When she says it had a smurf village gender ratio, it's possibly even funnier and sadder than you could have thought. The article doesn't specify, but I keep hearing that out of 8000 users, less than 50 appeared to be women.
Root said she contacted a hacker who helped to exfiltrate the data. However, no hacks were required – all it took was a simple URL trick of adding “download-all-users/” to the top-level domain.
Holy fuck, I’m dying. Imagine being this bad at cybersecurity. How is the rest of 2026 supposed to compete?
summary: You and Joel had found peace in the quiet life you had built together in Jackson. Despite him hurting from the growing distance between him and Ellie, he knows he has you and you have his back.
wc: 6,4k >
warnings: a bit of angst for joel but is mostly fluff. Age gap but not specified. Remember English is not my first language and i'm lazy when it comes to checking.
a/n: okay. I didn't write a lot of blind faith during this week and I'm giving you this other joel fic as a sorry and because i'm already grieving Joel. I hope you like it 💌
dividers by @/saradika-graphics
Ever since you and Joel had settled into a normal life in Jackson. The dynamic between the two of you changed. The cold mornings spent outdoors turned into mornings wrapped in sheets. The two of you, your head on his chest and his arms around your waist. The closest thing to normalcy Joel had experienced since the world had ended that September, years ago.
It wasn’t the easiest path, not for him, not for you. Years ago, when everything was ash and violence, the QZ had been nothing more than a temporary shelter with concrete walls and a rot at its core. But somehow, even in that godforsaken place, you had found Joel. Or maybe he had found you. Either way, you clung to each other like driftwood in a storm.
He was older, weathered by loss, hard edges and thick walls that didn’t crumble easily. And you—well, you were younger, yes, but you’d seen enough to understand him without needing him to say a word. That’s what got him first. The way you looked at him—not with pity, not like someone trying to fix him—but like you saw straight through him and chose to stay anyway.
You were a constant when the world refused to be. He never told you just how much that meant, how many nights he laid awake beside you in the QZ, eyes tracing the ceiling, wondering what he had done to deserve someone like you. Maybe he didn’t deserve it. But you stayed. Even when the Fireflies whispered about change. Even when the world outside called to you both with the promise of something more.
And then came Ellie. The girl who turned everything upside down. The moment Joel took her in, you followed without hesitation. You were the only one who never questioned him—not when he made the choice that changed everything. You held his secret like your own, wore the burden of it in silence. And when the truth finally tore open the fragile thread between Joel and Ellie, you were the one caught in the middle. Not because you chose to be—but because you loved them both.
Ellie had barely spoken to Joel in months now, but you still caught her glancing toward your porch sometimes, like she missed him but couldn’t quite forgive. You didn’t push. You gave her space, the same way you gave Joel comfort. Even when he didn’t say it, you could feel the guilt radiating off him in waves—quiet, heavy, and relentless.
But he still came home to you. Always. His hands shaking slightly when he poured whiskey into a glass at night, the ghosts of the past flickering behind his tired eyes. And you would press your fingers to the side of his face and whisper that he was not the man he used to be. That maybe, finally, after all this time, he deserved peace.
He didn’t say much in response. Joel wasn’t one for poetry or declarations. But his love was in the way he kissed your forehead in the mornings before you even opened your eyes. It was in the way he made sure the firewood was stacked high so you’d never get cold. It was in every silent glance across a crowded dining hall, in every soft murmur against your temple when the nightmares woke him.
Joel had built a warm home for you. A place where the both of you would end up dying after cherishing all the loved you shared for each other. After a fulfilled life, a happy life.
He became a fundamental part of Jackson, a community that grew every year thanks to his efforts and help. A community where he had become loved, and not just by you. While Joel reviewed maps and extensions that could continue to be built, you were part of the group patrolling the outskirts of Jackson.
And when you rode out past the gates on patrol, he stood on that damn porch, arms crossed, waiting for your silhouette to disappear into the trees. He never said “be careful,” never asked you to stay. Because he knew you wouldn’t. But he always waited.
