"Don't push your luck." I said.

She opened her mouth to respond until we were interrupted.

"I thought that was you."

I lift my gaze, slow, unhurried, on the man standing on her side. Clean cut, smug. Behind him—some girl hanging on his arm, the kind of too pretty that tried too hard.

I glanced back at the girl across from me, noticing her nifty grow tense by the second and her hands balling into fists. And just like that, I knew...this was the guy she was hiding from.

She forced a smile and turned her attention up to the man. "Dylan." She said flatly.

Dylan. Guessing an ex?

"I didn't expect to see you here." He chuckled. The nerve of this ass, to come up to her as if they were just old friends catching up. "How've you been?"

She seemed to tense more now than before. Her lips parted but no words fell from her mouth. Silence lingered and for a second I waited. Figured maybe she'd handle it fine on her own. Nothing. Something heavy settled in my chest, and I felt I needed to step in.

"She's doing' fine." I stated matter of fact. "Ain't that right darlin'?"

I didn't take my eyes off her. Held her gaze like a damn anchor, steady. Playing along, sure but not for show. I wanted to put her at ease even for just a moment.

I could feel Dylan's stare on me. But I didn't care. Didn't move an inch as I sat there, still holding her gaze with my own.

She took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "Yeah, I'm fine. But do you mind? I'm kind of in the middle of something here."

Atta girl.

Dylan mumbled something I didn't care to listen for, then left our table with the girl shuffling close behind him.

I turned back to the stranger in front of me. Crazy how I still don't even know her name. And yet here I was...

"You okay?" I asked.

"Y-you didn't have to do that." Her words were low and drawn out.

"I know."

The air was thick with the kid of tension that clings to your skin, it felt almost suffocating. She looked like she needed to breathe, really breathe. Maybe some fresh air would do her some good. I stood up and grabbed my tan coat that hung over my chair and shrugged it on.

"Wanna get out of here?" I asked

"Yeah." She said slowly getting up from her seat. "I do."

I towered over her, realized it fully for the first time now that she stood beside me. But she didn't shrink, didn't cower. She just looked up at me like I had just saved her life.

Her scent, that scent—apples and nutmeg, warm like fresh pie cooling on a windowsill. It hit me square in the chest. Soft and nostalgic and stupidly inviting.

I clenched my jaw trying not to breathe too deeply and walked ahead, needing some space. Needing something to focus on that wasn't her. Then I reached the door, and held it open for her.

As she stepped out into the sunlight, I followed behind.

And that's when I saw her. All of her.

The hem of her dress lifted just slightly in the soft breeze, fluttering around her ankles like it had a mind of its own. The fabric clung to her waist before flowing out into soft waves.

She looked like she belonged to the season. Like she was the season. Warm and fleeting.

I was noticing too much of her. I needed to stop myself now before there was no going back.

"So...are you ever going to tell me your name? Or should I just continue to call you coffee guy in my head?" She said, breaking the silence.

I furrowed my brows. "Coffee guy?"

She flashed a cheeky grin and shrugged. "It was either that or grumpy old man, but that felt a little dramatic."

I stared at her for a long moment, unmoving. The smart thing would've been to end it here. Let her fade back into the noise of the world.

But something stopped me. Something I didn't understand. Something I sure as hell didn't ask for.

"Joel." I said, finally.

Her eyes lit up and she reached out, palm open between us. No hesitation. 

"Joel." She repeated.

The way my name rolled off her tongue did something to me that I didn't want to admit.

It shouldn't have mattered. I'd heard my name a thousand different ways over the years. Shouted, sighed, moaned, muttered under breath...but never like that. Never like it was safe in someone's mouth. Never like it belonged to someone who might actually mean it.

I didn't want to like it. But I did.

I took her hand into mine, soft, delicate. I felt a spark shoot through me, damn near unsettling. Her smile though, it deepened as if she had felt it too.

"Well Joel, nice to meet you. I'm Y/N."

I cleared my throat. "Didn't ask, but good to know."

She laughed to herself. The same laugh from before that pulled me in.

"Wow, you're really committed to this broody, man of few words, huh?"

"Talking is overrated."

"And yet, here you are...talking."

My lips twitched at the edges, I could feel a smile forming but I shot it down instantly.

"You're persistent."

"I get that a lot."

I didn't realize we had been holding our hands together this entire time until the sound of my phone going off snapped me back into reality. I quickly let her go, and pulled my phone out of my pocket.

Shit. It was my daughter.

"I thought you don't trust phones." Y/N said.

Funny.

"I don't." I said before turning my back to her and answering the call.

"Hey sweetheart." I said.

"Hey dad. Just finished my class. When do you come in? I might be able to pick you up before my last class."

"I'm already here. Just been—" I turned back to look at Y/N who still had her gaze on me. God she was beautiful. "Enjoying some coffee." I said as I turned away once again.

"Oh, you got here early. Should I just skip my last class? I mean I don't want you to wait around for me for another two hours."

"Don't worry. I'll be around. Just call me when you're ready."

"Ok dad. See you soon! Love you."

"Ok, love you."

With that, the call had ended and I shoved my

Phone back into my pocket. I turned back around, crossing my arms over my chest. Holding her gaze.

Something seemed off when I looked at her this time. But I couldn't figure out why.

"I should go." She said as she rummaged through her purse and pulled out her phone. "Thanks for pretending to be my date."

"Didn't have a choice."

"Right, well thanks anyway."

With that, she turned on her heels and started walking away.

I couldn't help but watch her. Part of me wanted to stop her. Ask her for her phone number like I'm some dumb high school kid with a crush.

Hell, I even felt ridiculous just thinking it.

But I stood my ground. Just watching her until she turned the corner and was no longer in sight.

Only then did I let out a long breath I held in, slow and sharp, burning the back of my throat, as I shoved my hands deep into my pockets.

This wasn't how I expected my day to go. But I also wouldn't have changed it for the world. Even though our time was fleeting and I'll most likely never see her again.

