Burningnerdchild - Reading Blog!

Waking up on New Year's Day With the Clones - Command Edition

Inspired by @freesia-writes and her lovely New Years Eve with the Clones drabbles! I wrote these on my phone datapad in bed while waking up on New Year's Day and doing precisely none of these things.

Rex: You crack one eye open just as he's slipping back into bed with you. It's seven AM. He's already gone for a run and had a shower. You mumble something incoherent, and he tucks you in against him, kisses your forehead, and tells you to go back to sleep. “Happy New Year, cyar’ika.”

Cody: He surprises you with breakfast in bed, and it isn't ration bars. It's your favorite breakfast, the one you only really eat on special occasions, and he executes it flawlessly. When you get up afterwards, you discover the kitchen is already clean. There's nothing to do for the rest of the day but relax and have fun, whatever that means to you.

Wolffe: You ARE his breakfast in bed. 😏

Fox: There is no such thing as morning. You both sleep until one PM, and when you finally stumble out of bed, you only make it as far as the caf machine before collapsing on the sofa. He chugs his caf and then falls back asleep, lying between your legs with his head resting on your belly while you scroll on your datapad.

Mayday: You wake up slowly to the soft caress of his fingertips on your shoulder. You have no idea how long he's been awake, but the way he looks at you makes you feel like the only person in the galaxy. You don't get out of bed for a few more hours.

Neyo: He wakes you up with a hangover cure and a tube of bacta. You have glitter in places you did not know glitter could exist. After an abortive attempt at crawling out of bed, you both fall back asleep for another three hours.

Bacara: He wakes you up to go for a run, and it's not optional. He ignores your complaints and death threats, and when you get home, he rewards you with a long shower together, followed by a breakfast smoothie that is surprisingly delicious. He opts not to tell you that he set a personal worst speed record for a kilometer.

Happy New Year! I hope 2025 is your best year yet. 💋

Waking Up On New Year's Day With The Clones - Command Edition

Taglist:

@523rdrebel @wings-and-beskar @merkitty49 @arcsimper5 @clio3kantarella

@cloneloverrrrr @goblininawig @ladytano420 @arctrooper69 @sunshinesdaydream

@littlemissmanga @marierg @idontgetanysleep @lonewolflupe

@moonlightwarriorqueen @dudewhynotthis @sleepycreativewriter @tcwmatchmakingau @littlemissbshine

@heavenseed76 @bobaprint @sweetcream-coldfoam

@skellymom @pickleprickle @trixie2023 @cw80831 @flyiingsly

@lightwise @swcowgal @vrycurious @thora-sniper

@reader6898 @cdblake1565 @epicy0n @starstofillmydream @msmeredithrose

@totallyunidentified @eclec-tech @euphoriacafe @hipwell @kimiheartblade

@dangraccoon @transactivecybermemory @etod @somewhere-on-kamino

@burningnerdchild @saneabandoned @heidnspeak @maniacalbooper @mae-lou-ron

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burningnerdchild

1 month ago

Ch.3 - Fences And Cities - Dbf! Joel Miller &f!reader

ch.3 - fences and cities - dbf! joel miller &f!reader

series masterlist

previous chapter

A/N: A lot has happened, I wrote this then it got lost and I thought maybe I wrote it in a dream, you know those kinds of dreams where you go about your day but I didn't give up, I was SURE I had written it. Anyways, save a horse ride a cowboy

warnings: sex jokes. cowgirl pose reference, if I am missing any warnings please let me know. there're some hints for the future 😉

Minors stay out or read at your own risk! I'm not responsible for your consumption!

Do not copy, translate or claim this story as your own. Thanks!

"Rise and shiiine!" Your dad flicked the light switch on and off repeatedly, making the room flash like a faulty strobe light. You jolted awake immediately.

"Jesus fucking Christ!" you groaned, yanking the sheets over your head. It was way too early for this.

Your dad chuckled as he walked over and ripped the blanket off. "Come on now, gotta make the most of the day."

"What time is it?" you mumbled, your voice thick with sleep.

"Almost 5 a.m.," he said, clapping his hands as he headed for the door. "Making some coffee downstairs before driving you to Joel."

Shit—right. You had to work with Joel today. The only thing motivating you to get out of bed… and simultaneously, the one thing making you want to stay buried under the covers. Because having a crush on your dad’s friend—the one you had to work with—was both exciting and painfully embarrassing.

You head downstairs, dressed in comfortable clothes for the ranch—practical, but with just enough effort to look cute and put-together. Not that you’d admit it was for Joel, but if it made him do a double take, well… that wouldn’t be the worst thing.

Something had been off about him last night. He wasn’t his usual self. And maybe—just maybe—you were a little too tempted to poke at whatever was bothering him, like pressing on a bruise just to see how much it hurts.

Your dad drives you to the ranch, and after a quick goodbye, you step out, making your way toward Joel.

Joel turns when he hears your voice—or maybe it’s the sound of your footsteps crunching against the packed dirt and gravel. Either way, he does, in fact do a doubletake.

