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mermaidgirl30 · 4 months

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Part 1 is out! Hope you lovelies enjoy! A03

Masterlist

- Pairing: Joel x fem! Reader, Joel x You

- Rating: Explicit (18+)

- Words: 4.9k

- Tags: No outbreak, protective Joel, angst, fingering, oral, cream pie, abusive dance partner, tension, longing, porn with plot, smut, dom! Joel (reader mid 20’s, Joel in his early 40’s)

- Summary: You’re starring in the ballet Swan Lake, taking on the lead role in New York. You practice day and night and are always staying after hours. You keep seeing Joel around the theater, the hot maintenance worker you can’t keep your eyes off of. You aren’t the only one though because you think he’s watching you too.

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

It was the middle of October in New York. Breezy and chilly as the days started getting colder. You spent most of your days tirelessly training at the David H. Koch Theater, slaving away to your art which was ballet.

You had just landed the biggest role of your career. You were picked to play the lead in Swan Lake and would dance as the swan queen. You still couldn’t believe it. After all those hard, grueling years of practice, you had finally done something right.

You had just graduated from Julliard, working extremely hard for this day. You swear you’d never get it. You always were too hard on yourself, needing to be absolutely perfect. Needing to keep every turn, every leap, every movement sharp. Make it look like it was effortless. That’s how you’d get someone to pay attention to you. See how hard you were working to get a lead role in a huge dance production.

Of course the position came with its downsides. You always had someone hounding you about watching what you ate. Telling you that you had to stay extra hours to get that one dance move perfect. Having to put up with bullshit from strict instructors. Having girls always talk bad about you behind your back because they were jealous they weren’t in the number one spot. Having to deal with grimy men that wanted to get in your pants just to say they scored big with the top girl.

It was brutal some days, but you put up with it because that’s the price you had to pay to do what you loved. And that was dance.

You spent the whole first week of training touring the grand theater and learning your dance pieces on the massive hardwood theater stage. Learning all your place markers, where you’d enter and exit, where you’d change your wardrobe, and so the list went on. It was a lot to take in as you had never done anything this big before, nonetheless perform in an immense theater as this. It was all overwhelming to say the least.

You always showed up on time, always made sure you looked the part. Never leaving the apartment without your makeup or hair done, making sure your pointe shoes stayed spotless and shiny. You were a professional now so you had to act like one.

As much as you loved ballet and being in the spotlight, you didn’t realize what all really went down behind the scenes. You had to deal with a lot of shit on the daily. Get yelled at constantly, have a smile on your face even when you didn’t have the heart to, deal with vicious dancers, see just how far some of those girls would go with higher ups just to have a chance at getting a lead role. It was all exhausting. You hated the drama, so you always did your best to tune it out and just focus on your dancing.

There was one good thing that came with this territory though. The first week something had caught your eye. Not something, someone.

You had been rehearsing a dance routine for the white swan, and one of the stage lights had gone out while you were in the middle of your performance. Your strict instructor had yelled for someone to come help fix the damn light. She had been angry, upset that her time was getting wasted on mundane things. It didn’t take long for someone to come along and enter the auditorium. And that’s when you saw him for the first time.

He was all muscle, wearing a tight green flannel shirt that clung to his bulging biceps. His shoulders were broad and he was tall, standing a little over 6 feet. He wore light blue jeans and brown worker boots. His hair was slightly messy as he pushed it back. Dark brown hair that was sprinkled with grey and a trimmed beard that showed silver patches.

He looked to be in his 40’s which was intriguing. And he was handsome, a brooding sense about him that could entice you to linger your gaze just a little too long. He had intense dark eyes. Eyes you would be okay with staring into. A walking dreamboat.

And his arms.

God, his arms.

His sleeves were pulled up to his elbows, exposing thick veiny arms. And his hands. His hands were big and strong, veins spiraling over long, thick fingers. It was hot. And then your mind wondered to dark places.

He could probably do a lot with those hands. Those rough, sturdy hands…

You caught yourself staring as he was walking up the wooden stage steps, eyes finding yours as they locked on you for a few seconds. Your heart was in your throat as you stared at the gorgeous man, wanting to feel just how soft his hair was, wanting to know what it’d be like to run your fingers through those thick tousled curls…

He was walking past you now, just trying to do his job and head to the light fixture that needed fixing. He gently brushed past your shoulder as he walked by. You felt the spark of electricity instantly as his touch lingered for a few seconds, the scent of mahogany and spice encasing the air.

