joeldjarin

[joeldjarin]

[joeldjarin]

too gentle, too soft

part one: is not necessary to read it before reading this but i recommend it to understand what's happening better.

♡ pairing: older!joel miller&femreader

♡ content: after Joel asked you to leave you asked Tommy to change you. You didn't want to see him, ever again. Partly mad at yourself for your harsh words but even more mad at him for making you feel like he did.

♡ tw: age gap (inespecified but big), p n v, pull out method, grinding, praising.

a/n: please tell me if i skipped any tw!

MASTERLIST AO3

mdn

It has been weeks since you and Joel made any contact, you asked to change your patrol partner to Tommy. He said yes, of course. You felt like you were going to break when you asked him.

But the past is the past, and you told yourself that you didn't want to think about him anymore. Yet you couldn't help but look for him every time you entered a new place. But it was as if he had disappeared completely.

Your new partner wasn't bad, he made small talk with you but you didn't want to talk much anymore, if you were honest with yourself. The new routes were easier than the ones you did with him, so your mind was constantly replayed that evening: his hands on you, his satisfied smile when he watched you tremble under him, how he pulled you closer the minute you had finished. But you also remembered his face when he was sitting alone in the kitchen. He made coffee for asking you to go.

And then your comment, that made all his gentleness dissapear, that made the walls between the two of you higher than ever.

"Did you think I was too young when you were fingering me? Or was that the reason you did it?"

You regretted it so much, but there was nothing you could do now; it was done.

After patrolling, you went home. You'd finished later than usual and your pyjamas and a cup of tea were all you wanted in that moment, it made everything feel normal again.

You showered, trying to get off any thoughts about him, and slipped into your pyjamas. You heard a knock on the door while you were preparing your tea. It was too late for a visit, you opened the door to the last person you could had imagine.

"Hey," a rough voice whispered, a voice you knew too well.

"Joel..." You muttered. "What are you doing here?" You tried to appear neutral by his appearence, but your heart raced just from seeing him there. He came to you.

"Can we talk?" His eyes lingered a little too long on your pyjamas before turning back to your eyes. You hesitated briefly, but finally you let him pass, the room suddenly felt too small for the two of you. The whistle of the microwave startled you both.

"I'm going to..." You pointed awkardly to the counter. This wasn't how it should be going, you were mad you should act like it. He nodded and looked away when you turned, somehow you knew his eyes were back on you back as you went for your cup.

He sat on the couch, tapping his fingers nervously against the fabric of his jeans as he waited for you. He looked nervous, you'd never seen Joel nervous before. You sat next to him, at a safe distance. "Do you want anything?" You tried to be polite, you needed an excuse to get off that couch. But he shook his head and took a deep breath before saying what was burning on his tongue.

"Listen, I want to make peace with you," he started, avoiding you eyes. "I need you to know that I didn't do anything because you are young. I did it because I like you and because we both wanted it, but I should had known better..."

"I know you didn't do it for that, I'm sorry for implying it I was hurt and didn't control what I said." You interruped him. He passed his hands throught his thighs, and finally lift his eyes to meet yours.

"I'm not asking you to be friends again... Or whatever our relationship was before that. But I don't like to know that you're uncomfortable with me." He confessed in a low tone. "I'm not good with words and my old heart seems to have a shield. But I enjoy your company." He passed a hand through his neck, looking away again, tapping his finger faster against the couch. Trying to hide how nervous he was. He was being vulnerable with you, you reached his hand trying to calm his tick.

"It's fine, I was wrong too. It hurted me when you said that but it wasn't an excuse for saying what I did. I didn't mean it." He stared at your hands together and you felt you heart clench.

He hawked, pulling his hand again and trying to regain his usual tough self.

"I meant what I said, girl." He tilted his head a little, his tone remained gentle. Measuring his voice and trying to not hurt you in the process. "You deserve someone that can keep up with you, not some old man that doesn't even know how to talk about his feelings."

"But what if I want the old man that doesn't know how to talk about his feeling," you whispered to the ground.

"Well, fuck me then because I don't know if I can keep pulling you away," he turned his body to you, lifting your chin enough for you to look at him.

"Then don't," you kissed him. You realised you didn't kiss him that night. He groaned at the feeling of your lips, his hand traveled to the back of your neck, pulling you closer against him. You pulled away enough to breath. But he kissed you again, harder this time before lifting you to his lap. "You drive me crazy, baby." He smiled against your lips. You lowered your lips to kiss neck, leaving wet kisses and gentle bites on your way down. Until you were on your knees in front of him. You let your hand wander around his thighs, slowly, you reached for his belt. When you looked up at him he was leaned back with his eyes closed and his lips parted open. He sensed your eyes on him and looked down at you, you smiled playfully and start undoing in his bely. His hand reached yours, stopping you and sighting before straightening in up with a heavy sight.

"Darling', I'm sorry. We can't." He pulled you up to his lap and started caressing you lower back.

"But you want to." You insisted, you didn't mind that it made you look a little desperate.

He smiled, softly. The warmest smile you've ever seen on him. "Not like this." He finally said. "Still too young for me."

You pulled away, disappointed at the constant rejection. You understood why but you wouldn't stop until you got him, because he wanted it to. He told you he did.

You sat in the couch before standing up. "Do you want anything to eat or drink?" You knew you'd asked before but you needed to break the silence.

He was about to say no but he nod asking for water. You went up to grab him one when he touched your hip. The touch stopped you but you didn't turn away. "I know you're not happy about it..." He said, still trying to convince you that this was the right choice. "It's fine," you mumbled under your breath before running away from him, even it only was for a few seconds.

When you sat back next to him, you didn't know what to say anymore. He looked at you, and took your hand. "Sweetheart..." He dragged the nickname. "Joel..." You invited him to continue. He moved closer to you. "Are you certain you would want us to..." You parted your lips, surprised at the sudden change of mind. You nodded. "Yes, I want to. I thought that was clear," you tried to smile but he kissed you slowly. The quiet kiss soon turned into something much urgent. He laid you down and lowered himself to reach your neck. "If you want to stop at any moment you tell me, understood?" He said in his usual demanding tone. You nodded, arching for more. He took off your pyjamas until you were in nothing more than the little panties you used for asleep. He pushed himself up to eat you up with eyes. He kneeled down in the couch to lick you through your panties. "Fucking soaked already and I didn't even take off my clothes yet." He kissed the dark patch that was forming in your underwear, you moaned and lift your hips up against his mouth but he only pulled away further. "Baby tell me what you want." He crawled up to you, pressing the tent of his jeans against you. You moaned at the weight. "I want you to undress." You whispered, He smiled against your lips before taking off his shirt. You arched into his heat and grind, trying to fins some release. "You want my cock baby?" He kissed you nipple before giving it a gentle bite.

"Yes," you managed to get out. He didn't waste a second before undoing his belt letting his pants fall to the ground with his underwear. You looked at him, giving by how tall was he you already had an idea that he would be big but this was something else, he sensed your surprise and he flustered a little.

"It's all yours," he bit his lips when you sat, he let you you push him until he was the one laying back. You carresed him, exploring with curious eyes; when you brushed the head he arched into your touch and let out an incontroled whimper out. "You're doing so good, baby." He whispered when you kiss the tip, you looked up but his eyes where already on you, burning with lust and desire in the way you only read about. "Guide me." You whispered with a playful smile. You loved when he was in control but there was something especial about bringing a man his age, his size, to a mess of whimpers. He grabbed your hair in a messy ponytail and pushed you down, lifiting his hips to meet you. He thrust in your mouth gently, he moved erratictly trying to control himself, but you didn't want him to control himself. You pushed lower, your nose brushing his pelvis and some tears in your eyes. You kept trying to take all of him until he tightened the grip on your hair. "Baby, if you keep up like this I won't..." A groan interrupted him when you made your tongue dance around him, you moaned when he lifted his hips without warning, the vibrations doing wonder around him. "Up, baby, I'm about to..." You licked him again and he leaned his head back with an uncontrolled moan, spilling himself in your mouth. You stayed, looked up at him, at his face contorning in pleasure until he went soft in your mouth. The situation was too much for you, barely registrening you started to grind on his thigh, he smiled, pleased. "You did so good, such a good girl for me." He sat up to kiss you, putting his hands on your hips and making you move more against him.

He wiped the tears, with a concern."Did I hurt you, sweetheart?" You shook your head. "No baby, I just.. It's big and.." You bluahed, at your nervous words.

"My turn now," he pushed you down, making you giggle.

He gave himself a few strokes before lowering himself down, he moved the head of his cock against your clothed sex, groaning and whimpering like it was the first time he ever felt that. He looked at you, and kissed the moans out of your mouth before pulling away just enough to talk.

"Can I?" He grabbed the waistband of your panties, trying to calm himself.

"Please, yes," you kissed him again as he threw your panties to the floor and aligned with your wet entrance. He pushed his head in, making you both groan. "Fuck baby, how are you so tight." He muttered before pushing more in. "Does it feel good, baby? Talk to me." He whispered, stopping himself from going further and trying to ignore the way your walls clench to him.

"Yes,"you moaned, urging him to move. He sighed at your agreement and start pumping in and out of you. "Such a good girl for me, taking me all in." He went slow at first, letting you adjust to his size.

"Please, faster."You let your nails dig on his shoulders when he started to do it like you wanted, every time he thrust in he brushed the sweet spot he found weeks ago, driving you crazier until you v¡were sure the neighbours would look at you weird tomorrow. "Please, more. I need it." You moaned, he groaned at your whimpers and pleads and went faster in you.

"Darlin', I don't know if I can wait longer." He warned, his thrusts became clumsier. You fall apart in his arms, moaning his name and letting him fuck you through youy orgasm, making him little time to pull out.

He replaced his cock with his finger, as he stroke himself a few more times before cumming in your thighs. A few seconds later he looked up at you, checking on you. "Everything good?" He sat back, letting you rest from his weight. You smiled radiant and nodded. "You threw yourself on top of him, laying with your head on his chest as he soothed you. Caressing your lower back gently as if he was afraid that he'll break you if he pressed too hard. You eyes started too close, until you drifted off to sleep. "Please don't go away tomorrow." You whispered before falling asleep.

word count: 2.2k

a/n: omggg fianlly, I hope you like it, I'm thinking about a part three but I don't knowwwwww. Maybe the morning after?

Alsoooo im doing a fanfic called a quiet corner about pedro pascal heres the first chapter if you want to check it out: a cold september.

MASTERLIST AO3

tags: @xojdmasf @wand-erer5 @martuxduckling @ronin-111

[joeldjarin]

PEDRO PASCAL in Los Angeles | via gauchobites.la

[joeldjarin]

you're not that old

♡ pairing: older!joel miller&femreader

♡ content: joel thinks he is too old for you and it's the reason why you are not doing a lot og things other young people do.

♡ tw: age gap, explicit content, praising, oral (joel receving), fingers in mouth (im sorry but i dont know how else to call it.), praising.

a/n: please tell me if i skipped any tw!

MASTERLIST

♡mdn♡

You were painting your nails the darkest shade of red while Joel was taking a shower. You got used to the domestic feeling of being with him and you loved it so much. You heard the water stop running and him getting out. It was your moment.

You walked towards the room and waited him, eager to see him in only a towel with the water drops running down his chest. He got in, looking thoughtful; it wasn't new, he always looked like he was thinking something when he wasn't with you, but there was a flinch of worry on his face now.

"Baby..." You whispered, hugging him from behind, he turned and smiled. Pulling away just enough to bring you fingers to his mouth. He pressed them against his lips but the worry on his face didn't go away. "What's wrong?" You asked.

"Nothing, darlin'." He sat in bed, drawing you with him and making you stand between his legs. "I just wonder sometimes, "he looked up at you, "if I'm taking away experiences from you, by making you be here."

You shook your head, gently. "You're not making me stay here, starting from there." You sat on his lap, "nor you are taking away anything."

You always new this would be a conversation sooner or later. He was already hesitant from the start when yiu confessed him how you felt.

"It still feels like..."He paused, measuring his words. "Like I'm taking advantatge of you somehow, not letting you have what I had."

You kissed his neck, and carresed his cheek. Trying to convince him without words that you wanted to be there, with him.

"I want you. I want to stay with you. I want to be always next to you." You turned his head gently to you, giving him a sweet kiss. "What can I do to make you understand." You kissed him again. "That I'm yours."

His cheeks were a little pink. They were few the time you'd seen him blush. You carresed his still wet chest, and started to play with his towel. His breath got messier as you continued to touch him.

"You're too good to me, darling." He kissed you back, finally. You smiled at the kiss. "Loving and old man like me, being so sweet and caring."

"Nah, you're not that old, baby." You said playfully, trying to untense the moment. He chuckled and caught one of your hands.

"I like the color." He smiled, a more careless one this time. You grabbed his hand too playing with his fingers, kissing the tip of all of them. His eyes darken a little, but he didn't say anything. You licked his middle one until it was fully on your mouth.

"Baby," he whispered, warning and dangerous whisper. You got the finger out of your mouth and kneeled in front of him to take it again. You looked up at him, invinting him to move it. He took a few second before staring to move the finger in your mouth, then he added a second one. Moving them faster, losing control a little. "You look so good like this, y'know. Makes me wonder what else I can get in that pretty little mouth of yours."

You looked at the waistband of the towel and worked your way to untie it, letting it fall. His erection free to your eyes, your eyes grew wider and you looked up at him at him agin. "Alright, darlin'."

He pulled his fingers out and stroked himself a few times before letting you take it in your mouth. You took it all at once, making you gag a little midway. "Easy there, baby." He pulled you up and looked at you with concern. "You okay, baby?"

You nodded. "Guide me, teach me how to do it right." He groaned, lifting his hips uncounciously at the thought. "Okay, baby." You started again. He pulled your hair in a messy ponitail and guided you, letting your mouth adjust and pushing you a little longer each time.

"You doing so good. baby." He whimpered. His hand on your hair thighten and his breath grew messier. "You gotta start to think about pulling out, darlin'. I don't know for how long..." You made your tongue dance around him, he tried to pull you up, but you went lower 'till your nose was brushing his pelvis.

Then, he cummed. He whimpered and whispered your name like a pray. You kept moving until he went soft on your mouth. He pulled you up, and this time you let him. A string of saliva was the only thing that connected you two now.

He looked at you as caring and loving as always. "Come up here, baby."

He pampered your face with kisses and drew circles on your lower back, until he thought you had already fallen asleep. Only then, he allowed himselff to drift asleep too.

You knew that this wouldn't make his worry go away, and that you would eventually have to sit down and talk about it. But not tonight.

♡mdn♡

word count: 1k

a/n: they grow shorter, somehow. Im already working on the next chapter of the serie, btw!!! Here's chapter one if you want to take a look.

ALRIGHTTTT BYEEEEEEEEE SEND ME REQUEST IF YOU HAVE ANY IDEAAAAAS

[joeldjarin]

you confessed him how you felt

♡pairing: joel miller&femreader

♡ content: you've been trying to get joel to pay you the kind of attention you want.

♡tw: age gap, ligth swearing, praising.

MASTERLIST

.♡♡♡.

You've always had a crush on Joel, but, if he noticed, he never did much about it. It was platonic, or that's what you told yourself.

That night was a depressing one, you were at a bar with friends and when one of them decided to start ordering vodka shots you didn't oppose much.

But know you're back more, it's passed midnight and all you could think about was him. You knew he lived in the same neighbourhood, a few street next to your house, and your drunk mind can't difference good from bad choices.

And that's how you appeared at his door, knocking before you could help yourself. A few seconds passed and you were already regretting it, he was probably asleep and it was cold your sweatpants and shirt didn't protect you much from it.

You turned to go back home. When you heard the door open.

"Hey." I heard a rough, strong voice behind me, - a voice you knew too well. "What are you doing here, come in it's freezing."

You had no other option than turn, tumbling a little to the side as you came in his house.

"I'm so sorry," you faltered. "I was at home and thinking about you and, as I'm sure you can notice, a little happy. So I thought: why not pay him a visit?" He was sat at his couch, looking at you with soft grin.

"I think you should go to sleep." He sighed. When you looked at him, your cheeks a little red both from the alcohol and his presence. "Take my room, I'll sleep on the couch."

Your mind wasn't there anymore, you felt how the alcohol took a second place in your brain as you felt more drunk on how his arms were crossed against your chest, how he manspread on the couch as if he was inviting you to sit on his lap. You moved closer to him, drawn to the heat of his body; and carresed his arm. His eyes burned on you when he felt your touch.

"What are you doing?" His voice became low, hesistant. "You drunk." The statement felt more a remind to him than to you.

"I want you, Pedro." You whispered.

"Fuck..." He whispered, leaning his head against the couch. "You really need to go to sleep, darling."

"Carry me." You threw yourslef at him, giggling. He garbed you by your thighs and you instantly wrapped them around his waist.

His room. He set you in bed and you rolled around it like it was yours. He put a blanket, that was well folded on a chair, over you body. Once done he took a last glance at your body, your chest raised slowly, before leaving.

"Stay." Your whisper stopped him at the doorway. He turned to face you. "You'll regret it tomorrow if I stay. And you're drunk I don't think you mean it"

You raiseda little, enough to see his face iluminated by the little lamp next to him.

"Trust me, I always wanted you on my bed." You yawned before laying back down. "Stay." You said again, this time with more force in it. The pause was long until he turned of the lamp light and you heard him moved, then the mattres sank under his weight. He kept his distance between you both, but he was in bed next to you, and that was enough.

"I meant what I said earlier," you turned to face him, he was lying face up. "I want you, I always did." You closed your eyes, only then letting sleep win over you.

"I'm too old for you, darling."

.♡♡♡.

omgggggg, should i do a part two!?

tags: @reidswifeyyyyyy

[joeldjarin]

𝑪𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒆 𝑬𝒏𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒔

summary: make up sex with Joel turns a lot more intense than either of you anticipated warnings: 18+ only! lots of smut, that's it. a/n: couldn’t help myself. hope you enjoy!

He’s frustrated. He wouldn’t admit it, but you can tell. You can see it in the way his jaw tenses whenever you brush by him or in the way he sighs at even the slightest inconvenience, mumbling to himself. You’ve been holding out since the two of you got into a stupid argument when you were last on patrol together. You had disobeyed his orders to return back to the town when the most recent wave of clickers came through. He just wanted to keep you safe; he knows perfectly well you can handle yourself outside of the town gates, but ever since you showed up in his life, he can’t help but let his protective side show. 