It felt as if I was suppose to meet her. The girl with the butterfly tattoo.

[wintrcaptn]

Apples and Butterflies pt. 2

Joel Miller x Reader

Summary : You caught your bf in bed with another girl two months before winter break. Now with no where to go for the next few weeks, your roommate invites you to her hometown so you don't spend the holidays alone.

But you never expected her dad to be the guy who pretended to be your date so you didn't look pathetic in front of your ex. The same guy you can't stop thinking about...Joel miller.

Part one Here

A/N : I am enjoying writing this story so much. I love grumpy Joel lol. But please leave some feedback! Thank you <3

Joel's POV

California isn't my favorite state to be in. The people here were something out of a movie, one I didn't care for. But it was the home to my daughter for the past four years. It welcomed her in, made her feel like she belonged. She loved it here more than back home, so I knew California would be somewhere I had to just deal with.

I arrived early this morning, took an uber from the airport and now here I was. At this little cafe just down the street from my daughter's university.

I knew she would be in class once I arrived, so I decided to keep myself busy until she was ready to leave.

The coffee here wasn't as good as the one back home. It was over priced shit but I guess it'll do for now.

This place had been crowded with people since I arrived. Though, I was lucky enough to find an open table by the window in the back. I liked my mornings quiet, black coffee, nobody talking to me. Especially before the caffeine kicked in.

Then suddenly a shadow fell across my table.

"Hi." A soft quick voice spoke, capturing my attention.

"Do you mind if I sit?" She asked, as she quickly slid into the seat across from me like we had planned this, like we knew each other.

This wasn't suppose to be how my day went. I don't do strangers. And sure as hell didn't do wide eyed girls with sunshine smiles this early in the day unless she were my daughter.

But something in her voice; quiet, yet fraying at the edges, my jaw tightened. I folded the paper and sat back in my seat, calmly crossing my arms over my chest as I watched her.

Her chest rose up and down a little too fast, her lips pressed into a small smile that looked like it was barely holding together. There was a flicker of something wild in her eyes, panic dressed up as casual. She glanced behind her once, quick and sharp.

I took her in fully, and god, she was beautiful. Sunlit kind of pretty that made people smile without meaning to. She looked like a summer morning, soft and bright in a way that didn't belong in the dull gray of the cafe.

Her hair was pulled back into one of those messy buns women acted like was an accident, but I knew better. Stray strands framed her face, catching in the morning light.

The dress she wore was long, some kind of floral thing that clung to her up top but flowed lazily down her legs. She had a white long sleeve shirt under it, fitted close to her arms—even sunshine knew when to layer up.

She was beautiful, yes, but not in the polished, Hollywood type. She looked real. Like she danced barefoot once or twice, maybe kissed someone in the rain. The kind of woman who laughed too loud, cried in movies, and didn't bother pretending she didn't feel things deeply.

And here she sat, across from me. Looking like trouble wrapped in wildflowers.

"You always crash strangers tables or is today special?" I asked, breaking the silence.

She blinked back at me, looking like a deer in the headlights before forcing a soft smile. "I uh—I just really like this table."

I didn't buy it.

"You're a shit liar." I said flatly.

"And you're surprisingly observant for someone reading a newspaper in 2025."

A small, quiet huff of a chuckle fell from my lips. It was funny I had to admit but I shook my head and turned my attention back to the paper, flipping to a random page I wasn't actually reading.

I tried to focus on the damn words. The print blurred just enough to make it easy for me to pretend I actually cared about any of it. But I could still feel her. Fidgeting, glancing around, radiating that restless, too bright energy that clashed the calm I craved.

A few minutes passed. Almost enough time that I was convinced she might stay quiet after all.

Until...

"So do you usually ignore the person in front of you," she asked her voice laced with curiosity and amusement. "Or am I just special?"

I let out a long, low sigh, folding the paper neatly before setting it aside. I met her gaze again, steady.

"I don't usually get ambushed by strangers." I said dryly. "So yeah. Guess you're special."

She grinned and leaned back into her chair. "Wow, and here I thought chivalry was dead."

I didn't take the bait. I just stared at her again, eyes narrowing slightly, jaw tensed as I studied her. Not annoyed, not exactly...just trying to figure her out.

She was too guarded beneath that sunny tone. Her smile was the kind that tried to distract, to keep people from looking too closely.

"You're hiding from someone, aren't ya?" I asked.

Her smile faltered. Just barely. Her shoulder stiffened. "...is it that obvious?"

"You've been lookin' at that guy behind you since you sat down." I said. "And you keep playin' with that damn zipper on your purse."

She froze for a moment, then her fingers released the zipper and lifted her eyes to meet mine.

I held her gaze. "I'm right, aren't I?"

She blinked, trying to hide the way her lips twitched. "Are you always this friendly with people you just meet?"

Sarcasm. I can hear it in her tone.

"Sure." I deadpanned, lifting my coffee. "When people interrupt my morning to hide from bad decisions."

She rolled her eyes but the smile slipped in any way. Uninvited and stubborn. "Okay, fair. But in my defense I had nowhere else to go, and you were the only one with an open seat. So...lucky you."

I stared at her for a moment. Her words echoed in my head—lucky you.

My mornings were predictable, the paper, coffee, silence. The one part of my day that I had full control over.

Until today, until she came in all flustered charm and stubborn brightness, like a damn sunrise cracking through the cloud cover.

She didn't ask for anything. Not really. Just sat here like she belonged here. With me.

Lucky you.

"You're usin' me." I said, words slow and even. More like an observation rather than a complaint.

That made her flinch, not much but enough to notice. She shrugged and pulled herself together.

"You know, you also looked like the type of person who wouldn't ask too many questions," she said, fingers drifting towards the edge of my newspaper.

As she moved, something caught my eye. A delicate butterfly tattoo just barely peeking out beneath the sleeve of her white shirt. Faded edges, soft lines. Small.

It was a fleeting thing but for some reason it stuck with me.