Because no matter how many years passed, no matter what came between him and the world, he knew one thing:
You were the one thing he had never wanted to live without. He would rather die before seeing life leaving your body in a lifeless frame.
Joel had built a warm home for you. A place where the both of you would end up dying after cherishing all the loved you shared for each other. After a fulfilled life, a happy life.
He became a fundamental part of Jackson, a community that grew every year thanks to his efforts and help. A community where he had become loved, and not just by you. While Joel reviewed maps and extensions that could continue to be built, you were part of the group patrolling the outskirts of Jackson.
Today was one of those freezing days of winter when snow covered all paths. You'd been riding with Rick for nearly two hours in silence, save for the sound of snow crunching under your horses’ hooves and the occasional radio crackle from the patrol team. The morning was cold, but sunlight still broke through the trees in patches, casting gold across the frostbitten forest. You were glad for the silence. Patrols were always easier when you didn’t have to think too hard.
But Rick was fidgeting.
You noticed it as you dismounted to check the broken fence line on the north perimeter. He stayed unusually close behind you, clearing his throat every few seconds like he was about to say something and then thinking better of it.
You finally turned to him with a raised brow, snowflakes sticking to your lashes.
“Spit it out, Rick. You’re twitchier than a Clicker.”
He looked at you, flushed already from the cold but turning visibly redder. “Okay, so—I wasn’t gonna say anything. Like… ever. But if I don’t, I think I’m gonna explode or something.”
You leaned on the post you were fixing and blinked. “That sounds dramatic.”
“It is. I’m being dramatic,” he admitted, letting out a nervous laugh. “Look, I know you’re with Joel. Everybody knows you’re with Joel. Joel definitely knows you’re with Joel. And he could probably kill me with, like, a stare. But… I kinda like you. I have for a while.”
You stared at him, hammer halfway raised, not sure if you’d misheard him or if he’d actually just said that. “Rick.”
“I know! I know. It’s not cool. It’s kind of stupid. But I figured maybe if I just said it out loud once, I could move on and stop acting like a dumbass every time you’re around.” He ran a hand over his face, half laughing, half mortified. “Jesus, you’re gonna tell Joel and he’s gonna bury me under the tomato garden, huh?”
You couldn’t help it—you laughed. Hard. Rick blinked at you like he wasn’t sure whether he’d just been spared or sentenced.
“I’m not gonna tell Joel,”You said, still chuckling as you shook your head. “Unless I need leverage to make him do the dishes.”
Rick exhaled loudly, shoulders slumping in relief. “God, please don’t do that.”
“Hey, I might. That’s premium blackmail material,” you teased, giving him a playful nudge with your elbow before getting back to work on the fence. “Look, I appreciate the honesty. I really do. It’s weird—but kinda sweet, in a ‘high school crush’ kind of way.”
He gave you a sheepish smile. “I’ll take it.”
“But Rick,” you added, glancing at him from the corner of your eye, your voice gentler now, “Joel’s it for me. I love him. He is my husband, law or not law. You know that, right?”
“I do,” he said quietly. “Hell, everyone does. Just needed to clear my chest.”
“Well, chest cleared,” you said, patting him once on the shoulder. “Now let’s go back to our work or something. You’re not gonna make me do all the work just because you embarrassed yourself, are you?”
He laughed, finally relaxing. “Nah, I’ll take point. You just hang back and bask in the awkwardness.”
“Perfect,” you muttered, smirking as you mounted your horse.
As the two of you rode off, the moment settled behind you like footprints in snow. Something a little strange, a little uncomfortable—but harmless. You knew Rick wouldn’t cross any lines. He wasn’t that kind of guy. And besides, by the time the sun dipped low and Jackson came into view again, your thoughts were already back home.
To the porch where Joel would be waiting, arms crossed.
To the way his jaw would twitch the moment he saw you, trying and failing to hide the relief in his eyes. To the warmth of his hand on the small of your back when he pulled you close and muttered, “Took you long enough.”
Because no matter what happened outside those walls, you always came back to him. You always would.