Since the argument, you’ve been purposely doing things to drive him insane, all whilst playing dumb. Pushing your ass back to grind up against him in bed, swaying your hips when you walk that little bit more to make him look, or wearing that little set you know makes him wild whenever he sees you in it. 

Today though, it’s just the two of you out on patrol. He’s only said a few words to you the whole morning, and you know he’s close to breaking. You knew this when your hand brushed against his boxers in the bathroom when you were both getting ready earlier; the groan he let slip was primal. 

Entering into a row of abandoned stores, he decides you should check them out. Tying both your horses up, you follow shortly behind him through one building to the next, trying to see if there’s anything you can salvage. He picks something up, but it slips from his grasp and drops to the floor, smashing into pieces. 

“Fuck!” He says with gritted teeth. He walks over to a door at the back of the building and tries to push it open, but it doesn’t move. He stands back before kicking the door. No luck. He tries again. Still nothing. 

“You seem a little tense,” you tease behind him, knowing full well he won’t appreciate this comment. 

With that, he turns around, strides towards you and pushes you hard against the nearby wall. Pressing his hips into you, he pins your arms above your head.

“You think?” He says in a deep, low voice. “You’ve been driving me fuckin’ crazy! You tryin’ to punish me?” He asks. 

“Why would you think that?” You respond innocently.  

“Brushing up against me any chance you get. Wearing that gorgeous piece in front of me, but not letting me touch you. Making me hard then ignoring me. God! You know how to fuckin’ tease a man.”

He grinds into you and you can feel him rock hard through his trousers. You gasp. Still holding your arms above you with one hand, his other hand moves down, unbuckling your jeans. Then he slips his fingers inside, brushing over your panties, and you move against them. 

“Mmmmh,” he hums, “You like that?”

You nod. He can feel how soaked you are through the fabric. Your breathing starts to deepen before he removes his hand, and you whimper at the loss.  

“Joel, please,” you whisper. He moves his head down and starts kissing your neck, his tongue darting out to taste your skin. 

“Gonna get you all worked up, then leave you all hot and desperate, just like you’ve been doin’ to me,” he says. “Is that what you want, baby?” He says into your neck, his breath warm against your skin.

“No.” You shake your head, moaning as he continues pushing into you. 

“Are you sorry?” He asks. You nod. “Say it.”

“I’m sorry, Joel” you whimper. His face comes back up level with yours then, his deep brown eyes staring intently into yours. 

“Good girl.” Your insides flip when he says it. You may have enjoyed teasing him, and he might be completely desperate for you, but you’re just as ravenous for him. 

He kisses you then, his tongue exploring your mouth. You slide a hand down and stroke his bulge over his jeans. Batting your hand away, he moves down your body. When his face meets your waist, he slowly drags your trousers and panties down your legs. His lips kiss your thighs, and your hand comes to roam through the soft fluffy curls on his head. You try to guide his head to where you need him most. Eventually he allows it, putting one of your legs over his shoulder, and he dives into your heat. You moan loudly. 

“Fuck, Joel!” 

He takes his time, tasting you, breathing you in. You’re getting close when he pulls away too soon and your legs drop down. Standing, he captures your lips again and you can taste yourself on his tongue. He unbuckles his belt and pushes his trousers down just enough so that you can finally slip your hand into his boxers. 

“You don’t understand what you do to me,” he mumbles as you stroke his thick, leaking cock. “Yeahhh, like that.” 

He’s struggling to hold himself together when you try to move down, but he stops you. 

“Baby, I won’t last. Need to be inside you.”

His hands move to your hips, and he lifts you, your legs wrapping around his waist, your arms around his neck, your back still against the wall. He reaches between your bodies and rubs his tip along your slick. 

“God, you’re so wet for me.”

“Please,” you beg.

Unable to tease you no longer, he thrusts hard inside you, your mouth falling open as the air is pushed out of your lungs.

“Jesus!” He grunts into your neck. After allowing you to adjust to his size, he starts moving his hips, and you can’t help but cry out. You feel his teeth nibbling your shoulder as his thrusts start to become faster. 

“Oh god, Joel, don’t stop.” He drives deeper and deeper into your core. 

That’s when you both hear it. His movements freeze, and he pulls his head back to look at you, eyes wide. There’s a clicker. 

“Where?” He mouths to you.

You scan the store, but it’s empty. Movement from the corner of your eye draws you to look at the windows. It’s standing outside, but it hasn’t seen you. You look back at Joel and tip your head towards the window. He looks over, assessing the situation. 

Still buried inside you, you expect him to pull out and move to grab his gun; instead he looks back into your eyes. 

“Don’t make a fuckin’ sound.” He whispers as quietly as possible. His hand moves up to cover your mouth. He draws his cock all the way out before pushing back inside you again. It feels so good. He pauses, making sure you’re okay with it and with a nod of your head, his movements pick up.

Your eyes scan back over to the window, and the clicker is moving away, almost out of sight. But if you were to make the slightest sound, you’d be in trouble. 

“Look at me,” He breathes.

You’re so close now; the thrill of imminent danger in this moment makes the sensations so much more intense. It’s raw, it’s dangerous and it’s completely filthy, only turning you both on even more. After a few more deep thrusts, he’s guiding you over the edge. Your head tips back against the wall, and you have to fight the overwhelming urge to moan into his hand. Not far behind, he moves his hand away from your mouth and grips your ass so hard. You enjoy the sting. As his mouth comes to your neck, his tongue tastes your skin desperately, and you can tell he’s struggling to not make a single sound as he cums inside you. 

You both slowly come down from the high, and he slips out of you. Tucking himself back into his trousers, he smirks down at you and leans over to kiss your forehead. He turns then, picking up his gun, and walks over to the window to check for the clicker. 

When you ride back, he turns to look over at you with a mischievous grin. 

“What?” You smile at him.

“You had no choice but to obey my orders this time didn’t you?” 

You roll your eyes playfully, and you hear him chuckle to himself. 

[joeldjarin]

Bar Brawl. Joel Miller x fem! reader. *SMUT*

Summary: Joel’s girlfriend get jealous seeing a woman flirt with him at the bar.

TW: More porn with a little bit of plot, drinking alcohol, Tommy poking fun at Joel for being with a younger girl (calling him a perv), reader is extremely jealous, the girls are fighting, Joel and reader fuck in the bathroom, fingering, possessiveness kinda, unprotected sex, getting caught, one use of the word “daddy” (I know I’m shocked I only used it once), Joel has a filthy mouth on him, hair pulling, creampie.

Word Count: 3k

••••••••••••••••••••

Joel’s eyes scanned the bar again, looking for the familiar face of his girlfriend just to check on her. He finds her in a new corner of the room with a few of her friends and her sister, a bright smile on her face and some fruity drink in her hand.

They came to the bar together, but she saw her friends, Joel saw Tommy, and they split for the night.

“Hey,” Tommy waves his hand in front of Joel’s eyes, chuckling to himself. “I’m talking to you, dipshit.”

Joel blinks back into focus, giving his brother a small glare. “What?” He grumbles.

“Can you quit looking at your girl for 5 seconds? She’s fine and doesn’t need you watching her like a dirty old pervert that you are.”

Joel brings the beer bottle to his lips, giving him a mocking laugh. “Very funny. Just making sure none of these other morons in here are watchin’ her.”

“Trust me, I think everyone in a 20 mile radius knows she’s yours. I think everyone in a 20 mile radius are kicking themselves because she’s yours.”

“Are you trying to say my girlfriend is hot?” Joel narrows his eyes at his brother. He knew she was hot, but he didn’t need to hear it from his brother.

“You gonna kick my ass if I say yes?”

“Yes.”

“Then no.”

Joel rolls his eyes, taking another drink of beer.

From the corner of his eye, he sees someone walk up to the table, putting their glass down and sliding a chair up.

Tommy looks first, his eyes widening seeing nothing but cleavage in his eyeline.

Marie Daniels sits across from both Tommy and Joel, a smile on her face as she looks at both men. “How you both doing tonight?”

Joel raises a skeptical eyebrow at her, turning to look at his brother. He looked down at his watch, chuckling to himself as he realized the time.

Marie had a reputation around town and it wasn’t a good one. It was half past midnight, and she didn’t have a man under her belt which meant she was on the hunt for one to sink her claws into for the night.

“Either of you want to treat a lady to another beer? I’m running low.” She twirls the bottle around in her hand before bringing it up to her bright red lips and taking a sip.

“Tommy?” Joel looks at him, gesturing his head toward Marie with a little shit eating grin on his face. “Why don’t you buy her a beer?”

“Actually, I was hoping Joel would buy me a drink. Maybe treat me to a game of pool before the night ends?”

Tommy snorts out a laugh, hiding his smile by coughing into his fist. “ ‘Scuse me, got something in my throat. I’m gonna go clear it out over here.” He gets up from his seat, taking his beer with him and walking away.

She leans forward onto the table, pushing up her cleavage with her arms, trying not to make it totally obvious what she was doing but Joel saw sight past it. “What do you say, brown eyes? We can both get a refill.”

Joel’s girlfriend scans the bar, seeing Tommy walk outside, seeing if Joel was following behind him. Her eyes scanned the bar, spotting his brown jacket first before spotting his face.

The more she looks, she sees Marie Daniels sitting with Joel, a squiggly smile on her face signaling she was drunk and on the prowl.

“Are you okay?” Her friend, Katie, notices her withdrawn stare. She follows her gaze to Joel and Marie, putting the puzzle pieces together. “Oh god.”

The rest of the girls at the table do the same, following the stares across the bar to see what was going on.

Her sister, Riley, spitting her drink back into her glass. “What the hell is she doing?” She scoffs in disbelief.

Everyone in town knew she belonged to Joel and Joel belonged to her, and nobody else in town was bold or dumb enough to so much as raise an interested eyebrow at either of them in passing.

“She better not lay a single acrylic fingernail on him, or I’m beating the shit out of her.” She threatens, not so much as blinking as she spoke.

“Joel won’t touch her.” Gina, another one of her friends, pays her shoulder, she was almost too pure for this world.

“I’ll fucking kill her.” She grumbles, sitting and watching the two of them just waiting for her to slip up and make a move on her man. The second she so much as tapped her shoe against his, she was going to pounce.

“Riley, go sit at the table next to them and listen to what she’s saying to him.” Katie nudges the girl.

Without hesitation, Riley gets up, drink in hand, and sneaks to the table next to Joel and Marie. The two guys that were already sitting at the table giver her a questionable look, trying to figure out why she invited herself to their table.

Joel shifts uncomfortably in his chair, trying to think of any excuse to get up and leave. He was going to kick Tommy’s ass for getting up and leaving him here with “Madame Marie” as the rest of the town referred to her as.

“I have beer back at my place. We should go back there and have a couple drinks, get away from all the noise so that way we can have some privacy.”

“I think you had more than enough to drink. Maybe you should find someone to walk you home.”

Marie rolls her eyes, leaning in closer to him. “I’m trying to get you to take me home, handsome. But you’re about as stubborn as a rock.”

“That ain’t happening. Nice try though.” Joel takes a long drink from his beer, putting the empty bottle down on the wooden table and scooting his chair out.

Marie gets out of her chair, rounding the table to stand in front of Joel. “How about just a game of pool then? Winner gets what they want. My prize will be you.” Her hand reaches up to rest on his bicep.

Riley waves her hand toward the table with her friends, pointing toward Marie and Joel frantically.

“Okay, just don’t swing on her. I really don’t want to be in a bar fight tonight, I like this top.” Gina says, grabbing onto the sleeve of her friend’s shirt, trying to put out the fire that was about to ignite.

She slides out of her chair in a quick motion, walking clear across the bar in a few strides. Her body was on fire with anger, having to really push her desire to yank Marie by her dark hair and drag her across the floor.

Joel feels a hand on the back of his jacket, making him jump slightly, turning his head to see his girlfriend with her jaw clenched tight. He was more than familiar with the flames he saw in her irises, and he knew that Marie should be afraid.

“Hi, baby. Who’s your… friend?” She says the last word with her teeth clenched tight.

“Honey, I don’t think Joel’s looking to buy Girl Scout cookies right now, you should go.” Marie smiles sarcastically.

“Oh you dumb bitch.” Riley laughs to herself, shaking her head, resting her chin on her palm and watching the show to start.

“Actually, I don’t think you’re aware since you’re hitting on him, but Joel’s my boyfriend and has been for a while.”

Joel wraps his arm around her, pressing a delicate kiss to her temple. “Let’s just get out of here.” He whispers in her ear.

“Honey, don’t you think Joel wants to experience what it’s like to be with a woman who knows what she’s doing? How’d you even get into the bar? They don’t sell to underage girls.”

She narrows her eyes at Marie, grabbing Rylie’s drink from the table to throw at Marie, but Joel grabs the glass from her before she can do anything, putting it back on the table.

“Enough. Let’s go.” He growls in her ear, grabbing her by her upper arm to pull her away, but she pulls it out of his grasp, shooting him a dirty look.

She turns around, grabbing the glass again, this time too quickly for anyone else to react, this time successfully splashing the cold drink in Marie’s face. A wicked smile creeps on her face as she sees drops of liquid roll down her cheeks and onto Marie’s black low cut top.

Marie immediately reacts, grabbing her empty beer bottle and chucking it at Joel’s girlfriend, missing completely causing the broken glass to shatter against the empty table next to her.

“Goddamn it.” Joel mutters in annoyance, grabbing for his girlfriend again, fumbling with her arm as she charges at Marie, her fist immediately connecting to Marie’s cheek with a satisfying THWAP sound.

Marie grabs the other girl’s shirt, gripping the fabric in her fist and yanking her closer, using her acrylic nails to scratch at her face.

Neither girl is able to fight back, other bar patrons stepping in and pulling them apart from each other.

Joel wraps his arm around his girlfriend’s waist, pulling her away in a quick motion, dragging her to the back toward the bathroom. “Hey,” He raises his voice as he yanks the bathroom door open. “Enough. Quit trying to pull away, I’m not letting you go.”

She groans in frustration as Joel forces her onto her feet, glaring at him once they were face to face.

“What the fuck was that about?” He scolds, his voice echoing through the small bathroom. “Both of you are acting like we’re in goddamn high school.”

“Her! Out of all the women in the bar, it had to be Marie trying to take you home.” Her brows were furrowed tight as she shouted back, nostrils flared.

Joel sighs, turning the sink on and grabbing handfuls of paper towels, wetting them completely and gently wiping the blood from Marie scratches away. “You know I wouldn’t do anything with her, right? I was trying to get her to go anywhere else but she just kept on.”

“No, I know.” She sighs, the adrenaline wearing off as Joel tends to the scratch on her cheek. “I’m not mad at you. I just don’t like someone trying to take what’s mine.”

“Didn’t you go to kindergarten? You’re supposed to share.” He jokes, looking at her face for a reaction.

She gently pushes him away. “No, I’m not sharing you. You’re mine.” She slides her thumbs in his front belt loops, pulling him close to her, looking up at him through her eyelashes.

He knew exactly what the little glimmer in her eyes meant, recognizing those bedroom eyes immediately. Joel raises an eyebrow at her, following her as she leans herself against the single sink in the corner. “Really? Right now? In the bathroom?”

“Don’t stand there and tell me seeing me get into a fight over you didn’t turn you on.” She slowly undoes his belt, leaving it hanging while she undoes the button of his blue jeans, pulling them down enough to fish his cock out from the top of his boxers.

“Holy shit.” He groans, quickly helping her pull her own jeans down her legs, freeing one of her legs out completely to make it easier for him to maneuver her around.

She slides up onto the sink’s countertop, propping herself up on the wall behind her. Her fingers twist in the back of Joel’s hair, pulling him in toward her hungrily kissing his lips.

Joel spits onto his middle and ring finger, lubing them up and gently pushing his fingers inside her. He knew she wanted a quick, nasty fuck, none of the soft intimate touches she was used to and preferred. But he knew she still needed to be stretched open in order to fit the thick girth of his cock.

Shivers crawl up her body, her hand clinging onto the sleeve of his jacket. She lets out a little hum feeling herself stretch around his fingers, her eyes not leaving Joel’s deep brown eyes.

“Someone’s gonna walk in here and see me fucking you, but that’s what my girl wants, huh?” A mischievous smirk on his face.

“Maybe.” Her body melts against his touch. “I want everyone to know you’re mine.” Her head rests against the wall, holding her up for Joel to continue to finger her.

Their eyes never leave each other, the way his eyes burn into hers as he watches her eyes roll in her head over and over, her shimmery eyes fighting to stay open.

“I need you. Need you inside me.” She whines breathlessly, grabbing his jacket and pulling him in. “Please, Joel. I’m stretched enough.”

He slowly withdraws his fingers, grasping the base of his dick and gently sliding himself in between her walls.

Both of them groan, Joel not wasting any time bucking his hips up into her harshly. One of his hands digs into her upper thigh, gripping her skin until the imprint of his fingers turns her skin light.

She wraps both her arms around his shoulders, clinging onto him. His body fully encapsulates hers, shielding her from anyone that might walk in on them. “Fuck me.” She sighs breathlessly into his ear, kissing the skin below and feeling the prickly touch of his beard on her pillowy lips.

Joel can’t help but start to nibble on the skin of her neck, raking his teeth across her sensitive skin until he finds her sweet spot right above her collarbone.

She feels the suction of his lips on her burning skin, one of her hands trailing up to the back of his head and holding him there. “Feels so good.” She smiles in serenity. “You always make it feel so good, Joel.”

The bathroom door squeaks open, Joel too pussy drunk to pay it any mind.

Her eyes look up to see Marie walk in the bathroom, their eyes meeting. She raises her brow at the woman, giving her a deadly smile.

“You’re so deep in me. Keep going, daddy, don’t stop.” She gasps, the whole time her eyes staring at Marie.

She wanted her to get the hint that she belonged to Joel and would always belong to him. If she didn’t get the hint after walking in on Joel being balls deep inside her, then she was hopeless.

Joel slips out a moan, the sound echoing in the room. “Love you so much, baby. Love how you take this dick.” His hot breath on her bare skin made her shiver.

Marie finally looks away, disdain on her face. She steps out of the bathroom without saying anything, having seen more than enough.

“I’m not going to last, baby. Got me all worked up, I’m gonna cum.”

“Want it inside me.” She mewls in his ear, nipping at his ear lobe. “Want it dripping out of me the rest of the night, daddy.”