He plays it off like he hadn’t thought about you last night after dinner. Like he hadn’t pictured your face, your lips locking with his in the dark, or the shape of you—your waist, the way you moved. Like he wasn’t just caught looking.

"I’m shocked you actually showed up," he says, his voice edged with something unreadable.

"Oh, come on," you tease, tilting your head. "Why the bad image of me? Thought you had a better impression."

Joel shakes his head with a smirk, wiping his hands on his jeans, but his eyes linger on you a second too long. “Uh-huh,” he mutters, clearly unconvinced by your teasing. His eyes linger on you a second too long before he turns away.

“C’mon, let’s get to work.”

He leads you toward the stables, where the horses are saddled up. You already know what’s coming.

“Nope,” you say, shaking your head. “Not happening.”

Joel lets out a low chuckle, resting his hands on his hips. “What, you scared?”

“I’m not scared,” you scoff, folding your arms. “I just—” You pause, glancing at the horse. “I don’t ride.”

Joel raises an eyebrow, voice edged with something unreadable. “You forgot how to?”

Your stomach tightens at the way he says it, slow and deliberate. You pretend not to react. He doesn’t need that kind of power.

“Well, I’m not about to relearn today,” you mutter.

Joel ignores you completely, adjusting the saddle straps before turning to you expectantly. “Put your foot in the stirrup.”

You don’t move.

He sighs, stepping behind you. “Here,” he says, voice lower now, hands settling firmly on your waist. Before you can protest, he lifts you effortlessly, guiding you up onto the horse.

It happens fast—one second you’re on the ground, the next you’re settling into the saddle, straddling the horse, legs spread over either side.

You struggle for a second, adjusting yourself in the saddle, shifting your weight, fingers fumbling with the reins. This is harder than it looks.

Joel stands nearby, arms crossed, watching as you awkwardly try to mount the horse. He’s ready to step in, but he’s clearly trying not to overstep.

Finally, after a few wobbly adjustments, you settle in. You exhale, trying to play it off like you’re totally in control.

“Well, I’m definitely not a professional cowgirl,” you mutter, still shifting slightly, “but I guess I’m figuring it out—kinda like when you’re learning a new position.”

You laugh awkwardly. And then it hits you.

Oh. Oh.

Joel freezes. Blinking at you like he just misheard. Then his expression changes—his lips twitch, his shoulders shake slightly, and suddenly he lets out a deep, unrestrained laugh.

“Did you just—” He snorts, shaking his head. “Did you really just make a cowgirl joke?”

Your eyes go wide. “Oh. My. God. Why would I say that?!”

He exhales sharply, grinning as he drags a hand down his face. “Christ. Now that’s stuck in my head.” His voice dips slightly, eyes trailing over you, slow and unreadable. “And I can’t decide if that’s a problem or not.”

And that’s when your brain fully malfunctions.

You freeze. Your whole body burns.

Joel smirks, clearly aware of what he just did to you.

Now you’re both in full-on awkward mode, avoiding eye contact like two people who just walked straight into something dangerous and are pretending it didn’t happen.

You focus very hard on getting comfortable in the saddle, adjusting your posture, gripping the reins, trying to seem like you have a clue what you’re doing. But every small shift you make, every slight adjustment in the saddle, feels too much, like you can practically feel Joel’s gaze flicking to you—watching, thinking, replaying.

Meanwhile, his brain is racing.

He’s staring straight ahead, jaw tight, but he’s not thinking about the horse, not thinking about work. No, his mind is looping one single thought over and over again—what you just said.

You clear your throat, desperate to move past this. "Okay. So. How do we—uh—start moving?"

Joel takes a second to respond. Maybe because he’s still forcing his brain to reboot.

He exhales, stepping beside the horse. "Just a light kick, let her know you’re ready."

You do as he says, and the horse starts to move at a slow, steady pace. Crisis averted.

Or… not.

Because as you walk alongside him, your hand accidentally brushes against his arm. A small touch, barely anything, but it’s like an electric shock.

You both flinch, just slightly.

Neither of you say a word, but you know. You both know.

You’re not thinking about the joke. Except you are. So is he.

You try to act normal, cool, indifferent—but the tension is palpable, crackling in the air between you.

One accidental glance at each other—just one—and everything feels like fire. And suddenly, you need out.

The second you get the chance, you slip away, finding a quiet room in the stable, shutting the door behind you.

You lean against the wall, pressing your hands to your face.

"Did I really say that? What is wrong with me?! What just happened?!"

The secondhand embarrassment is real.

You groan into your hands, replaying it all over again.

But then the overthinking starts creeping in.

"Did I just make it super weird?! Or did he? Was he actually flirting with me, or was he just messing with my head?"

You think about the way his eyes lingered on you. The way his voice dipped just slightly. The way he said he didn’t think he wanted to forget it.

You shake your head to yourself. No. No way. He was just teasing.

Right?

Meanwhile, outside, Joel is definitely not as unaffected as he’s trying to be.

He goes back to work, hands busy, mind not busy enough—because he keeps thinking about what you said.

He’s still smirking to himself, shaking his head every now and then like he can’t quite believe it. He should let it go. Should pretend like nothing happened.