You turned around to get one more glance at the handsome stranger, but then you caught him looking back at you too. His brown eyes flicked over you curiously, his eyebrow slightly raised, then he was turning back around, heading for his task at hand. Your instructor yelled at you to focus, and your mind went back to what you were supposed to be doing.

And that was the first day you saw the maintenance man. The day that you developed a hyperfixation for men that wore plaid shirts and had untamed hair. The day that would ruin you for good.

The weekend went by fast as Monday rolled back around. That meant a full week of training. More overtime to be spent in the theater. You didn’t want to know what sort of drama awaited you, but you pulled yourself together and got ready for the day anyways.

When you finished putting your hair up and finished your makeup, you headed out the door and said goodbye to your comfy bed. You just knew you’d be back late. You always were.

The theater was quiet today, aside from the stage manager Timothy and your instructor Carlotta bickering back and forth. Carlotta was an old, big shot ballet dancer that had toured the entire world. She was the most dramatic and strict instructor you had ever had. Every single thing you did she nitpicked. You just took it because she was only trying to make you a better dancer.

Carlotta was tall, too slim, barely ever eating anything that wasn’t green. She’d always yell at you if she caught you eating anything that was greasy or unhealthy. It was a real pain, but you learned not to eat around her anymore.

She’d always wear her auburn hair in tight buns and dress in fancy clothes that were name brand and custom made. She was a diva, a real piece of work. She had a thick Russian accent and always rolled her r’s.

She always had dark red lipstick caked on her thin lips and long eyelashes that could surely poke an eye out. Her heels were always at least four inches tall, and she acted like she was the most important thing in every room she walked in. Her confidence was set high, and she never doubted herself.

You remember the first day she saw you in the audition for Swan Lake. She called you a beauty and said your long legs were a godsend. She pulled you aside and called you a diamond in the rough and was positive that you’d get the lead. She was right. You had to thank her for her confidence in you. All she said was, “We have work to do,” when you got the part.

“Timothy, I do not have time for this today. You tell them to have my props ready by tomorrow or someone is getting fired!” she screamed as she raised her arms and pointed for Timothy to exit the room.

He shook his head and agreed to get them done by the next day, then took his leave as he slammed the side exit door, leaving an echo across the vast stage.

She glared at you and pointed to your feet that weren’t yet in pointe shoes. “Shoes, now! You’re late,” she spit as she had a deep frown on her red lipstick face.

“But I’m not…” you said defenseless, but she cut you off.

“Hush, shoes!” She pointed to her expensive Coach watch and clicked the glass with her long, pointed finger.

You were in no place to argue, so you just sighed and found a spot on the polished floor, quickly putting on and lacing up your shoes. You were actually ten minutes early. You weren’t late like she accused.

But whatever.

As soon as you got your shoes on, she demanded that you start from the beginning of Act One. She wanted you to cover all the solo dances for today, and then tomorrow you’d have to dance with your awful partner, Pierre.

God, you couldn’t stand him, but you had to do what you had to do.

Carlotta yelled your name and snapped her fingers, demanding that you hurry up and get in position for the first dance.

“Just a second!” you yelled as you hurriedly rushed to your first starting point, trying to find exactly where you were supposed to stand.

“No, now!” she yelled louder, getting annoyed with you.

You smoothed down your pink skirt and ran a hand over your too tight black leotard, feeling like it was suffocating you.

Carlotta huffed and pointed to your starting point which was a foot from where you were.

Oops.

You heard a few snickers coming from behind the rose red stage curtain. Three bleach blonde ballet dancers whispered to each other back and forth as they looked you up and down, clearly talking about you.

Your hands went to tight fists, and you held back tears that were burning at the backs of your eyes. Why hadn’t anyone been nice to you? This entire time you thought people would be more friendly, more welcoming. Turns out when you’re the star of the show that’s not the case. When you’re the lead everyone is cruel, unfriendly, harsh.

You just wanted one person. One goddamn person to be nice to you. Make you feel like you weren’t an outsider, but that didn’t happen. You just had to suck it up and do what you came here to do. Dance. That’s what you knew and that’s what you’d do. Even though you were dying on the inside from the weight of it all.

The spotlight shined down on you as you blinked and squinted your eyes, trying to get used to what you’d see every night in performances. You took in your surroundings of the theater as you looked around.

The walls were covered with red velvet material, the ceilings done in pastel-colored majestic art. The box seats up high were decked in gold with angel statues surrounding them. The theater was stories high as rows were stacked on top of each other. Crimson, lavish seats sat against the theater floor, along with marble staircases that led to the balcony and upper seats. A colossal, crystallized chandelier hung in the center of the room, giving it that Phantom of the Opera vibe. It really was quite a sight, something you thought you’d never get to yourself.