'Of course she got wings' I thought to myself.

"Yet, here we are." She added, tugging the paper toward her like we were sharing something now.

I didn't stop her, didn't move an inch. Just held my gaze on hers. "Here we are."

"I never knew they still printed these things." She said. "You know you could read the news on your phone like a normal person."

I didn't answer right away. Just plucked the paper out of her hands, slow and deliberate, and placed it back beside me. "I don't like phones." I said flatly.

"You don't like phones?"

"Nope."

"Why? You think Siri might be listening? Stealing our data?" She teased, biting back a grin.

Her smile grew the longer I stared, forcing a warm sensation to pool at the pit of my stomach for reasons I wasn't sure why. "Don't trust anything that needs to be updated every other week."

She laughed, soft...almost like she hadn't meant for it to slip out. More breath than sound. But it curled into the air, settling under my skin.

And it caught me off guard.

I hated this feeling. Like something inside my chest stirred awake that shouldn't be.

I hated that I noticed her laugh. Hated even more that I wanted to hear it again.

I looked away, clenching my jaw as I tried to focus on my paper once again, though it no longer made any sense.

But her laugh lingered in my head.

"For someone who didn't want company, you're making this bearable."

Something flickered in me. A shift. Nothing big, but enough for me to pause. Her words settled somewhere deep, somewhere I thought I closed off years ago.

I could've said a dozen things. Could've asked what she meant. Could've forced my lips into a smile. But instead, I cleared my throat and stared at her with intensity I knew wasn't welcoming.

It's not that I didn't find her attractive because I did. I'd be blind if I didn't, but she was what—twenty six, twenty seven at most? If I was guessing right.

I'm forty eight, too damn old to be entertaining the idea of some bright eyed girl with honey in her laugh and too much softness in her eyes. A girl who smelled like apples and nutmeg, and wore dresses that fluttered around her legs like she was made of summer.

"Don't push your luck." I said.

She opened her mouth to respond until we were interrupted.

"I thought that was you."

I lift my gaze, slow, unhurried, on the man standing on her side. Clean cut, smug. Behind him—some girl hanging on his arm, the kind of too pretty that tried too hard.

I glanced back at the girl across from me, noticing her nifty grow tense by the second and her hands balling into fists. And just like that, I knew...this was the guy she was hiding from.

She forced a smile and turned her attention up to the man. "Dylan." She said flatly.

Dylan. Guessing an ex?

"I didn't expect to see you here." He chuckled. The nerve of this ass, to come up to her as if they were just old friends catching up. "How've you been?"

She seemed to tense more now than before. Her lips parted but no words fell from her mouth. Silence lingered and for a second I waited. Figured maybe she'd handle it fine on her own. Nothing. Something heavy settled in my chest, and I felt I needed to step in.

"She's doing' fine." I stated matter of fact. "Ain't that right darlin'?"

I didn't take my eyes off her. Held her gaze like a damn anchor, steady. Playing along, sure but not for show. I wanted to put her at ease even for just a moment.

I could feel Dylan's stare on me. But I didn't care. Didn't move an inch as I sat there, still holding her gaze with my own.

She took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "Yeah, I'm fine. But do you mind? I'm kind of in the middle of something here."

Atta girl.

Dylan mumbled something I didn't care to listen for, then left our table with the girl shuffling close behind him.

I turned back to the stranger in front of me. Crazy how I still don't even know her name. And yet here I was...

"You okay?" I asked.

"Y-you didn't have to do that." Her words were low and drawn out.

"I know."

The air was thick with the kid of tension that clings to your skin, it felt almost suffocating. She looked like she needed to breathe, really breathe. Maybe some fresh air would do her some good. I stood up and grabbed my tan coat that hung over my chair and shrugged it on.

"Wanna get out of here?" I asked

"Yeah." She said slowly getting up from her seat. "I do."

I towered over her, realized it fully for the first time now that she stood beside me. But she didn't shrink, didn't cower. She just looked up at me like I had just saved her life.

Her scent, that scent—apples and nutmeg, warm like fresh pie cooling on a windowsill. It hit me square in the chest. Soft and nostalgic and stupidly inviting.

I clenched my jaw trying not to breathe too deeply and walked ahead, needing some space. Needing something to focus on that wasn't her. Then I reached the door, and held it open for her.

As she stepped out into the sunlight, I followed behind.

And that's when I saw her. All of her.

The hem of her dress lifted just slightly in the soft breeze, fluttering around her ankles like it had a mind of its own. The fabric clung to her waist before flowing out into soft waves.

She looked like she belonged to the season. Like she was the season. Warm and fleeting.

I was noticing too much of her. I needed to stop myself now before there was no going back.

"So...are you ever going to tell me your name? Or should I just continue to call you coffee guy in my head?" She said, breaking the silence.

I furrowed my brows. "Coffee guy?"

She flashed a cheeky grin and shrugged. "It was either that or grumpy old man, but that felt a little dramatic."

I stared at her for a long moment, unmoving. The smart thing would've been to end it here. Let her fade back into the noise of the world.

But something stopped me. Something I didn't understand. Something I sure as hell didn't ask for.

"Joel." I said, finally.

Her eyes lit up and she reached out, palm open between us. No hesitation. 

"Joel." She repeated.

The way my name rolled off her tongue did something to me that I didn't want to admit.

It shouldn't have mattered. I'd heard my name a thousand different ways over the years. Shouted, sighed, moaned, muttered under breath...but never like that. Never like it was safe in someone's mouth. Never like it belonged to someone who might actually mean it.

I didn't want to like it. But I did.

I took her hand into mine, soft, delicate. I felt a spark shoot through me, damn near unsettling. Her smile though, it deepened as if she had felt it too.

"Well Joel, nice to meet you. I'm Y/N."

I cleared my throat. "Didn't ask, but good to know."

She laughed to herself. The same laugh from before that pulled me in.

"Wow, you're really committed to this broody, man of few words, huh?"

"Talking is overrated."