The sun had dipped behind the trees by the time you and Rick made it back to Jackson. The patrol had been uneventful after the confession—thank God—and Rick had thankfully returned to his usual self, cracking a dumb joke or two to break the tension. You left him at the stables with a casual wave, brushing the snow off your coat as you handed off the reins.
As you stepped out into the chilly late afternoon, your breath puffed white in the air. The lanterns strung along Jackson's paths were starting to flicker on, casting a golden hue over the snow-covered streets. You shoved your gloved hands into your pockets and turned toward home.
And then you saw Joel walking your way, just down the path near the greenhouse, shoulders relaxed in that slow way of his, with the glasses still perched low on his nose that made you pause and smile like a fool. He rarely kept them on outside. Said they made him look “too damn old.” But there they were, catching the glow of the lanterns as he walked, reviewing something in a worn notebook like the world wasn’t even there.
He looked up as if sensing you before he even saw you.
The second his eyes found yours, his entire face shifted—like watching ice melt under a flame. His mouth tugged into a lopsided smile, soft and real and just for you. And God, it still got you. After all this time. After all the hell, the healing, the hurt—he still looked at you like that.
“You’re late,” he said, voice low and warm as he closed the notebook and tucked it under his arm.
“You’re wearing your glasses,” you replied, unable to keep the grin off your face.
He huffed. “Didn’t mean to. Just got caught up in the numbers. Didn’t wanna strain my damn eyes again.”
You stepped closer, heart easing in your chest the way it always did when he was near. “You look good.”
Joel gave you a look, tilting his head. “You makin’ fun of me?”
“No,” you said, wrapping your arms around his middle. “I mean it. There’s something kind of... sexy librarian about you.”
He let out a dry laugh, hand coming up to tug the glasses off and hook them into the collar of his shirt. “You’re ridiculous.”
“I know, but you love it, though”
“I do,” he said without hesitation, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Then his gaze shifted a little more serious, a little softer. “Everything go alright out there?”
You nodded, leaning your shoulder into his chest. “Yeah. Nothing we couldn’t handle. Rick confessed his love for me, though.”
Joel stopped mid-step. “He what?”
You burst out laughing at his expression. “It was harmless. Kind of awkward. I think he mostly just needed to say it to get it off his chest.”
Joel raised an eyebrow, but there wasn’t an ounce of jealousy in his face, just amused disbelief. “Poor boy.”
“Right?” you said, still grinning. “He looked like he was about to faint. Said you’d probably bury him under the tomato garden.”
Joel gave a thoughtful nod. “Not a bad idea.”
You swatted his arm as he slipped an arm around your shoulder, pulling you close against him. His body was warm, solid, familiar.
“You know I only love one grumpy man in this town,” you murmured, tucking your hand into the space between his coat and flannel.
He looked down at you, something tender and unspoken in his eyes. “I know.”
Your steps slowed, gravel crunching gently beneath your boots as the space between the two of you closed even more. You turned to face him, chin tilted up, your hands sliding into the open edges of his coat to rest against his chest.
Joel's brows lifted just a bit, eyes flickering between yours and your mouth. He didn’t say anything, didn’t need to. You leaned up and kissed him softly—just enough to make him pause and breathe you in. His hand cupped your jaw, thumb brushing over your cheek in that way that always made you feel like you were something rare. Something precious.
The kiss lingered, unhurried and warm in the freezing air.
When you pulled back, your forehead rested against his. “Tell me about your day,” you whispered.
Joel hummed low in his chest, his nose brushing against yours. “Not as excitin’ as yours, apparently,” he muttered, and you could hear the faint smirk in his voice.
You grinned. “Still wanna hear about it.”
He sighed, but it was soft. Content. “Well, I argued with Tommy about expanding the southeast fence. Again. He’s still convinced we need to pull it in tighter. I told him he’s just scared of dealing with the extra patrols.”
You chuckled. “He is scared of extra patrols.”