Joel grabs her by her thighs, pulling her off the counter and manhandling her to bend over the sink. “Look at yourself while I cum inside you, baby. See how pretty you look when you take my dick.”

Her hand grips the faucet, staring at Joel through the mirror. Her lipstick was smudged almost clean off, the mascara she had on her lashes had started to run slightly.

He wraps her hair snug around his wrist and fist, forcing her head up higher. “Keep those pretty eyes open. Keep looking at how good you are for me.”

Tears start to sting her eyes now that Joel was fucking her deeper than before, hitting the spot that made her whole body shake and lose control.

“Harder, fucking please?” She hisses, slamming her hips back to meet his thrusts.

The growl that comes from Joel’s chest makes her clench around his girth, his teeth grinding against each other as he tries to hold his orgasm back.

A second clench of her muscle breaks him, pressing himself against her fully as he spills inside her, seeing bright white as he rolls his eyes in the back of his head.

“Holy fuck.” He lets go of her hair, kissing the back of her head, nuzzling his nose in between the strands and inhaling the smell of coconuts in her scalp. “You’re going to kill me one day.” Joel jokes, huffing out a laugh.

“I think my jealousy got the best of me.” She pushes the hair that was sticking to her forehead away from the sweaty skin with a sleepy sigh, her body already spent.

“A little bit.” Joel rubs at the skin of her hip softly with his fingertips. “But if the roles were reversed, I’d do the same. Maybe even ruin you a little more.”

Slowly Joel pulls his softening dick out of her sore walls, helping her get dressed again before pulling his boxers and pants back up his thighs.

“My panties are going to be a mess by the time we get home.” She laughs, pressing a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“I’ll clean you up when we get home. I don’t think you’ll mind hanging around with my cum leaking out of you for a little while.” Joel raises his eyebrows suggestively, smirking from ear to ear.

They come out of the bathroom and walk back to her friends and Tommy who had come back inside.

The crowd had died down since they snuck away, more than likely thinning out after the fight.

“You dirty perverts.” Tommy jokes, grinning as they walk up to the table.

Joel pushes Tommy’s head as he passes him, pulling the chair out for his girlfriend and taking a seat next to her. “I’m not a pervert, shut up Tommy.”

“Fucking in the bathroom isn’t perverted? Marie caught you guys and was going on and on about it until Aaron kicked her out.”

Joel raises his brow as he turns to look at his girlfriend, biting a knowing smirk back. “She caught us, huh?” He mutters to her.

She plays the innocent card, shrugging her shoulders and batting her lashes. “I had no idea. Maybe she should’ve minded her business and kept her hands off my man.”

[joeldjarin]

My Masterlist!

SERIES

🌶️ - indicates smut !!!! (18+ only MDNI)

❀ Cupid of Wyoming (Ongoing)

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4|

❀ First Date (Ongoing)

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6| Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 |

❀ Guns & Roses (Ongoing)

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 |Chapter 3 |Chapter 4 |Chapter 5 |Chapter 6 | Chapter 7| Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 |Chapter 10|

🌶️ Feels Right (Ongoing) (18+ MDNI - warnings stepdad!joel)

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

🌶️ For the Hour (Ongoing) (18+ MDNI)

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

❀ Castillo & Co (Ongoing)

Chapter 1

🌶️ Dark Matter (Ongoing) (18+ MDNI)

Chapter 1 |

🌶️ Tangled in Paradise (Ongoing) (18+ MDNI)

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 |

❀❀

Dividers credit !

❀❀

[joeldjarin]

Crazy On You

preoutbreak!joel | jackson!joel

Okay, can’t stop thinking about preoutbreak!joel, young, hot and messy. Compared to jackson!joel, old, sappy and romantic, and their favorite sex positions.

cw: MDNI 18+, brief dad!Joel, pet names, rough sex, low-key mean!joel, backshots, doggy style, reader has enough fat to grab, spit, pull out method, dacryphillia, p n v, vaginal fingering, old man angst, dry humping, romantic smut, multiple orgasms, age gap, creampie, cock warming

wc: 2k

preoutbreak!joel

Being young and in love, you both move fast, date nights and road trips quickly become sleepovers and late night talks about the future together, your relationship quickly turns into something serious.

With Joel it’s easy, a true southern gentleman, he takes care of you. Cherishing the ground you walk on, he’s intense and loving with you.

He’s not just a man dating for fun anymore, he’s intentional, being a devoted father to a baby girl. As her sole guardian, he gives her his all, if he’s not working, he’s spending time with her.

The three of you create a new life together, routines become easy, watching him be a dad makes you love him even more.

Joel is always happy to get time alone with you, whether it’s quickies in the morning before the alarm goes off, or showering together, you two make it work.

Navigating between your busy schedules is hard but you make it work, so when Joel surprises you with a weekend home alone, you make the most of it.

After an expensive dinner and too much wine, you stumble into the dark house, giggling as your hand runs against the wall, unable to find the light switch. Joel’s right behind you, pushing his hips into you from behind, feeling his growing erection.

He runs sloppy kisses down your exposed back, as his hand fumbles with the zipper on your dress, eager to feel you.

“Shhh, you whisper, turning around to face him with a finger over your lips.

Moonlight catches against his features, as he takes your hand from your mouth as he brings it up to his own, pressing kisses from your fingertips to your wrist.

“We can be as loud as we want, baby, got this whole place to ourselves.” Joel, asserts as he kisses your lips.

Standing there as the kiss deepens, Joel’s hands linger down to grip your ass cheeks, he pulls back, peeling the dress off of your frame, leaving you standing there, in a pair of lace panties.

“All this for me huh?” He tuts, raking his eyes up and down your frame, groping your exposed breasts.

Your nipples harden against his touch, as he reaches down to grip your ass in his hand.

Suddenly, you push him backwards as he falls onto the couch, straddling his thighs as you kiss his neck, your lips run down his chest as you unbutton his shirt. Joel helps, pulling his arms through the rest of the fabric, you begin to sink down to the floor, unbuttoning his belt.

“We’ve got all weekend honey, need to be inside you.” Joel confesses, grabbing your hands to help you stand up.

Joel twirls you around, pushing your front into the soft cushion of the couch as he massages the globes of your ass. You welcome it, pushing into the couch, you arch against his hand allowing him more access as he slides the lace off your cunt.

He runs his fingers down your slit, collecting your slick as he pushes two fingers inside, stretching you out.

Groaning, you push back onto his hand, as he begins to scissor his fingers in and out of you.

“Joel, need your cock,” you mewl, turning your head back towards him as he removes his hand, sucking the juices off his fingers.

“So fuckin’ sweet,” he growls, as he tastes you on his tongue.

Joel unbuttons his pants, allowing his cock to spring forward as he spits, pumping the slick down his cock with his hand. You look back at him again, as he jerks off to your spread pussy.

Lining up at your entrance, he runs the tip against your clit, circling the nub you whine, pushing your ass toward him.

“Patience baby,” he drawls, as he grips your hip, inserting himself into your folds.

Without warning, Joel doesn’t allow you to get used to his size, setting a brutal pace against the inside of you. The tip grazes your cervix with each trust, causing you to fall farther onto the couch, trying to wiggle out of his grip.

“Where do you think your goin’ baby?” He questions, leaning over your body, his hand pulls your back upwards into his chest, “you wanted to get fucked so bad, so take it.”

Tears prick your eyes as you feel him destroy you, the pain turning into pleasure as you throw your hips back to meet his thrusts.

It’s not too often for Joel to be behind you like this, hips slamming back and forth into the fat of your thighs.

He loves to make love to you, make you feel as good as you deserve, but there is something special to bend you over like this, watching your ass shake against him is secretly his favorite place to be.

To hear you cry, getting fucked stupid against his cock is his favorite song. As he feels his orgasm approach, he reaches around your front, thick fingers finding your clit to build you closer to the edge.

“Fuck Joel, stay right there-shit just like that.” You gargle out, feeling the euphoria in your gut.

“Gonna cum for me? Don’t be shy darlin’, wanna hear it.” Joel grunts in your ear.

You feel the rubberband snap as you cum hard, vision blurry as you blackout, as Joel holds you up. After a couple more thrusts, Joel pulls out his cock, jerking it in his hand as his cum paints your back. You feel the warm liquid run down your spine as you fall onto the couch breathless.

Joel doesn’t say a word as he walks off, grabbing a warm wash rag, he comes up behind you and begins to clean himself off of you.

“Sorry honey, got a little carried away there,” Joel murmurs, kissing your shoulder blade.

You don’t respond as you lay there, allowing him to take care of you, happy to have him to yourself the rest of the weekend.

jackson!joel

The trauma seeps deep through Joel, older and greyer, he’s a broken hearted man. The loss and betrayal has hardened him into a stubborn, mentally closed off shell of his past self. Beneath the surface, Joel longs and he’s desperate for love. He doesn’t want someone to try and fix him, he wants someone to meet him halfway.

He believes he’s not a good man, the things he’s dealt with in his past to survive shows that, and no one can change that. Joel just desires to be understood, wanting someone who sees through his silence, to stay, not pity him.

Meeting you, his layers slowly become undone. Joel was untrusting at first, with the whispers in town about him being a killer distanced himself even further with the community, he feared you felt bad for him.

You were just some young, kind girl with bright eyes and a gentle grin, you were full of something he didn’t quite understand yet. You never try to fix him or fill the silence, instead you sit with him, listening without judgment. You see the man he once was before, seeing the man behind the anger and hurt. You make him feel alive, and for the first time in years, he cherishes it.

The years haven’t been the kindest on his body, and he wished he could provide more for you in the bedroom. Although you never complain, his body aches to take you how he would have twenty-something years ago. Joel loves being as close as possible to you, breathing in your skin, with you riding his cock into the early mornings.

It started out as a one time thing, during late night conversations as he holds you in his lap, stroking your hair. As you begin to relax on his knees, your panty-clad ass grinds perfectly against his sweatpants.

Joel adjusts himself, feeling his boxers tighten, hips accidentally bucking into yours.

Suddenly, you stop in the middle of your sentence, words unable to fall out of your mouth.

You're breathless as a moan slips out, looking up to him and he's already looking at you.

Joel tests the waters, kissing your plump lips as he takes your hips into large hands, gently rocking them back and forth.

You both groan at the sensation, thin fabrics rub against another as you soak through your underwear. At first you allow him to lead you, resting your head against his chest, you melt into his touch, allowing the sensation to build inside your tummy every time his tip hits your clit. But, you become antsy, grinding your hips into his faster, guiding the pace exactly how you want it.

Whimpers fall from your mouth as you feel the fuzzy feeling in your stomach, grinding harder into him as he snakes his hands into your t-shirt. He’s touching every part of your skin and it makes you dizzy.

His cock is stained through his pants, hard and aching against your slick as you chase your high.

Joel’s fingers slip to your breast, pinching your nipple between the digits, the pleasure going straight to your clit. You feel your orgasm approaching, rutting against him like an animal, you lift your head to stare at him.

“Take it, you have me.” Joel puffs, watching you like the prettiest thing he’s ever witnessed.

You scream, orgasm crashing through your body as you grip his shoulders, Joel allows you to ride it out, panting against you.

Suddenly, you look down at the mess you made, feeling Joel’s rock hard cock against your butt, you look up to him, “want me to take care of that?” You question, slipping your hand into the material, “you deserve to feel good too.”

Joel groans, feeling like he’s the luckiest man alive as you fumble him out of his pants.

“You’re too good t’ me,” he exhales, running a rough hand up against the small of your back.

As his cock springs up to his belly, you maneuver your hand down to your panties, moving them to the side as you stare down at his red tip.

Joel takes himself into his hand, swiping a thump over the precum glazed tip, he rubs it against your soaked folds.

Still sensitive from your first orgasm, you jolt, mewling at the feeling against your swollen clit.

You raise your hips to help him stuff himself inside of you, hissing at the sensation as you sink down on him.

“Taking me so well honey,” Joel groans, hips faltering as he tries to contain himself.

Adjusting to his size your hips start up again, rocking back and forth against the fullness, you feel stuffed. “Wanna feel you cum,” you groan, chasing his release, forgetting about your own pleasure.

You start to slam down against his hips, walls clenching against his member, you feel his body stutter against yours.

“Prettiest girl in Jackson, taking care of her old man, yeah?” He grunts, lifting his hips to match yours.

You are a groaning mess, feeling the familiar warmth in your stomach, you stabilize yourself against him, putting a hand to his chest.

“Don’t think I can last much longer darlin’, gonna cum inside, keep you warm, always gonna take care of you, right honey?” Joel says, gripping the fat of your waist.

You move together seamlessly, you can’t tell when Joel ends and you begin as you both chase each other's highs.

Curses fall from your mouth, as Joel groans against you, and suddenly your second orgasm hits. Throwing your head back, you rock your hips into his, riding out your orgasm as Joel comes right behind you, thick ropes spurting inside of your cunt.

You don’t move, sitting against him you allow him to go soft inside of you, plugging his seed into your abdomen. Leaning back, he lays down with you on top of him, and he stays inside of you the rest of the night.

This becomes your typical position, holding each other close as you help another get off, and you wouldn’t want him any other way.

[joeldjarin]

Hear Me Out...

pairing: Older!Joel x F!Reader word count: 2.5k summary: Joel gets hearing aids. He finds out just how much he's been missing out on. content/warnings: SMUT, peepaw joel (late 60s), unspecified age gap, established relationship, pussy eating, piv, he cries when he cums, they are IN LOVE your honor a/n: Hi friends! This was intended as part of a multi-chapter fic that I simply have not had the time or brain to finish. I'm hoping I'll get back to it at some point, but I hope you enjoy this little piece 👉👈 hoping there's nothing that I left in that requires context of the whole?? thank you to @ems-chaos-corner for designing the banner!! 🩷

Joel hadn’t planned to tell you right away when he got his hearing aids.

This thing between you was good. You felt solid. So in sync, most of the time. You’d been through enough together that he knew your foundation wouldn’t–couldn’t– be easily shaken.

But this didn’t feel like a small thing. Sure, you knew his age. You’d met him when you were volunteering at the goddamned senior center.

Hearing aids, though, were a step too far. 

Because that meant he was officially old. People would think he was your dad, even more so than they do already. Or maybe even his caretaker, god forbid.

He looks alright, he supposes, for being a few years shy of seventy. But his bones ache, his hair is more grey than not, and wrinkles line his face. He has to face the fact that he’s an old man. And, while he’s facing the facts, he needs to admit to himself that he really can’t hear for shit these days.

He’s a tired, deaf, selfish old man, and he can’t bear to lose you just yet.

—

You’re out of town for the weekend when he gets the hearing aids. It’s perfect, really, because he can learn how to use them. They’re fairly low profile, and he’s let his hair grow longer these days, making them easier to hide.

Sunday night, you arrive back home. You show up at your door, weekend bag slung over your shoulder. As you pull out your keys, Joel beats you to the lock, swinging the door open wide for you. You’re exhausted, and it must show in the bags under your eyes, but you can’t help but smile the moment you see him.

He reaches to relieve you of your bag and you shrug it off, letting him put it down by the entryway bench.

“You have a good time, baby?” he asks.

“It was fucking wonderful. I really needed that,” you smile, reaching up to kiss Joel, “I’m really glad to be home now though-” 

And then you kiss him again and hum against his lips, a happy little sound.

Joel’s never heard it before.

He wants to hear it again. He has to hear it again–

He kisses you again, a little bit deeper. Presses himself towards you and hears the way you moan against him, breathy and soft and desperate. What he’d felt only as vibration before now has a pitch he didn’t know he’d been missing. 

Need hits him like a freight train, suddenly urgent and dizzying. In a moment, he’s hard and wanting, pulse pounding fast.

"Honey," he sighs, lips still hovering over yours, hot breath tickling against your skin. You look at him, glancing across his face, reading in it whatever he happens to be showing. He wonders if it looks like reverence. "I need you baby, I need you right now--"

You’re surprised at his abrupt enthusiasm, a crease between your furrowed brows, but a smile plays on your lips.  

"I should probably go shower,” you tell him, turning towards the bathroom.

"Nuh uh," he shakes his head and reaches for you, pulling you close. "You don’t gotta. Unless ya really wanna. I just need you right fuckin’ now, baby. Want you any way you’ll have me."

You scrutinize him, looking him up and down. For a moment, he’s certain you’ve clocked him, that you know what he’s hiding. 

Instead of challenging him, though, your expression softens. You shrug, like it’s simple. “I’m yours.”

It's been a while since he's greeted you like this, and you’re certain you must be missing something for him to be so turned on, so out of the blue. Sure, you’d been gone for the weekend, but it was just a weekend, and it’s certainly not the first time you’ve been apart, nor the longest.

He’s desperate though, more desperate than he knows how to be. He can’t keep his hands off of you, can’t stop touching you. His hands trace up and down your sides, making you gasp and whine at his attention. You revel in it.

When he gets you to the bedroom, he tries to pace himself. To savor it. He means to slow himself down.

He peels your clothes off, piece by piece. Gentle fingers fumble with the buttons, and he kisses that spot behind your ear that makes your breath hitch. 

When it does, though– when that sweet gasp passes your lips, Joel is changed. Any restrained passion he’d been trying to keep in check dissolves, replaced by desperate frenzy. 

He rids you of the rest of your clothes, strewn garments in your wake as he guides you to bed.

Joel has always been a generous lover, always watching and learning. In the early days with him, he’d ask you to show him what you like. He’d keep his eyes on you, attentive, reading you with care as he’d replicate the ways you know to give yourself pleasure, as though ensuring your gratification were his life’s only goal.

You’re used to his eyes on you, watching how your body reacts to his touch, touching you gently when you need softness, being firm when you need redirection. 

So, it’s always been good. But it’s never been quite like this. 

He pushes you down onto the bed and grabs you by the knees, shoving them apart, making you gasp. He hums and grabs you, lifts you, and scoots you back towards the headboard. Resets your legs so your thighs are spread again for him and he’s slotted between them. You can feel his cock, fat and heavy against his thigh, straining against his jeans– and fuck the fucking denim– he’s still wearing his clothes.

It’s not fair.

“Get naked, Joel,” you tell him, “I want to see you.”

You can see a blush spread across his cheeks and nose, but he doesn’t look bashful as he used to be. He looks hungry. A smirk twitches on his lips.

You’re bare for him, and so so ready. And, you think distantly, you’re so incredibly comfortable with him. There was a time you would have shrunk away from this kind of touch that allows you to be so seen. For him, though, you love little more than to lean back and spread your legs, so bare and exposed, all for him. To show him every part of yourself, and simply trust that he won’t frighten.