But he’s aware of you now.

Every time you move, every time you speak—hell, even when you’re silent—he notices. Every small brush of your arm, every glance that lingers a second too long.

And then he realizes you’re gone.

He frowns, scanning the stable before heading toward the room where you probably went in hiding. He hesitates for a second before knocking lightly.

“Y’alright in there?”

You freeze.

Shit. Shit.

You take a second before responding, forcing your voice to sound normal. “Yeah! Just—uh—checking something!”

Joel’s voice is too casual when he replies. “Right. Well. You done checkin’ yet?”

You swear you can hear the smirk in his voice.

You swallow hard. Your heart is doing something ridiculous.

You open the door just enough to peek out, avoiding eye contact.

Joel is standing there, one hand resting on the frame, a steaming cup in his other hand. His eyes flick over you, watching the way you shift on your feet, the way you won't look at him directly.

He notices.

He doesn’t say anything about it. Doesn’t push.

But he doesn’t leave either.

And that’s when you realize—you can pretend all you want, but whatever this is… it's not going away.

"Don't hide from me next time."

Then he walks away.

_____________________

You spend the next couple of hours pretending that moment never happened. You avoid looking at him for too long, focusing on the horses, the work, anything but him.

Joel? He doesn’t say anything about it.

Not at first.

You think, Okay, maybe we’re just moving past this.

Then, mid-task, while you’re standing side by side, working in comfortable silence, he suddenly leans against the fence and says,

“So, I’ve been thinking about that cowgirl joke…”

You freeze.

Your heart does something stupid, and you turn to him way too fast.

Joel just watches you, waiting—expression unreadable, but there’s a flicker of something mischievous in his eyes. He’s baiting you.

Your mouth opens, but nothing comes out.

He smirks. "What?" he says, voice slow and knowing. "You don’t wanna talk about it?"

You flinch. "I—no, I just—Why are you—"

He leans in slightly, arms crossed over his chest.

“You know,” he drawls, way too amused, “I’m not sure I’ll ever look at a horse the same way again.”

Your jaw drops.

You gasp, whipping around to glare at him. "Joel!"

He laughs—low and entirely too pleased with himself.

You slap his arm. "Oh my God, you’re the worst."

He doesn’t even flinch. Just grins down at you, eyes still flickering with something unspoken.

You groan, dragging a hand down your face, but you’re laughing too.

And he just watches you, smirking, shaking his head like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you. And he knows he shouldn’t.

But the thing is?

Joel doesn’t seem to care. Not right now.

Because for some reason, none of that matters. Not the age gap. Not the fact that your dad trusts him. Not that this is a bad, bad idea.

Because he likes this. Likes watching you get flustered, he likes the way you’re pretending you’re not thinking about him too.

The workday finally comes to an end and the tension is still hanging thick in the air.

Joel doesn’t say much when you get into the truck, just a quick glance your way before starting the engine.

The drive is quiet. Not awkward, not exactly. Just… charged. Like there’s something unspoken pressing against the space between you.

Joel parks his truck in your dad’s driveway. You could get out now. But you don’t.

You sit there, stealing glances at him, pretending you’re not hyper-aware of how close you are.

Joel keeps one hand on the wheel, the other resting lazily on the gearshift. He looks calm and composed, but you notice his fingers twitch—like he’s thinking.

And then, he glances at you.

No, he's looking at your mouth.

For a full minute, his gaze lingers there. Slow. Deliberate.

You don’t move. You don’t even breathe.

Your pulse pounds, and suddenly, you can feel every inch of your skin.

Joel shifts in his seat. His grip on the wheel tightens.

He’s debating something. You can see it. Feel it.

And then—just as he makes his decision, just as he starts to lean in—

Your dad’s voice cuts through the air.

“Joel!”

You jerk back, the moment shattering instantly.

Your dad walks up to the truck, leaning against the open window, completely oblivious.

Joel exhales sharply and immediately leans away, one hand gripping the wheel like he needs to ground himself. His eyes snap forward, blank, unreadable.

Your pulse is thundering. You don’t look at him. You can’t.

“How was the workday?” he asks.

Joel inhales sharply, blinking like he just snapped out of something. He clears his throat.

"Good," he says, voice a little rough.

Your dad grins. "How was she?"

Joel’s eyes flick to you for just a fraction of a second before he answers—too smooth, too casual.

"She was a really good girl."

Your breath catches. That fucking sentence.

Your dad smiles, then playfully taps the roof of Joel’s truck, a familiar, warm gesture—one that feels easy, trusting. Like Joel is just some guy your dad’s comfortable sending you off with.

Like this is nothing.

“Guess I’ll be sending you off to work with Joel often then,” he says, still grinning.

Joel just nods, his smirk barely there—but his eyes?

They’re still on you. Burning.

And as you step out of the truck, heart pounding, you realize:

This isn’t over.

Not even close.

THAT LAST SENTENCE WHEN I TELL YOU I WAS SCREAMING GNAWING AT THE BARS OF MY ENCLOSURE!!!! UH UHUHU AAAH AH AH

Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Let me know what you think of this chapter and stay tuned for the next one!

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