“Damn right,” Joel muttered, clearly pleased you agreed. “Helped Maria sort through some of the winter inventory. Got roped into fixing a leaky pipe in the clinic because somebody thought I was the only one with ‘good hands.’”
You looked up at him with a grin. “Well… they’re not wrong.”
That made him laugh again, the sound low and rough and good. “Are you flirting with me, darlin’?”
“Maybe.”
“After all these years?”
“Especially after all these years.”
He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your temple, his lips lingering for a beat. “You keep that up and I’m gonna have to warm you up properly once we get inside.”
You raised a brow. “Promise?”
Joel groaned and gave a playful shake of his head. “You’re trouble.”
“You love it,” you said again, smiling as you slipped your hand into his and started walking toward home, where the hearth was probably still warm and the bed even warmer.
And God, you really did love this life. This normal, beautiful, quiet life with him.
As you reached your home, Joel’s hand squeezed yours gently before slipping away. He paused on the porch, his eyes drawn toward the garage across the yard. A faint flicker of light glowed from the crack beneath the door, soft, irregular, probably from that old lamp Ellie refused to replace. You followed his gaze, the air suddenly still around the two of you.
“She’s in there,” Joel murmured, his voice lower now. Not tense, exactly—but something sad, almost wary. You knew that tone. He’d been using it a lot when it came to her lately.
You nodded, shrugging off your coat. “Yeah, she seems to spend a lot of time in there.”
Joel lingered, eyes fixed on the garage like he could see right through the wall and into her thoughts. “Do you know if she’s going to the New Year’s thing tonight?”
You turned to look at him, reaching out to take his gloves from him as he pulled them off. “She didn’t say a lot to me this morning.”
Joel nodded; lips pressed into a thin line. He looked older when he worried—shoulders heavier, jaw tighter. “I wouldn’t blame her if she doesn´t.”
“Things are different now,” you said softly, brushing a bit of snow off his shoulder. “She’s still figuring out how to be... okay with everything. With you, okay. With both of us.”
“I don’t blame her,” he said after a moment. “I just… I hate not knowing how to make it better.”
You stepped closer, resting a hand against his chest. “Maybe it’s not the right time. You’re still here, waiting, still being there for her.”
Joel didn’t answer right away. He looked at the garage one more time, eyes soft with a regret and longing, something like hope, but worn thin.
Then he turned back to you, lips brushing your forehead as he let out a long breath. “C’mon,” he said quietly. “Let’s get inside before you freeze that smart mouth off.”
You smiled and nudged the door open. “Too bad. I had plans to use it tonight.”
Joel laughed under his breath as he followed you inside, letting the door close gently behind you.
The world felt warm and still when you opened your eyes.
That fuzzy kind of stillness where the light was soft and golden through the curtains, and your limbs were heavy in the best way—boneless and relaxed under the weight of a thick quilt. You blinked slowly, adjusting to the calm, to the scent of pine still lingering from the firewood and Joel’s flannel shirt close by.
Your head was resting on his lap.
Joel sat slouched back against the couch cushions, legs stretched out, a book open in one hand, his glasses pushed up the bridge of his nose. He hadn’t noticed you waking yet. Or maybe he had, and just didn’t say anything.
The fingers of his free hand combed lazily through your hair, tracing slow, thoughtful paths over your scalp and down to the nape of your neck. Over and over again, like it was as natural to him now as breathing. That kind of tenderness that wasn’t loud or showy, just there—anchoring and steady.
You smiled, sleep still in your voice. “You’re gonna put me right back to sleep doing that.”
Joel’s eyes flicked down from the page to meet yours, and a slow smile spread across his face. “That a bad thing?”
“No,” you murmured, shifting just slightly to curl closer into his thigh. “It’s a really, really good thing.”
He hummed, the sound vibrating through his chest, low and warm. His thumb brushed along your temple in a soft arc. “Didn’t mean to wake you. You were out cold.”
“Blame your lap. It’s cozy.”
He chuckled, eyes returning briefly to his book. “Didn’t think you’d fall asleep halfway through tellin’ me about how Rick nearly dropped his gun while trying to impress you.”