He makes quick work of his clothes. Grabs his t-shirt by the back of the neck and rips it over his head. Unbuttons his jeans and shucks them and his boxers off in one go, his cock bouncing heavy between his legs. You let out a breath, watching.

He slips his arms under your legs and slots back in, rests his body face down on the bed, presses himself in between your thighs.

He examines your cunt; runs a gentle thumb from your navel to just above your clit and presses down with just the lightest pressure. And then a little more, till you’re squirming and whining and his nostrils are flaring, his breaths coming out as pants at your response. He drags wet, broken kisses down your body. His lips trace your tummy, the dips of your hips, down down down til he spits on your shiny seam, making your clit nice and wet.

You tremble, just a little, in anticipation of feeling him on you. But he doesn’t move towards you. He looks up at you, brown eyes looking at you with such love and concern. And then he looks back down, to where you’re spread for him. He hums, affirming.

“Oh– would you look at that– she needs t’ be filled up, don’t she?” he asks, breath hot against your soft cunt, his words making you jerk against him, trying to find some friction. He grins against you as you sigh, pretty little asshole and pussy both visibly clenching in tandem mere inches from his face.

He stills you, hands clutching your hips, holding you down.

“I think she might need a kiss first, though, huh baby?” 

“Mhmm-”, you sigh.

Your breath hitches as he places a gentle kiss against your lips before he slips his tongue between them, gentle, languid- He lets you card your fingers through his hair as he licks into you, humming in affirmation when you grab on tight. He noses at your clit and draws a yelp out of you, groaning, the rumble of it vibrating against your skin.

There’s no rush as he pulls you apart. Just a little bit of time and some very precise pressure. You can feel yourself start to build as he flicks a pointed tongue against your clit. His focus is exact, and in no time at all, your breaths are shallow and desperate, your hips rocking up to meet his strokes, to feel his scruff against your thighs.

He’s eating you out like he needs it to live. Loud slurps punctuate softer licks as he buries his face between your legs. He’s so responsive, growling at every reaction you make. 

He barely brakes for air, but when he does, it’s punctuated with filth. “That’s a good girl, yeah, say my name just like that–” 

All you can do is breathe his name, a soft prayer, Joel, Joel, JOEL–

You chant, till the pull within you builds and breaks, sending you sobbing on his tongue, bliss coursing through every part of you. 

Sounds that he didn’t know he’d been missing surrounding him like the most beautiful symphony, your sighs, gasps, moans– He knows it’s useless speaking with his pussy-stuffed mouth, but he growls into you, letting you ride his face through it, prolonging your orgasm, and not stopping until you can’t handle any more.

When the stimulation becomes too much, you yank his head back by the hair. He grins up at you, sheepish. He's panting, wipes his slick mouth with the back of his hand, and stares at you, so fucking hungry. “Probably a good thing you had me stop where you did,” he tells you, “Nearly came now just from eating you-

"I love you--" you sigh, barely able to think, the intensity of your climax making you fuck-drunk and languid. A smile breaks through the hungry, wild expression on Joel's face, and he draws himself up and pulls you toward him so you're seated. 

"I love you, too," he presses his forehead against yours, damp curls tickling your brow, till he pulls back and swipes his hair away, pressing back against you.

You hum, so comfortable and happy, and Joel sighs.

It takes you a few minutes to fully come back to yourself, Joel holding you close the whole time. When you do, you know you need more. You pull back gently, shifting yourself apart from him until you’re able to straddle him. He’s still hard, painfully so, and neither of you need to say a word. You lift yourself, line him up with your swollen pussy, and sink down slowly, inch by stiff  inch. Your eyelids flutter shut at the sensation. He watches you in awe and adoration.

He reaches around you, grabs your ass with each of his hands, and starts to rock you gently.

“Yes–” you hiss, and tilt your hips to match each thrust.

It’s gentle at first, careful, and considered as he fucks you in his lap. But then, you adjust your position just a little and start to bounce, taking more with each thrust, grinding hard against him as he fucks up into you and hits just the right spot.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fUCK!--” you cry, sensation overwhelming you.

Everything is so much, so deliciously overwhelming, every little breath and moan and gasp that passes your lips finally tipping him over the edge.

“Honey–,” he hums, “I’m– I’m close, not gonna last–”

“Give it to me.”

“Fuck–” He keeps rocking into you, but his movements still just a little as he lets go. You can feel the way his cock pulses and shudders in you, his balls throbbing, your insides coated with cum, all of this sending you over again.

He whines as your clenching pussy chokes him, drawing even more from him. 

It’s pure ecstasy. 

You close your eyes for a moment, trying to reduce the overwhelm. When you come back down, your breathing starting to even out, you open your eyes to discover–

Joel, staring at you, reverential, with tears streaming down his cheeks.

You’ve only seen Joel cry a handful of times, and never once while he was still inside you–

“Oh fuck, babe, what is it?” you ask, suddenly panicked.

He shakes his head, thumbing his tears away, “No, no,” he tries to reassure, “Nothing’s wrong–”

But that doesn’t reassure you. The love of your life is balls-deep in you, crying, and you don’t know why.

“I promise,” he insists, and then he tucks his hair back behind one ear.

It only takes you a moment.

“Joel Miller. Did you get fucking hearing aids and not tell me?”

He laughs; a wet, spluttery thing.

“I can’t believe I’ve been missing out on so much- I–”

You let him collect his words, his thoughts. You love that he tries, even when it’s hard. He makes sure you understand.

“I never heard you like that before, baby-” he tells you, “Those gasps and moans. All those sounds you make for me. I can hear them now. And I could’ve been hearing them this whole damn time if I hadn’t been too proud.”

He shakes his head, frustrated.

“I was worried you’d think I was too old.”

Your eyes widen. Somehow, that wasn’t what you’d expected.

“Baby, you know I know how old you are, right? I met you at the fuckin’ Senior Center,” you frown.

He glares at you. Some of the puffiness around his eyes dulls the intended effect.

You know it’s not exactly that, though. It’s really just the irrational fear that you both have, of losing the other when you’d only just found one another, manifesting in any way it can.

So you press your lips to his, and hold him close. He’s still sheathed inside you, and you can feel him start to twitch hard again. 

“You know,” you tease, rocking your hips again, “I think the hearing aids are kind of sexy.”

Joel scoffs, rolling his eyes.

“No, I mean it–” you insist, “You’ve always been attentive. But– I don’t know. I know it’s something that’s been bothering you–and I also know you weren’t super into the idea, getting hearing aids– I guess I’m proud of you.” 

He snorts, but you can see the smile he’s trying to hide.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he shakes his head, “I just– I shouldn’t have put it off so long.”

“It’s okay, old man,” you tease, pulling forward to kiss him gently. Still seated on him, you roll your hips with just a little more vigor than you’d intended, cutting yourself off with a gasp.

He groans.

“Lets find out what other sounds you’ve been missing out on-”

[joeldjarin]

What Remains After

[SUMMARY: Joel lies about your father’s death to protect you and your already high risk pregnancy at 9 months; when the truth comes out, the fallout threatens everything you’ve built.]

Again, protective Joel. Angst. Mention of death. Birth.

You wake to the sound of your own breath—shallow, too quick—pressed under the weight of nine months and a ribcage that feels two sizes too small. The baby shifts low and stubborn, a round, insistent comet that has turned every position into a negotiation. Your lower back throbs. Your ankles look like you’ve borrowed them from someone sturdier. You stare at the ceiling long enough that the knots in the wood start to look like faces.

Joel is lacing his boots at the edge of the bed. Dawn hasn’t made up its mind yet; the light at the window is a pale smear, cold as dishwater. He notices you watching and slows the knot with a deliberate calm you recognize—his “don’t spook the mare” calm.

“I don’t like this,” you say, and your voice surprises you, hoarse with sleep and worry. “That route is bad. You said yourself—”

“I did.” He straightens, shoulders creaking. He’s already got his flannel and the new vest someone patched for him—extra pockets, extra quiet. “And that’s why we’re going. Because it’s bad. Better we find out than someone who can’t handle it.”

“You and my dad,” you say. The words press on your sternum. “What if—”

Joel steps closer. He cups your face, thumbs soft at your temples, then slides one palm to the top of your belly where the baby answers with a lazy push. He grimaces at that, faint and fond. “Hey,” he says. “Look at me.” You do. “I’ll keep him safe. I’ll keep both of you safe. Nothin’ touches your dad while he’s with me.”

“I—Joel, I can’t… if something happened and I wasn’t there—”

“Something isn’t gonna happen.” His jaw ticks. That stubborn streak that first made you argue with him, then trust him, then love him—well, whatever you’re allowed to call what sits between you—sets like concrete. “You don’t need to carry this and the world at the same time.” His eyes flick to your belly. “You’re carryin’ enough.”

It lands wrong, even though you know he’s trying. “So now I’m a busted radio? Too much static?”

He exhales through his nose, a strained almost-laugh. “No. You’re a person I…” He stops, re-routes. “You’re a person I care about. And you’re tired. Let me do the ugly run. Let your dad do what he’s good at. You—” His hand squeezes your shoulder. “You just breathe. Breathe for three.”

You close your eyes and count with him—one, two, three—and when you open them he’s kissing your forehead, quick and clean. “Two days,” he says. “Back before you can miss me proper.”

You roll your eyes to hide the crack in your voice. “As if.”

He leaves with your father, both of them outlines in that not-quite-morning: your father whistling something you can’t place, Joel tilting his head to listen and pretend it’s not off-key. You wave from the porch until they turn the last corner of Jackson and are gone.

The first day bites at you with little teeth. Every creak of the house feels like a step outside your door. You make tea. You fold the same three burp cloths four times.

By the second day your hips feel like they’re hinges on a gate that’s been left open in a windstorm. You wake from a nap with the taste of iron in your mouth and your heart barrelling. Evening hangs low, heavy with cloud. You set the porch light on out of superstition, hands braced in your back to ease the ache as you waddle to the door.

He comes at full dark. You hear him before you see him—the measured, unhurried tread that means he’s forcing himself to look normal. When the door opens, cool air slides in with him; the smell of pine, damp fabric, old gun oil. He’s spattered with the day in streaks and smudges: mud, maybe. Maybe not. His hair is flat against his head, and his eyes go straight to you like he’s checking a marker on a map.

“Hey,” he says, softer than you deserve, and you’re already doing the math—one person, one silhouette. No whistle on the steps. No second shadow.

“Where’s my dad?” It comes out thinner than you wanted, like spun sugar left in the rain.

Joel sets his pack down carefully, like it might break if he’s not gentle. He doesn’t meet your eyes. “He’s fine,” he says. “He’s… worn out. He stayed at the outpost near the old water tower—safer to bed down and let his ankle rest.” He leans into the lie like it might hold his weight. “I told him I’d come let you know so you wouldn’t worry.”

“His ankle?” Your heart slows and spikes and slows again. “He didn’t say anything before he left.”

“Twisted on some loose rock.” Joel’s mouth does that almost-smile that never quite gets there. “You know your dad. Pretend he’s twenty-five until the bill comes due.”

You should swallow it. You want to. The ocean of relief he’s offering is right there, lapping at your toes. But the tide is wrong. Something about his voice is pitched half a note low, and his right hand won’t stop flexing like it’s remembering.

“Let me see,” you say, and you reach for his sleeve. He flinches—small, but it’s there. You push the cuff back anyway. There are faint crescents on his forearm where a strap bit him, and a smear that could be anything. Your breath stutters. “Joel.”

He finally meets your eyes. For a second you see it—the fissure, the thing he’s holding at arm’s length. He blinks it out. “Eat something,” he says, too quickly. “I can make you something. You look pale.”

“Joel.” The name means a dozen versions of please.

He inhales like the air hurts. His fingers hover over your shoulder, then drop. “Later,” he says. “Let me… let me just get you settled.”

You let him fuss because it feels like movement, like time might obey if you keep it busy. He takes your boots off even though you protest, sets a bowl of thick soup in your hands, finds the pillow that actually helps your back instead of just pretending to. He kneels to rub the ache from your calves until your eyes sting, and when the baby kicks, he lays his palm over the spot and closes his eyes like he’s listening to a sermon.

After, the house is too quiet. The soup coats your tongue but doesn’t make it to your stomach. Joel stands at the sink, washing a spoon with unnecessary focus. You watch his shoulders.

“What happened?” you ask, because not asking will eat you from the inside out. “Don’t tell me nothing. Don’t—please don’t do that to me.”

He sets the spoon down carefully. His hands brace on the counter. He looks older than he did two days ago.

“We ran into a nest,” he says, and the truth slips around the edges of the lie before he clamps it down. “Old building collapsed in on itself. We had to go wide. It was louder than we planned. We—” He swallows, and the muscles in his throat jump. “We got out.”

“Both of you.” You shape the words like a barrier.

He nods once. “He’s okay,” he says. “He’s… tired.” He pushes off the counter and turns, drying his hands on a towel that doesn’t need it. “He said you should rest too.”

Something loosens at the word loves and then tightens again so hard you almost gasp. “He sent you to tell me to rest?” It’s half laugh, half sob. “That sounds like him.”

“That sounds like him,” Joel echoes, and his voice rasps like a match along a rough edge.

Later, when you fall into a shallow, uncomfortable sleep, Joel sits in the chair by the window, elbows on his knees, face in his hands. He lets the night bleed in through the curtain crack. Outside, Jackson settles and sighs; somewhere a dog barks, unhappy, then gives up.

He thinks of the old department store, how the mannequins looked like ghosts in the dark. How your father had laughed at something stupid he said just before the wrong sound came from the wrong corner. How Joel had turned and fired and counted and moved, moved, moved, and still—too many, too fast, too close. How your father’s voice had steadied in the middle of it all, as if the chaos made a clean space to speak.

“You promise me, son,” your father had said, breath snagging, eyes bright—not scared, just blazing with that stubborn heat you carry in your bones. “You take care of my girl. You take care of that baby. You make sure they don’t want for nothin’. You hear me?”

Joel had pressed his palm over your father’s hand, feeling the tremor there and pretending it was his own. “I hear you,” he’d said. “I promise.”

The promise sits in him like a lit coal now, eating a hollow on the inside where it can glow. He thinks of you on the porch with one hand in your back, light haloing the edges of your hair. He thinks of the way your voice sounded when you said his name tonight and how much he wanted to deserve it.

He rises and checks the door again. Checks the windows, the locks, the rifle, the extra water by the bed, the batteries in the lantern, the folded blanket on the chair, the little bundle of clothes you’ve already washed twice because it calms you to make something ready. He makes a list out of the things he can do and sets it against the thing he can’t undo.

When you stir, he’s there before you speak, palm on your shoulder, grounding. “Bathroom?” he offers, not asking anything else. He helps you up, waits outside the door while you curse the indignities of the third trimester, smiles at the familiar cadence of it because it means you’re here and talking.

Back in bed, you watch his face in the dim light, how careful it is. “Will you stay?” you ask, voice small with the hour.

“Yeah,” he says. It’s the easiest truth he’s got. He drags the chair closer and sits where he can see the door and your face at the same time. “Ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

You nod, as if that answers a different question. Your eyes slide closed, lashes skimming your cheek. The baby shifts again, and his hand goes there without thinking, a quiet sentry.

He will tell you. He knows he will have to, because grief is a debt that comes due whether you open the door or not. But not now.

Not tonight. Not when your breath is finally even and the house has unclenched its fists. In the narrow, borrowed peace of this night, he keeps the promise he can keep: he watches. He listens. He stays until you sleep.

~~

The room over Tommy’s bar office smells like dust and old liquor—a place for hard talks, not tender ones. Joel stands with his hands on his hips, head bowed, jaw set like he’s holding a bit between his teeth.

Tommy leans against the desk, arms folded. “It’s a bad idea,” he says, low enough to make it sound kind. “You don’t keep this from her, Joel. You let her have it, and you carry her through it. That’s the job.”

“She can’t handle it,” Joel says, clipped. “Not like this. She’s barely sleepin’, can’t catch her breath, she’s in pain all day. I tell her now, I put that weight on her, and it’ll—” He shakes his head, searching for a word that doesn’t exist. “It’ll crack her.”

“Or you think it’ll crack you,” Tommy says quietly.

Joel goes still.

A floorboard creaks in the hall. Neither of them notice the door is ajar until a voice pipes up—rough with grief, a few drinks poured over its edges.

“You’re out of your damn mind, Miller.”

John steps in, hat in his hands. John: your dad’s fishing buddy and dominoes rival, the one who sneaked you fresh peaches last summer and told you they fell off a truck. His eyes are red, and the skin around them is raw like he’s been scrubbing at his face. “She ain’t a child. She’s his daughter. She gets to know.”

Joel straightens, that cold, flat quiet sliding over him like a coat. “This ain’t your business.”

“It is when you use my friend as an excuse to lie.” John’s voice breaks on friend; he barrels through it. “You don’t get to decide how she grieves. You don’t get to—”

“John,” Tommy warns. “Not the time.”

“It’s exactly the time,” John snaps. “He’s gone. She’s got hours before the world shifts under her feet forever and you’re standin’ here tryin’ to keep the ground fake-steady.” He steps closer. “He asked you to take care of her, not babysit her pain away.”

The door clicks. Everyone turns.

You’re in the doorway, one hand braced under your belly, the other white-knuckled on the frame. You look tired in that deep, marrow way—swollen eyes, hair shoved back, living on the edge of a breath that won’t come. “What are you talking about?” you ask, and your voice is so careful it scares the room.

Joel rushes to you wondering if you needed something, wondering what got you out of bed.

“I woke up and saw you weren’t there, then I saw your note that you’d be with Tommy. I just..I don’t know…I have this odd feeling” you admit, Joel’s eyes reading your every feature.

“What were you guys talking about?”

“Uh-“

“Actually, I’m glad you came by” John spoke making Joel turn back to him.

His gaze was a warning hard enough to bruise. Don’t. He doesn’t speak it. He doesn’t have to.

John flinches at the look—then sets his jaw. “She deserves the truth.”

“John,” Joel says, the name a threat.

John takes a breath like he’s stepping into cold water. He looks at you, not away, and it’s the tenderness in his face that starts the tearing. “Honey,” he says, soft and wrecked. “Your daddy… he didn’t make it back.”

Everything in you goes quiet, like the house after the generator dies.

You blink. The room doesn’t move. The clock ticks like it’s across a field. Somewhere you feel the baby turn, lazy, indifferent to catastrophe.