“Position, now!” Carlotta screamed at you as you jumped from her booming voice. You rolled your shoulders and stood up a little taller, getting in position. The dreamy music sprung to life as you started your routine, focusing on perfect movements, not wanting to be yelled at by every little thing you did.

So far she wasn’t barking at you. She was just observing, watching you, going over every little detail on you. You kept your head up and took to the air as you leaped and turned, pirouetting around the stage, getting dizzy from all the motions.

Before you could finish the routine, she halted the music as silence took over. You stopped mid turn to face her, your jaw clenching as you were afraid of what she’d say.

“Not too bad, but could be more perfected. Go again. From the top,” she commanded as she pointed with her long red fingernails to the starting position.

You internally groaned as you dragged your feet back to the mark she had showed you earlier. You heard more snickering behind the curtain and rolled your eyes, not wanting to deal with them today.

“No rolling your eyes! You’re a professional, professionals never do that in public. Big smile and chin up. Now go again,” she demanded as she crossed her arms and sat down in a crimson theater chair in the front row.

You put on a big fake smile and got in position, waiting for the music to begin again. Once it came to life, so did your body. You pushed yourself to be as perfect as you could, lifting your legs as high as they’d go, making your spins as tight as they could possibly be, raising your arms as gracefully as you could get them.

Carlotta still had things to pick out when you finished, still wanted you to go again. “Better, but let’s go again. This time I want you to jump higher. Point your toes a little harder on your soubresaut.”

You stood there staring at her, trying to catch your breath from the previous routine.

“Well, go on. We don’t have all day.” She flicked her wrists your way as you sighed and went back to the start.

Before you could get back into position, you looked up into one of the dimly lit opera boxes and froze.

It was him. The maintenance man.

Your heart sped up entirely too fast as you focused on keeping your composure calm.

His broad shoulders filled the denim button-up shirt as he held a screwdriver in one hand, the other pressed down on the edge of the opera box, fixing something with the dark wood. His eyes were trained on what he was doing, but he looked up a few seconds later as his dark eyes honed in on you.

You looked down shyly but peered back up at him moments later. Running your thumb against every single finger slowly, trying to calm your nerves as you stood in the presence of the older, attractive man.

You gulped as you looked at his big hands, trying hard not to think about how they’d feel against your skin. Watching the way his rough hands slid across the wood, digging his thick fingers into the screwdriver.

His eyes focused only on you as his hands continued to work. Slidding, turning, digging, flexing his fingers…Making you bite your lower lip in response, almost able to feel that burn against your skin.

Carlotta screamed out your name as you jumped, coming out of your trance. “The routine? Hello?” She was raising her arms in a shrug and pointing at your position on the stage.

“Oh, sorry…guess I got distracted,” you said with an apology, getting into position once again.

Before the music started, you lifted your eyelashes and peeked back up into the left corner discreetly so Carlotta wouldn’t pick up on what was going on. Your eyes gazed back over to the mysterious man in the opera box, wanting one more look before you got back to work.

He looked back down at you as his eyes found yours, carefully watching you as his eyes trailed over your body and back up into your face slowly. You shuttered as you pulled your legs closer together, trying not to get too excited from the eye contact.

Holy shit. You had a crush and you didn’t even know the man. You could see this was going to be a big distraction here. You dropped your gaze once the music sounded again, repeating the routine once more.

Just breathe. Focus.

But you couldn’t. Not when he was watching.

You stayed late again that night, going over the first act over and over again until Carlotta said you could stop. She gave you only one short fifteen minute break today and didn’t even let you eat. You had a turkey sandwich stashed in the break room fridge, but one of the ballet dancers had thrown it away.

One of the snarky blondes to be exact. “Oops, sorry. Was that yours? My bad,” she had said. You fumed with anger and yelled at her, wanting to slice into her. You had told Carlotta about what she did, but she just brushed it off saying you didn’t need to eat.

Today had been one of the most frustrating days at the theater. You were starving, you were lonely, and you were buzzing with emotions that left you wanting to curl into a ball and cry, letting all your frustrations of the day go.

This wasn’t anything like you imagined being a professional dancer would be. If someone had warned you, maybe you wouldn’t have taken the part. Maybe you would’ve stayed back in Florida. Maybe….oh, nevermind.

You were sitting on the edge of the stage, hanging your legs off the side as you slumped over and put your hands on your forehead, needing just a moment to breathe. To clear your mind.

As you continued to sulk, you heard faint footsteps against the dark brown wood that made up the floors. When you looked up your eyes widened, almost thinking you were imagining who you saw. There he was in all his glory, walking up to you slowly.