“He did!” you laughed, eyes closing again. “It slipped right outta the holster when he tried to be all cool and stretch like nothing hurt. I nearly fell off the damn horse.”
Joel shook his head, the quiet amusement clear in his face. “Man’s a disaster.”
“Mmm, but at least a harmless one,” you yawned.
Another beat passed, quiet except for the sound of pages turning and the fireplace crackling low in the background. His fingers never stopped moving in your hair.
“Do you ever miss it?” you asked softly, not even sure where the question had come from. “Before here. All the chaos we used to live in. The constant movement. The adrenaline.”
Joel’s hand slowed, just slightly. You felt the pause. Then the steady rhythm picked up again, gentler.
“Sometimes,” he admitted after a moment. “Not the danger, but the feeling of having to keep going. No room to think too hard. Now Ellie doesn’t talk to me.
You nodded; eyes still closed. “That would be temporary, you know.”
“Yeah.” His voice lowered, more thoughtful. “But I’d trade a hundred years of running for one of these. You and me like this.
That made you laugh again, and his hand cradled the back of your head as you shifted to look up at him.
“You’re getting soft in your old age, Miller.”
He looked down at you over the rim of his glasses, brow raised. “Say that again and see if I let you keep using my lap as a pillow.”
You smirked. “You’d miss me.”
“I would,” he said quietly, and just like that, the teasing faded into something real.
You smiled at him, “I should start getting ready for the party tonight.”
“You look perfect just like this.”
“How romantic, Joel Miller, but I probably smell bad.”
Joel snorted softly, eyes crinkling at the corners as he closed the book and set it aside. “Darlin’, we’ve both smelled worse. Remember when we reached Bill’s house?”
You groaned dramatically, burying your face into his thigh. “Don’t remind me. That was not my best moment.”
“I didn’t mind it then either,” he said, his fingers grazing down your jaw, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You could be covered in mud and I’d still think you’re the prettiest girl in the room.”
You looked up at him, caught off guard by how easily he could say something like that now. It hadn’t always been like this. It used to come out in actions, his silence, his worry, the way he stood between you and anything that even looked like a threat. But now… he let himself say it. He let himself mean it.
And you never took that lightly.
“I’ll take the compliment,” you murmured, sitting up slowly and stretching under the blanket. Joel helped you out of it without a word, and you lingered just a second longer to brush your lips over his before standing.
He watched you, content and quiet, as you moved toward the bedroom. “Do you want me to wear that sweater you like?” you asked over your shoulder.
Joel raised an eyebrow. “The one with the buttons?”
You nodded, already pulling your hair back into a messy bun.
“Hell yeah,” he said, voice a little rougher now. “That one drives me crazy.”
You laughed as you disappeared around the corner, the sound making Joel lean his head back against the couch with a quiet, content sigh. His hand drifted absentmindedly to the spot where your head had been resting only moments ago, like some part of him still needed to hold on.
From the window he noticed the light in the garage had gone dark. Maybe Ellie was getting ready too. Maybe tonight would be a little bit closer to feel like a whole again.
You stepped out of the bedroom a few minutes later, brushing the last bit of lint off the front of your sweater—the one with the buttons Joel never shut up about. It was a little snug at the waist, hugged you just enough to make your point. Paired with the jeans he said made your legs look “dangerously good,” you were banking on at least a solid double-take.
Joel looked up from the couch, still lazily sprawled across the cushions, glasses sliding down his nose.
And damn if you didn’t get more than a double-take.
His hand went straight to his chest like he’d been physically struck. His mouth opened, then closed again like he forgot how to breathe.
“Jesus,” he muttered, sitting up straighter, eyes trailing slowly from your boots to your eyes. “You trying to kill me?”
You grinned, one hand resting on your hip as you posed, just a little. “What, this old thing?”
He let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. “You look…” He trailed off, searching for the word. “I don’t even get a word for it. Beautiful doesn’t make it justice.”
“You’re such a liar,” you teased gently, though your cheeks were already warm.