"And yet, here you are...talking."

My lips twitched at the edges, I could feel a smile forming but I shot it down instantly.

"You're persistent."

"I get that a lot."

I didn't realize we had been holding our hands together this entire time until the sound of my phone going off snapped me back into reality. I quickly let her go, and pulled my phone out of my pocket.

Shit. It was my daughter.

"I thought you don't trust phones." Y/N said.

Funny.

"I don't." I said before turning my back to her and answering the call.

"Hey sweetheart." I said.

"Hey dad. Just finished my class. When do you come in? I might be able to pick you up before my last class."

"I'm already here. Just been—" I turned back to look at Y/N who still had her gaze on me. God she was beautiful. "Enjoying some coffee." I said as I turned away once again.

"Oh, you got here early. Should I just skip my last class? I mean I don't want you to wait around for me for another two hours."

"Don't worry. I'll be around. Just call me when you're ready."

"Ok dad. See you soon! Love you."

"Ok, love you."

With that, the call had ended and I shoved my

Phone back into my pocket. I turned back around, crossing my arms over my chest. Holding her gaze.

Something seemed off when I looked at her this time. But I couldn't figure out why.

"I should go." She said as she rummaged through her purse and pulled out her phone. "Thanks for pretending to be my date."

"Didn't have a choice."

"Right, well thanks anyway."

With that, she turned on her heels and started walking away.

I couldn't help but watch her. Part of me wanted to stop her. Ask her for her phone number like I'm some dumb high school kid with a crush.

Hell, I even felt ridiculous just thinking it.

But I stood my ground. Just watching her until she turned the corner and was no longer in sight.

Only then did I let out a long breath I held in, slow and sharp, burning the back of my throat, as I shoved my hands deep into my pockets.

This wasn't how I expected my day to go. But I also wouldn't have changed it for the world. Even though our time was fleeting and I'll most likely never see her again.

It felt as if I was suppose to meet her. The girl with the butterfly tattoo.

————————

Part Three

[wintrcaptn]

Apples And Butterflies

Joel x Reader

Summary : You caught your bf in bed with another girl two months before winter break. Now with no where to go for the next few weeks, your roommate invites you to her hometown so you don't spend the holidays alone.

But you never expected her dad to be the guy who pretended to be your date so you didn't look pathetic in front of your ex. The same guy you can't stop thinking about...Joel miller

A/N : I am writing a book but I wanted to see what yall thought of it as a Joel Miller fanfic lmao. I’ll only post a few chapters but if it’s not that great then I’ll scrap it haha

Roasted espresso, fresh pastries and a small hint of cinnamon filled the air. It wrapped around me like a warm blanket, comforting. This little whole in the wall cafe had been home to most of the students here in California.

It was a place where I spent most of my time. Either studying, reading, meeting up with my roommate for a quick pick me up.

The cafe was filled like any other day. Many faces here and there; and thats when I noticed him.

Dylan O'Hara.

Standing at the register with her. Her

The girl he swore was just a friend from class, until I walked in on them in bed just a few days into the new semester.

What a great way to start my last year in College.

I had been stuck in my dorm for the past two months since then. Crying over a guy who obviously didn't care. And the one day I finally go out by myself; of course this would happen to me.

Slowly, I backpedaled toward the door. Hoping I could escape before he sees me and—

Shit.

I hate that the register is close to the door…

Dylan turned with his arm slung around his new girlfriend, the both of them glancing around looking for a table.

Panic flared my chest as I ducked. My heart hammering, I swear I could hear it beating.

"I need to be anywhere but here." I whispered to myself, hoping to see any familiar faces or even an empty seat. "Anywhere but—"

There, an open seat by one of the large windows across the cafe. A man in a beige button up, sleeves rolled to the elbows; sat alone with coffee in one hand and a newspaper—an actual physical newspaper— in the other hand.

He wasn't the type of man you'd expect to find here of all places. Surrounded by laptops and over priced oat milk lattes.

His salt and pepper hair fell in loose waves around his face, the kind that looked unintentional but still unfairly good.

He looked like he hadn't smiled since the early 2000s.

Perfect.

I didn't have time to think it through. I made a beeline for him.

"Hi." I said breathlessly.

The man looked up slowly. His eyes, dark brown almost black shade that caught the light in quiet, startling ways. Warm at first glance but layered. Like a forest at night. Still, shadowed, impossible to fully see into. There was a weight behind them, a steadiness that made me feel seen.

I had almost forgotten what I was doing.

His gaze travelled to the chaos behind me then back to my face. Not a single word fell from his lips.

"Mind if I sit?" I asked, already halfway into the seat across from him.

He leaned back into his chair, eye brows furrowing as he crossed his arms over his chest. Giving a barely noticeable nod, while holding his gaze on me.

I set my bag onto my lap and quickly looked back at Dylan, still hasn't noticed me.

Letting out a sigh of relief I met the strangers eyes, feeling slightly embarrassed as we sat there for just a moment in silence.

Great, how am I suppose to act natural if I'm getting caught up in the silence of a complete stranger? A stranger with captivating eyes that pull you in so much you forget how to breathe.

Not once did his gaze falter. Those dark, serious eyes glued to me like he knew I was hiding something.

"You always crash strangers tables, or is today special?" He said, breaking the silence.

His voice caught me off guard. It wasn't because of how deep it was, but the slow deliberate drawl that softened the edges of every word. Southern accent I think? Maybe from Texas? I'm not sure.

It was warm and rough like whiskey on ice.

I blinked for a moment trying to come up with something; anything. "I uh—I just really like this table."

"You're a shit liar." He said, still sitting back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest.

"And you're surprisingly observant for someone reading a freakin newspaper in 2025."

He let out a faint huff.

Silence fell once again as he went back to his newspaper, completely ignoring me. Which would be fine any other day, but I knew if Dylan were to see me sitting here with this man completely lost in his little world, he'd know I'm sitting with a complete stranger.

I'd look pathetic. Lonely, desperate.