It was him. The man with the dark eyes that haunted your thoughts.

“Tough day?” he asked as a deep southern drawl left his mouth. A sound that could stop you in your tracks. A lull that could hum you to sleep.

He raised his eyebrows as he waited for you to respond, taking another step forward, stopping just a few short steps away from you.

“Yeah, you could say that,” you sighed as you sat up taller, trying to keep your restless legs still.

“They’re pretty tough on you, aren’t they?” he asked with concern in his simmering eyes.

“Unfortunately,” you grumbled.

“You new to this?” he asked as he took another step forward, making you nervous with how close he was getting to you.

“It’s my first big show,” you said with a shrug, not showing much enthusiasm.

“You don’t seem too excited,” he stated plainly, pointing out the obvious.

“All my life I’ve worked to get this far. I never expected to get the lead in this ballet, but I did. And no, it’s not what I expected, but I’m just trying to remind myself this is what I’ve wanted my entire life,” you replied adamantly, raising your voice just the tiniest bit.

“Jus’ be careful. Don’t hurt yourself. I see how hard you practice. You must be exhausted.” His dark eyes turned to a warm coffee color, eyes you wanted to swim in. They were absolutely breathtaking. They changed just the slightest more dark when he was talking about something serious. Something you were embarrassed that you picked up on quickly.

“I am exhausted. I don’t really have a choice though. They don’t give many breaks around here,” you shrugged defeatedly, putting your hands on the edge of the stage.

“Jus’ try not to let anyone push you around too much. Okay?” he asked with a calm demeanor.

“Okay,” you nodded, not wanting to tell him you’d still be pushed around, even if you didn’t like it.

“Wait. So you’ve been watching me?” you asked as you glanced up from your long eyelashes, looking directly at him.

“Oh, uhh no. I’m just around a lot and see you up there practicing. That’s all,” he said with rushed words, turning red in the cheeks.

So he was watching you. You knew it. You could feel his eyes on you throughout the day. That dark gaze that made you dizzy.

A slow tingle ran down the back of your spine at the thought of his eyes on you. Watching your moves, watching your form, keeping his eyes on you.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” he asked coolly.

Sweetheart?! He just called you sweetheart.

Christ. You were already freaking out, and you didn’t even know his name yet. You had to calm the fuck down. He was just a man. A really attractive, manly man. The first person to even be nice to you in this city.

You gave him your name and then he repeated it back with a melodic tone in his voice, captivating you with his smooth, gentle voice.

Fuck. You had it bad.

“That’s a pretty name,” he said with a smile creeping up to the corners of his mouth. Sending butterflies through your stomach.

“I’m Joel,” he said kindly as he held out his hand for you to shake.

You looked at it for a couple seconds, blinking your wide eyes, and then reached your arm out and took his hand. Heat burned through you the moment his hand connected with yours. It was big and strong. Rough calluses lining the backs of his fingers as they scraped against yours.

You gasped when he closed his firm hand over yours and shook it gently, enthralling you in a trance like state as you stared into his honey eyes, wanting to sink into them slowly.

After a few seconds he pried his fingers from yours and placed his hand down against the stage.

Right next to your thigh.

The side of his arm grazed the outside of your leg, sending electricity zapping through your nerves. He was standing so close, leaning too close. It was almost too much.

You squeezed your legs together as your breathing picked up, warmth building against the insides of your thighs. You were sure you were flushed. You had to be. With a gorgeous man like him standing this close to you? Fingers practically on your thigh.

Oh, God.

You were going to have a hell of a time keeping away from this one. You just knew it.

“You from around here?” he asked almost softly.

You shook your head. “No, I’m from Florida.”

“Ahh, the sunshine state. I can see that.” He flicked his eyes over you and faintly smiled as his hand shifted just the slightest, his wrist now leaning into the outside of your leg.

Your breath caught at the feel of him through your tights, the weight of his gleaming eyes on you making you burn with heat. It was a lot. He was a lot.

“You have any family here?” he asked as he leaned against the stage, his bicep flexing on the spot.

You took your eyes off the thick veins in his arm and looked back up into his honey eyes. “No,” you said sadly, dropping your eyes again. “They’re all back in Florida, unfortunately.”

“That’s a shame. What about friends? You have any friends here? Surely a girl like you has some kind of support system.”

You looked down at the ground and sighed, shaking your head as your face dropped. “No. I mean I used to have friends. At least I thought. Once I got the lead role in the ballet, they all turned on me. Turns out they wanted my spot, and apparently I stole it from them.” You put the word stole in air quotes as you spoke. “So, no. Can’t say that I have anyone here.”