Joel doesn’t move either. He watches the light leave your face a millimeter at a time.

You sway. Joel is already stepping in, hands up like he’s approaching a skittish horse. “Hey—”

You don’t let him touch you. You look up at him, eyes wide and glossy with disbelief that’s sharpening into something hotter. Your mouth opens, closes. “You told me he was fine,” you breathe, and the break on fine is a knife.

Guilt hits him so hard his knees want to quit. “I—listen to me. You were—he asked me to look after you and the baby, and you were scared and I thought—”

“You thought lying was care?” Your voice rises, ragged. “You let me sit there thinking he was sleeping while he was—” You can’t say the word. It hangs in the room anyway, heavy and absolute. “You let me—” Your hands find his chest and you shove. He rocks back, lets it happen.

Tommy comes toward you palms up. “Hey, hey, easy now—”

“Don’t tell me to be easy!” you snap, and something feral jumps out of you. You snatch the first thing your hand finds—the pen jar off the desk—and fling it. Plastic clatters off Joel’s shoulder; pens burst like a spooked flock. He doesn’t flinch. He stands there and takes it because some part of him knows he deserves to be pelted with small, stupid hurts when he couldn’t stop the big one.

“Get away from me!” You’re not choosing targets anymore; grief has all the aim. A ledger, a rolled map, a ceramic mug with the bar’s old logo—Tommy catches your wrists, gentle but firm, murmuring your name. John adds his hands, clumsy with his own shaking. “Don’t touch me—don’t—Joel, don’t you come near me—”

“I’m sorry,” Joel says, hoarse, useless. “I’m so—”

You wrench free of Tommy’s grip, reach for another thing that isn’t heavy enough to say what you feel—and stop.

The room shifts underfoot, you lean forward, your hands falls to your belly. Heat unspools down your spine. A wet pop like a jar unsealing. Your breath catches.

“Wait,” you say, but not to anyone in particular—more to your own body, to time, to everything that should have had the decency to space itself out.

A warm flood rushes down your legs.

Tommy’s eyes go wide. “Oh, hell.”

Joel is moving before he’s thinking, crossing the room in two strides, all the air sucked out of his chest. “It’s okay,” he says, voice steady because he forces it to be. “It’s okay, I got you.” His hands hover, then land at your elbows, anchoring.

You flinch like he burned you. “Don’t touch me,” you whisper, and then louder, raw, “Don’t touch me!”

He pulls back like you shot him. Every cell in him still wants to hold you up. He arrests his reach midair and makes it into a gesture to Tommy. Go. Go now.

Tommy steps in, calm snapped into place like a tourniquet. “I’m takin’ you to the clinic,” he tells you, voice going soft and precise. “We’re goin’ nice and slow. You can squeeze my arm if it helps.” He shoots Joel a look that says don’t make this about you. “Give us space a second.”

John’s already at the door, shouting down the stairs for someone to run and get Maria, for Ellie to fetch the midwife, for hot water because that’s what people say even if it’s a myth that fixes anything.

You’re breathing too fast. Pain is stacking like waves: manageable, then not. Tommy talks you through one—“in through your nose, out like you’re blowin’ out a candle, there you go”—and when it passes you’re crying and angry and terrified in one tangled sound. “I don’t want him,” you say, and you mean Joel. “I don’t—he lied—”

“I know,” Tommy says, and his eyes flick once to Joel like a blade. “We’ll sort the talk later. Right now we move.”

Joel stands there shaking, hands empty, because keeping the promise means stepping back when you don’t want him and that feels like treason to every instinct he has. “I’ll—” He can’t finish the sentence. I’ll follow. I’ll wait outside. I’ll burn the town down if they don’t help you.

Tommy eases you out, your arm hooked through his, John clearing the hall and cursing at anyone who doesn’t move fast enough. You disappear down the stairs, your breath skipping, your voice calling for your dad once, a sound that slices Joel open clean.

The office is suddenly too small for all the heat in Joel’s blood. John turns back, chest heaving, eyes wet and furious. Something explodes in Joel’s vision—the world whites out at the edges. He closes the distance and slams John into the wall with a flat thud, forearm across his chest. The hat hits the floor and rolls.

“You had no right,” Joel grinds out, breath hot, forehead nearly touching John’s. “Not there. Not like that.”

John doesn’t shove back. He doesn’t even raise his hands. He looks at Joel with sorrow and contempt mixed like oil and water. “She had every right,” he says, voice calm now that the worst has been spoken. “And you know it.”

Joel’s grip tightens, then loosens. He staggers back a step, horror catching up to anger. John rubs at his shoulder, winces, doesn’t look away.

“You’re scared,” John says, gentler. “So am I. But you don’t get to turn that into lies and fists. Not with her.”

The words land where the promise is burning a hole. Joel swallows, looks at his hands like they belong to somebody else. He drags a palm down his face, claws some breath into his chest.

“I’m goin’ to the clinic,” he says finally, voice raw as a skinned knee. “I ain’t goin’ in unless she lets me. But I’m goin’.”

John nods. “Good.”

They leave the office in a hurry that’s careful, both of them bleeding in ways that don’t show. Down the stairs, out into the corridor where Jackson has already begun to move the way it does when one of its own is in need—doors opening, boots scuffing, someone running with blankets, someone else with a battered medical bag.

Outside, the night air is cool and damp. The porch light over the clinic is a small moon. Through the window Joel can see Tommy’s profile at your shoulder, your head bent, your hand crushing his forearm as another contraction takes you. He stops just shy of the door, throat thick, eyes on you like he could steady you by force of will alone.

He stands where you can see him if you look up and where you can pretend you can’t if that’s what you need. He makes himself small and solid. He makes himself a post to tie the world to. He keeps the only piece of the promise he can keep, right this second, with nothing but patience and fear and love to hold it together: he stays.

The hallway outside the clinic is a tunnel of footsteps and whispers. Joel paces grooves into the floorboards, palms rubbed raw from nothing. Every time your scream knifes through the door he stops breathing; every silence afterward is worse. Joel can’t take hearing you in pain.

“Easy,” Maria tells him once, passing with clean towels. “Breathe with her from out here if you have to.”

He tries. Counts with the wall. Fails.

Tommy slips out twice—once to say you’re progressing, once to say “she’s strong, brother,” with a look that begs Joel not to break in half before this is over.

Then—thin through the door, wet and furious—the baby cries.

Joel’s knees go out from under him so fast he has to catch the wall. The sound is small and huge at the same time, like a bird and a bell. He laughs, then chokes, then presses his fist to his mouth to stay quiet because this isn’t his moment to be loud.

“Everybody’s stable,” Maria says, appearing in the doorway, brisk but bright-eyed. “Let us settle them.” She softens. “He’s perfect.”

“He” Joel calls out in shock.

“He. Let me help them get comfortable” Maria repeats with a smile.

He nods, nods, nods, like he can make time move faster by agreeing with it.

—

Inside, they put your son on your chest and the world reorders itself. He’s hot and damp and outraged, then suddenly heavy and quiet, cheek stuck to your skin. You touch the wet comma of his ear, count the tiny ridges in his fingers, say your dad’s name in your head and feel the ache open like a hatch.

Maria and the midwife move around you. Tommy holds a cup to your lips. When the room finally thins and your boy is wrapped and sleeping, you lean back and stare at the ceiling until the tears find you without asking.

A soft knock. John slips in, hat twisted in both hands like it’s misbehaved.

“I can go,” he says, voice careful. “I just—Joel’s out there. He’s, uh… he’s not doin’ so hot.”

You stare past him. Your face feels made of glass. “I don’t want to hear about him.”

“I know.” John edges closer, stops well outside the gravity of your bed. “He did you wrong. No excuse for it.” He swallows. “But he was scared for you. It don’t make it right, but it makes it love. Ugly kind. Real kind.”

You look at your son. Your throat works. “He told me my dad was fine.”

“I heard him,” John says. “I told him he was wrong. I’ll tell him again.” A beat. “Let him see the boy, at least. Not for him, even. For the kid. First minutes matter.” He shrugs, eyes shining. “And maybe it’ll keep Joel from puttin’ his head through a wall.”

You breathe in, out. The tide inside you argues both ways. Finally: “He doesn’t come near me.”

“Scout’s honor,” John says, relief making his shoulders drop. He backs out to fetch Tommy.

—

Tommy finds Joel near the doorway like a shadow someone forgot to move. “She’ll let you see him,” he says. “Just the baby. You give her space.”

Joel nods so hard it hurts. “Yes, sir.”

They don’t take him to you. Tommy brings the bundle out, small and swaddled, and the hall goes silent like a church. Joel’s hands hover, then take—careful, terrified. The baby is light and heavy at once, solid and impossibly new. His face pinches, then relaxes; his mouth makes a soft, surprised O.

“Hey, little man,” Joel whispers, voice breaking on man. “Hey there, son.”

The word son knocks something loose in him. His eyes flood. He presses his cheek to the baby’s cap, breathes in that newborn heat that smells like milk and rain, and a sound he’s never made before falls out of him—half laugh, half sob. “You’re here,” he says, as if the baby might argue. “You’re real.”

Tommy watches, quiet, giving him a minute. Joel’s fingers shake; he tucks the blanket tighter, checks nothing and everything—nose, fingers, the steady rise of a chest the size of his palm. He can’t stop glancing at the closed door down the hall.

“I shouldn’t be holdin’ him ‘fore I fix things with her,” he whispers.

“Then fix them,” Tommy says. “Slow.”

Joel nods, kisses his son’s forehead, and hands him back like he’s returning a crown he hasn’t earned yet. “Tell her… tell her I’ll be right here. However long.”

Tommy’s mouth twitches. “She knows.”

—

You’re alone again, the room humming with the soft machines of a sleepy town at midnight. Your son stirs, huffs, resettles against you. The anger sits hot under your ribs; the want sits right beside it, stubborn as a second heartbeat.

You picture Joel in the hall with your boy in his arms, that raw look he gets when something good scares him. You want him here to see how your son’s mouth purses when he dreams. You want to keep him on the other side of every door forever. Both wants rise and crash until you can’t tell which is which.

It breaks you open. The tears come fast, messy, unstoppable. You fold over your baby and cry for your dad, for the lie, for the truth, for the way love turns you inside out and still asks for more.

When it ebbs, you wipe your face with the heel of your hand. You kiss the top of your son’s head. “We’ll figure it out,” you whisper to him, and maybe to yourself. “Just… not tonight.”

Out in the hall, Joel sits on a hard chair with his head bowed, elbows on his knees, watching the line of light under your door like a tide he’ll learn, minute by minute, to read. He doesn’t knock. He doesn’t beg. He lets the weight of the promise keep him in the chair, steady as a post.

He waits.

Morning comes in on the wrong side of the window, thin and accusatory. It feels like it’s chosen a team. You wake with your jaw clenched and the weight in your chest still raw, like something inside you is bruised and you can’t rub it away. Joel is out in the hall somewhere—somewhere too close—but when the door cracks at all you don’t look up.

“Joel go home, get home sleep. She’s gonna go home today”

“She ain’t gonna want me there” Joel responds.

“Just promise me you’ll help her, don’t let her do much by herself, she’s stubborn that way” Tommy nodded.

~~

They let you out of the clinic with a stack of blankets than sense. Maria fusses in that precise way that says she won’t be leaving your side until she’s satisfied you can stand on two feet, and Tommy mans the spare bags like he might have to physically carry you if you get any ideas about walking too fast. They speak in soft, practical sentences—get rest, keep hydrated, call if anything—like they expect you to listen even if you don’t mean to.

Joel is out front when you come out, the same immovable shape he’s been since last night—only now the sun makes the lines on his face sharper, like someone carved them while you were sleeping. He stands too close to the gate and too far from you at the same time, hands jammed in his pockets, jaw working. Every time you glance at him he turns like he’s been caught doing something small and secret. He asks about you, the questions soft and constant: “She okay? She need anything? He eatin’ okay?” Each one lands like a careful footstep, intended to be gentle but still leaving a print.

You don’t want him to help carry you home. You don’t want him to bring the world back around to “normal.” Tommy and Maria practically form an escort—a human buffer between you and whatever Joel thinks he can fix with his presence. You accept their help because it’s simple to bite the easiest hand when your throat is raw.

At home, they make sure you have a chair that doesn’t hurt your back, that the house isn’t too cold, that the baby’s bag is in reach. Joel stays close by, hovering where you can see him if you look: on the porch until he steps in the door way. Tommy grunts something about giving you time and tips Joel with an elbow. Maria’s glare does the rest.

“I can leave, stay somewhere else as long as I know someone is here with you” Joel’s voice makes your heart sink. You can’t find it in you to look up.

“You can stay” you say dryly.

“I just-“ you blink away a tear.

“I don’t wanna talk” Joel nods desperately, willing to do anything you wanted that could still keep him close. Maria and Tommy both say it the same way—tired, loving, impossible to argue with as Joel is walking them to the door. “Give her time,” Tommy tells him quietly as they leave. “She’s… hormones, grief. She’s not okay right now. Patience.”

They leave with half-joking orders to take turns bringing warm soup and to call if anything is off. Joel watches them go like a man watching a tide recede; when the door shuts, he stays.

The first few hours are a careful choreography of small necessities: feeding the baby, changing him, doing the tiny, repetitive tasks that feel like a rosary against the panic. Joel helps—he always helps. He lifts the baby when your arms tingle, fetches the blanket you tucked away, asks whether you’ve eaten. “You need anything else?” he asks in the middle of a bite you force down, voice hope-threaded and brittle.

The baby sleeps in the crib Joel built—sturdy, hand-sanded, a thing that smells faintly of sawdust and promise—upstairs. You like that he built it; the sight of it makes your heart ache in a new way. You cut your fork through your food and the fork slips from your anger more than your hand. It clatters on the plate and you throw it, not aiming, not caring. The sound is louder than you expect in the little kitchen. Joel stands up heading your way.

“Get away,” you tell him without preface, every syllable cold enough to flinch from. Your voice is small but it holds iron, he respects it and takes a step back.

You try to push yourself up from the chair to walk away—get out of the same room with the man who lied that your father died—but pain spikes behind your ribs like someone’s thumb pressing in. It’s the old, honest pain of a body that’s done something impossible and wants a minute to remember its own limits. Your body falls back into the chair.

Joel is there before the doubt finishes.

“Don’t!” You slam your hands down on the table. He’s desperate but he remains still, hands up. The sight of you in pain stubbornly trying to get yourself up kills him.

“Please” he whispers.

And you give in. Not cause you want to but because your body couldn’t handle it, and you knew that. Not yet at least. He move towards and steadies your elbow with a hand that’s all apology and habit. For a beat you fight the instinct to snatch away. You’re furious at him for the way he tried to protect you by keeping you from the truth; furious at yourself for needing him. But you’re also angry at the world for making you need anyone at all.

He keeps his hand gentle at your elbow and helps you up like it’s the only thing he knows how to do right now. There’s a tremor in his jaw. “I’m not here to hurt you,” he says, low. “I’m here to take care of you.” It’s a small, raw thing—no grand speeches, just the one thing you both agreed on the night your world stretched smaller.

You give in because your knees won’t argue with the math of pain, because the baby needs feeding and because you’ve always been stubborn in ways that don’t include ignoring a body that’s just made a human. You let him walk you up the stairs, his hand a steady anchor at the small of your back as he surrounds you with his body frame incase you fall. You find yourself leaning on him more than the banister. He moved slowly, patiently, letting you take each step. The house smells like the baby and old coffee —ordinary smells that insist life keeps happening.

You pause by the crib and look at the sleeping boy. He’s folded against himself, a fist pressed to his mouth. You check his chest rises like a metronome and feel something like an apology melt in your gut that isn’t meant for Joel at all but for all the things you can’t control. You sit slowly in the chair by the window, unsure what to say because the words that might fix anything are still buried under anger and grief.

Joel stands a few feet away, the distance deliberate. Then, as if something inside him resolves and he can’t carry the quiet any longer, he steps forward. The apology he gives is the kind that’s been living in his chest all night—raw, stripped of any guard. “I was wrong, just let me say this and I won’t bring it up again,” he begins, voice breaking, he knew you didn’t want to hear it but he needed to say it at least once. “I thought I was doin’ right. I thought I was protectin’ you. I lied, and I made it about what I thought you could handle instead of what you deserved. I—God, I’m sorry. You have every right to be angry. You have every right to never forgive me. But I swear to you, I’ll be as patient as you need. I’ll do whatever it takes. I’ll take however you act with me and I’ll keep at it. I want to be here for you. For him. If you want me gone I’ll go, but I… I don’t want to miss this. I don’t want to miss you.”

There’s a sincerity in his face that’s almost painful to look at—the way his eyes shine, the way his shoulders drop as if he’s let down a sack and found nothing but truth in it. You want to hate him for how he lied, and you want to hate him for how he’s holding himself like a man who’s been skinned raw, but the two things can live in you at once. You are allowed to be both.

You fold over your son and whisper something to him that’s half a promise and half a prayer. You lift your head and look at Joel, and the sight of him—broken and earnest—starts something slow under your sternum. “I love you,” you say, because it’s true in a way that doesn’t fix anything but can’t be held down.

He breathes like a man who’s been given something close to heaven and hell at once. “I love you,” he answers. “I’ll wait. I’ll be patient. I’ll do it right this time.”

You don’t say you forgive him. You don’t say you don’t. You simply say what you know to be honest and small: “I just don’t know how to right now.” Your voice is steady. “It’s going to take time.”

He nods. He accepts it like a sentence and a task both. He doesn’t try to convince you otherwise. He settles into the chair across the room, close enough that you can see him without looking, far enough that you have room to breathe. He watches you and the boy with a quiet that’s finally learned how to be humble.

You curl around your son and let the silence sit between you—not empty, but full of the work to come. You love him, you tell yourself, and you mean it, but love doesn’t erase the night that took your father or the lie that kept you from saying goodbye. It will take time to fold that into something you can carry.

That night Ellie finds Joel sitting up by himself on the couch, she usually stays in the garage but after hearing all that happened, she decided to surprise him with a visit.

Joel looks up with his brows raised, but careful not to say anything that might scare her off.

“How are they?”

“Good. Sleeping”

“Looks like you should get some sleep too” Ellie responds seeing the exhaustion around his eyes.

“I’m sure she’ll come around” Ellie suddenly speaks hesitantly.