Usually I wouldn't care but I wasn't going to let this asshole think I was pathetic. He doesn't get that from me.

"So, do you usually ignore the person sitting across from you or am I just special?" I asked, nervously playing with the zipper on my purse.

The man let out a sigh and placed his newspaper back down on to the table. "I don't usually get ambushed by strangers. So yeah guess you're special."

"Wow, and here I thought chivalry was dead."

He sat up straighter in his seat, staring deeply into me as if he were trying to figure out a puzzle. It was unsettling, yet captivating to say the least. "You're hiding from someone, aren't ya?"

I swallowed hard and shrugged. "Is it that obvious?"

"You have been looking back at that guy behind you, since you sat down. And you keep playing with that damn zipper on your purse."

In that moment, I let the zipper fall out of my hand and I slowly looked up to meet his gaze. My lips pursed into a thin line.

"I'm right, aren't I?" Suddenly a small smirk formed on his lips almost as if he were amused by this.

"Are you always this friendly to people you just meet?" I asked sarcastically.

"Sure." He said lifting his coffee. "When people interrupt my morning to hide from bad decisions."

I rolled my eyes but I couldn't help the smile slowly forming. "Okay fair, but in my defense I had nowhere else to go and you were the only one with an open seat. So lucky you."

He arched a brow "you're using me."

I swallowed hard, his words stumping me for just a moment.

I was though. I was using him, or intentionally. But I couldn't deny him even if I wanted to. "You know, you also looked like the type of person who wouldn't ask me too many questions." I said. My eyes drifted to the newspaper folded neatly next to him. Curiosity got the best of me. "Yet, here we are."

He looked down at my hand, watching me drag the paper across the table and away from him. "Here we are."

"I never knew they still printed newspapers." I chuckled. "You know you could just read the news on your phone like a normal person."

Before I could finish flipping through the pages, he reached over and plucked the paper out of my hands and set it down beside him. "I don't like phones." He said simply.

I leaned forward, furrowing my eyebrows. "You don't like...phones?"

"Nope."

"Why? You think Siri might be listening? Stealing our data?" I chuckled.

He slowly looked up at me, and gave me one of those unimpressed glances. For a moment I thought he would get up and leave. But—

"Don't trust anything that needs an update every other week."

I couldn't help but let out a small laugh. Just a little bit ago, I was worried about Dylan. And now—now...

"For someone who clearly didn't want company, you're making this bearable." I said.

He glanced at me once again, eyes unreadable. "Don't push your luck."

As I was about to say something, I was immediately interrupted.

"I thought that was you."

I didn't even have to look to know it was Dylan. That familiar voice—smooth, calm, laced with guilt he'd long stopped earning. It snuck down my spine, like a cold breeze. I forced myself to look up at him, and smiled.

"Dylan."

He gave an awkward chuckle as he scratched the back of his neck. "I didn't expect to see you here. How—how're you doing?"

I opened my mouth but nothing came out. Anger and panic washed over me completely, my palms were clammy. He was doing that thing where he pretended to care, as if he had the right to ask. As if he hadn't brought the same girl he cheated on me with here, of all places.

"She's doin fine." The man across from me spoke. His gaze steady. "Ain't that right, darlin?"

I turned to him, taken aback by the way the word rolled off his tongue so naturally. Our eyes locked one each other and there it was again. That grounding calm in his dark stare. He didn't wink. Didn't smirk. Just played along. Plain and simple.

Dylan shot his gaze to the man across from me, his body stiffened for a moment. His face fell with confusion.

I swallowed hard and nodded, playing along with him. "Y-yeah, I'm fine. But do you mind? I'm kind of in the middle of something here."

Dylan glanced between us once again. "Oh uh—good. I'll let you two get back to it then."

He walked away slowly, maybe waiting for me to change my mind. To chase after him. Beg for him back like I had in the past. But I didn't.

Once he was out of sight, I finally let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.

"You alright?" The man asked, pulling me back into reality.

"Y-you didn't have to do that..."I drawled out.

"I know." He said simply. He stood up and grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair. "Wanna get out of here?"

I'm not one who would go off with a complete stranger. Especially when I didn't even know their name. But there was something about him, something that felt safe. And I couldn't explain it even if I wanted to. I just knew I wasn't ready to say goodbye just yet.

"Yeah." I said. "I do."

Feeling Dylan's eyes on me the moment I stood up. The man pushed the door open and held it without a word until I stepped out. A small gesture, nothing flashy, but it made my chest tighten unexpectedly.

The sunlight hit us as we stepped onto the sidewalk, golden and warm, laced with that early autumn crisp. I glanced up at him. I hadn't realized just how big he was. He was tall, making me feel small but not in a fragile way. But in a he can probably pick me up and throw me over his shoulders without breaking a sweat kind of way.

His skin was sun kissed, tanned, a shade that made me think of lazy summers and late bonfires. He wasn't cut like a warrior but he was solid, with thick arms, broad shoulders and chest. He looked like he could carry an entire couch up a flight of stairs no problem. Yet soft enough to fall asleep against.

Shit...I've been staring too long.

I cleared my throat. "So...are you ever going to tell me your name or should I just continue to call you coffee guy in my head?"

He looked down at me, furrowing his brows. "Coffee guy?"

"It was either that or grumpy old man, but that felt a little dramatic." I teased.

A beat passed, then another.

And when I thought he would ignore my question all together, he caught my attention.

"Joel." He said.

"Joel." I repeated. It suited him. "Well Joel, nice to meet you. I'm Y/N."

I reached my hand out toward him and Joel hesitantly took my hand into his. The callouses rubbed against my palm, the slight squeeze of his hand shot a spark through me.

"Didn't ask, but good to know."

I let out a dry chuckle, "wow you're really committed to this broody, man of few words thing, huh?"

Joel tilted his head slightly, that unreadable expression still on his face. "Talking is overrated."

"And yet, here you are. Talking."

His lips twitched, and for a split second I swore I saw a smile on his lips.