A wave of sadness washed over you as you looked back up at Joel, keeping back tears as you glanced at him with a melancholy look on your face.

He furrowed his eyebrows as a concerned stare met your eyes. Like he was apprehensive and worried. “Sounds like they’re jus’ jealous that you’re a better dancer than them. Girls can be little vipers. Gotta watch your back.”

“Yeah…I try. And my instructor is kind of a nightmare. She nitpicks every single thing I do, and it makes me feel like maybe I don’t belong here or maybe I’m not good enough...”

He cut you off as he cupped your chin and turned you to where you were eye level with his. You gulped as his dark brown eyes were searing into yours, his face intense as his hand stayed under your chin. A tingle running down your jawline.

“You do belong here. I’ve seen the way you dance. The way you lose yourself in the music, in your dance moves. You’re good. Best I’ve seen up on that stage actually.”

So he had been watching you dance all this time. You knew it. Holy shit.

“You wanna dance, right?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes.”

“And you want to be the star of this ballet?”

“That’s right,” you said quietly, your mouth dry from the contact of his fingers on your face.

“Then dance. Forget about them. Forget about all of them. Just go out there and do what you do best. Think you can do that?”

You nodded your head as you worked hard to keep your breathing normal. “Mhm,” you replied.

“Atta girl.”

Your eyes widened at the reference, a wave of slick pooling in between your legs as you pushed them closer together.

God, his voice was so smooth with that southern accent. It was making you come undone.

“Try not to let ‘em get in your head. A pretty thing like you should be treated better. Jus’ be careful. Don’t work yourself too hard.”

Pretty? He thought you were pretty. Holy…

He let go of your chin and took his hand off the stage, gently grazing the side of your leg as he backed up, leaving heat running along the places he had just touched.

“If ya ever need someone to talk to, I’m around. You know where to find me. See ya later, sunshine.”

He turned and walked the opposite way, heading for the exit door at the back of the room. Leaving you completely breathless as you watched him get further.

You just sat there gawking at him with an open mouth. Did he just give you a nickname? He called you sunshine. And damn, if it wasn’t the sweetest sound you ever heard.

Before he pushed the door open, he stopped and looked back at you, eyes flickering over you once more.

You closed your jaw and tried to look more sophisticated. Make it look like you weren’t freaking out on the inside.

He nodded his head toward you and then headed out the door as it closed with a loud bang against the echo of the auditorium.

You were left there sitting against the stage as your fingers dug into the sides with your legs pressed together. Leaving you with wanting thoughts and a pool of desire in between your legs.

You sat there thinking of his handsome features, his tousled curls, his honey eyes, his broad shoulders, his thick hands. You sat like that until the lights started dimming, signaling you it was time to leave. To go back to the empty apartment. When all you wanted was for him to fill the silence of those bare walls. A longing desire that needed to be put to sleep.

That night you tossed and turned in your sheets. You couldn’t get him out of your head. Those smoldering eyes haunted your dreams. He was so charming, so nice. The way he had called you sunshine. Enticing you with that low southern drawl of his. It did things to you. Immoral things.

You couldn’t sleep so you did the next best thing you could to get him out of your mind. You touched yourself. As you slid your hand beneath the sheets, you found your aching core to be wet and sticky. Slick was pooling at your middle, covering the inside of your thighs. Making them wetter the more you thought about him.

You groaned as you slid one of your fingers inside yourself, feeling your dripping wet walls as you pushed in and out, letting all your sexual frustration out.

You took your other hand and placed two fingers against your throbbing clit, pressing them down on the most sensitive spot that you could find. You moaned out as the slow circles turned into fast breaths and silent cries. Needing more, needing something else.

Dark eyes encapsulated your vision as you closed your eyes, concentrating on those bulging veins. Reflecting on that low drawl of his voice, pretending he was in the room with you now. Working you with those thick fingers of his.

Atta girl. That’s a good girl. That’s it, sunshine.

Your fingers were circling faster, pumping in and out harder, curling up into the spongy spot that made you see stars.

That’s my good girl.

And then you were coming as you released all your built up pressure, clenching around nothing and coming undone. Saturating the bottom of your sheets as you moaned out Joel’s name across the room, spilling yourself once more onto the bed.

Christ. You had to get a hold of yourself. You needed to focus on your dancing, not the brooding man that made you absolutely crazy.

But he wasn’t just a man.

No.

He was more than that. So much more.

Part 2

#joel miller #joel x you #joel x reader #joel the last of us #joel x female reader #joel miller smut #joel tlou #protective joel

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