“I’m not,” he said, still staring. “You walk into that party lookin’ like that, I’m gonna have to fight half the town.”
You walked over and stood between his knees, his hands naturally coming to rest at your waist, thumbs sliding along the hem of your sweater.
“Don’t worry,” you said, brushing a hand through his hair with deliberate slowness. “I’m only going with one man tonight.”
His eyes met yours, serious under all the teasing now. “You’re mine,” he said lowly, not like a warning, but like a vow.
“I always have been,” you whispered back.
And for a second, it didn’t matter where you were going or who’d be at the party. There was only this, his hands steady on you, your breath soft against his, and the quiet thrum of a life you’d built together piece by piece.
“C’mon, Miller,” you said, pulling back with a smile. “Get dressed. Can’t show up to a New Year’s party looking like you just came in from the stables.”
He narrowed his eyes playfully. “I was gonna wear the flannel you like, but now I’m reconsidering.”
You leaned down and kissed him slowly, “Wear the flannel. Then lose the flannel later.”
Joel groaned into your mouth. “You’re evil.”
You smirked. “You love it.”
He planted a kiss on your lips before standing up from the couch.
The lights in the main hall of Jackson’s community center glowed warm and low, casting golden halos over strings of mismatched decorations—handmade banners, old Christmas lights, paper stars that crinkled every time the door opened and let in the wind. Music played softly from an old radio in the corner, laughter and voices mingling with the hum of people pouring in, already loosening up with drinks and stories.
You stood near the back wall, a glass of something vaguely sweet in your free hand, the other laced tightly with Joel’s. His thumb brushed slow circles over your knuckles as you chatted with Maria, who was animatedly retelling something Tommy had done earlier that day involving a runaway chicken and a very confused patrol dog.
You were half-listening, smiling and nodding along, but you felt it more than saw it—that Joel wasn’t really paying attention. His body was here, steady beside you, but his focus had shifted.
You followed the subtle line of his gaze, and there she was.
Ellie.
She was standing on the edge of a table, watching Dina, dancing in the middle of the place. Her hair surprisingly neat. She wore one of the jackets Joel had patched for her last winter, and she looked... better. Not completely at ease, but not avoiding people either. Laughing at how Dina enjoyed herself, her face lit up in that rare, open way that used to be more common. That Joel hadn’t seen in too long.
Your fingers squeezed around his, gently tugging his attention back to you. He blinked, then looked down, sheepish.
“She showed up,” you said quietly, so only he could hear.
Joel nodded, but didn’t speak at first. His jaw worked slightly, like there was something caught there that he couldn’t quite get out. “Didn’t think she would,” he murmured eventually.
You leaned your head into his shoulder, your hand still holding his like it anchored you both. “She’s trying,” you said softly. “Just like you are.”
He didn’t answer right away. Just watched Ellie for another long moment. His face unreadable, but you could feel the storm behind it—the guilt and the love and the endless what ifs he carried like extra weight on his back.
“She still wears that jacket,” he said finally, voice a little rough.
“She still loves you,” you said, just as sure. “Even when it’s complicated.”
Joel looked down at you then, the depth in his eyes something that stole your breath a little. “You think it’ll ever go back to how it was?”
You turned slightly to face him, brushing your thumb along the inside of his wrist. “No,” you said honestly. “But maybe it’ll become something new eventually.”
He nodded slowly, like he was trying to believe it. Maybe tonight helped.
The minutes had stretched into hours, in a few ones. A new year would come into your lives and you were enjoying the hope that brought to all people in the community. Yes, you were enjoying the party, until something completely shifted the ambiance.
When Ellie’s voice came.
Loud. Angry. Hurt.
“I don’t need your fucking help, Joel!”
You froze.
The room quieted, just a little. Just enough.
Joel didn’t say anything at first. You watched his face—how it closed off, his expression almost neutral except for the way his jaw clenched. There was something like shame in his eyes. Like he’d overstepped. Like he knew this was coming.