"You're persistent."

"I get that a lot." I said.

I hadn't realized how I had my hand in his this whole time as we looked at one another until the sound of his phone ringing snapped me out of my daze.

"Thought you don't trust phones."

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and looked down at the screen. "I don't." He said before turning away and answering the call.

"Hey sweetheart." He said, voice low.

Maybe it was his wife? No...I don't remember seeing a ring. Maybe a girlfriend? Could explain why he is so standoffish.

"I'm already here. Just been enjoying some coffee." He said, glancing back at me then looking away.

Did he mean me? Was he enjoying my company?

"Don't worry, I'll be around. Just call me when you're ready." He said. "Ok, love you."

And with that, he slipped the phone back into his pocket before turning to me once again. His arms crossed over his chest, as he stood quietly.

I wasn't sure why I cared. He didn't owe me an explanation or anything, but the silence of who called bothered me.

"I should go." I said, as I pulled my phone out of my purse. "Thanks again for pretending to be my date."

Joel nodded, eye brows knitted closer together. "Didn't have a choice."

"Right. Well thanks anyway."

In that moment, I turned on my heels and started toward the street to my dorm. I could feel his stare lingering on me until I wasn't visible anymore. And part of me hoped he'd stop me. Tell me he's single and maybe want to see where this could go. But he never came.

God I'm so delusional.

I wasn't mad exactly just annoyed. Bothered? Maybe a little embarrassed.

Joel hadn't done anything wrong, not really. I was the one who dropped into his life like some chaotic sitcom character. And yet, when I heard him call that person on the phone; sweetheart...this feeling overcame me. I had no right to feel anything but there it was, lodged into my chest like an unwanted splinter.

My phone vibrated in my hand, a text from my roommate displayed across the screen.

'Last chance to change your mind and come to Texas with me!'

My roommate had been begging me to visit her hometown with her since we met 4 years ago. And every time, I had plans with Dylan. Visiting his family. But now...this would be the first year I would be alone for the holidays.

At first I was content with my decision to stay here. Bare the holidays alone and just binge watch shows and old movies I've seen hundreds of times...

Until now.

The idea of spending the holidays alone in this town while everyone else went home to family and friends. While Dylan had his new girlfriend meeting his family as if I never existed. It all felt heavy. Too heavy.

I bit my lip, my thumb hovering over the screen. It wouldn't hurt to go. Besides, maybe Texas might be something I need.

'Okay, I'm in.'

——————

Part two here

[wintrcaptn]

I'm always on tinder, but I never find an old man like him :(

[wintrcaptn]

The Last of Us, behind the scenes

[wintrcaptn]

this love i found

day two of @tinycozycomfort and i’s joeltober: fluid exchange

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader

rating: 18+ MDNI

summary: after making a scene in the dining hall over someone who’s been flirting with joel, he takes you back home to remind you who you belong to.

word count: 3k

warnings: smut, fluid exchange, rough piv sex, vaginal fingering, cream pie, come eating, pet names (little girl, honey, baby, etc), daddy kink, dom/sub dynamics, age gap (joel is 56, reader is in her 20s)

a/n: this would not have been possible without @tinycozycomfort helping me come up with this idea and holding my hand as i wrote this from my sick deathbed

The first time you’d noticed her looking at him, you’d been bundled up at Joel’s side in Jackson’s movie theater. Movement had pulled your eyes from the screen and you’d seen the small smile, eager wave and her attention on Joel. At the time, you hadn’t even known her name, she’d been new to Jackson and it wasn’t often that you would cross paths with her.

Joel kept his gaze on the screen while you held up a hand, a wave back and a smile laced with sarcasm on your face. You’d barely paid attention to her reaction because Joel was tilting his head downward, his lips close to your ear when he said, “Do you know her?”

“No, do you?” you’d bit back. He’d made some sort of face at you, a silent, What’s your problem? He didn’t bring it up that night and neither did you.

—

It wasn’t until about a week later that you were in the garden with Ellie, planting a few vegetables seeds that you’d noticed her walking by. She seemed to be closer to Joel’s age, but her skin remained clear, her hair a honey brown that fell below her shoulders and golden eyes to match. It was almost as if this world hadn’t aged her, and you could feel a pit of bitterness forming in your stomach.

“Do you know who that is?” you’d asked Ellie, nodding over to the woman.

“Oh, that’s Hallie,” you remember her having a slight smirk on her face as she’d said it. “Why?”

“Why, what?” you’d said, gaze lifting towards Hallie again. It was then that you’d noticed who was a few feet in front of her—Joel and Tommy. You’d clearly seen her before they did, because Tommy nearly jumped when she called out towards them. They were too far for you to hear anything, but Joel’s hands were shoved into his pockets and he’d begun looking anywhere except her.

“You’re hurting the dirt.”

“What?” Then you’d looked down to your balled fists, at your knuckles that were turning white and the dirt between your fingers. You’d chuckled awkwardly, stretching out your fingers and brushing them off.

You didn’t look up again, just stayed focused on your task, listened to Ellie’s chatter, and did your best to keep your jealous feelings pushed far away. Joel came over to you two a few minutes later, patting Ellie’s head first and then kneeling down to your level. He’d brushed hair out of your face, a gentle pinch on your cheek, and you could feel him looking at you, waiting for you to acknowledge him.

“You alright, honey?” He’d asked.

“Yeah, fine.”

“Are you hungry? I was thinking I could make some lunch at mine, so you two can come over when you’re finished here,” Joel offered. You knew he was being soft with you, that he didn’t want to bother you even more than he guessed you already were.

You’d let out a slight sigh, expression softening before leaning in to kiss his lips. “Yeah, that sounds nice.”

He smiled at you knowingly, then kissed you again before getting up. “Okay, don’t take too long. You coming, too, Ellie?”

“Yeah, I’m fucking starving.”