“Sometimes,” she admits, quieter, “I get mad and I let it sit. I think about the stuff you kept from me and it stings. It really does. But I’ve been doin’ this long enough to know that holdin’ onto it’ll only make me bitter. So I’m tryin’ not to. For me.” She shrugs. “And for you, I guess.”

Joel’s lips twitch. It’s almost a smile, but it’s too tired for that. “You’re a hell of a kid,” he says.

“You’re an idiot,” she shoots back, but there’s heat in her voice that isn’t anger. “And you’re not allowed to keep goin’ around playin’ God.”

Silence settles again, but this time it feels different — not empty, but full of something like possibility. The distance between them, measured in lies and secrets and all the things left unsaid, has narrowed by an inch.

Joel silently nods in agreement, Ellie looks around the room awkwardly unsure of what to say.

“Can I come see them tomorrow?”

“You don’t gotta ask, Ellie.” She responds with a soft smile before telling him goodnight and leaving back to the garage.

~~

Outside, Jackson hums its small, stubborn life. Inside, you and Joel begin the long, slow repair—one careful day at a time.. The days continue with Joel being patient and helpful at once, making sure you have all you need. Your heart grows hearing him sing to your son, hormones-life, making you silently cry to yourself at night. Till one night he walks in to see you sitting on the edge of the bed sobbing with your son asleep in the crib. It’s the first time he’s seen you cry this way since all that happened. Always managing to wait till he’s busy with something to cry but for some reason you couldn’t hold it this time. He immediately falls to his knees before you as you quickly wipe away your tears but your eyes are red and raw as if you’ve been crying for hours.

“I’m here, baby. I mean, if you want me to be” he suddenly finds himself creating a small distance between you and him until you unexpectedly take his hand and pull him close. You can’t speak, he feels you shaking and lets you hold him as tight as you need to, as long as you need to. His body fighting his automatic instinct to pull you in but something in your eyes tells him it’s what you need. Carefully and slowly he puts his arms around you till you practically throw yourself into his chest and begin to sob.

“I know baby, I know” he whispers, comforting you as his heart aches at the sound of your cries. Tears of grief, hurt, frustration all in one pouring out of you, his arms tighten around you. He lets you cry until you can’t no more and then you hear the softest purr from your son. You immediately turn to check with him Joel by your side. He helps you to your feet although you’re much stronger now to lift yourself and walks with you to look over your son. You’re still panting, trying to catch your breath when your son looks at you with the softest eyes, like his father. You smile and feel Joel’s hand on your back. Slowly you look back up at him and for the first time there’s a slight softness he hadn’t seen towards him in a long time.

“I love you but I’m still so mad…but I don’t wanna be” you whisper with a soft frustrated cry. Joel nods with tears welling up in his eyes, it’s all he could do.

“I ain’t goin’ anywhere, take your time” he assures you when your son makes another sound, making you both turn to him and get lost in the pure love that he is…

[joeldjarin]

The Weight He Carries

[SUMMARY: Joel overhears your pregnant and his protectiveness leads to a tense confrontation.]

VERY over protective Joel.

Joel wasn’t trying to eavesdrop. He was just heading back from a late meeting with Tommy when the sound of your voice cut through the night air.

“…I can’t tell him, Maria. I just can’t.”

Maria’s voice was firm. “You have to. He’ll find out sooner or later.”

“He lost Sarah,” you whispered. “I’m not going to hand him something else he could lose.”

The words hit Joel like a bullet to the ribs. He froze in the shadows by the stable doors, every muscle locking up. His stomach felt like it had dropped clean out of him.

Maria sighed. “It’s still his baby.”

“I know it’s his baby, Maria..it’s just complicated.”

Joel didn’t remember crossing the space between them—just that suddenly, Maria was gone, and it was him standing there, his shadow stretching long in the lantern light.

“My baby,” he said, voice low and steady in a way that made the hair on your arms rise. “That what you just said?”

Your mouth opened, closed again.

“Don’t lie to me,” he warned, stepping closer. “Not about this.”

You swallowed hard. “Joel—”

“You’re pregnant,” he said, like the words were acid in his mouth. “And you weren’t gonna tell me.”

“It’s not that simple—”

“It’s exactly that simple.” His voice didn’t rise, but it was sharp enough to cut. “You’re carryin’ my kid and you decided I don’t deserve to know?”

“Joel-“

“No. No, you don’t get to Joel me right now.” He stepped in, close enough that you had to tilt your chin up to meet his glare. “How long?”

Your lips pressed into a thin line. “…A few weeks.”

“A few—” His laugh was bitter, ugly. “And this is how I find out? You just went on a damn patrol with us a few days ago-“ the thought sending an anger through him like he hadn’t felt in so long.

“I was trying to protect you!” You shot back, your own voice rising.

“Protect me from what? From caring? From lovin’ my own kid?”

“From fear!” Your voice cracked. “From the same pain you went through with Sarah!”

Joel’s temper flared white-hot. “Don’t you dare use her name like that. You think I wouldn’t walk through hell again to protect what’s mine? You think I’d rather be left in the dark while you—” He stopped, teeth gritting, rage shaking in his hands. “Christ, I can’t believe you—”

“Joel, stop!”

And then he saw it—your arms wrapping around yourself, palms flat against your stomach like you were bracing against more than just his words.

The fight slammed out of him so fast it almost made him dizzy.

“Shit,” he breathed, voice suddenly hoarse. “We shouldn’t be doin’ this. Not like this. Stress ain’t—” His throat worked. “Ain’t good for you. Or the baby.”

He dragged a hand down his face, like trying to wipe the anger clean off, then stepped forward—slow now, careful.

“Look at me,” he murmured. You did, reluctantly, eyes still wet. “I’m mad because I’m scared. Because I can’t lose you. Either of you. And if somethin’ happened and I didn’t even know—” His voice broke, and he swallowed hard. “That’d kill me.”

Your breath trembled, but you didn’t move when he rested a broad, calloused hand over your stomach.

“We’re gonna face this together. No more secrets. You tell me every damn thing from now on, even if you think it’ll hurt.” His voice softened to a promise. “I’d rather hurt with you than be left in the dark without you.”

Your shoulders eased just enough for him to pull you into his chest, his hold solid, unshakable.

And Joel Miller stayed there, arms locked around you like you were the only thing keeping the world together.

~~

The air between you both was still thick from that night.

Joel hadn’t brought it up again, but something had shifted—he’d shifted.

It started the next morning.

You woke to find him already awake, propped against the headboard with his arm around you like he was afraid you might vanish if he let go. He didn’t say a word—just kissed your temple, got up, and made breakfast.

When you reached for your coat later, he was suddenly there, holding it out for you.

“I’m just feeding the horses,” you said, eyeing him.

“I’ll do it,” he said flatly.

“I can feed the—”

“I said I’ll do it.”

It was like that all day. You went to chop firewood—Joel took the axe from your hands with a look that brooked no argument. You reached for a crate in the pantry—Joel was already lifting it down for you. You tried to haul water from the well—Joel appeared out of nowhere, taking the bucket from your grip like it weighed nothing.

By the second day, you’d had enough. “Joel Miller, I’m pregnant, not dying.”

His jaw flexed. “You don’t lift a damn thing heavier than a spoon. You hear me?”

“Joel—”

“No.” His voice wasn’t loud, but it was iron. “You think I’m lettin’ you wear yourself out, stress yourself out, risk a damn thing after the way you blindsided me the other night? Not happenin’.”

Your arms crossed. “You’re hovering.”

“Damn right I am,” he said without shame, stepping close enough that his shadow fell over you. “You and that baby—you’re my whole world now. I ain’t about to take my eyes off either of you.”

For a long moment, neither of you moved. You could see the tension in his shoulders, the set of his jaw—could hear what he wasn’t saying.

Finally, you sighed, your tone softening. “Joel… I’m okay.”

His gaze flicked to your stomach, and something unguarded flashed in his eyes. “I’m makin’ sure you stay that way.”

And just like that, the fight drained out of you.

You let him take the bucket from your hands, watched him stride off toward the well like he could carry every burden you’d ever have if you’d just let him. And you realized—there wasn’t a force in the world that could make Joel Miller stand down once he’d decided you were his to protect.

~~

A couple months had gone by now, not much had changed beside your belly beginning to show.

Joel trails you on the main street in Jackson like a quiet shadow, making sure your boots are laced, the porch rail is steady, the world is as padded as he can make it.

What finally gets to you is the ladder.

The fairy lights on your porch went out in the wind last night. It’s a nothing job—stretch up, unscrew the busted bulb, twist a new one in. But when you drag the ladder out, Joel appears, palms out like you’re pointing a rifle the wrong way.

“Nope.”

“Joel.”

“That’s a fall waitin’ to happen.”

“It’s two steps.”

“It’s two steps you don’t need.”

He puts the ladder away. You stand there in the blue morning, your breath fogging, anger cutting hot and small under your ribs. He kisses your temple like that will fix it. Later he brings someone from patrol to do the light for you. You smile. You thank them. You stew.

So when you hear at breakfast that old Miss Eleanor’s greenhouse has sprouted chamomile, you make a plan. Sneaking off isn’t the plan. You tell yourself you’ll mention it to Joel after he gets back from checking the generator with Tommy. He’ll offer to come. He’ll offer to send three people. He’ll offer to make you tea from pine needles instead.

You don’t mention it.

It’s warm for January. You zip your coat halfway and tuck the list Ellie scribbled for you—chamomile, ginger if any, anything that settles a stomach—into your pocket. You feel huge some days, but today you feel steady. Capable. You walk the cleared path behind the mill, where the snow has melted and the mud flashes in the sun like wet skin.

Miss Eleanor’s greenhouse teeters near the south fence, a quilt of glass patched with plastic sheeting. The air inside is damp and sweet, like breathing inside a teacup. You say hi to her grandson, who’s mending a wooden shelf with too-big hands. You touch leaves, pinch stems. You feel the baby roll like a slow wave and whisper, “We’re good.”

Nothing dangerous happens. No clickers, no raiders, not even a loose board under your boots. You trade two jars of jam for a bundle of dried chamomile and a nod toward a crate of ginger that’s shriveled but still sharp. You carry your treasures back the same way, smiling at nothing, at everything, at how your body still does what you ask it to.

By dinner, the town hall is loud and warm, the kind of noise that makes your shoulders unclench. Joel’s late; the generator did that thing where it coughs and takes three people swearing to behave. You sit with Maria and Ellie, sip weak tea, and feel almost proud of yourself for doing one small thing alone.

Then someone laughs behind you—Ethan from south patrol, always too loud, always pleased with himself.

“Hey, Mama-to-be,” he says, dropping a plate at your table as if invited. “Saw you out by the creek earlier. You move fast for someone carryin’ Joel’s kid”

Your stomach tips. Maria’s eyes flick to yours; Ellie’s go wide.

“Creek?” you echo, trying to sound casual.

“Yeah! By the greenhouse. Good timing too. Patrol came through twenty minutes later.” He grins. “Lucky.”

“Lucky,” you say.

“Lucky,” says another voice, low as a reprimand and twice as soft.

You don’t have to turn to know it’s Joel. It’s in the way the table goes quiet. It’s in how your breath forgets itself for a beat.

He’s in his work jacket still, sawdust clinging to the sleeves, cheeks pink from the walk over. He looks at Ethan until Ethan finds a different table. He doesn’t look at you. Not yet.

“Ellie,” Maria says, barking a teeny, lifesaving laugh, “show me those sketches you were talkin’ about.” They evacuate without looking like they’re evacuating.

You and Joel are left with steam rising from the stew, with a silence so tight it pings.

“Walk with me,” he says.

You think about refusing on principle. Then you see the way his jaw’s set and decide you’re not interested in a scene in front of the whole damn town.

Outside, the air has gone cold again. You go down the steps and out to the edge of the street, where the snow holds boot prints like fossils. He doesn’t speak. You don’t either. You wait him out.

Finally: “You went out the south path.”

“I went to the greenhouse.”

“Without tellin’ me.”

“It wasn’t a patrol. It was a walk.”

He drags a hand down his face. When he speaks, the drawl roughens like gravel in his throat. “You call it what you want. You left the walls and you didn’t tell me.”

“I didn’t leave the walls.” You point, gentle but stubborn. “The greenhouse is inside the fence.”

“Inside the fence,” he repeats, like he’s tasting it and finding it bitter. “Inside the fence is where we watched a runner sprint the length of Main last spring, you remember that? Inside the fence is where a man with a knife got drunk and picked a fight with a damn gatepost. Inside the fence is where Ellie found a nail layin’ upright on the porch steps, and if I hadn’t—”

“Stop.” You hear yourself too loud and swallow it back down. “Stop using every worst thing that could happen as proof I don’t get to breathe unless you say so.”

He flinches. Not big. Just enough to make you hate that you said it and love that you finally did.

He scrubs a hand over his beard. “You tell me you’re goin’ somewhere, I don’t got time to make the world safe. I got time to gear up. I got time to pick a better door. I got time to find someone to walk you to the greenhouse so I can fix a generator and not feel like my heart’s out there alone.”

“I didn’t want to ask for permission.” You stubbornly respond before turning and walking away back to the house.

“You ain’t listenin’ to me” he continues behind you as you quickly reach your front porch and walk up the steps.

“Yeah, I hear you. Loud and clear” you respond sarcastically and you swung the door open and it only pissed him off.

Joel’s voice was sharp and loud, filling the room as he yelled, frustration pouring out. “Why won’t you just listen? You’re pushing yourself too hard, and it’s not safe!”

The old wooden stairs creaked under your boots as you climbed, Joel’s voice following you up like a shadow you couldn’t outrun.

“You should be restin’, not runnin’ around like nothin’s changed.”

You didn’t turn around. “I’m pregnant, Joel, not broken.”

“Pregnant means you’re carryin’ somethin’ more important than any damn run!” His voice cracked like a whip.

You stopped halfway up, gripping the banister. “I’m not gonna sit in this house all day like some prisoner just because you’re paranoid.”

He moved up two steps, towering closer. “Paranoid? I’m tryin’ to keep you and that baby alive.”

Your chest tightened. “It’s my baby too, Joel. I know what I can handle.” You turned to him.

Something in his face twisted — fear tangled with frustration.

“Maybe you were right. Shouldn’t have told me a damn thing-“

“Oh please-“

“No, don’t oh please me” his voice grew colder and then the words slipped out before he could stop them.

“Maybe you should’ve just gotten rid of it to begin with”

It was like a slap.

Your stomach dropped, and you stared at him, every muscle in your body going rigid. You were speechless.

His eyes widened instantly, regret flooding his features. “No—no, that ain’t what I meant—”

“Don’t,” you snapped, shoving past him.

“Wait—” He reached for your arm, but you yanked back. His grip tightened instinctively, not enough to hurt but enough to hold you in place.

“Let me go!”

You pulled harder, your heel catching on the edge of the step. The world tilted — the railing slid away from your fingers — and then you were falling.

“—No!” Joel’s shout echoed in the stairwell as you tumbled, the thud of your body against the steps ringing in his ears.

You hit the bottom with a sickening jolt, breath gone, pain blooming sharp and hot.

“God—” Joel is there before you can think to be scared. He moves like he always does—too fast at the start, arms a blind machine until his eyes locate yours. For one awful second you see the animal in him, and it terrifies you more than the fall.

“Jesus, baby—talk to me.” His voice is broken glass. He drops to his knees beside you, fingers urgent on your shoulders, trying to lift, to read, to fix. You can feel the guilt like heat over his skin; he’s trembling.

“I’m fine,” you force out, because you are, mostly—there’s a bruise already forming on your hip and a burning ache along the side where you landed, but nothing feels snapped and nothing feels like the hot, terrifying absence that would mean real damage.

You blinked up at him, your ribs aching, one arm curled instinctively around your stomach. “Don’t… touch me.”

That hurt worse than the fall. He pulled back like he’d been burned, his face breaking apart with guilt. “I swear to you, I didn’t mean it. I’d never wish—never—” His voice faltered, thick with desperation. “I can’t lose you. Either of you.”

You looked away, the air between you sharp and cold despite the pounding of his heart in your ears.

“Well we’re just fine”

He’s not listening, though. “You didn’t hit your head?”

“No.” Your voice is thinner than you want. You try to sit up and the world tilts; nausea flares. Joel’s hands clamp under your arms as if you might float away. “Don’t—Joel, stop. I’m—”

He winces. “Don’t sit up then,” he says, as if you’re willfully disobeying orders. “Stay still. Don’t move.”

You hate him a little in that moment. Hate the way he takes over. Hate the way he looks like he’s about to break into a million pieces because you twisted your ankle on a rotten board. Hate that the fight you just had—about something stupid, about how he can’t stop checking on you like you’re a cracked vase—hangs between you like fog.

“You could’ve helped me fix that board before—” you start, but the words taste like iron.

“Don’t do that,” he snaps, then softer, “don’t make me worse.”

Guilt pours through him in a visible, physical way: jaw clenched, knuckles white. He swallows and his voice drops into a gravelly quiet. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I smothered you. I’m sorry I do that.” He’s too loud with his apologies, like he thinks saying them will erase the whole thing. “I shouldn’t have—” He cuts himself off when your hand tightens reflexively over your belly.

You flinch. “I’m fine,” you repeat, more for him than for yourself. You want to be mad—still are mad, the argument’s heat still on your tongue—but your anger is a thin thing beside the pulse of fear. “It hurts. But I’m fine.”

Joel’s face collapses into an expression that is half terror, half desperate pleading. He closes his eyes for a beat, and when he opens them again they’re red-rimmed, haunted. “If anything—if anything’s wrong—” he says and chokes. “I won’t forgive myself.”

“You won’t have to,” you say, and you mean it, but the sound is shaky. You can feel the baby move, a small, indignant twist low in your belly that gives you a sense of ease.

~~

The clinic smelled faintly of antiseptic and old wood, the kind of smell that settled in your chest and wouldn’t let go. You lay on the cot, the blanket pulled up over you, while the midwife from Jackson checked your vitals and quietly took notes.

Joel hadn’t moved from his chair since they brought you in. Elbows on his knees, head down, hands clenched together so tight his knuckles were white. Every so often, his leg bounced — the only sign of just how close to the edge he was.

“Baby’s heartbeat is strong,” the midwife said finally, her tone gentle but steady. “You’re banged up and sore, but there’s no sign of bleeding. You both should be alright, as long as you rest.”

You nodded silently. Joel didn’t. He just exhaled like he’d been holding his breath for hours.

When the midwife left, the room felt too quiet.