He turned. Not fast. Not dramatic. Just quietly stepped back, like every inch he put between himself and Ellie was one he’d deserved. He didn’t look at you. Just walked toward the door of the hall, shoulders tight, hands in his pockets, and disappeared outside.
You turned slowly, your gaze falling on Ellie.
She was still standing there. Chest rising and falling like she'd just finished running. Dina beside her, wide-eyed, unsure whether to step in or stay back. The room had started to move again around them, but you stayed where you were, heart sinking.
Ellie looked at you.
And you didn’t say anything. Didn’t frown or shake your head. Just… looked.
There was disappointment in your eyes—yes. A flicker of sadness too, not just for Joel, but for her. For the pain stitched between them. For the ways she still didn’t understand that Joel didn’t defend her to take control, or because he thought she was weak—but because he loved her.
Because she was still his.
And whether she was ready to admit it or not, he would always be hers.
Ellie looked away first. Back to her shoes. Her jaw tensed like she was biting back words. But she didn’t say anything else.
You waited another beat, then gently set your glass down, excused yourself from the people at your table with a small nod, and went after Joel.
The cold had settled deep by the time you made it back home.
The porch light cast a soft glow across the wooden steps, and there he was—sitting in the chair like he had nowhere else to be, guitar in his lap, hands quiet on the strings. He wasn’t playing. Just holding it, his fingers curled around the neck like they used to when he didn’t know what else to do with his hands.
His glasses were off, resting on the side table next to him. The soft creak of the porch boards under your steps made his head lift, and his eyes met yours.
You smiled gently. “Hey, cowboy.”
Joel didn’t say anything right away, just gave you the ghost of a smile before looking down at the guitar again.
You crossed the porch and crouched in front of him, resting your hand on his knee. “She didn’t mean it.”
He let out a breath, slow and tight. “Yeah, she did. Maybe not in the way she thinks. But she did.”
You didn’t argue. Instead, you just leaned your head against his leg, wrapping your arms around his knee. “Come inside,” you murmured. “It’s freezing.”
“I like the cold,” he said quietly.
“You’re getting old,” you teased, tilting your face up toward him with a smile. “Your bones can’t handle it anymore.”
That pulled the faintest smirk from him. “You keep talking like that and you’re getting a snowball to the face next time it drops.”
“Promises, promises.”
You stood up and reached out a hand to him. He hesitated for a moment before placing the guitar gently against the wall. His hand slid into yours, warm and rough and steady, and you led him inside.
The house welcomed you with its familiar warmth, soft light spilling from the kitchen lamp. You tugged him into the living room and stopped, turning to face him, fingers still wrapped around his.
“You remember how to dance, Joel?”
He raised a brow. “Now?”
You nodded. “Now. Just us.”
There was no music, just the sound of the wind outside and the hum of life still buzzing faintly in town. But you stepped closer, placing your other hand on his chest as his found your waist, and you started to sway slowly, like there was a song only the two of you could hear.
You looked up at him, voice soft. “You know there’s no life for me after you, right?”
His eyes flicked to yours, searching. Quiet.
You swallowed. “Not just no one else… No life. I’m not made for this world without you in it.”
His jaw tensed, his hand tightening slightly on your hip.
“I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone. More than I even thought I could.”
Joel's voice was rough when he finally spoke. “You shouldn’t say that.”
“But it’s true.”
His gaze dropped to your lips, then back to your eyes, and you saw the fight in him—the weight of it all, the doubt, the guilt. But you also saw the way his heart ached for you. How much he wanted to believe he deserved it.
“You’re all I’ve got,” he said finally. “You… and her. And I keep messin’ it up.”
You shook your head and pulled him closer, pressing your forehead to his. “You didn’t mess anything up tonight. You stood up for her. That’s what love looks like, even if she doesn’t know how to take it right now.”
Joel let out a shaky breath. You leaned up and kissed the corner of his mouth.
“I’ve got you,” you whispered. “Always.”
And with his arms wrapped around you in the middle of that quiet living room, Joel let himself hold on.
You kept swaying with him, barely moving, your arms snug around his broad frame like you were afraid he might drift away if you let go.