—

Later at Joel’s, after two glasses of wine you’d felt confident enough to bring up the situation again. You and Joel had finished eating and Ellie was in the kitchen grabbing seconds. It started off quite calmly, you remember, and you’d said, “Who was that woman from earlier?

He gave you a look, assessing your tone and then said, “What woman?”

You looked at him boredly, then said sickeningly sweetly, “The one that was waving and smiling at you last week and the one that was talking to you today while Ellie and I were in the garden.”

“Oh, Hallie,” he’d said.

“Oh,” you mocked, tone brattier than intended but the alcohol was giving you an air of confidence. “What was she talking to you about, anyways?”

“Nothing that matters,” he’d said, and you rolled your eyes dramatically at that annoying response.

“Obviously,” you’d snapped. His jaw was clenched and he’d breathed in harshly, his eyes closing for a moment. You were barely looking at him, only peeking through your peripheral vision when he gripped your chin with his fingers, turning your head so that you were facing him.

“Look at me while you’re talking to me.”

You weren't done yet though, your eyes had rolled back again and then you’d looked off to the side, avoiding any direct contact. “Don‘t be disrespectful, little girl. I said, look at me.”

You’d obeyed, exhaling softly in defeat. It was something about Joel that made you give in so easily, even when you didn’t want to.

“Do you trust me?” He’d asked. You nodded after a moment and he released you from his tight grip, brushing gently over your face. Then he’d wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer to him with a kiss on your forehead. Ellie had come back into the room shortly after, and that was the end of that conversation.

—

Two weeks have passed since then, and you almost forget about the entire thing. You hadn’t seen much of Hallie at all, especially not while you’ve been out with Joel, so it’s been easy to let it go. The next time you do see her, you’re in the dining hall with Joel around dinner time, and you don’t think anything of it.

Joel’s speaking to Tommy about something, Maria sitting next to you and across from them. “I can get you a plate,” you offer, “What do you wanna eat?”

He looks over at you. “You sure, honey?”

“Yeah, tell me what you’re in the mood for.”

He looks over, squinting at the listed foods written above the buffet and then says, “Just get me whatever you’re getting. Thank you, baby.”

“Mhm,” you hum, giving him a smile before getting up with Maria. The two of you head over to the hot food station, piling up food on plates and setting them down onto the trays. You and her move over to the drinks station, and you glance over at the table while grabbing a beer for Joel.

The bottle almost breaks in your hand when you spot Hallie leaning her hands on the table and throwing her head back in laughter. “Are you kidding me?” you mutter, mostly to yourself.

Maria peeks over to what you’re glaring at. “Hallie, right?” she scoffs at the name. “She always seems to pop up at the most convenient times.”

Knowing that Maria isn’t too fond of her either might’ve calmed you down if you weren’t already seething in a fit of blind rage. You grab the tray, then head straight for the table, Maria trailing behind you. Tommy’s smile drops when he sees the two of you coming back over, leaning his head into his hand and scratching his beard awkwardly. Then you watch him nudge Joel’s arm, and you can feel your heart dropping into your stomach.

You set the food down onto the table, Maria joining you by your side. Your eyes flicker between her and Joel, her smile fading as if she can feel the tension and then she says, “Hi, I’m Hallie. You’re Ellie’s friend, right?”

“I’m Joel’s girlfriend. What are you?”

She seems taken aback by your harsh tone, and Joel mutters your name in warning. You glare at him, be quiet, and then look back towards her.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she chuckles, gathering her composure. “I just assumed you were sixteen.”

“And I just assumed you had nothing better to do than try to whore yourself out to men that are in relationships,” you spit back, your chest heaving. Tommy clears his throat uncomfortably and you hear Maria mutter a small oof. Joel says your name again, louder this time.

“I didn’t—I,” Hallie stutters, her face turning a bright red.

“You can walk away now.”

She turns on her heel, and Joel is quick to stand, taking a step around the table to grab you by the sleeve of your shirt and pull you towards him. “You know better than that. We’re leaving.”

“Joel, you can’t be serious. We didn’t even eat dinner—”

“Grab your shit and let’s go. Don’t push me right now,” he says harshly. You can feel the embarrassment heating your face, and you glance towards Maria and Tommy who are pretending they can’t hear. You slip on your jacket, grabbing your bag before muttering a small goodbye and heading towards the exit with Joel.

He’s got a tight grip on your elbow now, and as soon as you’re outside he says, “You wanna act stupid? I’ll treat you like you’re fucking stupid.”

“Joel, I’m sorry but—”

“Shut up. Not another word.”

Your stomach flips with nerves the entire way to Joel’s place, and you try to think of something, anything to say that would calm him down. He pulls you into the house, shutting the door behind you. You walk in slowly behind him, dragging your feet as he kicks off his boots.

“I don’t get what the big deal is,” you say quietly, chewing on the inside of your cheek.

“The big deal is that you acted out like a child throwing a tantrum. I had it under control—”

“Did you?” you cut him off, heart racing. “You didn’t jump to say anything when she said I looked sixteen.”

He gives you an incredulous look. “Why do you care what she thinks? I couldn’t give less of a shit about that woman’s opinion.”

“Because it’s fucking disrespectful, Joel. I don’t want her talking to you or waving at you or even fucking looking at you,” you tell him, hands balling into fists at your sides. He gazes over at your expression, the way you breathe in quickly and unevenly.

“Don’t you know that you’re mine?”

“But—”

“No, it’s a simple question. Do I need to stuff you full so that you understand? Huh, sweetheart?”

You swallow, finding it difficult to keep eye contact with him as he approaches you. When he’s close enough, he grabs the soft skin of your cheek, tilting your head up towards him. “Take your fucking clothes off.”

By the time you’re naked, he’s pushing you over to the couch, still fully dressed. He’s quick and rough with his movements, big hands pushing you down so that you’re on your knees with your cheek pressed into the couch. Your hands are at either side of your face, holding yourself steady and you can feel his weight dipping into the couch cushion behind you.