Joel rubbed his hands over his face, then leaned forward, elbows braced on his knees again. “I ain’t… I ain’t got a right to ask you for anything right now,” he said, voice low, almost hoarse. “But I need you to believe me when I say I didn’t mean it. Any of it.”

You stared at the wall. “You said it, though.”

“I was scared,” he said quickly, like the words were trying to outrun your hurt. “I was scared and I let it turn into somethin’ ugly before I could stop it. That ain’t who I wanna be with you.”

Your eyes burned, but you didn’t look at him. “I thought you wanted this.”

“I do,” he said without hesitation. Then, quieter, “I want you. Both of you. More than I’ve wanted anythin’ in a long damn time. And I’ll spend the rest of my life provin’ it if that’s what it takes.”

His voice cracked, just enough to make you glance over at him. He was watching you like you were the only thing in the room, in the world — eyes red, jaw tight, holding himself together with sheer willpower.

“I could’ve lost you today,” he said, his voice almost a whisper. “And if I did… I don’t know what I’d be left with.”

Something inside you softened despite yourself. You could still feel the echo of the fall in your ribs, but more than that, you could feel the sincerity in his words.

“I’m scared,” you add, softer. “All the time. Of this thing I can’t see moving inside me, of what happens next, of the hundred things that could go wrong if the world wants to be cruel. I’m scared, Joel. But I can’t be just… carried.”

He looks at you then, and it feels like being looked at from the inside out. He stands up and closes the distance between you, you could see his hand tempted to touch your stomach but he didn’t move. Something eased in his shoulders, then tightens again. He is fighting himself, and you can see the rounds on his face.

“I know you ain’t a package,” he says. “I know you ain’t—” He shuts his eyes, opens them. “But I lost my girl because a world I thought I understood changed in one night. And I can’t take losing you. We share this fear together just…just don’t go against me baby”

“I won’t” you whisper softly before taking his hand and placing it with your hand over your belly, his eyes soften before you pull him onto the bed with you. Your backside is squeezed against Joel, his hand coming around your waist, resting on your belly. You felt his fingers gently stroke you, a wave of exhaustion coming over you as you closed your eyes and slowly fell asleep..

[joeldjarin]

hey first of you're one of my faves. I love you Joel angst and I'm such a Joel angst sucker. so I wanted to share an idea. it's totally up to you if you want to do it or not. and totally ignore this if you want to I won't mind🫶🏾😭

reader and Joel patrol partner. she could be early thirties or late twenties. reader has a massive crush on Joel and it's pretty evident. so one day they kiss and have sex during patrol accidentally. later Joel avoids her due to guilt and regret and she gets hurt from him by his avoidance. Joel tries to push her away and dates someone age appropriate. But gets jealous when reader gets with someone else and one day it all comes crashing down and Joel confesses and begs for her forgiveness

basically friends to enemies to lovers

🤭

feel free to ignore. No pressure love

Hello! Thank you 💜💜💜

Oh I love a plot that involves some jealousy from Joel 😏 I’ll work on this soon. Thank you for sending it!

[joeldjarin]

Close Enough to Burn

[SUMMARY: They’ve been at each other’s throats since the day they started traveling together — his overbearing protectiveness clashing with your stubborn need to prove yourself. Lines blur in the heat of survival.]

Angst SMUT

It wasn’t often when you were paired with Joel to do patrol, neither of you looking forward to each other’s company, always clashing with one another. It wasn’t your fault, Joel constantly swore he was in charge, everything always needed to be as he said and you were getting sick and tired of it.

Out on patrol the two of you walked along deep piled up snow and came across something you had never seen, seemed like a shed, you wanted to take a look when you felt Joel’s large hand on your arm.

“You ain’t goin’ first, stay behind me”

“You got a death wish or something? I move quieter than you, you’ll just scare everything off…or worse, draw it in”

You both stood there, tense, glaring, until someone had to give in. It’s always a game of who folds first. This time… it’s him. Grumbling.

He watched as you stepped before him, slowly opening the door. Joel’s right behind you. Of course he is.

The beam of light sweeps over old tools, a rusted wheelbarrow, empty crates, and finally—a cracked shelf with a few dusty cans of food. No infected. No blood. Just quiet decay.

“Just like I thought” you say walking towards the back.

“Yeah” he grumbles “this time.”

After packing the cans of food and few extra supplies you found you both continued your journey. There was a cabin not too far out that patrols would usually stay at when coming this way, always left secure for the next group traveling.

“You do know I’ve traveled plenty of times by myself before I met you and Tommy” you assured him as you walked beside him.

“Well that ain’t the case anymore is it”

“Doesn’t matter, I didn’t need you two before to babysit me and I don’t need you two now”

That earned you the faintest twitch at his jaw, but nothing more. He was stubborn, gruff, maddening. And yet he never stopped keeping you in his peripheral vision, like if you were some fragile piece of glass he didn’t trust not to shatter.

Eventually the two of you came across a collapsed brick building near an alley you were now in, it wasn’t like this the last time you came around.

“Stay here, let me check-“

“Not happening” you brushed past him before he could finish.

“Jesus, woman—” His hand shot out, catching your arm, but that’s when it happened.

A sound — quick, sharp — from somewhere inside the alley. Then movement.

Joel yanked you hard against him, spinning you both behind a half-fallen wall just as something heavy crashed where you had just been standing. You stumbled, hands grabbing for balance, but there was nowhere to go — his body was already against yours, pinning you between himself and the cold brick.

Your breath caught. His chest was solid heat against your front, his palm braced beside your head.

“Don’t need me, huh?” He growled close to your ear.

You should have shoved him away. You should have been furious. And you were — but there was something else, too. Something that made your pulse stumble, made you aware of every inch where your bodies touched.

Joel’s gaze flicked down for half a second — too quick, too guilty — before snapping back up to yours. “You alright?”

“Perfect,” you bit out, but your voice came out tighter than you meant.

Neither of you moved. The alley was silent again, but his weight was still pressing you to the wall, breaths mingling in small, uneven clouds.

“Should… probably move,” you murmured.

His eyes lingered on yours for a beat too long. “Yeah,” he said, though he didn’t step back right away.

When he finally did, the air felt colder, thinner. You both pretended nothing had happened, but the space between you and him on the rest of the patrol felt dangerous in a whole new way.

The snow was falling thicker by the time you reached closer to the cabin. Joel had barely said two words on the walk back, his expression locked into that unreadable scowl. The silence should have been a relief, but it was the wrong kind — the kind that hummed like a wire ready to snap.

Once you arrived at the cabin you shook the snow off your coat, you could hear Joel close behind following you inside closing the door behind him.

“Next time you just listen to what I say and you won’t find yourself in a situation like that again”

“What are you gonna lecture me now?” You chuckled sarcastically as you turned to him, the sight of you unzipping your sweater slightly distracting him.

“I don’t need to hear this” you turned your back to him.

“You’re fine because I pulled you outta the way.” He moved closer, slow but sure, until you could feel the warmth of him at your back.

Your jaw tightened. “I didn’t need—”

His hand landed on the table beside your hip, leaning in just enough that you could feel the air shift. “You keep tellin’ yourself that, darlin’.”

You finally turned, and there he was — too close again, eyes darker than before, jaw set like he was holding something back.

For a moment, neither spoke. The cabin was too small, the air too warm, his gaze too heavy. Your shoulder brushed his when you shifted, and you felt it again — that sharp jolt, like touching a live wire.

You told yourself you should move away. Instead, your breath caught, your back pressing lightly against the table behind you.

Joel noticed. His eyes flicked down — not far, just enough to make your heart slam against your ribs — before snapping back up.

“This… thing between us,” he muttered, as if testing the weight of the words, “it’s a bad idea.”

“Then stop standing so close,” you shot back, but your voice was softer than you meant for it to be.

He didn’t move. Didn’t even blink. And then, just like in the alley, there it was — the smallest lean forward, enough to blur the line between an argument and something far more dangerous.

Your hand brushed his side as you went to push past him. He caught your wrist — not hard, but firm, holding you there.

“You keep pushin’ me, darlin’,” he said quietly, “one of us is gonna break.”

The air between you both was molten now, thick with something neither of you wanted to name. You didn’t answer, not trusting your voice.

Joel let you go, finally stepping back, but the look in his eyes said it was only a matter of time.

The sound of the front door opening made him quickly turn your way.

“The hell you goin’?”

“I just…I need to not be in here for a bit” you stumbled over your own words, truthfully you needed space from him. You didn’t trust yourself staying alone in such a small cabin with him without how tense you both were at that moment. He grabbed his coat and walked past you barely looking your way.

“You stay inside, I’ll step out” he walked out and closed the door behind him, a rush of cold air hitting you making you slightly shiver.

Joel stood outside for a bit, double checking around the cabin, any excuse to create some kind of distance from you. But who the hell was he kidding, the entire time he couldn’t stop feeling the pull he had been feeling towards you all day.

Pacing back and fourth in the cabin, you struggled to understand exactly what the hell you were feeling. One night alone with Joel in a cabin after today felt like something you suddenly couldn’t handle. The tension hadn’t faded when he walked out, yet you tried to tell yourself you didn’t feel the weight of his stare, the rough warmth of his voice.

You were completely lying to yourself when you heard the door swing open.

There he was, much sooner than you expected walking in with snow covering his curls as he shook off his coat. He closed the door behind him and looked up at you as you closed your arms around your body from the burst of cold air that entered the room.

“What are you-“

“Ain’t stayin’ out there, ain’t hidin’”

His voice was gruffer than usual, almost like he’d been fighting himself his short period outside.

“And I’m tired of pretendin’ I don’t…” He trailed off, jaw flexing, searching for the right words.

You swallowed hard. “Don’t what?”

His eyes locked on yours, and for a long second, neither moved. Then, slow as the first crack in ice, he closed the distance.

One hand braced against the wall beside your head, the other hovering near your hip like he didn’t trust himself to touch.

“This is a mistake,” he muttered, though his body stayed close enough for you to feel his heat.

“Then leave,” you whispered.

He didn’t.

Instead, his gaze dropped — just for a heartbeat — and when it came back up, the restraint in his eyes was splintering.

Your pulse thundered. His fingers twitched like he was a second away from giving in.

You told yourself you should move. That you didn’t even like him. That this was all heat-of-the-moment, nothing more. But the truth burned through every excuse.

Joel exhaled, low and rough, and that was it — the break.

He closed the last inch, your bodies catching in that same too-close press as in the alley, but this time, neither pretended it was about safety. His head dipped, close enough for his stubble to graze your skin, his voice a rasp in your ear.

“You’re gonna drive me crazy.”

His voice rolled low, that soft Texas drawl making you shiver.

Your hand found the front of his button shirt, fingers curling into the fabric. “Right back at you.”

Joel didn’t wait for another word.

The moment your fingers curled tighter in his jacket, he pulled you in, the sudden motion knocking you back into the wall with just enough force to make your breath hitch.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t careful. It was weeks — months — of frustration, arguments, and lingering looks breaking all at once.

His hand slid to your waist, gripping with a possessive urgency, pulling your flush against him. Every inch of him radiated heat, the contrast against the cold air still clinging to his clothes making you shiver.

Your hands were in motion before you could think — shoving his shirt off his shoulders, fingers brushing over his white t shirt, the solid muscle beneath. Joel caught your wrist mid-motion, holding it there like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to stop you or keep you exactly where you were.

“Tell me to walk away,” he rasped, eyes locked on yours, voice a shade lower than you’d ever heard it.

You didn’t. Couldn’t.

Something in his expression broke at your silence, and then his mouth was on yours — fierce, claiming, the kind of kiss that left no room for doubt. You felt the scrape of his stubble, the firm pressure of his hand at the back of your neck, keeping you right where he wanted you.

The world narrowed to the space between them — the way his body pressed you harder into the wall, the ragged sound of both your breathing.

Your knee brushed his thigh, and the reaction was instant — a subtle but undeniable shift closer, like he was drawn without thinking. His hand splayed at your hip, thumb stroking once through the fabric of your shirt, just enough to make your pulse skip.

When you finally broke for air, his forehead rested against yours, your breaths mingling in harsh, uneven bursts.

“This… changes everything,” she whispered.

Joel’s mouth ghosted over yours again, a hint of a smirk tugging at the corner.

“I’m ok with that” he whispered before kissing you and abruptly picking you up in his arms, he wrapped your legs around his waist taking you straight to the blankets that lay on the wooden floor. You lay back undressing yourself as he stood on his knees pulling his shirt over his head and unbuttoning his pants.

The second you felt the warmth of his skin against yours you breathed a sight of relief. His body leaning against yours, you felt his bare cock jerk against your thigh.

“Please…” you whispered feeling your most intimate area throb for him. He held your face in place, looking down at you as he readjusted his body between your legs and plunged forward. In one hard thrust he was in you, you gasped with a slight whimper. His eyes darkened feeling how ready you were for him and he continued slamming his hips against you. Your arms wrapped around him as your fingers drove into his damp curls pulling him close to kiss you and he did. Your moans muffled by his lips, his hands squeezing every part of you he could touch. Your bodies moving as one feeling a pleasure like never before.

“Oh baby-“ he breathed against your lips.

You held onto him as his body pushed yours higher with each thrust. His grunts against your ear of a man who had finally let go of any restraints. The sound of a man who couldn’t contain the pleasure you made him feel.

“Fuck- honey, I can’t hold it any longer-“ he panted, he had been wanting you for so long. Barely hearing a word he said your back arched as ecstasy traveled through every inch of your body. He watched you in awe, still moving his body, keeping himself going as much as he could to watch you reach your high. Sweat building up on his temple as you came beneath him.

“Joel-“ you cried out in relief just as he went silent and quickly pulled out barely in enough time and came along your thigh. His deep moan filling up the walls of the cabin, his head thrown back as you panted still squirming beneath him.

~~

Your shirt still lay on the floor beside you, your breath still unsteady. Joel sat on the edge of the couch, elbows on his knees, head bowed like he was tryin’ to make sense of somethin’ he already knew was a mistake.

“You’re impossible,” you muttered, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself.

He huffed out a humorless laugh. “Could say the same ’bout you.” His voice was still rough from… everything. “Ain’t no reason you gotta run headfirst into every damn fight—”

You shot him a glare. “There it is. I was wondering how long it would take before you ruined the moment.”

Joel looked up then, eyes sharp but softer than you’d ever seen ’em. “Moment or not, I damn near lost you out there. I can’t—” His jaw clenched, words catching. “I can’t watch that happen.”

“You can’t control me either,” you said, but your voice had lost its bite.

He stood, slow, the sight of him only in his boxers slightly distracting you as he walked towards you. When he did he leaned low beside you, his hand came up to your cheek, calloused thumb brushing against skin he’d only just learned the feel of.

“Reckon I ain’t good at lettin’ folks do what they want when it means I’m watchin’ ’em die.” His tone was quiet now, the Southern drawl catching on every word. “You can hate me for it if you want.”

You swallowed, heart thudding. “I don’t hate you.”

Joel’s mouth twitched — not quite a smile, but close. “Coulda fooled me.”

You let out a breath that might’ve been a laugh. “Guess we’re both stubborn.”

His forehead rested against yours, and for once there wasn’t an argument waiting between you — just the weight of what had happened, and the heat that hadn’t quite cooled.

[joeldjarin]

Borrowed Nights

[SUMMARY: Joel comforts you after recently having lost your husband who was one of his best friends. (This takes place in Jackson.)]

Angst, sloww burn, mention of death, eventual romance, smut as the chapters go on. inspired from a movie I saw and couldn’t help myself.

Chapter 1: 3am

Three weeks had gone by since your husband Jeremy was killed on patrol. You felt numb to say the least, still you had to try to keep yourself together for the sake of your 12 year old son Luke and 5 year old daughter Mila. Jeremy and you had had these conversations in the past, the risks of something going wrong, the possibility of what your reality now was. You hated it. Part of you was heartbroken, sick, sad for your children without a father but another part of you was angry, angry that this happened at all. Of course you had support in Jackson, Jeremy being good friends with Tommy, Joel and most of the main crew, you had many looking out for you..many checking in on you.

That evening you began to prep dinner, food you knew you wouldn’t touch, barely having an appetite anymore. The sound of a knock on the door making you turn over to see Joel on the other end of the screen, Mila yelled with excitement running towards the door.

“Joel!” She excitedly turned the handle letting him in.

“Hey, honey-“ he spotted the soccer ball in her hand.

“You hit any goals yet?”

“Almost! Luke has been teaching me how to play!” Her brother showed up behind her greeting Joel with a nod, he was much more quieter than his sister.

“Oh yeah? Then you’ll hit a goal in no time” he smiled at her before walking to the counter you stood before. His smile fading as he got closer to you, he could see how drained you were. The sadness in your eyes, the dark circles around them, you couldn’t hide your grief.

“Just wanted to uh..see if ya needed anythin’”

Joel spoke softly to you, always did.

“Well I’m fine” you responded sharply not looking up at him. You didn’t mean to act this way, they all knew this wasn’t like you but they understood it and refused to give up on you no matter how many times they were turned away.

“How about you come on over, Ellie and I are makin’ a meatloaf-“

“No thank you”

“Aw come on, mom. I wanna see Ellie-“

“I said no” you quickly cut off Mila who pouted and walked to the living room. Joel stood silent watching her leave the room, he knew he couldn’t say a word.

“Look..if uh-“

“Yeah I know if I need anything just let you know. I got it” you responded coldly as you continued to focus on what you were doing. Joel silently nodded before looking at Luke and leaving the house.

As you distracted yourself with continuing to prep the meal you hadn’t noticed Luke step out after Joel left. Running towards him be called out his name.

“Hey, Joel!” He stopped quickly turning to find Luke running towards him.

“Sorry about my mom being rude back there” he shook his head.

“Don’t worry about it, kid”

“Just don’t want you…to..to stop coming by cause of the way she acts”

Joel frowned.

“That won’t happen. I promised your dad and I promised you I’d be here checking in and that’s what I’m gonna do. Your mom she uh..just gotta give her some time,” Luke nodded as he looked down.

“I tell you what, how about tomorrow we have a soccer game, me you, Tommy and Mila. I’ll teach you some tricks your dad knew” his eyes lit up as he nodded.

“Okay, now go help your mama set the table, I’ll see you tomorrow” he pat his shoulder as he went off running back to the house with excitement.

You looked through the window to see your son talking to Joel, you could see the sincerity as he spoke to Luke, you could see the comfort he gave him that you couldn’t.