The firelight from the hearth flickered softly across his face, casting shadows that danced along the lines etched into his skin. You lifted your gaze, taking him in—really taking him in.
His hair was more silver than brown now, especially at the temples, and his beard had followed suit, peppered with white that hadn’t been there when you first met him back in the QZ. The creases around his eyes were deeper, more permanent, carved by years of worry, loss, and that rare, secretive laughter you’d always tried to pull from him like a prize. His hands, still strong, still steady, were rougher too—scarred by more than just time. And his eyes… God, those eyes. Still the same deep brown, still full of everything he never said out loud, but they were heavier now, more tired.
But even in all of it, in every reminder that time had passed, that the world had taken its toll on him—he had never looked more beautiful to you.
This was the man who had survived when others hadn’t. The man who had chosen you when he could’ve kept his walls up forever. The man who still held you like you were the most fragile, precious thing in the world.
Your fingers slid up his chest, fingertips brushing over the soft fabric of his flannel before curling lightly at the collar. You rose up on your toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek, slow and lingering. Then another, along the edge of his jaw. One at his temple. His brow.
Joel's hand tightened on your hip, the other cradling the back of your head now, and his breath caught when your lips found the corner of his mouth.
You pulled back just an inch and whispered, “I love all of it. All of you. Then. Now. Always.”
He looked at you like he was trying to memorize your face.
And then you kissed him—soft, deep, like he was the only thing tethering you to the earth. His lips moved against yours with that familiar tenderness, that unspoken hunger that had never gone away, no matter how many years passed. It wasn’t rushed, wasn’t desperate. It was slow and sure, like he wanted the moment to last forever.
When you finally pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, breath warm on your lips.
“I don’t deserve you,” he murmured.
You shook your head gently. “That’s not your decision to make.”
Joel let out a quiet, broken laugh and kissed you again—softer this time, like a thank you.
You leaned in again, drawn to him like the tide to the moon. Your lips brushed over his once more—slower this time, tender and unrushed. A kiss that said everything without needing words. His hand slid up your back, fingers splayed gently between your shoulder blades, holding you to him like he never wanted to let go.
When you finally pulled away, your noses still touching, you smiled against his mouth. “Happy New Year, Joel.”
He exhaled softly, his breath warm as his eyes opened to meet yours. “Yeah?”
You nodded, heart full. “This is to us,” you whispered, “to spending more years like this. Together.”
Something flickered in his gaze—quiet, reverent, a little disbelieving like the weight of your love still knocked the air out of him every time. His thumb stroked along your jaw, rough and careful all at once.
“Until the end, darling,” he said hoarsely, his voice thick with emotion.
You wrapped your arms tighter around him, resting your head against his chest, right over the steady thrum of his heart. And there, in the soft quiet of your living room, with the muffled echo of fireworks somewhere in the distance and his arms holding you like a vow, you knew there was no one else you’d ever need.
Joel held you there for a long, quiet beat—his hand resting at the small of your back, the other curled at your nape, cradling you gently like the world might crumble if he let go.
Then he tilted his head slightly, eyes finding yours again under the soft glow of the fire. There was something raw in them now—unguarded, soft in that way only you ever got to see.
“Happy new year, baby,” he said, voice low, gravelly, full of something deep and real. “To more years. However, many we’re lucky enough to get.”
You felt your throat tighten, the words catching in your chest. But then he said it, firm, steady, like it had lived in him for years.
“I love you.”
Not rushed. Not whispered. Just said. Like a truth that didn’t need any decoration.
Your hand slid to his cheek, thumb brushing over the slight stubble there. His eyes closed at your touch, leaning into the warmth.
This was your beginning. Again, and again. Every year. Every moment. Joel was your home.
When the fanfic has a 'pee fetish,' overuse of 'DADDY,' the reader as a 'STEPDAUGHTER,' or a ridiculous age gap. Or, in many cases, the reader is placed in an extremely infantilized role...
Please, writers, stop with this—it's weird. Very weird. FOR THE FUCK