His warm hands are spreading you, and you can feel your cunt flowering open, the cool air flowing against your soaked heat. Two of his fingers slide through your swollen folds, and you can hear him humming at your arousal.

“Does that turn you on? Being a bratty little girl?” Joel taunts. You let out a small whine, pushing your ass back towards him. Then he’s pushing three fingers in at once, your eyes widening as you gasp at the sudden stretch of him. He keeps a tight grip on your ass, holding you steady as he begins to pump in and out of you.

You’re already tensing up around him, leaning forward to try and ease the impact. “Stay still. Come on, baby, let me in,” he coaxes, curling upwards and stroking against that spongy spot inside you.

You moan into the cushion, the sound of your slick getting louder as you drip onto his fingers. As the pain of the stretch behinds to dull, you push yourself back towards his hand, not quickly, but every thrust is harsh.

“There you go, good girl. Keep fucking yourself like that,” Joel encourages, and you’re crying out, your orgasm already building low in your belly. He keeps fucking you with his fingers until you’re chenching around him, cunt throbbing, and he knows you’re about to come. He pulls out, dragging your slick up and down your folds and rubbing it against your clit.

“Please, fuck me. I need it, Joel, please,” you’re begging, feeling so empty without him inside you. Lifting your head slightly to look back at him, you watch as he sucks his fingers into his mouth, moaning at the taste of you. Then his hands are at his belt, undoing it quickly and only pulling his pants down enough to pull his hard cock out.

He grips it by the base, running the swollen tip through your folds, soaking it in your arousal. His head falls back at the feeling, a low groan vibrating in his chest. “You want me to ruin this little cunt? That’s what you need to get that attitude of yours in check, isn’t it?”

“Fuck, yes,” you cry, eyes squeezing shut at the feeling of his tip notching at your entrance, pulling away, then resting there again. “Please.”

Then he’s slamming into your tight pussy, knocking a scream out of you as he completely splits your open. No matter how many times he fucks you, you never get used to his thick length, the way he stretches you out and pushes against your cervix. He’s got two handfuls of your ass, pulling you down to meet every single one of his thrusts.

His hips are slamming into your ass so roughly, you’re gasping for air, the feeling of him completely overwhelming you. Your hands are flying back in a weak attempt to push him away or to slow him down but he slaps them away, then reaches to fist your hair in his hands. He pulls back rough, your head flying up and your eyes misting with tears. He keeps one hand on the curve of your spine, pushing you down so your back stays arched for him.

You’re gushing around his cock, the wet squelching sound fillling the room as he fucks you brutally. “You’re gonna listen to me from now on,” he grits through his teeth, “and you’re gonna trust me when I say that I’ve got shit handled. You hear me? Jealous little thing.”

“Yes, daddy, yes,” you whimper, tears spilling over.

“Fuck,” he grunts, thrusts stilling. “Fuck, give me a second.” You’d never called him that before, but it just came out, it just felt right. You decide that it fits him, that’s what he is, after all.

“Please don’t stop. I need you, I need—”

“Shut up, you’re gonna make me come, baby.” He’s breathing deeply, hands sliding down to your ass, squeezing the skin there and smacking roughly against it. “Fuck, honey.”

Then he lifts one leg up, kneeling on the other while he fucks into you so harshly, your eyes are rolling back into your head. His hard cock drags quickly against your walls and you’re clenching around him, squeezing him. Your body feels light as you hand yourself over to him, giving him complete control.

His cock ruins you, pumping in and out of you at a pace that has you screaming his name. It’s so intense, unlike anything you’ve ever felt before when his hand drags down to your wet clit. He rubs small circles into it, fingers working expertly to bring your orgasm near.

“Daddy’s gonna fucking fill this little pussy up, baby.” He moans, his thrusts so desperate.

“Oh, please, daddy. Feels so fucking good.”

“Yeah, baby? Gonna fuck you full of my cum,” he tells you, “Gonna remind you who you belong to.”

The pressure builds endlessly inside you, your legs twitching and you can barely hold yourself up at this point. If it wasn’t for him holding your hips, you’d be completely slumped forward. Your eyes are shut, your mouth open dumbly as he fills you with his cock. Your orgasm pulls you under as it flows through your veins, every nerve ending in your body feeling like a lit fuse.

“Yeah, come on daddy’s cock, honey,” he coaxes, his pace never slowing as he fucks you through it, making it last for what feels like minutes. “You love it when I treat you like this, huh?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” it comes out broken, a desperate whine.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come, baby,” he groans, and then his cock is deep inside you, pushed all the way until the tip hits your cervix. You’re crying out, trying to pull away but he keeps you tight to him as he empties his come inside you. He’s breathing heavy, hands stroking up and down your back soothingly as you whine for him. “You’re okay, honey. I’ve got you.”

You exhale slowly through your nose, coming down from the impossible high as he pulls out of you. You mewl at the feeling and then he’s flipping you onto your back, your body so pliant as he moves you. He’s still dressed, the imbalance of it all making you feel dizzy.

He’s pushing his fingers inside of you, plugging you up to make sure nothing drips out of you. “You feel that? Feel how daddy stuffed you with his come?”

You nod lazily, whimpering at the overstimulation.

“Now, tell me who you belong to.”

“You, daddy,” it comes out like a weak whisper.

“Good little girl,” he praises, taking his fingers out and rubbing his come into your clit. You hiss, trying to close your legs but he keeps them open, holds you there beneath him. He drags his hand towards your face, pushing his come covered fingers into your mouth. You whine, sucking on them, licking them clean until he releases them with a pop.

He collapses next to you, pulling you into his arms and wrapping you in his warmth. His lips are on your forehead, kissing softly and he whispers, “You alright, sweetheart?”

“Mhm,” you hum, nuzzling into him.

The sight of Hallie doesn’t bother you much after that. Even when she comes up to Joel in the town square, or when she makes some slick comment at you while you’re working in the garden—you’d think back to Joel, his love, and the way that you’re his.

read @tinycozycomfort’s day two here: trust fall 🖤

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