“What did Joel want?” You asked as Luke entered with a smile.

“Oh nothing, he wants to have a soccer game tomorrow with Tommy, said he’d teach me a few tricks” he grinned before stopping in his tracks.

“If that’s ok with you?” You could see the hope in his eyes, the excitement he felt.

“Of course” you smiled watching as he happily skipped off.

~~

You knew Joel and Tommy were only trying to help, you knew they only had the best intention but your grief wouldn’t allow you to accept it.

Laying in bed looking at the ceiling you thought about the last time you slept alone.

You couldn’t remember.

It was strange having an empty queen size bed, only for you to lay in. You tossed and turned every night, before you knew it night would turn to day and it was just another night of no sleep. The nights you did close your eyes you’d wake up hyperventilating, dreaming of the way Jeremy was killed.

You sighed sitting at your windowsill looking out, tears silently falling as you prayed for a way to finally get some rest. You couldn’t take it when suddenly you noticed Joel’s bedroom light turn on. It was three in the morning and Joel was awake too and that’s when you thought of the strangest idea.

Slowly walking up his porch steps you hesitantly knocked on the door, taking a deep breath you held your robe around you. When Joel opened the door he instantly looked concerned, surprised-

“Everything alright? The kids ok?”

“Uh..yeah..yes” you responded followed by an awkward silence.

“This is going to sound…weird but I need a favor” he straightened up by the door.

“Anything, you name it”

“Look I know you’ve been trying to help and I’ve been..I’ve been giving you a hard time but I really could use some help”

“Just name it darlin’, what is it?”

“I need to sleep” your voice cracked as you felt a knot forming in your throat, Joel’s brows furrowed unsure by what you meant.

“Can you please…can you lay with me till I fall asleep?” You could tell he was slightly puzzled by the idea, slightly hesitant.

“Please, Joel. I haven’t slept since he died and I’m going crazy. I’m not used to sleeping without him-“ you began to cry.

“He used to um-he used to rub my head till I slept and I just-“ Joel’s heart broke for you. This was the first time you had spoken this much since his passing and if this was a way he could help you, Joel was going to.

“Please, Joel, I’ll-“

“I’ll do it” he responded softly catching you off guard.

“You will?” You whispered with your eyebrows raised.

“Course I will, come on. Let’s get cha some sleep” he closed the door behind him and proceeded to walk you back to your house. The walk back was silent although you felt relieved. He knew it was hard for you to ask, he knew how strange it must’ve felt for you but he also knew how badly you needed it.

Following you up the stairs he waited for you to open the bedroom door and invite him in. Awkwardly you shut the door behind him as he stared down at the bed.

“You can just lay on that side” you pointed to the right side of the bed as you went around towards the wall.

“You sure you wanna do this?” He asked, his hands by his side.

“I need to” you whispered and looked away.

“I used to um…lay on his chest till I fell asleep then just roll over and I promise I won’t take long, as soon as I’m asleep you can go” you assured him. He nodded quietly placing his hands on his hips looking down at the bed before removing his shoes and doing as you asked. Joel lay back against the pillow, one leg on the ground with the other on the bed. He watched as you slowly got in beside him, he didn’t move, allowing you to place yourself where you wanted to be at your own pace.

“I just…would lay like this” you slowly placed your head on his chest and awkwardly placed one leg over his. He swallowed hard holding himself still, not allowing himself to make any sudden movement that might make you uncomfortable.

“Then-“ you took his hand and bought it your head.

“He’d just rub my head till I was asleep” he began to gently do as you said and watched you close your eyes on him. He could see the instant relaxation you felt, the relief in your breath as you allowed yourself to relax.

It wasn’t Jeremy…Joel had a different scent from him, but you did like it. Joel watched you slowly drift into a deep sleep while laying on him, your body feeling a relaxation you hadn’t felt in weeks. Fifteen minutes later, just as you said you would, you rolled over on to your back sound asleep. Joel lay still for a moment looking over at you before pushing himself up from the bed. You didn’t move as he slowly pulled the blanket up over you, taking a step back by the door he took one last look at you and left the room.

~~

The next morning you woke up feeling well rested. You remembered how you had invited Joel over and quickly turned to the other side of the bed to see he was no longer there. It was nice having finally slept before realizing it was much later than you had planned to wake up.

“Mila, Luke!” You called out as you rushed own the stairs before looking out the window and seeing Tommy and Joel playing with them just out front. The sound of the front door opening made Joel look over.

“Mom’s awake!” Mila ran towards you, wrapping her tiny arms around you.

“Hi, baby, having fun?”

“Yes! Joel taught me a neat trick, I have to show you!” She went running off to get the ball as Joel walked towards you. Slightly embarrassed thinking of the request you had the night before your cheeks turned a light shade of pink.

“Figured we’d let you sleep”

“Yeah, uh..thanks” you smiled before looking off into the distance at the others.

“Hey, um about last night” you turned back to Joel who had never taken his eyes off you.

“I know it was weird and I appreciate what you did for me but..can we please keep it between us? I don’t want anyone thinking-“

“Don’t know what you’re talkin’ about” Joel smirked before giving you a wink just as Mila ran back towards you.

Tommy did notice a slight difference in the way you acted today, the fact that you even smiled at all. He leaned back with Maria beside him watching as you laughed with the kids while Joel walked back to him.

“What’d you do?” Tommy joked, Joel responded with a slightly confused expression.

“With?”

“She’s actually talkin’ today” he motioned towards you as Joel stood beside him watching you from afar.

“Nothin’ just reminded her she wasn’t alone” he watched as you ran around with the kids playing soccer, something none of them had seen you do since before Jeremy passed.

~~

Today was a good day. That wasn’t something you’d been able to say since the day you lost your husband but having a night of rest did make a difference for you. You felt more present with your children today and it made you feel good. Yet here you were once again at 2 in the morning staring at your ceiling.

“Jesus Christ” you sat up and looked out the window to Joel’s house next door. What did you expect him to come over every night and babysit you till you slept?

~~

Here you were standing on his damn front porch again, feeling stupid, feeling awkward yet still knocking on his door. He opened the door with an amused expression as you took a deep breath.

“Sorry-“

“Come on, let’s go” he wasn’t going to let you ask again, he knew how hard it was for you to ask the first time. He walked beside you back to the house as you remained silent. You didn’t know what to say, he could tell you felt uneasy, you didn’t like bothering anyone for help, much less something like this.

“You alright?” He asked as you stopped at your front door.

“Yes…I just…I don’t like bothering you and I feel so stupid-it doesn’t matter let’s just get this over with” you walked in ahead of before he could say a word.

The house was dark and quiet as he followed you up the stairs. Once entering the room, he already knew what you wanted him to do and so he lay down first before you crawled into bed. This time he noticed what you wore, a black tank top with shorts to go along with it. He noticed the chain around your neck carrying Jeremey’s ring and looked away. He let you adjust your body on his, your head on his chest with your hand resting on him, he began to rub your head as you closed your eyes.

“You don’t have to feel stupid with me, you ain’t botherin’ me one bit” your eyes fluttered open as he spoke.

“If this is the only way I can help you, you come get me as many times as you need, you hear me?” You nodded softly on him.

“Thank you, Joel” you whispered before closing your eyes and falling to sleep.

~~

Joel walked in not expecting to see Ellie awake in the living room. She lay back reading a book before looking up at him.

“What was that about?” A playful tone in her voice.

“Huh? Whaddya mean?” He walked to the kitchen as she sat up with a smirk.

“It’s like 3 in the morning, you taking off in the middle of the night with-“

“Oh that’s nothin’” he responded nonchalant as he looked for a glass to drink from.

“Sure it’s not, she seemed pretty different today. I mean obviously she’s upset but she actually interacted with us” Joel stood still staring across the room at Ellie and nodded.

“Sooooo”

“Ain’t it past your bedtime?” He asked with a squint of his eyes.

“Oh come on, you can tell me. Who am I gonna tell?” She walked towards him at the counter. With his hands on his waist, after a moment of silence he pressed his lips together and gave in.

“Look, she just needs some help with sleepin’ and-“ Ellie raised her brows.

“Not like that” he made a face at her.

“Jeremy was a good friend of mine and it hasn’t been easy with her acceptin’ any kinda help so when she asked me to just lay with her, I accepted.” Ellie eyes slightly widened but she didn’t say a word.

“Just don’t say nothin’ to anyone, it’s already hard on her as it is”

“Not saying a word” Ellie put her hands up but Joel could read her face very well, he knew what she was thinking.

“Go to bed,” she nodded in response and quietly walked up the stairs as Joel stared off into space. He knew he only wanted to help you, it wasn’t anything more..at least that’s what he told himself. But Joel slowly found himself enjoying being able to be there for you tonight. Being your comfort in the dark..

[joeldjarin]

Sex as Friends — Joel Miller x Reader cw: MDNI, friends with benefits, smut, argument, porn with plot, doggy, use of ‘good girl’ and some good ol fashioned ‘baby’, Joel is a cocky fucker but he’s sooo hot

“Darlin’, m’sorry if you can’t handle me talkin’ to another woman, but we ain’t never been exclusive. That isn’t what we agreed on.” Joel’s voice carried through the house as you stormed down the stairs, doing up the final buttons on your flannel.

He followed after you, his hand sliding along the curve of the wooden railing, the metronome of his feet hitting each step matching the pounding of your heart. You couldn’t believe it. Sure, the girls in Jackson had warned you that Joel was a player, but you’d allowed yourself to get so caught up in his goddamn wandering hands that you’d gone and got hurt. Damn it.

“We also agreed not to be assholes about this.” You mumbled, crossing the hall to angrily pull your boots and jacket on. Joel stopped you immediately, his hair scruffy from your earlier make-out session-turned-argument.

He’d been stupid enough to ask you if you’d ‘been with any good guys lately’, expecting something of an ego boost from your pretty lips against his; ‘no-ones as good as you, Joel’- only to be met with confusion. You weren’t seeing other people too? He was shocked.

He grabbed you by the arm, spinning you back into his chest. “C’mon baby, you don’t wanna have sex as friends no more?” He smirked, in that cocky way that made you want to rip your hair out and simultaneously, all at once, ride him until dawn.

You huffed, you arms held up awkwardly as he wrapped his around your waist, head dipping into your neck to press a kiss there. You didn’t quite know what to do with your hands, too stubborn to hold him back, but too lost in his attention to ever pull away. You were a hypocrite, and you knew it.

Joel was your kryptonite, your one weakness. You just couldn’t hold yourself back when it came to him. Sure, you’d made a whole show of storming yourself out of his bedroom and buttoning your shirt back up, but now that you were back in his arms again, you just couldn’t force yourself out the front door. Why did he have to be so damn inviting?

Your hands slid up to his shoulders, arms draping over the taught fabric of his shirt, eyes falling shut. He hummed out a soft chuckle, salt and pepper beard brushing against your sensitive spots as he mouthed his way up to your pulse point.

He’s nothin’ but a smart mouth and a big cock. Your friend Kaylee had told you after patrol one day. Her and Joel had hooked up before, but of course, instead of heeding her warning, you brushed it off.

He dragged his jaw up to your ear, his breath hot against your skin. You felt alight with each goosebump prickling your limbs, his thick fingers brushing up to move your hair out of the way. “Be a good girl f’me and shut up.”

You opened your mouth to reply with something clever and snarky before he was pulling back, giving you a look and that goddamn smirk. You stayed quiet.

My brother’s many things, but he ain’t the settle down, white-picket fence type. You be careful there. Tommy warned you one night in the Tipsy Bison. And still, you went running back. Because he wasn’t just a good lay, he was addictive. The look in his eye as he went in for more made you feel like you were special, like he didn’t do this on the regular and you were the only one. And whatever sad lonely part of you was utterly invested in his touch, like you needed him to breathe. It was unhealthy, you knew that, Kaylee knew it, Joel knew it. But you couldn’t stop. And he wouldn’t ever expect you to.

“That’s right. You gonna let me fuck you?” Joel was pulling at your earlobe between his teeth. You gasped, arms tightening around his neck. He took that as a yes, reaching down to grab your thighs and pick you up.

You moved your hands to his face, thumbs rubbing through the grey stubble at his jaw as he walked you through the house, into the living room. You pressed your lips to his as he set you down on the couch, crawling over your body with no time to waste.

It was messy, his tongue against yours, mouth sucking on your bottom lip, the grind of his hard cock in his jeans against you. You could hardly breathe, kissing him like he was your only source of oxygen, of life.

His hands worked eagerly, no time to prepare you like he usually would. He was sure you were used to his thick, hairy shaft by now, and in his sick, desperate old mind, he thought he had at-least a ten minute window before you packed up and realised you were too good for him. He had to convince you now.

He undid the button of your jeans, pulling them down your hips with a quick pat at your waist, silently telling you to lift up f’me, pretty girl.

You glanced down, lips pulling away from his as you helped him with your jeans — it was a little tricky. You flipped over, onto all fours, leaning your ass back into him with a playful grin.

Joel chuckled behind you, pulling your jeans down the curve of your ass and thighs to press a few kisses against your skin, his tongue sliding over the lace of your panties. “Dirty fuckin’ girl.” He mumbled.

It was easier like this, he thought. It broke the attachment. He didn’t have to watch your lips curve as those pretty fucking moans left your mouth, gorgeous expressions of pleasure he swore he’d seen in a porno mag before the outbreak. You were his star, perfect and completely fuckable. He just didn’t get this from anyone else — all the other girls in Jackson were boring pillow princesses. You, however…

As you wiggled those hips, he lost all hope of pulling the denim away completely, abandoning your jeans at your knees to work on unbuckling his belt. His thick fingers worked deftly as he tried to push away the memory of the crafty girl that had gifted him that belt buckle; right before he broke her heart, of course.

“C’mon.” You whined impatiently, hooking a thumb into the waistband of your panties, glancing over your shoulder to watch his eyelids flutter as you pulled them down your thighs, revealing that perfect soaked pussy that he’d missed so much.

“Patient, baby.” He cooed, pulling his jeans down along with his underwear, stroking his cock as it sprung free. His free hand grabbed at your hip, pulling you back into him.

He clicked his tongue, tossing a couch cushion under your head as he dragged the blushing mushroom tip of his cock through your needy folds. “Relax.” He whispered as he pushed your head down, big hand wrapped around the back of your neck, forcing you into a perfect cat-like arch for his own viewing pleasure.

“Shhh.” He soothed you as you whined, pushing into you ever-so-slightly. “C’mon, you can take it. Where’s that smile, huh? My little pornstar?” He thrust into you all at once, accentuating the end of his sentence with a breathless chuckle, watching with some sadistic sort of pleasure as he watched your face contort at the feeling of being so full.

“There she is.” He smirked, watching half-lidded as he took the moment to let you adjust. “F-fuck, Joel-“

He cut you off, fingers digging into the plush of your hips. “Shhh, just listen.” He whispered. You could hardly think. Was it possible for his cock to reach your brain? You didn’t think so, but it sure felt like it.

He pulled out of you at least halfway, your eyes slamming shut, hands gripping the edges of the couch. The room filled with the obscene sound of your wet folds as he bullied his way through your hole. He loved that fucking sound, the unique melody only your pussy could make.

In, out, hips slamming against your ass. Joel grunted with every thrust, bringing a foot up onto the couch to get a better angle. “Oh my god.” You turned your face into the cushion beneath your head, hugging the thing tight as Joel fucked you, muffling your moans into the fabric. You were sure he’d probably fucked a million other girls on this very same leather, but you didn’t care. Not when it was so mind-numbing.

You didn’t need therapy, or Eugene’s weed. You just needed a good fuck from Joel Miller.

“That’s it baby- fucking- take it.” His voice melted at the end of his sentence, even he was unable to hide how your perfect tight pussy affected him.

You were sure you wouldn’t last long, your mind scrambled into mush, the only thought being him and how you couldn’t wait to come back tomorrow. But Joel wasn’t done with you yet, and he’d be damned if he let you come before he got to have his fun.

Your walls fluttered around him, and Joel reached over, grabbing you by the waist to pull you back into his chest.

He wrapped his arms around you, his breath heavy into the curve of your neck, blowing your hair in light gusts as he stilled you on his cock. You whined, head falling back against his shoulder with tired disappointment.

It was hot, the air in the room thick. He began unbuttoning your shirt, his fingers working fast to rip the flannel off of you, skin glistening with sweat. He reached up to cup your tits in his hands, licking a stripe along your shoulder to get a taste of you. Fuck, he’d take a bite if he wasn’t so intent on filling you with his cum instead of cannibalising you.

You couldn’t speak, your throat spilling with moans as Joel rolled your nipples between his fingers, slowly dragging his hips in small circles, thrusting up into you. Pushing past your cervix, reaching that cushiony spot inside you that made your eyes roll back in your head.

“Joel- fuck, gonna cum-“ You babbled, slumped boneless against him, arms wrapping around his neck behind you.

“You can do it, good girl- that’s it-“ He felt your gummy walls tighten, abandoning one of your breasts to reach down and rub quick circles against your clit, and what you were too cockdrunk to notice — the name ‘Miller’ in all caps, spelled out against your bundle of nerves. Branding you as his. Beautiful and loyal, he liked not sharing for once. He enjoyed having a pretty plaything reserved all for him.

You felt the pleasure crash over you all at once as you came on Joel’s cock, walls pulsing with the intensity of your release. Joel followed soon after, breathing out a shaky, “oh, baby..” into your neck as he spurted out hot ropes of cum inside of your womb, hips stuttering in the air. He settled down with you in his lap.

Your head lolled forward as his hold on you tightened, kissing his way up the column of your neck, he dragged a hand up to cradle your jaw, holding you upright with his cock still inside you.

Breathing in time with Joel, back arched against his chest, “I think…” You panted.

“I think we should keep…having sex as friends.” You told him, patting his thigh beneath you.

Thankyou for reading lovelies!! I had ‘best friends’ by the weeknd stuck in my head all day, so this happened — lmk how you like it!

To be added to the Joel Miller taglist, drop a comment <3

— anna

[joeldjarin]

Be the Thing I Want

masterlist. pairing: joel miller (the last of us) x femsexworker!reader

summary: Your body still trades well when you move to Jackson. Though ostracized by the majority of the town, you find an ally in Joel Miller.

rating: E for sexual content, rough sex, angst, age gap (reader is in their 20s, Joel is in his 60s), daddy kink, degradation, dirty talk, slut-shaming

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7

read on ao3

main song